e eel, sticking his head out of
the mud.

"Oh, you're always there!" said Mrs. Reed-Warbler.

"More or less. One has to wriggle and twist."

"Have you any news of your children?"

"No, thank goodness!"

"Oh, really?" said the perch. "I have an idea that I ate a couple of
them at breakfast.... Excuse me for being so frank!"

"Not at all, not at all!" said the eel. "The family is large enough even
so."

"How on earth did they come up here from the sea?" asked the roach.

[Illustration]

"Just as I did, I imagine," said the eel. "They've got scent of
something to be made here; and two or three miles are nothing to them."

"Heigho!" said Mrs. Reed-Warbler.

"Are you sighing because of all this fuss with the children? Well,
madam, what did I tell you?"

"Not at all," replied Mrs. Reed-Warbler. "I could never behave like
you."

[Illustration: 'OH! REALLY,' SAID THE PERCH [p. 64 ]

"One has one's duties," said the reed-warbler. "And the loftier one's
station in life, the heavier the duties."

"Thank goodness, then, that I am of lowly station," said the eel. "I
have a capital time in the mud."

"Then, again, one is interested in preserving a certain amount of poetry
in the world. There is plenty of rabble, plenty of ugliness, I admit.
All the more reason why we higher animals should do something to promote
the ideal. And I can't imagine anything more ideal than a father's
labours on behalf of his family, even though they do become rather
fatiguing at times."

"You're tremendously up in the clouds to-day, Mr. Reed-Warbler," said
the eel. "Every one to his taste. But, as for poetry, I must confess
that I have not seen much of it in my life. And yet I have wriggled and
twisted about the world a good deal. The great question, everywhere, is
eating and eating and eating. And those who have children to care for
are the worst robbers of the lot. Good-bye."

"That's a disgusting fellow," said Mrs. Reed-Warbler. "It was very nice
of you to give him a piece of your mind. I quite agree with you.
Besides, I myself performed a really fine action to-day."

She ran to the reed and looked into the water:

"Are you there, my little grub?" she asked.

"Yes, thank you," said the May-fly grub.

"And how are you?"

"Fairly. The eel almost caught sight of me; and I was nearly getting
into the bladder-wort's prison; and the water-spider was after me before
that. Otherwise, I'm all right."

"What's this now?" asked the