where
the warblers had built their nest. The frog brought her eggs, the
stickleback had almost finished his nest and hundreds of animals that
were so small that one could hardly see them ran about and made ready
for their young ones.

Just then, the eel put his head up out of the mud:

"If you will permit me, madam ... I have seen a bit of the world
myself...."

Mrs. Reed-Warbler gave a faint scream.

"I can't stand that person," she said to her husband. "He's so like the
adder, who ate my little sister last year, when she fell to the ground
as she was learning to fly. He has the same offensive manners and is
just as slippery."

"Oh," said the eel, "it's a great misfortune for me if I meet with your
disapproval, madam, on that account. And it's quite unjust. I am only a
fish and not the slightest relation to the adder, who took that little
liberty with your sister, madam. We may have just a superficial
resemblance, in figure and movement: one has to wriggle and twist. But I
am really much more slippery. My name, for that matter, is Eel ... at
your service."

"My wife is hatching her eggs," said the reed-warbler. "She can't stand
much excitement."

"Thank you for telling me, Mr. Reed-Warbler," said the eel. "I did not
mean to intrude.... But as I have travelled considerably myself, like
you and your good lady, I thought I might venture to address you, in the
hope that we may hold the same liberal opinions concerning the petty
affairs of the pond."

"So you are a traveller. Can you fly?" asked the reed-warbler.

"Not exactly," said the eel. "I can't fly. But I can wriggle and twist.
I can get over a good stretch of country, which is more than most fish
are able to say. I feel grand in the damp grass; and give me the most
ordinary ditch and you'll never hear me complain. I come straight from
the sea, you know. And, when I've eaten myself fat here, I shall go back
to the sea again."

"That's saying a good deal," said the reed-warbler.

"Yes," said the eel, modestly. "And just because I have seen something
of the world, all this fuss about children in the pond here strikes me
as a bit absurd."

"You're talking rather thoughtlessly, my good Eel," said the
reed-warbler. "I can see you have neither wife nor children."

"Oh," said the eel, making a fine flourish with his tail, "that depends
on how you look at it! Last year, I brought about a million eels into
the world."

"Goodness gracious me!" said Mrs. Re