etched cripple. But are you all right again
now?"

"Oh dear yes!" said the earth-worm. "I don't mind in the least if they
chip one end off me. It soon grows again, if only they leave me
alone.... But do you know what sort of little sprout this is who is
coming up here beside me, with such a funny thick hat on his head?"

"I don't know him," said the willow-tree. "I have become feeble with
years and can't at once make out all that grows on me. Do you know him?"

"I should think I ought to!" said the earth-worm. "Why it was I who
dragged him into the ground a couple of years ago. He was joined on to a
leaf and stalk and I ate up both the leaf and the stalk, but I couldn't
manage this chap. That wasn't so odd either, for he was an acorn. Now he
has sprouted, he's a little oak."

"An oak!" said the willow-tree, overcome with respectful awe.

"He blew over here in the great storm of the autumn before last," said
the earth-worm. "I remember it distinctly, because you were creaking so
that I thought it would have been up with all of us."

"What's that you're saying?" said the oak on the little hillock in the
fields. "Is one of my children growing on you?"

"Yes," said the old willow-tree. "It's really a little oak. That's a
great honour for me."

"It's folly," said the oak. "He must be going to die."

"We all have to die," said the elder-bush.

10

One day the squire came walking down the avenue.

He had the keeper with him and his own two children, a little boy and a
little girl. They had not been long at the manor-house and looked about
them inquisitively, for everything was new to them.

"What on earth is that ugly old stump doing there?" asked the squire,
pointing at the old willow-tree with his cane. "He's enough to spoil the
whole avenue. See that you get rid of him to-morrow, keeper. It makes me
quite ill to look at him."

For that happened to be his mood that day.

"Now it's coming," said the oak. "That's your death-warrant, you old
Willow-Tree. Well, you won't be sorry. I think it must be better to make
an end of it than to stand and get hollower day by day."

"We all cling to life," said the willow-tree sadly. "And what will
become of my boarders?"

"They may be thankful that they lived so long," said the wild rose-bush.

"Let's first see what happens," said the elder-bush. "I have been
through times that looked worse still and have escaped for all that."

"Thank goodness that's over!" said t