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"L'raine, d'you know you've got a new papa?" her mother called out in the peculiar, chirpy tone she used when she was exuberantly happy. "I knew you'd be surprised!" "I am," Lorraine agreed, pulling aside the cheap green portières and looked in upon the two. Her tone was unenthusiastic. "A superfluous gift of doubtful value. I do not feel the need of a papa, thank you.
He was a good neighbor for anybody to have, too, because he was one of the most cheerful of all the field and forest-folk that lived in Pleasant Valley. Freddie Firefly liked him. And he often remarked that he would rather hear Chirpy Cricket sing than sing himself.
Then, very carefully, Johnnie set Chirpy Cricket on the ground, with both his hands cupped closely over him, so he couldn't jump away. "Now, fiddle!" Johnnie Green cried. "Fiddle just once and I'll let you go." Though Johnnie Green waited patiently for what seemed to him a long time, he heard nothing that sounded the least bit like fiddling.
'E'd 'ad 'is thigh bone smashed all to bits, and they'd jest taken 'is leg off when I saw 'im. 'E was weak as a kid and chirpy as a sparrer, and only cursin' becos 'e was out of things for the rest of the war. I never 'eard what 'appened to 'im, but the nurse told me as 'ow they was afraid 'e wouldn't recover becos of emmyridge, or something with a name like that.
And at last the pale miss beside him cried, "I hope you're not going to stop your beautiful fiddling!" "I fear I'll have to," Tommy told her with a sigh. "I'm beginning to feel a bit stiff, with this north wind blowing on me." This was Chirpy Cricket's chance. "Please!" he called. "Will you listen to me a moment?" "What! Have you come back again?" Tommy Tree Cricket sang out. "No!
Buster knew of an old tune called "The Bumblebee in the Pumpkin," and he cried with some heat that he could think of no reason why there shouldn't be "A Ladybug in a Pumpkin." "I told you my house was big the biggest one on the farm," Mrs. Ladybug reminded him. "Ah!" Chirpy Cricket exclaimed. "Now I know! You're going to live in the haystack.
The little Trotters gathered around in an ecstasy of pleasure and surprise. In a household where food was scanty, and every new pair of shoes was a serious economic problem, there was no lack of welcome for the newcomer. Chirpy little voices commented on the new brother's surprising pinkness, his diminutive proportions and his belligerent fashion of clenching his fists.
Meadow Mouse bestowed another fat smile on him. "Then," he said, "it must be quite safe for me to stay here and talk with you." Chirpy Cricket didn't know why the plump gentleman was smiling, unless it was because he felt easy in his mind. Chirpy couldn't help liking him, he was so friendly.
Chirpy Cricket's nearest relations all looked exactly like him. Everybody said that the Crickets bore a strong family resemblance to one another. But there were others more distant cousins that were quite unlike Chirpy.
"It makes me think of that creaking pump at the farmhouse." "And of what" Chirpy Cricket stammered "of what, pray, does your own fiddling remind you?" "Ah!" said Tommy. "My own music is like nothing in the world except the sound of a shimmering moonbeam." There is no doubt that Tommy Tree Cricket thought very well of his own fiddling.
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