atch cold while you're waiting down
there."

"Can't you stop fiddling long enough to talk with me now?" Chirpy asked
him. "I've come here to ask you whether you ever saw a cousin of ours
called Mr. Mole Cricket."

"_Re-teat! re-teat! re-teat!_" Tommy Tree Cricket was already fiddling
away as if it were the last night of the summer. He was making so much
shrill music that he couldn't hear a word Chirpy said. The more Chirpy
tried to attract his attention the harder he played, rolling his eyes in
every direction--except that of his caller.

Several times Chirpy Cricket leaped into the air, hoping that Tommy Tree
Cricket would see that he had something important to say. But Tommy paid
not the slightest heed to him.

At last Chirpy decided that he might as well do a little fiddling
himself, to pass the time away. So he began his _cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i!
cr-r-r-i!_ And then Tommy noticed him immediately.

"You're playing the wrong tune!" he cried. "It's _re-teat! re-teat!
re-teat!_"

Chirpy Cricket thought that his cousin's face was slightly darker, as if
a flush of annoyance had come over it. He certainly didn't want to
quarrel with Tommy Tree Cricket. So he said to him, very mildly, "I fear
you do not like my playing."

"I can't say that I do," said Tommy. "It makes me think of that creaking
pump at the farmhouse."

"And of what"--Chirpy Cricket stammered--"of what, pray, does your own
fiddling remind you?"

"Ah!" said Tommy. "My own music is like nothing in the world except the
sound of a shimmering moonbeam."

There is no doubt that Tommy Tree Cricket thought very well of his own
fiddling.

XVI

A LONG WAIT

Chirpy cricket was so good-natured that he wouldn't quarrel with his
cousin, Tommy Tree Cricket. Although Tommy had said bluntly that Chirpy's
fiddling reminded him of Farmer Green's creaking pump, Chirpy made no
disagreeable answer. He did not want to hurt his pale cousin's feelings.

After making his rude remark Tommy Tree Cricket began his _re-teat!
re-teat! re-teat!_ once more. He shuffled his wings together at a faster
rate than ever, as if he had to furnish all the music for the night. As
before, he seemed to have forgotten all about his caller; for Chirpy
still waited beneath the raspberry bush where Tommy Tree Cricket was
fiddling.

But if Tommy paid no heed to Chirpy, there was a reason why. Near Tommy
sat a pale young miss of his own sort, who listened with great enjoyment
to his p