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"Perhaps you can stop 'em," went on Billy, hurriedly; "them ere little tikes is a-doin' a dretful thing. They're over by the sand-bank, a-diggin' fur hell." He brought out this last word in a deep, half-frightened whisper. "Digging for what? Oh, Billy!" and Cricket's laugh rang out. "You know better than that. Where are they? I'm going to dig a little myself, and they might help me."
He slept in Cricket's bed at night, and if by any chance he was shut out when the family went to bed, and the house was locked up, he would make night hideous with lamentations, to an extent that would soon bring some one down to let him in. One day the familiar meow sounded, and Cricket, who was curled up in the hammock, reading, instantly sprang up.
Rotha was by her side, and Willy lay on the settle drawn up to the hearth. All listened for the sound of footsteps that did not come. The old clock ticked out louder and more loud; the cricket's measured chirp seemed to grow more painfully audible; the wind whistled through the leafless boughs without, and in the lulls of the abating storm the low rumble of the ghyll could be heard within.
There was a tiny tinkle from a bell and, just as Johnny hopped behind the clock, he saw a boot stick out of the fireplace. Then Johnny Cricket's little bug heart went pitty-pat, and sounded as if it would run a race with the ticking of the clock. From his hiding place, Johnny Cricket heard one or two chuckles, and something rattle.
Then he felt himself being lifted up, and there he sat on the giant's knee. The giant told him a story and gave him a big ring from his finger. It was so large that Marmaduke could put his whole arm through it. Then another voice spoke. It was a little tiny voice this time no bigger than a mouse's squeak or a cricket's "Good-night." Marmaduke looked down from the giant's knee.
"Oh, no, Billy, I wouldn't have tobacco for anything, nasty stuff," said Cricket. Billy looked dejected. "Didn't mean no harm," he said, meekly. "Never mind, Billy. Now what shall I get?" "Lemons," suggested Simon, deferentially. "I'll let you have 'em for a cent apiece, and water's cheap. Lemonade would sell well these hot days," for Simon had been taken into Cricket's confidence.
Cricky, "that may be true, but it is none of a cricket's business; it is just as well not to take part in other people's quarrels. Your Father says the Cricket Rule is the best precept for living he has ever known, and your Father, children, is a very wise cricket. I dare say Greenie has had a hard time, but then, lazy worms often do.
Even the long scamper on the ponies, of two or three hours, failed to exhaust Cricket's energy, and when they returned she wanted Hilda to go for a row with her. Hilda flatly refused. "You are the most untiresome creature," she said. "I should think you'd be ready to drop. I am, I know. I'm going to get into the hammock, and I'm not going to stir till dinner-time.
But there was no answer, and, looking again, they saw that Cricket's head was down on her arm, which was stretched out over the seat. "She's actually gone to sleep!" said Eunice, in amazement. "Well, I never knew Cricket to go to sleep in the daytime before in her life." "I should think she'd do anything for variety," returned Edna. "If this isn't the longest day that ever was!
There the Cricket family lived happily and every thing was just as cozy as any little bug would care to have; on cold nights the people who owned the great big old fashioned house always made a fire in the fireplace, so the walls of the Cricket's winter home were nice and warm, and little Teeny Cricket could play on the floor in her bare feet without fear of catching cold and getting the Cricket croup.
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