e
underneath me, I let go and fell here, into the pond."

"And are you satisfied?"

"Yes, for the present. I have seen no other mussels, so it is a good
deal pleasanter than in the other place."

"That's a curious story," said the reed-warbler.

Then he sat and fell a-thinking and night came.

But Mrs. Reed-Warbler ran down the reed and peered into the dark water:

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

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

"Have you had a good time to-day?"

"Yes, thank you. I was only nearly eaten up by the perch; and then there
was a duckling after me and a horrid dragon-fly grub and a water-beetle.
Otherwise everything was very nice indeed."

CHAPTER IX

The Water-Lily

[Illustration]

"Don't you think we shall be able to let the children out soon?" asked
the reed-warbler.

"Certainly not!" said his wife. "There can be no question of the little
dears standing on their legs for quite a month yet."

"They can stand on their legs as it is," said he, "for they nearly
trample one another to death when I come along with a silly fly. I tell
you, it's getting a bit difficult to provide food for everybody. There
are such an awful lot of us after it now. There are children all over
the neighbourhood and they are all crying out for food."

"Are you beginning to see the truth of what I said, madam?" asked the
eel, sticking his head out of the mud.

"Hold your tongue and mind your own business, you ugly fish," said Mrs.
Reed-Warbler.

"Your husband has come round to my views long ago," said the eel. "I can
see that plainly. He would give anything to be able to roam about as a
free bird, instead of wearing himself out with a big family."

"You're quite mistaken, my good fellow," said the reed-warbler. "I
certainly admit ..."

"You'd better mind what you're admitting!" screamed his wife and pecked
at him.

"Wriggle and twist!" said the eel; and off he went.

That afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Reed-Warbler sat discussing the question
again:

"If only we can hold out," said he. "Just now, I was fighting like mad
with my old friend, the flycatcher, for a ridiculous little grub. I got
it, but he will never forgive me. When poverty comes in at the door,
love flies out at the window, as the human beings say. It will end in
screaming and quarrelling all over the pond."

"It cannot be worse than it is," said she. "Do as I do and think of all
the beautiful things the poets have