ade."

4

And all the summer passed and another summer and still more. The beeches
kept on growing steadily and at last grew right over the little oak's
head.

"Keep your leaves to yourselves," cried the oak. "You're standing in my
light; and that I can't endure. I must have proper sunshine. Take your
leaves away, or else I shall die."

The beeches only laughed and went on growing. At last they met right
over the little oak's head and then he died.

"That was ill done," roared the big oaks and shook their branches in
anger.

But the old oak stood up for his foster-children:

"Serve him right!" he said. "That's his reward for bragging. I say it,
though he is my own flesh and blood. But you must be careful now, you
little beeches, or else I shall slap you on the head too."

5

The years passed and the beeches kept on growing and gradually became
slim young trees that reached right up among the old oak's branches.

"You're beginning to be rather intrusive for my taste," said the old
oak. "You should try to grow a bit thicker and stop this shooting into
the air. Just look how your branches stick out. Bend them decently, as
you see us do. How will you manage when a regular storm comes? Take it
from me, the wind shakes the tree-tops finely! He has many a time come
whistling through my old branches; and how do you think that you'll come
off, with that flimsy finery which you stick up in the air?"

"Every one grows in his own manner and we in ours," replied the young
beeches. "This is the way it's done where we come from; and we daresay
we are quite as good as you."

"That's not a polite remark to make to an old tree with moss on his
branches," said the oak. "I am beginning to regret that I was so kind to
you. If you have a scrap of honour in your composition, just have the
goodness to move your leaves a little to one side. Last year, there were
hardly any buds on my lower branches, all through your standing in my
light."

"We can't quite see what that has to do with us," replied the beeches.
"Every one has enough to do to look after himself. If he is industrious
and successful, then things go well with him. If not, he must be content
to go to the wall. Such is the way of the world."

And the oak's lower branches died and he began to be terribly
frightened:

"You're nice fellows, you are!" he said. "The way you reward me for my
hospitality! When you were little, I let you grow at my foot and
sheltered y