."

"What's that?" Johnnie inquired hopefully.

"All you can do," said Farmer Green, "is to come downstairs and have
something to eat."

Now, that may seem a strange remedy. But somehow it just suited Johnnie
Green. He pattered barefooted down the stairs. And later, when he went to
bed again, and Chirpy Cricket began to chirp once more, all Johnnie Green
said was this:

"Sing away--little Tommy Tucker! You may not know it, but you sang for my
supper!"

And the next moment, Johnnie Green was sound asleep.

IX

AN INTERRUPTED NAP

Chirpy Cricket liked his home in Farmer Green's yard. During the long
summer days he thought it very cheerful to rest in his dark hole in the
ground. He liked the darkness of his home; he liked its warmth, too. For
in pleasant weather the sun beat down upon the straw-littered ground
above him and gave him plenty of heat, while on gray days the straw
blanket kept his house cosy. And it never occurred to Chirpy Cricket that
there was anything odd in having a blanket over his house instead of over
himself.

Nothing ever really disturbed Chirpy Cricket after he settled in the
farmyard. To be sure, he had a few frights at first. Now and then the
earth trembled in a terrible fashion. But that happened only when Johnnie
Green led old Ebenezer, or some other horse, to the watering-trough,
passing right over Chirpy's home. And Chirpy had soon learned that he was
in no danger.

Then at other times he heard an odd tearing and scratching, as if some
giant had discovered Chirpy's doorway and meant to dig him out of his
hiding place. By peeping slyly out he discovered at last the cause of
those fearful sounds. It was only the hens looking for something to
eat--a bit of grain amid the straw, or perhaps an angleworm. Chirpy never
left his house when he heard the hens at work. He had no wish to offer
himself as a tidbit. And he felt quite safe down in his home, for he was
quick to learn that the hens were no diggers. They could only scratch the
surface of the ground. So, in time, he used to laugh when he heard them.
And now and then he would even fiddle a bit, as if to say to them, "Here
I am! Come and get me if you can!"

The sound of fiddling, coming from beneath their feet, always puzzled the
hens. They would stop scratching and cock their heads on one side, to
listen. And they tried to look very knowing. But they were really the
most stupid of all the creatures in the farmyard. If they