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Several times Chirpy Cricket leaped into the air, hoping that Tommy Tree Cricket would see that he had something important to say. But Tommy paid not the slightest heed to him. At last Chirpy decided that he might as well do a little fiddling himself, to pass the time away. So he began his cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i! And then Tommy noticed him immediately.
He rubbed a file-like ridge of one on a rough part of the other. So his fiddle if you could call it by that name just naturally had to go wherever he did. Cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i! When that shrill sound, all on one note, rang out in the night everybody that heard it knew that Chirpy Cricket was sawing out his odd music. And the warmer the night the faster he played. He liked warm weather.
Johnnie Green himself said he wished the Crickets had gone somewhere else to spend the summer. At least, he thought they might play some other tune besides cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i! over and over again. If they would only fiddle "Yankee Doodle" now and then he said he wouldn't mind lying awake a while to listen to it. Perhaps Chirpy Cricket heard what Johnnie Green said.
But the moment Chirpy Cricket began fiddling right there in his room he became wide awake. He had had no idea how loudly one of the Cricket family could play his cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i! indoors. The high, shrill sound was piercing. It rang in Johnnie's ears and drowned the muffled concert of the fields and swamp which the light breeze bore through the window.
"I'll play my favorite tune for you, if you wish," Chirpy offered, being eager to do something pleasant for his new acquaintance. "Do!" said Mr. Meadow Mouse. "And make it as lively as you please. For I've just dined well and I'm in a very cheerful mood." So Chirpy Cricket began his cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i! while Mr. Meadow Mouse moved nearer and watched him closely.
Chirpy found Tommy Tree Cricket in the tangle of raspberry bushes beyond the garden. It was not hard to tell where he was, because he was a famous fiddler. He played a tune that was different from Chirpy's cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i! Tommy Tree Cricket fiddled re-teat! re-teat! re-teat! And many considered him a much finer musician than Chirpy himself. He was small and pale.
There were the Mole Crickets, who stayed in the ground and never, never came to the surface; and there were the Tree Crickets, who lived in the trees and fiddled re-teat! re-teat re-teat! until you might have thought they would get tired of their ditty. But they never did. They seemed to like their music as much as Chirpy Cricket liked his cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i!
For a few minutes Johnnie lay still. And then he sat up in bed. "I'll have to get up and find that fellow," he said. "If I don't, he'll keep me awake." The moment he stirred, the fiddling stopped short. Johnnie was glad of that. And once more he laid his head upon his pillow. But in a few moments that cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i! rang out again. Then Johnnie Green tried several remedies. He shook the bed.
He thought there was no use wasting words on a fine, warm night just the sort of night for a lively cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i! Chirpy Cricket lost no time in getting his own fiddle to working. And each of them really believed he was himself making most of the music that was heard in the pasture.
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