me to meet his wife.

"My home is not very far from here," his new cousin said. "We'll go back
through this tunnel I've been making. The other end of it opens into my
dwelling, some distance below the surface of the garden. Follow me and
you'll have no trouble finding it."

But somehow Chirpy Cricket did not quite like the idea of travelling with
the stranger, cousin though he might be, under Farmer Green's garden.
"Not to-day!" he said politely. "I haven't had anything to eat since last
night. And I don't feel like taking a journey."

"We'll snatch a bite on the way to my house," Mr. Mole Cricket suggested
cheerfully. "I'll dig out a few juicy roots for you. Which kind do you
like best--beet, turnip or carrot?"

"I don't like any of them," Chirpy Cricket confessed.

"You don't!" his cousin cried, as if he were astonished to hear that.
"What do you live on, then?"

"Grass!" Chirpy answered.

"I've never heard of it," said Mr. Mole Cricket. "And I must say you have
queer tastes--even though you are my own cousin."

Chirpy Cricket saw that he and Mr. Mole Cricket were bound to have
trouble if they saw too much of each other. So he hinted--in a delicate
way--that Mr. Mole Cricket's wife must be wondering where he was.

Thereupon that gentleman started up hurriedly and made for his tunnel.

"I'll see you again sometime," he said hastily over his shoulder. And in
another instant he was gone.

They never met again. Chirpy Cricket took great pains never to spend
another day in hiding in Farmer Green's garden. He was afraid there might
be trouble if he saw more of his cousin. And he couldn't forget those
powerful forelegs and enormous feet of Mr. Mole Cricket! They looked very
dangerous.

The longer Chirpy pondered over his brief meeting with Mr. Mole Cricket,
the more firmly he made up his mind that he had been in great danger and
that he had been lucky to escape alive. Everybody knew that Grandfather
Mole was a terrible-tempered person when aroused. He would rush at
anybody, big or little. Perhaps that was because he couldn't see what
sized person he was attacking. For Grandfather Mole was blind. But he
never stopped to inquire of anybody whether he was tall or short, thick
or thin. He just went ahead without asking.

"I'm glad," thought Chirpy, "that I didn't go home with Mr. Mole Cricket.
If his wife's feet are anything like his they'd be a fearful pair to
quarrel with. And even if they hadn't quarrelled with