tree, sadly. "Well, there's
nothing to be done. What can't be cured must be endured."

"Now listen to me, Willow-Tree," said the oak. "On the whole I don't
like you."

"I don't know that I ever did you any harm," said the willow-tree.

"Very likely," said the oak. "Only I thought you so arrogant ever since
the time when you came the cutting over us. But never mind that now. I
have felt most awfully sorry for you since I heard that you were about
to become hollow. Take care, that's what I say. It's a terrible
misfortune."

"I really don't know what to do to prevent it," said the willow-tree.

"No more do I," said the oak. "But I tell you for all that: take care.
See if you can't get all the birds who visit you to scrape all the earth
out of the hole in your head before it becomes too deep."

"I mustn't harm the dandelion," said the willow-tree. "Besides, I don't
think there's any danger yet. My twigs are green and thriving and my
roots are sucking pretty well. As long as the root is sound,
everything's sound: you know that as well as I do."

"Take care, that's all," said the oak. "You don't know what it means,
but I do. I may as well tell you, I have an old hollow uncle."

"Have you?" said the willow-tree. "Yes, there's a tragedy in every
family. You have your uncle and the poplars have me."

"You've no idea of the sort of life he leads," said the oak. "He's
awfully old and awfully hollow. Yes, he's like you in a way, but ever so
much worse. There's nothing left of him but a very thin shell and just a
wretched twig or two in his top. Almost all his roots are dead, too. And
he's always full of owls and bats and other vermin. It's a terrible life
he leads."

"I'm very sorry to hear it," said the willow-tree.

[Illustration]

"I merely say, look out!" said the oak.

8

And the years came and went and time passed, as it must and will pass.

The willow-tree became more and more decayed and the hole filled with
earth and more customers arrived. One spring there was a dainty little
sprout, which the tree welcomed under the impression that it was a
dandelion.

"Hullo!" said the sprout. "What do you think I am?"

"I have the highest opinion of you," said the willow-tree. "But you are
still so small. May I ask your name?"

"I am a strawberry-plant," said the sprout. "And one of the best. My own
idea is that I am the equal of those which grow in the manor-garden.
Just wait till I get my fruit: then we shall