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And I flatter myself that I'm a perfect performer." "Then," said Chirpy Cricket, "perhaps you need a new fiddle. For there's no doubt that your booming would sound much better if it were shriller." Mr. Nighthawk gave a rude laugh. "I don't make that sound with a fiddle," he sneered. "Don't you know a wind instrument when you hear it?" Mr.
And he was only too glad of a chance to show Chirpy Cricket how loud he could make it sound. "Stay right there in that tree, if you will!" Chirpy said. "I won't move. I'll sit here and listen." "Ha, ha!" Mr. Nighthawk laughed. "I knew you didn't know anything about wind instruments. When I make that booming sound I'm always on the wing. I'm going to take a flight now.
"But permit me to correct you. I'm your cousin a good many thousand times removed. But that's no reason why we shouldn't be the best of friends. And now," he added, "won't you come home with me? I'd like you to meet my wife." While thanking him for the invitation, Chirpy Cricket couldn't help wondering whether Mr. Mole Cricket's wife had as big feet as her husband. "Do you live near-by?"
"It's the greatest praise I've ever had!" he declared. And before Chirpy Cricket knew what had happened, Mr. Nighthawk had flown away. Chirpy often wondered why he left so suddenly. The truth was that Mr. Nighthawk had hurried back to the woods to tell his wife what Chirpy Cricket had said to him.
She has, moreover, a rooted objection to poor relations, for which I can hardly blame her a prejudice which, however, I am pleased to note that you do not share." He smiled at her with the words, and she flashed him a quick, answering smile, though her lips were quivering. "I am not a bit like my mother," she said. "I was always dad's girl while he lived. It was he who called me Chirpy.
At last she began to show some signs of interest. "I don't know," Chirpy Cricket replied. "I can't say. Maybe it's her clothes that make her look strange." Mrs. Ladybug then started to ask him questions which was the best of proof that her curiosity had been aroused. "What sort of gown was my cousin wearing?" she inquired. "Was it a red polka dot, like mine?" "I don't remember," he answered.
They were very fond of humming. And in the beginning Chirpy Cricket thought their humming a pleasant sound to hear, as he sat in his dark hole during the daytime. "They're having a party in there!" he said, the first time he noticed the droning music. "No doubt" he added "no doubt they're enjoying a dance!"
"Although," he added, "it must be very difficult to play always on the same note. It must take a great deal of practice." There was an odd cry that often interrupted the nightly concerts of the Cricket family. Chirpy Cricket had never heard it in the daytime. But when twilight began to wrap Pleasant Valley in its shadows, the strange, wailing call was almost sure to come quavering through the air.
At last, when it was quite dark, Freddie Firefly lighted on a head of timothy grass close beside the stone wall and began to flash his light right in Chirpy Cricket's face. "Here I am, just as I promised!" he called. "Where's the rest of your crowd?" Chirpy Cricket asked Freddie Firefly, when they met by the stone wall. "It's getting darker every minute.
Chirpy Cricket liked his home in Farmer Green's yard. During the long summer days he thought it very cheerful to rest in his dark hole in the ground. He liked the darkness of his home; he liked its warmth, too. For in pleasant weather the sun beat down upon the straw-littered ground above him and gave him plenty of heat, while on gray days the straw blanket kept his house cosy.
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