THE SPIDER. 
 
 CAR!, EWALD
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 IN MEMORY OF 
 MRS. VIRGINIA B. SPORER

 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 AND OTHER TALES
 
 BOOKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
 PUBLISHED BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 
 THE SPIDER AND OTHER TALES net, $1.00 
 
 TWO-LEGS net, $1.00 
 
 MY LITTLE BOY net, $1.00
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 AND OTHER TALES 
 
 BY 
 CARL EWALD 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 NEW YORK ::::::: 1907
 
 Copyright, 1907, by Charles Scribner's Sons 
 Sole Authorized Translation 
 
 Published, April, 1907 
 
 Th Trow Press, New York
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAOK 
 
 THE SPIDEE 3 
 
 THE MIST 59 
 
 THE ANEMONES 77 
 
 THE QUEEN BEE 97 
 
 THE CATEEPILLAR 123 
 
 THE BEECH AND THE OAK .... 143 
 
 THE WEEDS 165 
 
 THE WATER-LILY AND THE DRAGON-FLY . 183 
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 199 
 
 2040336
 
 THE SPIDER
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 THE hedge had once been full of 
 trees and bushes, but they were cut 
 down and nothing now shot up from 
 their stubs but long, thin twigs. 
 
 In between the stubs grew goafs- 
 foot and fool's-parsley and more 
 weeds of the same kind, which all 
 look like one another and are called 
 wild chervil by people who know no 
 better. 
 
 Their branches were almost as long 
 as those of the bushes. And they were 
 as pretentious as though they really 
 were bushes and as though they did 
 not wither in the autumn and have 
 
 3
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 to start all over again with a little 
 seed, just like some silly daisy or 
 pansy. They strutted and swag- 
 gered, they rustled in the wind, they 
 snapped, they lost their leaves and 
 got new ones, exactly as if their time 
 were their own. If any one asked 
 them what they really were, they 
 pretended not to hear, or turned it 
 off as a jest, or refused pointblank 
 to answer. 
 
 And then they had beautiful white 
 flowers, which they lifted high in the 
 air, like parasols, whereas the real 
 branches, that grew on the stubs, 
 never got to look like anything but 
 overgrown children and could put 
 forth neither flowers nor fruit.
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 2 
 
 "Why, here's quite a wood!" said 
 the mouse, one evening, sitting under 
 the foliage and peeping up with her 
 bright eyes. 
 
 "We are the wood," said the goafs- 
 foot. 
 
 "Pray take a look round," said the 
 parsley. "If you like us, build your 
 nest in us. All that we can offer you 
 is at your service." 
 
 "Don't believe them," said the real 
 bushes. "They only make a show 
 while summer lasts. When autumn 
 comes, they are gone without leaving 
 a trace behind them." 
 
 "I don't know anything about au- 
 tumn," said the parsley. 
 
 "I don't believe in autumn," said 
 the goat's-foot. "It's a cock-and-bull 
 5
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 story with which they take in the 
 baby bushes." 
 
 "Autumn exists all right," said the 
 mouse. "And after that comes win- 
 ter. Then the thing is to have one's 
 larder full. It's well I thought of it. 
 I think I will dig myself a little hole 
 between the stones and begin laying 
 up." 
 
 "Let him burrow in the ground that 
 pleases," said the parsley. 
 
 "We have loftier aims," said the 
 goat's-foot. 
 
 Then they stood a bit and said no- 
 thing. And then the parsley sighed 
 and said what they were both think- 
 ing. 
 
 "If only a bird would come and 
 build her nest in us!" 
 
 "We would shade it and rock it and 
 take such care of it that the real 
 
 6
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 bushes would die of envy," said the 
 goafs-foot. 
 
 "Won't you have me?" asked a 
 voice. 
 
 A queer, gray individual came walk- 
 ing up the hedge. 
 
 "Who are you?" asked the parsley. 
 
 "I am the spider," said the individ- 
 ual. 
 
 "Can you fly?" asked the goat's- 
 foot. 
 
 "I can do a little of everything, if 
 need be." 
 
 "Do you eat flies?" asked the pars- 
 ley. 
 
 "All day long." 
 
 "Do you lay eggs?" asked the 
 goat's-foot. "For, of course, you're 
 a woman?" 
 
 "Yes thank goodness!" said the 
 spider. 
 
 7
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 "Then you're the bird for us," said 
 the parsley. 
 
 "You're heartily welcome," said 
 the goafs-foot. "You look pretty 
 light, so you won't break our 
 branches. Be sure and begin to 
 build as soon as you please. You'll 
 find plenty of materials in the 
 hedge." 
 
 "It doesn't matter in the least if you 
 nip off a leaf here and there," said 
 the parsley. 
 
 "Thanks, I carry my own materials 
 with me," said the spider. 
 
 "I don't see any luggage," said the 
 goat's-foot. 
 
 "Perhaps your husband's bringing 
 it?" asked the parsley. 
 
 "I have no husband, thank good- 
 ness!" said the spider. 
 
 "Poor thing!" said the mouse, who 
 8
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 sat listening. "That must be awfully 
 sad for you." 
 
 "Ah, there's the usual feminine 
 balderdash!" said the spider. "That's 
 what makes us women such ridicu- 
 lous and contemptible creatures. It's 
 always 'my husband' here and 'my 
 husband' there. I should like to know 
 what use a husband is to one, when 
 all's said. He's nothing but a nui- 
 sance and a worry. If ever I take an- 
 other, he sha'n't live with me, what- 
 ever happens." 
 
 "How you talk!" said the mouse. 
 "I can't think of anything more dis- 
 mal than if my husband were to live 
 away from me. And I should like to 
 know how I should manage with the 
 children, if he didn't help me, the 
 dear soul!" 
 
 "Children!" replied the spider. "Fid- 
 
 9
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 dle-de-dee! I don't see the use of all 
 that coddling. Lay your eggs in a 
 sensible place and then leave them 
 alone." 
 
 "She doesn't talk like a bird," said 
 the parsley, doubtfully. 
 
 "I too am beginning to be uneasy 
 about her," said the goat's-foot. 
 
 "You can call me what you like," 
 said the spider. "In any case, I don't 
 associate with the other birds. If there 
 are too many of them here, I won't 
 even stay." 
 
 "Lord preserve us!" said the pars- 
 ley, who began to fear lest she should 
 go away. "There are hardly ever any 
 here." 
 
 "They flew into the wood when the 
 trees were cut down," said the goat's- 
 foot. 
 
 "Yes, it's dull here," said the long 
 10
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 twigs on the stubs. "One never hears 
 a note." 
 
 "It's all right here," said the spi- 
 der. "As long as the flies buzz, I'm 
 content." 
 
 "Here we are!" said the goat's-foot 
 and the parsley, straightening them- 
 selves. 
 
 The spider crawled about and looked 
 around her and the mouse kept on 
 following her with her eyes: 
 
 "I beg your pardon," said she. "But 
 why do you build a nest when you 
 leave your eggs to shift for them- 
 selves?" 
 
 "Listen to me, Mousie," said the spi- 
 der. "You may as well look upon me 
 from the start as an independent 
 woman. I think only of myself and 
 my belongings and I look after my- 
 self. If I ever condescend to take a 
 11
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 husband, the milksop will have to look 
 after himself." 
 
 "Lord, how you speak of him!" said 
 the mouse. "My husband is bigger 
 and stronger than I am." 
 
 "I have never met him," replied the 
 spider, carelessly. "The men in my 
 family are scarce a quarter as large 
 as I am. Wretched creatures, not 
 worth a fly. I should be ashamed to 
 share my flat with a customer like 
 one of those. But now I'm going to 
 build." 
 
 "You had better wait till it's light," 
 said the parsley. 
 
 "What will you build with?" asked 
 the goafs-foot. 
 
 "I like the dark, as it happens," said 
 the spider. "And I carry my own 
 building-materials." 
 
 Then she scrambled to the top of 
 12
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 the goat's-foot and looked round the 
 landscape. 
 
 "You must have good eyes to see at 
 night," said the mouse. "Mine are 
 not bad, but still I shouldn't care to 
 build a nest by this light." 
 
 "As for eyes, I have eight," said the 
 spider. "And they see what they have 
 to. I have also eight legs, I may as 
 well tell you, and you needn't be 
 struck with amazement on that ac- 
 count. Taken all round, I am a 
 woman who knows how to help her- 
 self in an emergency. There's no cod- 
 dling here and no nonsense." 
 
 Now she pressed her abdomen 
 against the branch of the goat's-foot 
 on which she was sitting and then 
 took a header into the air. 
 
 "She'll break her neck!" cried the 
 mouse, terrified. 
 
 18
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 "I haven't got a neck," said the spi- 
 der, from down below. "And, if I 
 had, I wouldn't break it. You go 
 home to your dear husband and fon- 
 dle him. When you come back in the 
 morning, you shall see what a cap- 
 able woman can do who doesn't waste 
 her time on love and emotions." 
 
 The mouse went away, because she 
 had other things to see to and also 
 because the spider's words hurt her. 
 But the goat's-foot and the fool's 
 parsley were obliged to remain where 
 they were and so were the long twigs 
 on the stubs. And the spider behaved 
 in such a curious manner that none 
 of them closed an eye all night for 
 looking at her. 
 
 The fact is, she did nothing but take 
 headers into the air. She jumped first 
 from one branch and then from an- 
 14
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 other, then crawled up again and 
 jumped once more. And, although 
 she had no wings, as any one could 
 see, she let herself down quite slowly 
 to the ground or to another branch, 
 never missed her jjimp and did not 
 come to the least harm. To and fro, 
 up and down she went, the whole 
 night long. 
 
 "It is a bird," said the parsley, de- 
 lightedly. 
 
 "Of course," said the goat's-foot. 
 "What else could it be?" 
 
 But the twigs on the stubs bobbed 
 at one another mockingly: 
 
 "She's never been a bird in her life," 
 they said. "Can she sing? Have you 
 heard as much as a chirp from her?" 
 
 The goat's-foot and the parsley 
 looked at each other doubtfully. And, 
 when the spider sat still, for a mo- 
 
 15
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 ment, catching her breath, the pars- 
 ley ventured upon a question: 
 
 "Can you sing?" 
 
 "Pshaw!" replied the spider. "Do 
 you think I go in for that sort of 
 twaddle ? What is there to sing about ? 
 Life is nothing but toil and drudg- 
 ery and, if a lone woman is to hold 
 her own, she must turn to and set to 
 work." 
 
 "Birds sing," said the goat's-foot. 
 
 "They sing because they are in 
 love," said the spider. "I am not in 
 love." 
 
 "Wait till the right man comes 
 along," said the parsley. 
 
 "If he does, he'd better look out," 
 said the spider. 
 
 Then she took another header; and 
 so she went on. 
 
 16
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 3 
 
 But, when the day began to break, 
 the goat's -foot and the parsley were 
 near snapping with surprise. 
 
 The spider was hanging in the air 
 between their branches. She had 
 drawn her legs up under her, bun- 
 dled herself together and was sleep- 
 ing like a top. 
 
 "Is she on you?" asked the goafs- 
 foot. 
 
 "No," replied the parsley. "Is she 
 on you?" 
 
 "No," said the goafs-foot. 
 
 "She's not on us either," said the 
 twigs. 
 
 "It is a bird," said the parsley and 
 the goafs-foot, enraptured. 
 
 "A bird doesn't hang in the middle 
 of the air, sleeping," said the twigs. 
 
 17
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 "It's an elf," said the mouse, who 
 came up at that moment. "Just wait 
 till it's quite light: then perhaps we 
 shall see." 
 
 And, when the sun rose, they saw. 
 
 In between the branches of the 
 goat's-foot and the fool's-parsley 
 were stretched a number of very fine 
 threads, which crossed one another 
 and shone in the sun so that it was a 
 delight to see. Other threads ran 
 across them in circles, one outside the 
 other. 
 
 "Ah!" said the mouse. "Now I un- 
 derstand. She was sitting in the mid- 
 dle of that. But where has she gone 
 to now?" 
 
 "Here I am," said the spider, from 
 under a leaf. "I can't stand the 
 bright sunlight. What do you think 
 of my work? But I haven't finished 
 yet." is
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 "Pish!" said the mouse. "Frankly 
 speaking, I think it's a funny sort of 
 nest you've made." 
 
 "Nest, nest, nest!" said the spider. 
 "It's you who've been talking of a 
 nest, not I. You keep on taking it 
 for granted that I am a silly, effem- 
 inate woman like yourself and the 
 others. What use is a nest to me? I'm 
 all right here under this leaf. It's 
 shady here and good enough for me. 
 The threads are my web. I catch flies 
 in it. I wonder, shall we have a little 
 rain? Then I can set to again and 
 finish my work." 
 
 Presently, the sun disappeared be- 
 hind the clouds. A mild and gentle 
 rain fell and when it stopped the 
 spider came out and stretched her 
 eight legs contentedly in the moist 
 air. 
 
 19
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 And then she set to work. 
 
 They all saw how she pulled a mul- 
 titude of very fine threads at a time 
 from her abdomen. Then she began 
 to unravel them with combs which 
 she had at the ends of her legs, twist- 
 ed them together into one thick 
 thread and hung it beside the others 
 where she thought that the opening 
 was too large or the net not strong 
 enough. All the threads were greasy 
 and sticky, so that the flies would 
 have to hang fast in them. Later in 
 the day, the web was ready; and they 
 all admired it because it was so 
 pretty. 
 
 "Now I'm settled," said the spider. 
 
 At that moment came a starling 
 and sat on the top of one of the long 
 twigs : 
 
 "Is there nothing to eat here?" he 
 20
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 asked. "A few grubs? A spider or 
 so?" 
 
 The goafs-foot and the parsley said 
 nothing: they almost withered with 
 fright at the idea of losing their 
 lodger. The mouse made off, for 
 safety's sake, but the twigs on the 
 stubs cried with one breath that a 
 nice fat spider had just come and 
 had spun her web in the night. 
 
 "I can see none," said the starling 
 and flew away. 
 
 But the spider, quick as lightning, 
 had let herself down to the ground 
 by a long thread and lay there as still 
 as if she were dead. Now she crept 
 up again and sat in the middle of 
 her web with all her eight legs out- 
 stretched. 
 
 "That was a near thing," she said. 
 "Now my turn's coming." 
 21
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 Up came a smart little fly, who 
 didn't see the web but flew in and 
 got caught, poor fellow. 
 
 "That's an earnest," said the spider. 
 
 She bit the fly with her mandibles, 
 which were filled with poison, so that 
 he died at once. Then she ate him. 
 And she did the same with the next 
 three that came into the web. After 
 that, she could eat no more. She let 
 a good many little insects, that had 
 the misfortune to get caught, hang 
 and sprawl, without stirring a limb. 
 When a good fat fly came along, 
 she bit him dead, spun a little web 
 round him and hung him up : 
 
 "He may come in handy one day, 
 when I run short," she said. 
 
 "Very sensible," said the mouse. 
 "That's really the first thing you've 
 said that I can agree with. But, 
 
 22
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 otherwise, I am bound to say I don't 
 care for your ways. They're far too 
 sly for me. And then you use poison, 
 like the adder. That, I think, is 
 mean." 
 
 "You think so, do you?" said the 
 spider, with a sneer. "Is it any worse 
 than what you others do? I suppose 
 you blow a trumpet when you sneak 
 out after your prey; eh, you pious 
 little mouse?" 
 
 "Indeed I could, if I had a trump- 
 et," said the mouse. "Thank good- 
 ness, I am not a robber and mur- 
 derer like yourself. I gather nuts and 
 acorns and anything else that comes 
 to hand and I have never hurt a 
 soul." 
 
 "No, you're a dear little woman of 
 the old-fashioned sort," said the spi- 
 der, "You take other people's leav- 
 
 23
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 ings and are quite happy. Then you 
 go home and let your husband and 
 children pet and fondle you. I'm not 
 built that way, let me tell you. I 
 don't care for caresses, but I have an 
 appetite. I want meat: nice, juicy 
 fly-meat; and lots of it. I ask no- 
 thing of anybody, but get myself 
 what I want. If things go well, I 
 have all the honour and pleasure my- 
 self; if they go badly, I don't go cry- 
 ing to anybody. It would be a good 
 thing if there were more women like 
 me." 
 
 "You're so rough," said the mouse. 
 
 "Fiddlesticks!" replied the spider. 
 "It's all one. I'm no worse than most 
 people. Take the goat's-foot and the 
 parsley: they fight for the butterflies 
 and bees and steal each other's light 
 and air as much as they can." 
 
 24
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 "Very true," said the parsley. 
 
 "An exceedingly sensible woman," 
 said the goafs-foot. 
 
 "That's such an ugly name of 
 yours," said the mouse. 
 
 "Can't help that," said the spider. 
 "Some people call me venom -head, 1 
 because of those few drops of poison 
 I carry in my mandibles. They're so 
 immensely upset about the poor flies 
 I catch ; and they kill a fly themselves 
 if he only settles on their nose. It's 
 six of one and half a dozen of the 
 other. Nothing but sentimental af- 
 fectation. Besides, I have no objec- 
 tion to changing my name. You can 
 call me spinner, if you prefer. That's 
 a word which a dainty little lady like 
 you can pronounce without fainting; 
 and it suits me, because there's not an 
 
 1 Danish : Edderkop.
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 animal in the world that spins as 
 beautifully as I do." 
 
 "That's all very likely," said the 
 mouse, shaking her head. "But what 
 you do is ugly and you yourself are 
 so hideous that there's no excusing 
 you." 
 
 "Is that it?" asked the spider and 
 laughed. "Look here, little Mrs. 
 Mouse: I'm rationally dressed. My 
 homely gray clothes suit my work 
 and don't attract unnecessary atten- 
 tion. Thank goodness, I don't have 
 to dress up like the others, who deck 
 themselves out to obtain love and 
 happiness and who strut and swag- 
 ger in a way that a sensible per- 
 son would be ashamed of. But, 
 of course, the ninnies despise me 
 for my plain frocks. Let them! 
 What do I care for ninnies? And, 
 
 26
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 if they come into my meshes, I'll 
 eat them." 
 
 The mouse shook her head and went 
 away. The parsley and the goafs- 
 foot muttered softly to each other. 
 The spider hung in her net, stretched 
 her legs and digested her food. 
 
 When the sun came out, she crept 
 under her leaf and then the mouse 
 came back and peeped up: 
 
 "Is she asleep?" she asked. 
 
 "I think so," said the parsley. "And 
 you had better not wake her with 
 your chattering." 
 
 "She's our bird, once and for all," 
 said the goat's-foot. "Though she 
 may behave differently from other 
 birds, she has done us the honour and 
 shown us the confidence to build in 
 us and therefore we ask that she may 
 be respected." 
 
 27
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 "A nice sort of bird!" said the twigs, 
 with a sneer. 
 
 "In any case, she's better than no- 
 thing," said the parsley. 
 
 "Such louts as you had better hold 
 your tongues," said the goat's-foot. 
 "No one builds in you, at any rate." 
 
 "She's not a bird," said the mouse. 
 "But that's no reason why she 
 shouldn't be very good. Now I think 
 that she's a poor, unhappy old maid, 
 who has fallen out with existence. 
 Perhaps her sweetheart jilted her; 
 that leaves a wound. My first hus- 
 band ran away with a white mouse, 
 just after my children were born. So 
 I speak from experience." 
 
 "That's possible," said the parsley, 
 thoughtfully. "But what can one do 
 in a case like that?" 
 
 "We must try and make her hap- 
 
 28
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 py," said the mouse. "If she goes on 
 leading this lonely life, she will grow 
 more bitter every day and at last all 
 gentler feelings will be stifled in her. 
 If we could only find a husband 
 for her!" 
 
 "Yes, if we only could!" said the 
 parsley. 
 
 "Then perhaps she would build a 
 real nest, with little eggs in it," said 
 the goat's- foot. 
 
 "Perhaps she would sing to her 
 young," said the parsley. 
 
 "That would at once entitle us to 
 rank with the bushes," said the goafs- 
 foot. 
 
 "What are you talking about?" 
 asked the spider, putting out her 
 head from under the leaf. 
 
 "We're talking about you," said the 
 mouse. "We were saying that you 
 
 29
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 really ought to get married. It's not 
 good, in the long run, for a woman 
 to live alone. It makes her queer and 
 sour. If you only knew how delight- 
 ful it is to see one's dear little young 
 and feed them and educate them!" 
 
 "Stuff!" said the spider. 
 
 "It's the provision of nature," said 
 the mouse. "And I will do what I 
 can for you, no matter what you say. 
 I see a heap of spiders daily on my 
 way along the hedge. They are cer- 
 tainly much smaller than you, but 
 nice fellows, for all that. Perhaps I 
 may meet a big one, too. Then I 
 shall tell him that there's a charming 
 young lady over here, longing for a 
 sweetheart." 
 
 "Then you'll be telling an awful 
 lie," said the spider. "And you needn't 
 look for one who is bigger than I, 
 
 30
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 for our men are all miserable under- 
 sized vermin. I tell you, no one looks 
 upon them as worth a straw. It's long 
 been understood among us that it's 
 only the women that are good for 
 anything." 
 
 "Well, I'm going," said the mouse. 
 "I shall find the right man yet. And 
 I feel sure that you'll be much more 
 amiable when you're in love." 
 
 "Run away, Mousie," said the spi- 
 der. "The man who can please me 
 isn't born yet. But you have nothing 
 in your head but love and nonsense." 
 
 She killed a fly, spun a web round 
 him and hung him up and then hid 
 under the leaf. The mouse went 
 away, the parsley and the goafs- 
 foot put their heads together and 
 talked of the future. 
 
 31
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 4 
 
 The next morning, a really nice 
 gentleman-spider was sitting on the 
 parsley, but a good way off from the 
 snappish young lady. 
 
 Pie had brushed his clothes and 
 spun a couple of fine threads to show 
 what he could do. He bent and 
 stretched his legs for her to see 
 that he was well-shaped. Seven of his 
 eyes beamed with love, while the 
 eighth took care that she didn't eat 
 him: 
 
 "Allow me, miss, to offer you my 
 hand and heart," said he. 
 
 "He's a fair-spoken man," said the 
 parsley. 
 
 "A charming man," said the goafs- 
 foot. 
 
 "It was I that sent him here," said 
 the mouse. 
 
 32
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 "Idiot!" said the damsel. 
 
 But the spider did not throw up the 
 game so easily. He gracefully bowed 
 his thorax, set two of his eyes to 
 watch that nothing happened to him 
 and looked doubly enamoured with 
 the other six: 
 
 "Do not think that I mean to be a 
 burden to you," he said. "I have my 
 own web a little way down the hedge 
 and I can easily catch the few flies I 
 require. I have even got five real fat 
 ones hanging and spun up, which I 
 shall esteem it an honour to offer you 
 to-morrow, so that you may see that 
 it is love alone that urges me to pro- 
 pose to you." 
 
 "Is that you talking your non- 
 sense?" said the damsel. "What the 
 blazes should I do with such a silly 
 man?" 
 
 33
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 "Dear me!" he said and now there 
 was only one eye in love, so fierce was 
 her air "If my courtship seems in- 
 opportune to you, I will retire at 
 once and wait till another time. ..." 
 
 "I rather think that's the wisest 
 thing you could do," said she. "Clear 
 out, this minute, or I'll . . ." 
 
 He slid down a thread in no time 
 and she after him. But he escaped 
 and, a little later, she was sitting in 
 her web again, looking sourer than 
 ever. 
 
 "What a woman!" said the mouse. 
 
 "Yes, just so!" said the spider. 
 
 "It doesn't do to take the first that 
 comes," said the parsley. 
 
 "It's only that he wasn't the right 
 one," said the goat's-foot. 
 
 But the unfortunate suitor went 
 round the hedge telling the other 
 
 34
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 spiders about the charming and re- 
 markable lady whose web hung be- 
 tween the parsley and the goafs- 
 foot. 
 
 "She is so big," he said, spreading 
 his legs as wide as he could. "I have 
 never seen any one so pretty in my 
 life. But she's as proud as a peacock. 
 I shall certainly die of grief at her 
 refusal. In any case, one thing is 
 sure, that I shall never marry." 
 
 They listened to him wide-eyed and 
 made him tell them again. It was not 
 long before the story of the proud 
 and beautiful spider-princess went 
 the round of the hedge. As soon as 
 the men had finished their day's 
 work, they came together and sat and 
 talked about her. Each of them had 
 his own observations to make, but 
 gradually they were all so excited 
 
 35
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 with love that they thought they sim- 
 ply could not live unless they won 
 the fair one. 
 
 One after the other, they set out 
 a-wooing and they all fared badly. 
 
 The first was a dashing 1 fellow, who 
 had chaffed the unfortunate suitor 
 mercilessly for promising her the five 
 flies which he had got spun up at 
 home in his web: 
 
 "Women don't care a hang for 
 promises," he said. "They like their 
 presents down, then and there. You 
 just watch me." 
 
 He came dragging a splendid blue- 
 bottle along and laid it without a 
 word at the damsel's feet. 
 
 "Do you think I would allow a man 
 to support me?" she said. 
 
 Before he could look round, she had 
 caught him and eaten him up. She 
 
 36
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 scornfully let the fly be, but, later in 
 the afternoon, when she thought no 
 one saw her, she came down notwith- 
 standing and ate it. 
 
 And the wooers that came after 
 fared not a whit better. 
 
 She ate six of them in the middle 
 of their speech and two had not even 
 time to open their mouths. One was 
 caught by the starling, just as he was 
 about to make his bow, and one fell 
 into the ditch with fright, when she 
 looked at him, and was drowned. 
 
 "That makes twelve," said the 
 mouse. 
 
 "I have not counted them," said the 
 spider. "But now I presume they'll 
 leave me in peace." 
 
 "You're a terrible woman," said the 
 mouse. "I prophesy you'll end by 
 going childless to your grave." 
 
 37
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 For the first time, the spider seemed 
 a little pensive. 
 
 "Now her hard heart is melting," 
 said the mouse. 
 
 "Oh!" said the wild parsley. 
 
 "Ah!" said the goat's-foot. 
 
 "Stuff!" said the spider. 
 
 But she continued to look pensive 
 and stared at her combs and never 
 noticed that a fly flew into her web. 
 Presently, she said: 
 
 "The fact is, one ought at least to 
 see that one brings a pair of strap- 
 ping wenches into the world. I sup- 
 pose it's my duty to leave somebody 
 behind me to inherit my contempt 
 for those wretched men." 
 
 "She's on the road!" whispered the 
 mouse. 
 
 And the goat's-foot and the fool's- 
 parsley nodded and neither of them 
 
 38
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 said a word, so as not to disturb her 
 in her reflections. 
 
 But the mouse hurried off to the 
 hedge and called all the surviving 
 gentleman-spiders together : 
 
 "The one who proposes to the prin- 
 cess to-morrow gets her," said she. 
 "She's quite altered. She's melted. 
 Her heart is like wax. She won't 
 catch any flies, won't eat, won't drink 
 and just sits and stares wistfully be- 
 fore her. Look sharp!" 
 
 Then the mouse ran away. 
 
 But the spiders looked at one an- 
 other doubtfully. Not one of them 
 had the proper courage to risk the 
 attempt, seeing how badly the twelve 
 had fared, and a few even of the 
 wiser ones went up at once and hid 
 under their leaves, so as not to fall 
 into temptation. 
 
 39
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 A few remained behind, who 
 thought about what the mouse had 
 said, including one little young, thin 
 one, who had always listened while 
 the others were talking about the 
 wonderful princess, but had never 
 said anything himself: 
 
 "I think I'll try," he said, suddenly. 
 
 "You?" cried all the others, in one 
 breath. 
 
 And they began to laugh at the 
 thought that this chap should achieve 
 what so many a bold spider-fellow 
 had lost his life in attempting. 
 
 But the little chap let them laugh 
 as much as they pleased: 
 
 "I don't suppose I'm poaching on 
 your preserves," he said. "There's 
 none of you that has the pluck. And 
 I just feel like making the experi- 
 ment. I've been there to look at her 
 
 40
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 and, by Jove, she is a fine woman! 
 If she's rejected the twelve, perhaps 
 she'll accept the thirteenth. Also, I 
 think the suitors went the wrong way 
 to work." 
 
 "Oh, you think so, do you?" said 
 the others, still laughing. "And how 
 will you go to work?" 
 
 "You can come with me and see for 
 yourselves," he said. "I'll stroll across 
 to-morrow and propose." 
 
 5 
 
 And he did, the next morning. 
 
 He came crawling up on his eight 
 legs, very sedately and circumspectly. 
 A little behind him came all that was 
 left in the way of man-spiders in the 
 hedge. The long twigs on the stubs 
 stretched out their necks to see him. 
 The parsley and the goat's-foot 
 41
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 spread out both flowers and leaves, 
 to make his road as easy as possible. 
 The mouse stood on her hindlegs 
 with curiosity and stared and lis- 
 tened. 
 
 The princess herself sat in her web 
 and pretended not to see him. 
 
 "Noble princess," he said, "I have 
 come to ask you if you will have me 
 for your husband." 
 
 "This is the thirteenth," she said. 
 
 But within herself she thought that 
 she liked him better than the others. 
 They had all wanted to take her for 
 their wife: this one begged her to 
 take him for her husband. That 
 sounded modest and well-mannered. 
 
 "She's giving way," said the mouse 
 and danced with rapture. 
 
 "Hush!" said the parsley. 
 
 "Hark!" said the goat's-foot. 
 
 42
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 "She hasn't eaten him yet!" whis- 
 pered the gentleman-spiders to one 
 another. 
 
 "I well know," said the wooer, "how 
 presumptuous it is of me to address 
 such a request to you. What is a 
 wretched man compared with a wo- 
 man and, in particular, what is a silly 
 fellow like myself to you, who are 
 the largest and cleverest lady in all 
 the hedge? But that is just what at- 
 tracts me to you." 
 
 She turned and looked at him. He 
 nearly fell to the ground with fright 
 and cast his eight eyes down before 
 him. All the other gentleman-spiders 
 rushed away at a furious pace. 
 
 "Now she'll eat him," said the 
 goat's-foot and the parsley. 
 
 "She is a sweet young thing!" said 
 the twigs on the stubs. 
 
 43
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 "She's a terrible woman!" said the 
 mouse. 
 
 But she did not eat him. 
 
 She caught a fly that flew into her 
 web just then and began leisurely 
 to devour it, while attentively con- 
 templating her suitor. 
 
 He was an ugly little beggar, es- 
 pecially now, when he was shaking 
 all over his body, because he thought 
 that his last hour had struck. But 
 that was just how she liked to see 
 him. She thought that quite the right 
 attitude for a man. And, when he 
 saw that she gave no sign of making 
 for him, he recovered to such an ex- 
 tent that he was able to finish his 
 speech : 
 
 "I quite understand that you can't 
 see anything at all good-looking in 
 me," he said. "I don't want to make 
 44
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 myself out better than I am; and I 
 am only a miserable man. But, if I 
 could become the father of a daugh- 
 ter who was like you, I should con- 
 sider that I had attained the object 
 of my life and give thanks most 
 humbly for my good fortune." 
 
 Then a wonderful thing came to 
 pass. She took the leg of a fly and 
 threw it to him, which among spi- 
 ders means the same as "yes." 
 
 Quivering with happiness and ap- 
 prehension, he crept nearer to her. 
 
 "Very well," she said. "I accept 
 you. But mind you don't irritate me. 
 For then I'll eat you." 
 
 "She's accepted him!" said the 
 mouse and swooned away with de- 
 light. 
 
 "She's accepted him!" said the 
 goat's-f oot and the parsley. 
 
 45
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 "She's accepted him!" said the twigs 
 on the stubs and rustled for sheer 
 astonishment. 
 
 "She's accepted him!" cried the gen- 
 tleman-spiders, who had come back, 
 but now ran away again, partly to 
 spread the news in the hedge and 
 partly so as not to be eaten at the 
 wedding. 
 
 And it was a wedding. 
 
 The whole hedge was a scene of 
 jubilation and the mouse was the 
 gladdest of them all, for it was her 
 doing. Or perhaps the fool's-parsley 
 and the goat's-foot were gladder still, 
 for they would now have that fam- 
 ily-life in their tops which they 
 had so often longed for and which 
 would raise them to the level of the 
 real bushes. As for the twigs on the 
 old stubs, they were infected with 
 
 46
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 the universal joy and forgot their 
 envy. 
 
 The wedding took place forthwith, 
 for there was nothing to wait for. 
 The parsley and the goat's-foot scat- 
 tered their white flowers on every 
 side to mark the festival. The mouse 
 dragged her little ones up the hedge 
 so that they might see the happy 
 bridal pair; the bluebell rang, the 
 poppy laughed and the bindweed 
 closed her petals half an hour earlier 
 than usual so as not to embarrass the 
 newly-married couple with a mis- 
 placed curiosity. 
 
 The bride ate all the flies that she 
 had spun up, without offering the 
 bridegroom one. But that did not 
 matter, for he was up to the throat 
 in happiness, so he could not have 
 got a morsel down in any case. He 
 
 47
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 made himself as small as possible. 
 Once, when she stroked him on the 
 back with one of her combs, he shook 
 till they thought that he would die. 
 
 6 
 
 The mouse was astir early next 
 morning : 
 
 "Have you seen nothing of the 
 young couple?" she asked. 
 
 "No," said the parsley. 
 
 "They're asleep," said the goafs- 
 foot. 
 
 "Ah!" said the mouse. "What a 
 good thing that we got her married 
 at last. Now you'll see how sweet 
 and amiable she will become. There 
 is no end to the wonders that love 
 can work. And when the children 
 come! . . ." 
 
 "Do you think she'll sing then?" 
 asked the goafs-foot. 
 
 48
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 "I shall hope for the best," said the 
 mouse. "She does not look as if she 
 had a voice, but, as I said love! 
 Now you'll just see, when she comes, 
 what a radiance there will be about 
 her. I half doubt if we shall know 
 her when we see her." 
 
 And the mouse laughed and the 
 parsley and the goat's-foot laughed 
 and the sun rose and laughed with 
 the rest. 
 
 Then the spider came crawling 
 from under her leafy hiding-place. 
 
 "Good luck! Good luck!" squeaked 
 the mouse. 
 
 "Good luck! Good luck!" said the 
 parsley and the goat's-foot. 
 
 The spider stretched herself and 
 yawned. Then she went off and sat 
 in her web, as though nothing had 
 happened. 
 
 49
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 "Where's the husband?" asked the 
 mouse. "Won't he get out of bed?" 
 
 "I've eaten him this morning," re- 
 plied the spider. 
 
 The mouse gave a scream that was 
 heard all over the hedge. The parsley 
 and the goafs-foot trembled so that 
 all their flowers fell off. The twigs 
 snapped as though a storm were rag- 
 ing. 
 
 "He looked so stupid and ugly as 
 he sat there beside me," said the spi- 
 der; "so I ate him. He could have 
 staid away!" 
 
 "Heaven preserve us all!" screamed 
 the mouse. "To eat one's own, lawful 
 husband !" 
 
 "Oh dear, oh dear!" said the goat's- 
 foot and the parsley. 
 
 "Stuff!" said the spider. 
 
 50
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 7 
 
 That day was very quiet in the 
 hedge and the next was no livelier. 
 
 The spider attended to her web and 
 caught and ate more flies than ever. 
 She did not speak a word and looked 
 so fierce that no one dared speak a 
 word to her. The gentleman-spiders 
 took good care not to come near her. 
 They met every evening and talked 
 about it. 
 
 "Yes, but he got her all the same!" 
 said the most romantic of them. 
 
 Then the others fell upon him and 
 asked him if he thought that that 
 was happiness, to be eaten by one's 
 wife on the morning after the wed- 
 ding. And he didn't know what to 
 answer, for his romance wasn't so 
 very real, after all. 
 
 51
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 The mouse stole away dejectedly 
 and went to her hole. She took the 
 thing to heart as though it had hap- 
 pened in her own family. The goafs- 
 foot and the parsley hung their 
 screens and felt sheepish and ashamed 
 in the face of the twigs on the stubs. 
 And so great was their overthrow 
 that even the twigs thought it would 
 be a shame to scoff at them. 
 
 But, one day, when there was a blaz- 
 ing sun and the spider had crawled 
 as far as she could into the shade of 
 the leaf, the parsley bent down to 
 the mouse's hole and whispered: 
 
 "Psst! . . . Mousiel . . ." 
 
 "What is it?" asked the mouse and 
 came out. 
 
 "It's only the goat's-foot and I who 
 have something to ask you," said the 
 parsley. "Tell me you're so clever 
 
 52
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 don't you believe that it's possible 
 that the spider may become a differ- 
 ent person when she begins to lay 
 her eggs?" 
 
 "I believe nothing now," said the 
 mouse. "I shall never believe that 
 that woman will ever lay eggs." 
 
 But she did, for all that. 
 
 One fine morning, she began and 
 behaved in such a way that no one in 
 the hedge ever forgot the story: 
 
 "Ugh!" she said. "That one should 
 be bothered with this nonsense with 
 children now!" 
 
 She laid a heap of ten eggs and 
 stood looking at them, angrily. 
 
 "Build a nest for your eggs," said 
 the parsley. "All that we have and 
 possess is at your disposal." 
 
 "Sit on them and hatch them," said 
 the goat's-foot. "We will weave a 
 
 53
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 roof over you, so the sun won't in- 
 convenience you in the least." 
 
 "Lay up some small flies for the 
 children, for when they come out," 
 said the mouse. "You have no idea 
 what those young ones can eat." 
 
 "Practise singing to them a bit," 
 said the twigs on the stubs. 
 
 "Stuff!" said the spider. 
 
 She laid four more heaps. Then she 
 began to spin a fine, close covering 
 of white threads to wrap each heap 
 in separately. 
 
 "She's not quite heartless," said the 
 mouse. 
 
 The spider took a heap, went down 
 the hedge and buried it in the 
 ground. Then up again for the next 
 heap and so on until all the five 
 heaps were buried. 
 
 "There!" she said. "Now that's 
 
 54
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 done with! Arid they won't catch me 
 at it again. Now at least I am a free 
 and independent woman once more." 
 
 "A nice woman!" said the mouse. 
 "A shame and a disgrace to her sex, 
 that's what she is!" 
 
 "Such a dear little bird!" said the 
 twigs on the stubs, sarcastically. 
 
 But the parsley and the goafs-foot 
 said nothing. 
 
 The next morning the spider was 
 gone. 
 
 "The starling caught her," said the 
 mouse. "She was gone in a twinkling. 
 I saw it myself." 
 
 "If only she doesn't make him ill," 
 said the twigs. "She must have been 
 a bad mouthful." 
 
 Then autumn came and winter. 
 The mouse sat snug in her hole and 
 
 55
 
 THE SPIDER 
 
 the spider's eggs lay snug in the 
 ground. The goat's-foot and the 
 parsley withered and died. The 
 twigs on the stubs lost their leaves, 
 but rustled on through storm and 
 frost and snow until next spring. 
 
 56
 
 THE MIST
 
 THE MIST 
 
 THE sun had just set. 
 
 The frog was croaking his even- 
 song, which took so long that there 
 seemed to be no end to it. The bee 
 crept into her hive and the little chil- 
 dren cried because it was bed-time. 
 The flowers closed their petals and 
 bent their heads, the bird hid his beak 
 under his wing and the stag lay down 
 to rest in the tall, soft grass of the 
 glade. 
 
 The bells of the village-church rang 
 in the night and, when that was 
 done, the old sexton went off home, 
 
 59
 
 THE MIST 
 
 chatted a little with the villagers who 
 were taking their evening stroll or 
 standing at their doors smoking a 
 pipe, bade them good-night and shut 
 his door. 
 
 By and by, it was quite still and 
 darkness fell. There was still a light 
 in the parsonage and at the doctor's. 
 But at the farm-houses it was dark, 
 for the farmers rise early in the sum- 
 mer and therefore have to go early 
 to bed. 
 
 Then the stars shone forth in the 
 sky and the moon rose higher and 
 higher. A dog barked down in the 
 village. But he was certainly dream- 
 ing, for there was really nothing to 
 bark at. 
 
 60
 
 THE MIST 
 
 "Is any one here?" asked the mist. 
 
 But no one answered, for there was 
 no one there. 
 
 So the mist went on in his light, 
 gleaming clothes. He danced over 
 the meadows, up and down, to and 
 fro. Now he would lie quite still for 
 a while and then begin to dance 
 again. He skipped across the pond 
 and into the wood, where he flung his 
 long, wet arms round the trunks of 
 the trees. 
 
 "Who are you, friend?" asked the 
 night-scented rocket, who stood and 
 distilled her perfume for her own 
 pleasure. 
 
 The mist did not reply, but went on 
 dancing. 
 
 "I asked who you were," said the 
 
 61
 
 THE MIST 
 
 rocket. "And, as you don't answer 
 me, I conclude that you are an ill- 
 mannered churl." 
 
 "I'll conclude you!" said the mist. 
 
 And he lay down round the night- 
 scented rocket, till her petals were 
 dripping wet. 
 
 "Hi! Hi!" screamed the rocket. 
 "Keep your fingers to yourself, my 
 friend! I feel as if I had been dipped 
 in the pond. You needn't be so angry, 
 just because I ask you who you are." 
 
 The mist rose up again: 
 
 "Who I am?" he repeated. "Why, 
 you wouldn't understand if I told 
 
 you." 
 
 "Try," said the rocket. 
 
 "I am the dew-drop on the flowers, 
 the cloud in the sky and the mist on 
 the fields," he answered. 
 
 "I beg your pardon?" said the rock- 
 62
 
 THE MIST 
 
 et. "Would you mind saying that 
 again? Why, I know the dew-drop. 
 He settles on my petals every morn- 
 ing ; and I don't see any resemblance 
 between you." 
 
 "Ah, I am the dew-drop, for all 
 that!" said the mist, sadly. "But no- 
 body knows me. I have to spend my 
 life in many shapes. Sometimes I am 
 dew and sometimes I am rain and 
 sometimes I trickle in the form of a 
 clear, cool spring through the wood. 
 But, when I dance over the meadow 
 in the evening, then people say that 
 the mist is rising." 
 
 "That's a queer story," said the 
 rocket. "Have you any more to tell 
 me ? The night is long and sometimes 
 I feel a little bored." 
 
 "It is a sad story," answered the 
 mist. "But you shall hear it if you 
 like." 63
 
 THE MIST 
 
 And he made as though to lie down, 
 but the night-scented rocket shook all 
 her petals in alarm. 
 
 "Be so good and keep a little far- 
 ther off," she said, "at least, until 
 you have introduced yourself prop- 
 erly. I have never cared to be inti- 
 mate with people whom I don't 
 know." 
 
 The mist lay down a few steps away 
 and began his story: 
 
 "I was born deep down in the 
 ground," he said, "much deeper than 
 your roots grow. I and my brothers 
 
 for you must know that we are a 
 big family came into the world in 
 the shape of clear crystal spring-wa- 
 ter and lay long in our hiding-place. 
 But, one day, we sprang suddenly 
 from under a gentle hill, into the 
 midst of the full, bright sunshine. 
 
 64
 
 THE MIST 
 
 Believe me, it was delightful to run 
 through the wood. We rippled over 
 the stones and splashed against the 
 banks. Dear little fishes played 
 among us and the trees bent over us 
 and reflected their green splendour. 
 If a leaf fell, we rocked it and ca- 
 ressed it and bore it into the wide 
 world. Oh, how delightful it was! It 
 was really the happiest time in my 
 life." 
 
 "Shall I soon hear how you came to 
 be mist?" asked the night-scented 
 rocket, impatiently. "I know the 
 brook. On a very still night, I can 
 hear her babbling from where I 
 stand." 
 
 The mist rose and took a little 
 dance across the meadow. Then he 
 came back and continued: 
 
 "That is the worst of this world; 
 
 65
 
 THE MIST 
 
 we are never satisfied with what we 
 have. For instance, we ran on and on 
 until, at last, we came to a big lake, 
 where the water-lilies rocked on the 
 w r ater and the dragon-flies buzzed 
 around on their great stiff wings. On 
 the surface, the water was as clear as 
 a mirror; but, whether we wanted 
 to or not, we had to run along the 
 bottom and there it was dark and 
 dismal. I could not bear it. I longed 
 for the sun-beams. I knew them so 
 well from the time when I ran in the 
 brook. Now they looked down upon 
 us through the leaves and cast a 
 bright light over me. I wanted to see 
 them again and therefore I crept up 
 to the surface and lay down in the 
 sunshine among the white water- 
 lilies and their big green leaves. But 
 oh, how the sun burnt upon the lake!
 
 THE MIST 
 
 It was almost unendurable and I 
 bitterly regretted that I had not 
 remained at the bottom." 
 
 "All this is very dull," said the rock- 
 et. "When are we coming to the 
 mist?" 
 
 "Here he is!" said the mist and lay 
 down around the flower, who almost 
 lost her breath. 
 
 "Hi! Hi!" screamed the rocket. 
 "You're the roughest playfellow I 
 know. Go away and tell your story 
 in your own manner, if you must." 
 
 "In the evening, when the sun had 
 gone down, I suddenly became won- 
 derfully light," said the mist. "I 
 don't know how it happened, but I 
 felt that I must rise up and fly away 
 from the lake. And, in fact, before I 
 knew it, I was hovering over the wa- 
 ter, away from the dragon-flies and 
 67
 
 THE MIST 
 
 the water-lilies. The evening-wind 
 carried me along; I flew high in the 
 air and there I met many of my 
 brothers, who had been as inquisitive 
 as I and had met with the same for- 
 tune. We were wafted up to the sky ; 
 we had turned into clouds: do you 
 understand?" 
 
 "I am not quite sure," said the rock- 
 et. "It does not sound very probable." 
 
 "But it's true, for all that," said 
 the mist. "Now listen. The wind car- 
 ried us for some time through the 
 sky. Then, suddenly, he grew tired 
 of us and let us go. And we fell down 
 upon the earth in pouring rain. The 
 flowers lost no time in closing their 
 petals and the birds took shelter, all 
 except the ducks and geese, who were 
 the better pleased the wetter it was. 
 Oh; and the farmer, too: he stood 
 
 68
 
 THE MIST 
 
 there rejoicing, because his crops 
 needed rain. He did not care how 
 wet he got. But, otherwise, we really 
 caused a great disturbance." 
 
 "Ah, so you're the rain too, are 
 you?" asked the night-scented rocket. 
 "I say, you seem to have plenty to 
 do." 
 
 "Yes, I never have any rest," said 
 the mist. 
 
 "All the same, I haven't yet heard 
 how you became mist," said the rock- 
 et. "Now don't fly into a passion 
 again: you promised to tell me and 
 I would rather hear the whole story 
 over again than once more shiver in 
 your horrid damp arms." 
 
 The mist lay and wept for a mo- 
 ment and then continued: 
 
 "When I had fallen on the ground 
 as rain, I sank through the black 
 
 69
 
 THE MIST 
 
 earth and was glad to think I was 
 returning to my native place, the 
 deep subterranean source. There at 
 least I had known peace and been 
 free from cares. But, just as I was 
 sinking, the roots of the trees sucked 
 me up again and, all day long, I had 
 to wander around in the branches 
 and leaves. They used me as a beast 
 of burden, you see. I had to drag up 
 from the roots all the food that the 
 leaves and flowers needed. I was not 
 free until the evening. When the sun 
 had gone down, all the trees and 
 flowers heaved deep sighs and in their 
 sighs my brothers and I were sent 
 forth as a light, gleaming mist. At 
 night, we dance over the fields. But, 
 in the morning, when the sun rises, 
 we turn into beautiful, clear dew- 
 drops and come and hang on your 
 70
 
 THE MIST 
 
 petals. Then you shake us off and we 
 sink deeper and deeper until we come 
 to the source where we were born, 
 unless some root or other snatches 
 us up on the way. And so it goes 
 on: through the brook, into the lake, 
 up in the sky and back again to 
 earth . . ." 
 
 "Stop!" cried the night-scented 
 rocket. "It makes my head swim to 
 listen to you!" 
 
 3 
 
 Now the frog began to stir. He 
 stretched his legs and went down to 
 the ditch to take his morning bath. 
 The birds began to chirp in the 
 wood and the stag belled among 
 the trees. 
 
 Morning began to break and the 
 sun peeped over the hill: 
 
 71
 
 THE MIST 
 
 "What's this?" he said. "What does 
 it all mean? One can't see one's hand 
 before one's eyes. Morning-wind! 
 Up with you, you sluggard, and 
 blow that nasty mist away!" 
 
 And the morning-wind flew across 
 the fields and blew away the mist. At 
 the same moment, the sun sent his 
 first rays straight down upon the 
 night-scented rocket. 
 
 "Hullo!" said the flower. "Here's 
 the sun! Now I must be quick 
 and close my petals. Where in the 
 name of wonder has the mist gone 
 to?" 
 
 "Here I am," said the dew-drop 
 hanging from her stalk. 
 
 But the night-scented rocket shook 
 her head fretfully: 
 
 "Tell that to the children," she said. 
 
 "I don't believe a word of all you've 
 
 72
 
 THE MIST 
 
 said. You're just water and nothing 
 more." 
 
 "You're right enough there!" said 
 the sun. And he laughed. 
 
 73
 
 THE ANEMONES
 
 THE ANEMONES 
 
 " PEEWIT! Peewit!" cried the lap- 
 wing, as he flew over the moss in the 
 wood. "Dame Spring is coming! I 
 can feel it in my legs and wings." 
 
 When the new grass, which lay 
 down below in the earth, heard this, 
 it at once began to sprout and peeped 
 out gaily between the old, yellow 
 straw. For the grass is always in an 
 immense hurry. 
 
 Now the anemones in between the 
 trees had also heard the lapwing's 
 cry, but refused on any account to 
 appear above the earth. 
 77
 
 THE ANEMONES 
 
 "You mustn't believe the lapwing," 
 they whispered to one another. "He 
 is a flighty customer, whom one can't 
 trust. He always comes too early and 
 starts calling at once. No, we will 
 wait quite quietly till the starling 
 and the swallow come. They are sen- 
 sible, sober people, who are not to 
 be taken in and who know what they 
 are about." 
 
 And the starlings came. 
 
 They sat down on a twig outside 
 their summer villa and looked about 
 them. 
 
 "Too early, as usual," said Mr. 
 Starling. "Not a green leaf and not 
 a fly, except an old tough one of last 
 year, not worth opening one's beak 
 for." 
 
 Mrs. Starling said nothing, but 
 looked none too cheerful either. 
 78
 
 THE ANEMONES 
 
 "If we had only remained in our 
 snug winter-quarters beyond the 
 mountains!" said Mr. Starling. He 
 was angry because his wife did not 
 answer, for he was so cold that he 
 thought a little discussion might do 
 him good. "But it's your fault, just 
 as last year. You're always in such 
 a terrible hurry to go to the coun- 
 try." 
 
 "If I'm in a hurry, I know the 
 reason why," said Mrs. Starling. 
 "And it would be a shame for you if 
 you didn't know too, for they are 
 your eggs as well as mine." 
 
 "Heaven forbid!" replied Mr. Star- 
 ling, indignantly. "When have I de- 
 nied my family? Perhaps you expect 
 me, over and above, to sing to you in 
 the cold?" 
 
 "Yes, that I do!" said Mrs. Star- 
 
 79
 
 THE ANEMONES 
 
 ling, in the tone which he could not 
 resist. 
 
 He at once began to whistle as best 
 he could. But, when Mrs. Starling 
 had heard the first notes, she flapped 
 her wings and pecked at him with 
 her beak: 
 
 "Will you be quiet at once!" she 
 screamed, angrily. "That sounds so 
 dismal that it makes one quite melan- 
 choly. You'd better see to it that the 
 anemones come out. I think it's high 
 time. And, besides, one always feels 
 warmer when there are others shiv- 
 ering too." 
 
 Now, as soon as the anemones had 
 heard the starling's first whistle, they 
 carefully stuck their heads out of the 
 ground. But they were still so tightly 
 tucked up in their green wraps that 
 one could hardly see them. They 
 80
 
 THE ANEMONES 
 
 looked like green buds which might 
 turn into anything. 
 
 "It's too early," they whispered. 
 "It's a shame for the starling to call 
 us. There's no one in the world left 
 that one can trust." 
 
 Then the swallow came: 
 
 "Tsee! Tsee!" he whistled and dart- 
 ed through the air on his long, 
 pointed wings. "Out with you, you 
 silly flowers! Can't you see that 
 Dame Spring has come?" 
 
 But the anemones had become care- 
 ful. They just pushed their green 
 wraps a little to one side and peeped 
 out: 
 
 "One swallow does not make a sum- 
 mer," they said. "Where is your 
 wife? You have only come to see if 
 it's possible to live here and now 
 you're trying to take us in. But we 
 81
 
 THE ANEMONES 
 
 are not so stupid as all that. We 
 know that, if once we catch cold, 
 we're done for." 
 
 "You're a pack of poltroons," said 
 the swallow and sat down on the 
 weathercock on the ranger's roof and 
 looked out over the landscape. 
 
 But the anemones stood and waited 
 and were very cold. One or two of 
 them, who could not control their im- 
 patience, cast off their wraps in the 
 sun. The cold killed them at night 
 and the story of their pitiful death 
 went from flower to flower and 
 aroused great consternation. 
 
 2 
 
 Then Dame Spring came, one de- 
 lightfully mild and still night. 
 
 No one knows what she looks like, 
 for no one has ever seen her. But all 
 
 82
 
 THE ANEMONES 
 
 long for her and thank her and bless 
 her. She goes through the wood and 
 touches the flowers and the trees and 
 they bud at once. She goes through 
 the stables and unfastens the animals 
 and lets them out into the field. She 
 goes straight into men's hearts and 
 makes them glad. She makes it diffi- 
 cult for the best-behaved boy to sit 
 still on his bench at school and occa- 
 sions a terrible lot of mistakes in the 
 exercise-books. 
 
 But she does not do this all at once. 
 She attends to her business night af- 
 ter night and comes first to those who 
 long for her most. 
 
 So it happened that, on the very 
 night when she arrived, she went 
 straight off to the anemones, who 
 stood in their green wraps and could 
 no longer curb their impatience. 
 
 83
 
 THE ANEMONES 
 
 And one, two, three! There they 
 stood in newly-ironed white frocks 
 and looked so fresh and pretty that 
 the starlings sang their finest songs 
 for sheer joy at the sight of them. 
 
 "Oh, how lovely it is here!" said the 
 anemones. "How warm the sun is! 
 And how the birds sing ! It is a thou- 
 sand times better than last year." 
 
 But they say this every year, so it 
 doesn't count. 
 
 Now there were many others who 
 went quite off their heads when they 
 saw that the anemones were out. 
 There was a schoolboy who wanted 
 to have his summer holidays then and 
 there and then there was the beech, 
 who was most offended. 
 
 "Aren't you coming to me soon, 
 Dame Spring?" he said. "I am a 
 much more important person than 
 
 84
 
 THE ANEMONES 
 
 those silly anemones and really I can 
 no longer control my buds." 
 
 "I'm coming, I'm coming!" re- 
 plied Dame Spring. "But you must 
 give me a little time." 
 
 She went on through the wood. And, 
 at every step, more anemones ap- 
 peared. They stood in thick bevies 
 round the roots of the beech and 
 bashfully bowed their round heads to 
 the ground. 
 
 "Look up freely," said Dame 
 Spring, "and rejoice in heaven's 
 bright sun. Your lives are but short, 
 so you must enjoy them while they 
 last." 
 
 The anemones did as she told them. 
 They stretched themselves and spread 
 their white petals to every side and 
 drank as much sunshine as they 
 could. They knocked their heads 
 
 85
 
 THE ANEMONES 
 
 against one another and wound their 
 stalks together and laughed and 
 were constantly happy. 
 
 "Now I can wait no longer," said 
 the beech and came into leaf. 
 
 Leaf after leaf crept out of its 
 green covering and spread out and 
 fluttered in the wind. The whole 
 green crown arched itself like a 
 mighty roof above the ground. 
 
 "Good heavens, is it evening so 
 soon?" asked the anemones, who 
 thought that it had turned quite 
 dark. 
 
 "No, it is death" said Dame 
 Spring. "Now you're finished. It's 
 the same with you as with the best in 
 this world. All must bud, blossom 
 and die." 
 
 "Die?" cried some of the small 
 anemones. "Must we die yet?" 
 
 86
 
 THE ANEMONES 
 
 And some of the large anemones 
 turned quite red in the face with an- 
 ger and pride: 
 
 "We know all about it!" they said. 
 "It's the beech that's killing us. He 
 steals the sunshine for his own leaves 
 and grudges us a single ray. He is a 
 nasty, wicked thing." 
 
 They stood and scolded and wept 
 for some days. Then Dame Spring 
 came for the last time through the 
 wood. She had still the oaks and 
 some other querulous old fellows to 
 visit : 
 
 "Lie down nicely to sleep now in 
 the ground," she said to the anem- 
 ones. "It is no use kicking against 
 the pricks. Next year, I will come 
 again and wake you to new life." 
 
 And some of the anemones did as 
 
 she told them. But others continued 
 
 87
 
 THE ANEMONES 
 
 to stick their heads in the air and 
 grew up so ugly and lanky that they 
 were horrid to look at. 
 
 "Fie, for shame!" they cried to the 
 beech-leaves. "It's you that are kill- 
 ing us." 
 
 But the beech shook his long 
 boughs, so that the brown husks fell 
 to the ground. 
 
 "Wait till the autumn, you little 
 blockheads," he said and laughed. 
 "Then you'll just see." 
 
 The anemones could not understand 
 what he meant. But, when they had 
 stretched themselves as far as they 
 could, they cracked in two and with- 
 ered. 
 
 3 
 
 The summer was past and the 
 farmer had carted his corn home 
 from the field. 
 
 88
 
 THE ANEMONES 
 
 The wood was still green, but dark- 
 er; and, in many places, yellow and 
 red leaves appeared among the green 
 ones. The sun was tired of his warm 
 work during the summer and went 
 early to bed. 
 
 At night, the winter stole through 
 the trees to see if his time would 
 soon come. When he found a flower, 
 he kissed her politely and said: 
 
 "Well, well, are you there still? I 
 am glad to see you. Stay where you 
 are. I am a harmless old man and 
 wouldn't hurt a fly." 
 
 But the flower shuddered with his 
 kiss and the bright dew-drops that 
 hung from her petals froze to ice at 
 the same moment. 
 
 The winter went of tener and oftener 
 through the wood. He breathed upon 
 the leaves, so that they turned yel* 
 89
 
 THE ANEMONES 
 
 low, or upon the ground, so that it 
 grew hard. 
 
 Even the anemones, who lay down 
 below in the earth and waited for 
 Dame Spring to come again as she 
 had promised, could feel his breath 
 and shuddered right down to their 
 roots. 
 
 "Oh dear, how cold it is!" they said 
 to one another. "How ever shall we 
 last through the winter? We are sure 
 to die before it is over." 
 
 "Now my time has come," said the 
 winter. "Now I need no longer steal 
 round like a thief in the night. From 
 to-morrow I shall look everybody 
 straight in the face and bite his nose 
 and make his eyes run with tears." 
 
 At night the storm broke loose. 
 
 "Let me see you make a clean sweep 
 of things," said the winter. 
 
 90
 
 THE ANEMONES 
 
 And the storm obeyed his orders. 
 He tore howling through the wood 
 and shook the branches so that they 
 creaked and broke. Any that were at 
 all decayed fell down andlthose that 
 held on had to twist and turn to every 
 side. 
 
 "Away with all that finery!" 
 howled the storm and tore off the 
 leaves. "This is no time to deck one's 
 self out. Soon there will be snow on 
 the branches: that's another story." 
 
 All the leaves fell terrified to the 
 ground, but the storm did not let 
 them be in peace. He took them by 
 the waist and waltzed with them over 
 the field, high up in the air and 
 into the wood again, swept them to- 
 gether into great heaps and scattered 
 them once more to every side, just as 
 the fit seized him. 
 
 91
 
 THE ANEMONES 
 
 Not until the morning did the 
 storm grow weary and go down. 
 
 "Now you can have peace for this 
 time," he said. "I am going down 
 till we have our spring-cleaning. 
 Then we can have another dance, if 
 there are any of you left by that 
 time." 
 
 And then the leaves went to rest and 
 lay like a thick carpet over the whole 
 earth. 
 
 The anemones felt that it had 
 grown delightfully warm. 
 
 "I wonder if Dame Spring can have 
 come yet?" they asked one another. 
 
 "I haven't got my buds ready!" 
 cried one of them. 
 
 "No more have 1 1 No more have 1 1" 
 exclaimed the others in chorus. 
 
 But one of them took courage and 
 Just peeped out above the ground. 
 92
 
 THE ANEMONES 
 
 "Good-morning!" cried the with- 
 ered beech-leaves. "It's rather too 
 early, little missie: if only you don't 
 come to any harm!" 
 
 "Isn't that Dame Spring?" asked 
 the anemone. 
 
 "Not just yet," replied the beech- 
 leaves. "It's we, the green leaves you 
 were so angry with in the summer. 
 Now we have lost our green colour 
 and have not much left to make a 
 show of. We have enjoyed our youth 
 and danced, I may tell you. And 
 now we are lying here and protect- 
 ing all the little flowers in the 
 ground against the winter." 
 
 "And meanwhile I am standing 
 and freezing with my bare branches," 
 said the beech, crossly. 
 
 The anemones talked about it down 
 in the earth and thought it very nice. 
 
 93
 
 THE ANEMONES 
 
 "Those dear beech-leaves!" they 
 said. 
 
 "Mind you remember it next sum- 
 mer, when I come into leaf," said the 
 beech. 
 
 "We will, we will!" whispered the 
 anemones. 
 
 For that sort of thing is promised; 
 but the promise is never kept. 
 
 94
 
 THE QUEEN BEE
 
 THE QUEEN BEE 
 
 THE farmer opened his bee-hive. 
 
 "Out with you!" he said. "The sun 
 is shining; the flowers are blossom- 
 ing everywhere and are a sheer joy 
 to behold. Let me see you industri- 
 ous now and gather me a good lot 
 of honey which I can sell to the shop- 
 keeper in the autumn. Many mickles 
 make a muckle; and you know that 
 things are looking bad with agricul- 
 ture." 
 
 "What is agriculture to us?" said 
 the bees. 
 
 But they flew out nevertheless, for 
 they had been in the hive all winter 
 
 97
 
 THE QUEEN BEE 
 
 and were longing for a breath of 
 fresh air. Buzzing and humming, 
 they stretched their legs and tried 
 their wings. They swarmed forth 
 everywhere, crawled up and down 
 the hive, flew off to the flowers and 
 shrubs and walked about on the 
 ground. 
 
 There were many hundred bees. 
 
 The queen came last. She was big- 
 ger than the others and it was she 
 that reigned in the hive. 
 
 "Stop that nonsense now, children," 
 she said, "and begin to do something. 
 A decent bee does not idle, but turns 
 to, in a capable way, and makes good 
 use of her time." 
 
 Then she divided them into com- 
 panies and set them to work. 
 
 "You, there, fly out and see if there 
 is any honey in the flowers. The sec- 
 98
 
 THE QUEEN BEE 
 
 ond company can gather pollen ; and, 
 when you come home, deliver it all 
 nicely to the old bees indoors." 
 
 They flew away. But all the young 
 ones were still left. They formed the 
 last company, for they had never 
 been out before. 
 
 "What are we to do?" they asked. 
 
 "You? You've got to sweatf" said 
 the queen. "One, two, three and to 
 work!" 
 
 And they sweated as best they knew 
 how and the loveliest yellow wax 
 burst out of their bodies. 
 
 "That's right," said the queen. 
 "Now we will begin to build." 
 
 The old bees took the wax and 
 started building a number of small 
 hexagonal cells, all alike and close 
 together. All the time that they were 
 building, the others came flying up 
 
 99
 
 THE QUEEN BEE 
 
 with pollen and honey, which they 
 laid at the queen's feet. 
 
 "Now we'll knead the dough!" said 
 she. "But first pour a little honey in; 
 then it will taste better." 
 
 They kneaded and kneaded and 
 made nice little loaves of bee-bread, 
 which they carried to the cells. 
 
 "Now we'll go on building!" com- 
 manded the queen-bee. And they 
 sweated wax and built away with a 
 vengeance. 
 
 "I may as well begin my own 
 work," said the queen and heaved a 
 deep sigh, for this was the hardest of 
 all. 
 
 She sat down in the middle of the 
 hive and began to lay eggs. She laid 
 great heaps and the bees ran up, 
 took the little eggs in their mouths 
 and carried them into the new cells. 
 100
 
 THE QUEEN BEE 
 
 Every egg got its own little room; 
 and, when they were all disposed of, 
 the queen ordered the bees to put 
 doors to the cells and to shut them 
 tight. 
 
 "Good!" she said, when they had 
 finished. "Now you can build me ten 
 big, handsome rooms at the outer 
 edge of the hive." 
 
 The bees did so in a trice and then 
 the queen laid ten beautiful eggs, 
 one in each of the big rooms, and put 
 a door before them. 
 
 Every day, the bees flew out and in 
 and gathered great heaps of honey 
 and pollen ; but, in the evening, when 
 their work was done, they set the 
 doors a little ajar and peeped in at 
 the eggs. 
 
 "Take care!" said the queen, one 
 day. "Now they're coming!" 
 101
 
 THE QUEEN BEE 
 
 And suddenly all the eggs burst 
 and in each cell lay a nice little baby. 
 
 "What queer creatures!" said the 
 young bees. "Why, they have no 
 eyes; and where are their legs and 
 wings?" 
 
 "Those are grubs," said the queen, 
 "and that's what you young green- 
 horns yourselves once looked like. 
 You have to be a grub before you 
 can become a proper bee. Hurry 
 now and give them something to 
 eat." 
 
 The bees hastened to feed the little 
 young ones ; but they did not all fare 
 equally well. The ten that lay in the 
 large rooms got as much to eat as 
 ever they wanted and a big helping 
 of honey was carried in to them every 
 day. 
 
 "Those are princesses," said the 
 102
 
 THE QUEEN BEE 
 
 queen. "Therefore, you must treat 
 them well. The others you can stint 
 in their food; they are only work- 
 people and must accustom themselves 
 to take things as they come." 
 
 And the poor little creatures got a 
 small piece of bee-bread every morn- 
 ing and nothing more ; they had to be 
 content with that, even though they 
 were ever so hungry. 
 
 2 
 
 In one of the small hexagonal cells 
 close to the princesses' rooms lay a 
 tiny little grub. She was the young- 
 est of them all and had but quite 
 lately come out of the egg. She 
 could not see, but she could distinctly 
 hear the grown-up bees talking out- 
 side ; and meanwhile she lay quite still 
 and just thought her own thoughts. 
 
 103
 
 THE QUEEN BEE 
 
 "I could do with a little more to 
 eat," she said and tapped at her 
 door. 
 
 "You've got enough for to-day," 
 replied the old bee who crawled up 
 and down outside in the passage 
 and had been appointed head-nurse 
 to the baby bees. 
 
 "Ah, but I'm hungry!" cried the lit- 
 tle grub. "And then I want to have 
 a princess's room; I feel so cramped 
 in here." 
 
 "Oh, just listen to her!" said the old 
 bee, sarcastically. "One would think 
 she was a dainty little princess by the 
 pretensions she puts forward! You 
 were born to toil and drudge, my 
 little friend. A common working- 
 bee, that's what you are; and you'll 
 never be anything else in all your 
 days." 
 
 104
 
 THE QUEEN BEE 
 
 "Ah, but I want to be a queen!" 
 said the grub and thumped on the 
 door. 
 
 The old bee, of course, made no re- 
 ply to such silly trash, but went on to 
 the others. Everywhere they were 
 crying for more food; and the little 
 grub could hear it all. 
 
 "It's really hard," she thought, 
 "that we should be so hungry." 
 
 And then she tapped on the wall 
 and called to the princess on the other 
 side: 
 
 "Give me a little of your honey! 
 Let me come in to you in your room. 
 I am lying here and starving and I 
 am quite as good as you." 
 
 "Ah, you just wait till I'm queen- 
 regnant!" said the princess. "Be sure 
 I shan't forget your impudence." 
 
 But she had hardly said this before 
 
 105
 
 THE QUEEN BEE 
 
 the other princesses began to bawl 
 most terribly: 
 
 "You shan't be queen! I will! I 
 will!" they all yelled together and 
 began to thump on the walls and 
 make a frightful din. 
 
 The head-nurse came running up at 
 once and opened the doors : 
 
 "What are your Royal Highnesses' 
 commands?" she asked and curtseyed 
 and scraped with her legs. 
 
 "More honey!" they all cried to- 
 gether. "But me first, me first! I'm 
 going to be queen!" 
 
 "This minute, this minute, your 
 Royal Highnesses!" she replied and 
 ran off as fast as her six old legs 
 could carry her. 
 
 Soon after, she came back with sev- 
 eral other bees. They dragged a 
 quantity of honey with them, which 
 
 106
 
 THE QUEEN BEE 
 
 they put down the throats of the 
 angry little princesses, till gradually 
 they grew quiet and all ten of them 
 went to sleep. 
 
 But the little grub lay awake and 
 thought over what had happened. 
 She was yearning for honey and 
 shook the door: 
 
 "Give me some honey! I can stand 
 this no longer; I'm quite as good as 
 the others." 
 
 The old bee told her to be silent: 
 
 "Keep still, you little squaller! 
 Here comes the queen." 
 
 And the queen-bee came as she 
 spoke : 
 
 "Go away," she said to the bees. "I 
 wish to be alone." 
 
 She stood long, silently, outside the 
 princesses' rooms. 
 
 "You're lying in there now and 
 107
 
 THE QUEEN BEE 
 
 sleeping," she said at last. "Eat and 
 sleep, that's what you do, from morn 
 till night, and, every day that passes, 
 you grow stronger and fatter. In 
 a few days, you will be full-grown 
 and you will creep out of the cells. 
 Then my time is over. I know it well ! 
 I have heard the bees saying among 
 themselves that they want a younger 
 and prettier queen ; and then they will 
 drive me away in disgrace. But that 
 I will not submit to. To-morrow, I 
 shall kill them all, so that I can go on 
 reigning till I die." 
 
 Then she went away, but the little 
 grub had heard all that she said. 
 
 "Goodness gracious!" she thought. 
 "After all, it's really a pity for the 
 little princesses. They certainly give 
 themselves airs and they have been 
 nasty to me; but it would be sad, for 
 
 108
 
 THE QUEEN BEE 
 
 all that, if the wicked queen killed 
 them. I think I shall tell the old 
 grumbler in the passage." 
 
 Then she began to tap at the door 
 again; and the old head-nurse came 
 running up; but this time she was 
 really angry: 
 
 "Now, you had better mind your- 
 self, my good grub!" she said. 
 "You're the youngest of them all 
 and the noisiest. Next time, I'll re- 
 port you to the queen." 
 
 "Ah, but first listen to me," said the 
 grub; and then she betrayed the 
 queen's wicked plan. 
 
 "Heavens above! Is that true?" 
 cried the old bee and struck her 
 wings together with horror. 
 
 And, without listening to any more, 
 she hurried away to tell the other 
 bees. 
 
 109
 
 THE QUEEN BEE 
 
 "I do think I deserve a little honey 
 for my good-will," said the little 
 grub. "But now I can go to sleep 
 with an easy conscience." 
 
 The next morning, the queen, when 
 she thought that all the bees were in 
 bed, came to put the princesses to 
 death. The grub could hear her talk- 
 ing aloud to herself; but was very 
 frightened of the wicked queen and 
 hardly dared move. 
 
 "If only she doesn't kill the prin- 
 cesses," she thought and crept closer 
 to the door to hear what was happen- 
 ing. 
 
 The queen-bee looked "carefully 
 round in every direction and opened 
 the first of the doors. But, as she did 
 so, the bees swarmed up from every 
 side, seized her by the legs and wings 
 and dragged her away, 
 no
 
 THE QUEEN BEE 
 
 "What does this mean?" she 
 screamed. "Are you rising in rebel- 
 lion?" 
 
 "No, your Majesty," replied the 
 bees, respectfully, "but we know that 
 you are thinking of killing the prin- 
 cesses; and that you cannot possibly 
 be permitted to do. How should we 
 manage in that case in the autumn, 
 when your Majesty dies?" 
 
 "Unhand me!" screamed the queen 
 and tried to tear herself free. "I am 
 still queen and have the right to do 
 what I please. How do you know that 
 I shall die in the autumn?" 
 
 But the bees held fast and dragged 
 her out of the hive. There they let 
 her go ; but she shook her wings with 
 rage and said: 
 
 "You are disloyal subjects, who are 
 
 not worth reigning over. I will not 
 
 in
 
 THE QUEEN BEE 
 
 stay here another hour, but will go 
 away and build a new hive. Are there 
 any of you that will follow me?" 
 
 Some of the old bees who had been 
 grubs with the queen declared that 
 they would go with her, and soon 
 after they flew away. 
 
 "Now we have no queen," said the 
 others. "We shall have to take good 
 care of the princesses." 
 
 And so they stuffed them with hon- 
 ey from morning till night and the 
 princesses grew and thrived and 
 squabbled and made more and more 
 noise day after day. 
 
 And no one gave a thought to the 
 little grub. 
 
 3 
 
 One morning, the doors of the prin- 
 cesses' rooms flew open and they all 
 
 112
 
 THE QUEEN BEE 
 
 ten came out as beautiful full-grown 
 queen-bees; the other bees came run- 
 ning up and looked at them with ad- 
 miration. 
 
 "Oh, how lovely they are!" they 
 said. "It is not easy to say which of 
 them is the prettiest.'* 
 "I am!" cried one. 
 "You make a great mistake!" said 
 the second and thrust at her with her 
 sting. 
 
 "You flatter yourselves!" cried the 
 third. "I should think I am no less 
 beautiful than you." 
 
 Soon they were all screaming to- 
 gether; and, a little later, they all be- 
 gan to fight. The bees wanted to 
 part them, but the old head-nurse 
 said: 
 
 "Just let them fight, then we shall 
 see which is the strongest and we 
 
 113
 
 THE QUEEN BEE 
 
 will elect her to be our queen. 
 After all, we can't have more than 
 one." 
 
 The bees then formed a ring and 
 watched the combat. It was long and 
 hard-fought. Wings and legs were 
 bitten off and flew around in the air; 
 and, after some time, eight of the 
 princesses lay dead on the ground. 
 The last two went on fighting for a 
 long while. One had lost all her 
 wings and the other had only four 
 legs left. 
 
 "It will be a pitiful queen, which- 
 ever of them we get," said one of the 
 bees. "We had better have kept the 
 old one." 
 
 But she might as well have saved 
 herself the observation, for at that 
 very moment the princesses suddenly 
 gave each other so violent a thrust 
 
 114
 
 THE QUEEN BEE 
 
 with their stings that both of them 
 fell stone-dead. 
 
 "Here's a nice thing!" cried the 
 bees and they all ran about in con- 
 sternation. "Now we have no queen! 
 What shall we do? What shall we 
 do?" 
 
 They crept round the hive in utter 
 bewilderment and despair. But the 
 oldest and wisest of them sat in a 
 corner and held counsel. They dis- 
 cussed at length what expedient they 
 should resort to in this unfortunate 
 case ; but at last the head-nurse spoke 
 and said: 
 
 "Now I will tell you how you can 
 get out of the dilemma, if you will 
 follow my advice. I remember that 
 the same misfortune once happened 
 long ago in this hive. I was a grub at 
 the time and I lay in my cell and 
 
 115
 
 THE QUEEN BEE 
 
 distinctly heard what was going on. 
 All the princesses had killed one an- 
 other and the old queen had gone 
 away, just as now. But then the bees 
 took one of us grubs and put her in 
 one of the princesses' cells. They fed 
 her every day on the best and finest 
 honey that the hive contained; and, 
 when she was full-grown, she was a 
 really good and beautiful queen. I 
 remember the whole story clearly, 
 for I thought at the time that they 
 might just as well have taken me. 
 But never mind that at present. I 
 propose that we should behave in 
 just the same way." 
 
 The bees gladly cried that they 
 agreed, and they ran straight off to 
 fetch a grub. 
 
 "Stop a bit," cried the head-nurse, 
 "and take me with you. After all, I 
 
 116
 
 THE QUEEN BEE 
 
 have managed to help you. Now, look 
 here: it must be one of the youngest 
 grubs, for she must have time to 
 think of her new position. When 
 you've been brought up to be a com- 
 mon worker, it's not so easy to ac- 
 custom yourself to wear a crown." 
 
 The bees thought this sensible too, 
 and the old bee continued: 
 
 "Just beside the princesses' rooms 
 lies a little grub. She is the youngest 
 of them all. She must have learned a 
 deal from hearing the princesses' cul- 
 tured conversation; and I have no- 
 ticed that she is not without charac- 
 ter. Moreover, it was she who had the 
 honesty to tell me of the old queen's 
 wicked thoughts. Let us take her." 
 
 They all went forthwith, in a sol- 
 emn procession, to the narrow, hex- 
 agonal cell in which the little grub 
 
 117
 
 THE QUEEN BEE 
 
 lay. The head-nurse knocked politely 
 at the door, opened it carefully and 
 told the grub what the bees had de- 
 cided upon. At first she almost re- 
 fused to believe her own ears; but, 
 when they carried her carefully into 
 one of the beautiful large rooms and 
 brought her as much honey as she 
 could eat, she saw that it was serious. 
 
 "So I am to be queen after all!" she 
 said to the head-nurse. "You never 
 thought that, you old grumbler!" 
 
 "I hope your Majesty will forget 
 my rude remarks at the time when 
 you lay in the hexagonal cell," said 
 the old bee and dropped a respectful 
 curtsey. 
 
 "I forgive you!" replied the new- 
 fledged princess. "Get me some more 
 honey!" 
 
 Soon after, the grub was full- 
 
 118
 
 THE QUEEN BEE 
 
 grown and stepped out of her room, 
 looking as large and beautiful as the 
 bees could possibly wish. And she did 
 know how to command and no mis- 
 take! 
 
 "Away with you!" she said. "We 
 want more honey for winter use and 
 you others must sweat more wax. I 
 mean to build a wing to the hive. The 
 new princesses will live in it next 
 year; it is much too unpleasant for 
 them to be so near the common 
 grubs." 
 
 "What next!" cried the bees to one 
 another. "One would really think that 
 she had been queen from the time 
 when she lay in the egg!" 
 
 "No," said the head-nurse, "that she 
 was not. But she has had queenly 
 thoughts; and that is the great 
 thing." 
 
 119
 
 THE CATERPILLAR
 
 THE CATERPILLAR 
 
 THE whole kitchen-garden was full 
 of caterpillars and one of them was 
 bigger than the others. Day after 
 day, he crawled about on a head of 
 cabbage just at the edge of the walk. 
 He was stout and fat and so green 
 that it hurt one's eyes to look at him. 
 He ate and ate, positively did no- 
 thing else but eat. 
 
 "You stupid beast!" said the gar- 
 dener. "You and your brothers and 
 sisters eat up half my cabbage. If 
 there were not so many of you, I 
 would kill you." 
 
 "The stupid beast!" sang the night- 
 
 123
 
 THE CATERPILLAR 
 
 ingale who sat in the syringa-bush. 
 "He does not care about flowers or 
 music and singing. Nothing but eat, 
 eat, eat!" 
 
 "The stupid beast!" piped the swal- 
 low who swept over the kitchen-gar- 
 den on his long, pointed wings. "He 
 has not the smallest taste for poetry: 
 never thinks of sunshine and summer 
 air. There is not the least go in him. 
 Nothing but eat, eat, eat! And then, 
 into the bargain, he is so full of 
 loathsome poisonous hairs that one 
 can't eat him one's self." 
 
 "The stupid beast!" snapped the 
 ant, who ran past with a grain of 
 corn in her mouth. "Does he ever 
 think of house and home? Of his 
 children? Of food for the winter? 
 Nothing but eat, eat, eat!" 
 
 "Goodness me!" said the caterpillar. 
 
 124
 
 THE CATERPILLAR 
 
 And he said no more for the time 
 being, so overpowered was he with 
 all this scolding. But, all the while 
 that he was eating the green, juicy 
 cabbage, he pondered on what he 
 had heard and most on what the ant 
 had said. And, when the ant next 
 came by, the caterpillar had made 
 it out: 
 
 "Hi, you ant!" he cried. "Stop a bit 
 and explain to me what you said 
 about the children. Don't you know 
 that I am a child myself? I only 
 want time in order to grow big and 
 pretty." 
 
 The ant stood still and dropped the 
 grain of corn she had in her mouth, 
 so great was her amazement: 
 
 "Are you a child?" she asked. "A 
 nice child you are! Why, you're a 
 perfect elephant, fifty times as big 
 
 125
 
 THE CATERPILLAR 
 
 as myself. And so you're a child, are 
 you? Lord knows what you'll look 
 like when you're grown up!" 
 
 "I don't know for certain," said the 
 caterpillar, with an air of mystery. 
 "But I have a suspicion. If I could 
 only tell you what I sometimes notice 
 inside myself! I am quite certain that 
 I shall be something great one day 
 if only you give me time to grow. 
 I shall fly away over the garden on 
 beautiful wings; I shall be a butter- 
 fly: just you wait and see! I know by 
 my dreams that I am related to you 
 others and that I am quite as good as 
 
 you." 
 
 "Bah!" said the ant and spat on the 
 ground. "It is simply disgusting to 
 listen to such balderdash. Dreams? 
 Suspicions? No, there's a thing that's 
 called the family and the ant-hill: 
 
 126
 
 THE CATERPILLAR 
 
 that's what I stick to. Good-bye, you 
 stupid caterpillar." 
 
 Then she ran off, but stopped a lit- 
 tle farther away and once more said: 
 
 "Bahl" 
 
 And the sun blazed and the cater- 
 pillar basked in its rays while he ate 
 the green cabbage. 
 
 It was now past mid-day and the 
 nightingale in the syringa-bush could 
 not bear to sing in so great a heat. 
 So he stopped and took an afternoon 
 nap. The swallow flew up aloft to 
 get a breath of fresh air, the ant car- 
 ried her little white eggs up into the 
 sun and the gardener sat under the 
 big walnut-tree and had his dinner 
 with his wife and children. 
 
 127
 
 THE CATERPILLAR 
 
 But the caterpillar went on eating 
 indefatigably. 
 
 Suddenly a multitude of small 
 black dots appeared in the air over 
 the kitchen-garden. They danced up 
 and down and up and down. At last, 
 they hung low down, just above the 
 caterpillar, and he could see that they 
 were nice little animals, with fine, 
 bright wings. 
 
 "Who are you? What do you want?" 
 asked the caterpillar. 
 
 "We are mothers," replied the little 
 animals, "and we have come out to 
 look for a place for our children." 
 
 "Well, that's right and proper 
 enough," said the caterpillar, who 
 was thinking of what the ant had 
 said. "But I don't like you, for all 
 that." 
 
 "That's very sad," said the animal- 
 
 128
 
 THE CATERPILLAR 
 
 cules, "for we just happen to be so 
 awfully fond of you." 
 
 And, at that moment, a number 
 of them settled on the caterpillar's 
 back. 
 
 "Oh! Oh!" he screamed. "Murder! 
 Help! Police!" 
 
 The little animals flew up again, but 
 remained hovering in the air above 
 the caterpillar. 
 
 "But who are you?" he asked and 
 writhed with pain. "What have I 
 done to you that you should ill-treat 
 me so?" 
 
 "Every one provides for himself 
 and his," replied the animalcules, 
 "and we have now provided for our 
 children. We are parasitic flies and 
 our name is Ichneumon: it is not a 
 pretty one, but it happens to be the 
 best we have. For the rest, we are re- 
 
 129
 
 THE CATERPILLAR 
 
 lations of the ants, if you happen to 
 know them." 
 
 "It's a good enough family," said 
 the caterpillar and sighed. "But I 
 don't know why everybody should 
 scold at me and sting me and scoff 
 at me. What is this that you have 
 done to me now?" 
 
 "You'll know soon enough," said 
 the ichneumons. "Good-bye for the 
 present and thank you." 
 
 Then they soared up aloft and be- 
 came little black dots again and, at 
 last, disappeared altogether. 
 
 But the caterpillar heaved long and 
 deep sighs and ate twice as much cab- 
 bage to console himself. Neverthe- 
 less, he could not keep from think- 
 ing of the uncomfortable visit he had 
 had: 
 
 "I have a suspicion," he said to him- 
 
 130
 
 THE CATERPILLAR 
 
 self. "An awkward suspicion. If only 
 I could make something of itl" 
 
 3 
 
 But, when some time had passed, he 
 began to make something of it. 
 
 He simply could not satisfy his ap- 
 petite any longer. The more he ate, 
 the hungrier he became. He munched 
 one piece of cabbage-leaf after an- 
 other and, nevertheless, he felt quite 
 faint with hunger. 
 
 "What is the meaning of this now?" 
 he said, despondently. 
 
 "It's wel" answered something in- 
 side him. 
 
 "Eh? What?" said the caterpillar 
 and rolled round with terror. "Am 
 I haunted inside, or have I gone 
 mad?" 
 
 131
 
 THE CATERPILLAR 
 
 "It's we, it's the ichneumon-flies' 
 young," came the sound again from 
 deep down in his stomach. 
 
 The caterpillar's head was in a 
 whirl. But, when he had collected 
 himself a little, he began to under- 
 stand : 
 
 "So the ichneumons laid their eggs 
 in my body!" he cried, in despair. 
 "And have I now to feed all their 
 voracious young?" 
 
 "That's it!" said the young ones. 
 "You've hit it to a T. Bestir your- 
 self now, you stupid, lazy caterpillar, 
 and eat till you burst, or we'll eat 
 you!" 
 
 So saying, they took a good nip at 
 his flesh. 
 
 "Oh, oh!" yelled the caterpillar. "I 
 will, I will, indeed I will." 
 
 "Yes, but hurry up!" said the 
 
 132
 
 THE CATERPILLAR 
 
 young ones. "We are so hungry, so 
 hungry !" 
 
 And the caterpillar ate ever so much 
 more than before, but it was not 
 the slightest use. He could never 
 eat enough and the ichneumon-flies' 
 young kept on crying for more. The 
 ant and the swallow and the night- 
 ingale mocked at him every day and 
 the gardener beat the cabbage with 
 his rake, so angry was he at all this 
 consumption. 
 
 But the caterpillar swallowed it all 
 and reflected that there was not on 
 earth a lot so distressing as his. 
 
 "Jeer away!" he thought. "You're 
 quick at that. If only you knew that 
 I don't get the food myself which I 
 procure: the benefit of it all goes to 
 the ichneumon-flies' young." 
 
 He ate and ate desperately. At last, 
 
 133
 
 THE CATERPILLAR 
 
 he could bear it no longer. All day 
 long, he noticed how the ichneumons 
 were rummaging about inside him. 
 He rolled round on the cabbage-leaf 
 in despair and turned and twisted 
 and screamed for help. 
 
 "Rather eat me up altogether while 
 you're about it!" he cried. "Rather 
 let me die at once : I can't endure this 
 life!" 
 
 "Tut, tut!" said the young ones in- 
 side him and cackled with laughter. 
 "It's not so easy as that. You'll be 
 eaten right enough, when the time 
 comes, never fear! But, for the pres- 
 ent, all you have to do is to hold your 
 tongue and eat." 
 
 4 
 
 Every day, the young ones grew 
 bigger and wanted more food. When 
 
 134
 
 THE CATERPILLAR 
 
 they could no longer satisfy them- 
 selves with what the caterpillar ate, 
 they began to devour two large 
 lumps of fat which he had saved up 
 in the happy days before the ichneu- 
 mons came. They were meant to be 
 used for wings and legs, once he had 
 become a butterfly. And, when he no- 
 ticed that they were gone, he shed 
 bitter tears: 
 
 "Alas for my beautiful dreams!" he 
 said. "Now I shall never be a butter- 
 fly, never flit in the sun all over the 
 garden." 
 
 "I told you all the time that that 
 was nonsense about the butterfly," 
 said the ant, who passed at that mo- 
 ment. 
 
 "Listen," said the caterpillar. "If 
 you have a heart beating in your 
 body, then help me, Ant." 
 
 135
 
 THE CATERPILLAR 
 
 Then he told her of his misfortune. 
 The swallow and the nightingale 
 came and listened and the caterpillar 
 implored them for advice and assist- 
 ance. 
 
 "After all, I'm of your race," he 
 ended by saying. "Believe me, I feel 
 it. If I get time and leisure, I shall 
 turn into something pretty, a butter- 
 fly. I have felt that inside myself 
 since the time when I was quite 
 little." 
 
 The swallow and the nightingale 
 looked at each other and shook their 
 heads. But the ant, who was the clev- 
 erest of the three, nodded thought- 
 fully and then said: 
 
 "What you say about the relation- 
 ship may have something in it. To a 
 certain extent. For we are all poor 
 mortals, as the gardener says. But 
 
 136
 
 THE CATERPILLAR 
 
 that bit about the butterfly is pos- 
 itively nothing but imagination. I am 
 sorry for you, goodness knows I 
 am, but I can't help you. You must 
 bear your lot with patience." 
 
 "I cant bear it!" cried the caterpil- 
 lar. "It is killing me. Think of the 
 butterflies: are they not beautiful? 
 Don't you like looking at them? 
 Help me, do you hear! If I die, a 
 butterfly dies. Only think, if one day 
 there were no butterflies!" 
 
 "Well," said the ant, "as for that, 
 the world would go on, even if 
 you are right. There are caterpillars 
 enough in the garden and, if you 
 really are butterflies' children, there 
 would be plenty left, even though a 
 few did get lost. However, I have no 
 time to speculate on this folly. If you 
 wish to have my opinion in a nut- 
 
 137
 
 THE CATERPILLAR 
 
 shell, here it is, that your mother 
 must have looked after you foolish- 
 ly, for you to fall into the ichneu- 
 mons' power like this. And now I 
 must go home and look after my chil- 
 dren. Good-bye and bless you!" 
 
 Then the ant went away. The night- 
 ingale flew up into the bush and sang 
 in the warm evening so that all had 
 to listen and admire him and the 
 swallow soared high into the air and 
 prophesied fine weather for the mor- 
 row. 
 
 But the caterpillar crouched hum- 
 bly over his cabbage-leaf and ate. 
 
 "I think there are too many of us 
 in here," said one of the ichneumon- 
 grubs the next morning. "I can't 
 breathe." 
 
 138
 
 THE CATERPILLAR 
 
 "There's a way out of that," said 
 one of the others. "Let's bite a hole 
 in the creature's air-ducts; then we'll 
 get air enough. But see that he has 
 one or two left, or we shall risk his 
 going and suffocating before his 
 time." 
 
 It was no sooner said than done. But 
 the caterpillar screamed louder than 
 ever. 
 
 "Air! Air! I shall die of suffoca- 
 tion!" 
 
 "No, you won't," replied the young 
 ones. "But you had better accustom 
 yourself to be content with little. 
 Hurry back to the cabbage." 
 
 "Now it's all up with me," said the 
 caterpillar, one morning. 
 
 "You may be right, this time," re- 
 plied the ichneumon-grubs. 
 
 That evening, they ate the last rem- 
 
 139
 
 THE CATERPILLAR 
 
 nant of their host. Only the skin was 
 left of the dead caterpillar. It lay 
 dry and shrivelled up outside the 
 grubs, who nestled in it as in a warm 
 fur. 
 
 One fine day, they flew out. Pretty 
 little animals they were, with light, 
 bright wings, like their parents. 
 
 "Hurrah!" they cried. "Now it's 
 only a question of finding a caterpil- 
 lar for our young. Each for himself 
 and the devil take the hindmost : such 
 is nature's law. We are nature's po- 
 lice: we see to it that things keep 
 their balance. It would be a hideous 
 world indeed, if it were full of cat- 
 erpillars!" 
 
 "Or of ichneumon-flies!" piped the 
 swallow and gulped down a mouth- 
 ful of them as he spoke. 
 
 140
 
 THE BEECH AND THE 
 OAK
 
 THE BEECH AND THE 
 OAK 
 
 IT was in the old days. 
 
 There were no towns with houses 
 and streets and towering church- 
 steeples. There were no schools. For 
 there were not many boys and those 
 there were learnt from their fathers 
 to shoot with a bow and arrow, to 
 hunt the deer in his hiding-place, to 
 kill bears in order to make clothes of 
 their hides and to get fire by rubbing 
 two pieces of wood together. When 
 they knew all this thoroughly, their 
 education was completed. 
 
 Nor were there any railways, or 
 
 143
 
 THE BEECH AND THE OAK 
 
 tilled fields, or ships on the sea, or 
 books, for there was nobody who 
 would read them. 
 
 There was hardly anything but 
 trees. 
 
 But then of trees there were plenty. 
 They stood everywhere, from coast 
 to coast, mirrored themselves in ev- 
 ery river and sea and stretched their 
 mighty branches up into the sky. 
 They stooped out over the sea-shore, 
 dipped their branches in the black 
 water of the marshes and looked out 
 haughtily over the land from the tall 
 hills. 
 
 They all knew one another, for they 
 belonged to one big family and they 
 were proud of it. 
 
 "We are all oak-trees," they said 
 and drew themselves up. "We own 
 the land and we govern it." 
 
 144
 
 THE BEECH AND THE OAK 
 
 And they were quite right, for there 
 were only very few people at that 
 time. Otherwise there was nothing 
 but wild animals. Bears, wolves and 
 foxes went hunting, while the deer 
 grazed by the edge of the marsh. 
 The wood-mouse sat outside her hole 
 eating acorns and the beaver built 
 his ingenious house on the river-bank. 
 
 Then, one day, the bear came trudg- 
 ing along and lay down at full 
 length under a great oak-tree. 
 
 "Are you there again, you robber?" 
 said the oak and shook a heap of 
 withered leaves over him. 
 
 "You really ought not to be so 
 wasteful with your leaves, old 
 friend," said the bear, licking his 
 
 145
 
 THE BEECH AND THE OAK 
 
 paws. "They are the only thing you 
 have to keep off the sun with." 
 
 "If you don't like me, you can go 
 away," replied the oak, proudly. "I 
 am lord of the land and, look where 
 you may, you will find none but my 
 brothers." 
 
 "True enough," growled the bear. 
 "That's just the tiresome part of it. 
 I've been for a little trip abroad, you 
 see, and have been a bit spoilt. That 
 was in a country down south. I there 
 took a nap under the beech-trees. 
 Those are tall, slender trees, not 
 crooked old fellows like you. And 
 their tops are so close that the sun- 
 beams can't pierce through them at 
 all. It was a real delight to sleep 
 there of an afternoon, believe me." 
 
 "Beech-trees?" asked the oak, curi- 
 ously. "What are they?" 
 
 146
 
 THE BEECH AND THE OAK 
 
 "You might wish that you were half 
 as handsome as a beech-tree," said 
 the bear. "But now I'm not going to 
 gossip with you any more. I've had 
 to trot over a mile in front of a con- 
 founded hunter, who caught me on 
 one of my hind-legs with an arrow. 
 Now I want to sleep; and perhaps 
 you will be so kind as to provide me 
 with rest, since you can't provide me 
 with shade." 
 
 The bear lay down and closed his 
 eyes, but there was no sleep for him 
 this time. For the other trees had 
 heard what he had said and there 
 came such a chattering and a jab- 
 bering and a rustling of leaves 
 as had never been known in the 
 forest. 
 
 "Heaven knows what sort of trees 
 those are!" said the one. "Of course, 
 
 147
 
 THE BEECH AND THE OAK 
 
 it's a story which the bear wants us 
 to swallow," said another. 
 
 "What can trees be like whose 
 leaves are so close together that 
 the sunbeams can't pierce through 
 them?" asked a little oak who had 
 been listening to what the big ones 
 were saying. 
 
 But next to him stood an old, 
 gnarled tree, who slapped the little 
 oak on the head with one of his low- 
 er branches. 
 
 "Hold your tongue," he said, "and 
 don't talk till you've got something 
 to say. And you others need not be- 
 lieve a word of the bear's nonsense. 
 I am much taller than you and I can 
 see a long way over the forest. But 
 as far away as I can see there is no- 
 thing but oak-trees." 
 
 The little oak remained sheepish 
 
 148
 
 THE BEECH AND THE OAK 
 
 and silent and the other big trees 
 whispered softly to one another, for 
 they had a great respect for the old 
 one. 
 
 But the bear got up and rubbed his 
 eyes. 
 
 "Now you have disturbed my after- 
 noon nap," he growled, angrily, 
 "and I shall have my revenge on you, 
 never fear. When I come back, I 
 shall bring some beech-seed with me 
 and I'll answer for it that you will 
 all turn yellow with envy when you 
 see how handsome the new trees 
 are." 
 
 Then he trotted away. But the oaks 
 talked to one another for days at a 
 time of the queer trees which he had 
 told them of. 
 
 "If they come, we'll do for them!" 
 said the little oak-tree. 
 
 149
 
 THE BEECH AND THE OAK 
 
 But the old oak gave him one on the 
 head: 
 
 "If they come, you shall be civil to 
 them, you puppy," he said. "But 
 they won't come." 
 
 3 
 
 Now this was where the old oak was 
 wrong, for they did come. 
 
 In the autumn, the bear returned 
 and lay down under the old oak. 
 
 "I am to give you the kind regards 
 of the people down below there," he 
 said and picked some funny little 
 things off his shaggy hide. "Just 
 look what I've got for you." 
 
 "What's that?" asked the oak. 
 
 "That's beech," replied the bear. 
 "Beech-seed, as I promised you." 
 
 Then he trampled them into the 
 earth and prepared to leave again: 
 
 150
 
 THE BEECH AND THE OAK 
 
 "It's a pity that I can't stay to see 
 how annoyed you will be," he said, 
 "but those confounded human beings 
 have become so offensive. They killed 
 my wife and one of my brothers the 
 other day and I must look out for a 
 place where I can dwell in peace. 
 There is hardly a spot left for an 
 honest bear to live in. Good-bye, you 
 gnarled old oak-trees." 
 
 When the bear had jogged off, the 
 trees looked at one another seriously. 
 
 "Let us now see what happens," 
 said the old oak. 
 
 And thereupon they betook them- 
 selves to rest. The winter came and 
 tore all their leaves from them. The 
 snow lay high over all the land and 
 every tree stood plunged in his own 
 thoughts and dreamt of spring. 
 
 And, when the spring came, the 
 
 151
 
 THE BEECH AND THE OAK 
 
 grass was green and the birds began 
 to sing where they last left off. The 
 flowers swarmed up out of the 
 ground and everything looked fresh 
 and vigorous. 
 
 The oaks alone still stood with leaf- 
 less branches: 
 
 "It is very distinguished to come 
 last," they said to one another. "The 
 king of the forest does not arrive 
 before the whole company is assem- 
 bled." 
 
 But at last they did arrive. All the 
 leaves burst forth from the fat buds 
 and the trees looked at one another 
 and complimented one another on 
 their good appearance. The little oak 
 had grown a decent bit. This made 
 him feel important and think that he 
 now had the right to join in the con- 
 versation : 
 
 152
 
 THE BEECH AND THE OAK 
 
 "There's not much coming of the 
 bear's beech-trees," he said, mock- 
 ingly, but at the same time glanced 
 up anxiously at the old oak who used 
 to slap his head. 
 
 The old oak heard what he said and 
 so did the others. But they said no- 
 thing. None of them had forgotten 
 what the bear had said and every 
 morning, when the sun shone, they 
 peeped down secretly to see if the 
 beeches had come. At bottom they 
 were a little anxious, but they were 
 too proud to talk about it. 
 
 And, one day, at last, the little 
 sprouts shot up from the ground. 
 The sun shone upon them and the 
 rain fell over them, so that it was not 
 long before they grew to a good 
 height. 
 
 "I say, how pretty they are!" said 
 
 153
 
 THE BEECH AND THE OAK 
 
 the great oaks and twisted their 
 crooked branches still more, so as to 
 see them better. 
 
 "You are welcome among us," said 
 the old oak and gave them a gracious 
 nod. "You shall be my foster-chil- 
 dren and have just as good a time as 
 my own." 
 
 "Thank you," said the little beeches 
 and not a word more. 
 
 But the little oak did not like the 
 strange trees: 
 
 "It's awful, the way you're shoot- 
 ing up," he said, in a vexed tone. 
 "You're already half as tall as I am. 
 May I beg you to remember that I 
 am much older than you and of a 
 good family besides?" 
 
 The beeches laughed with their tiny 
 little green leaves, but said nothing. 
 
 "Shall I bend my branches a little 
 
 154
 
 THE BEECH AND THE OAK 
 
 to one side, so that the sun can shine 
 on you better?" asked the old tree, 
 politely. 
 
 "Much obliged," replied the beeches. 
 "We can grow quite nicely in the 
 shade." 
 
 4 
 
 And all that summer passed and 
 another summer and still more. The 
 beeches went 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. 1 
 must have proper sunshine. Take 
 your leaves away, else I shall die." 
 
 The beeches only laughed and went 
 on growing. At last, they met right 
 above the little oak's head and then 
 he died. 
 
 155
 
 THE BEECH AND THE OAK 
 
 "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 
 the reward of his bragging. I say it, 
 although he is my own flesh and 
 blood. But you must be careful now, 
 you little beeches, for else I shall 
 slap you on the head too." 
 
 5 
 
 The years passed and the beeches 
 kept on growing and gradually be- 
 came slim young trees that reached 
 right up among the old oak's 
 branches. 
 
 "You're beginning to be rather in- 
 trusive for my taste," said the old 
 oak. "You had better try to grow a 
 
 156
 
 THE BEECH AND THE OAK 
 
 bit thicker and give up shooting into 
 the air like that. Just look how your 
 branches stick out. Bend them de- 
 cently, 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 
 meagre display which you stick up in 
 the air?" 
 
 "Every one grows in his own man- 
 ner and we in ours," replied the 
 young beeches. "This is the way it's 
 done where we come from; and we 
 dare say we are just as good as you." 
 
 "That's not a very polite remark to 
 make to an old tree with moss on his 
 branches," said the oak. "I am begin- 
 ning to regret that I was so good to 
 
 157
 
 THE BEECH AND THE OAK 
 
 you. If you have a scrap of honour 
 in your composition, then have the 
 kindness to move your leaves a little 
 to one side. Last year, there were 
 hardly any buds on my lower branch- 
 es, 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 fright- 
 ened. 
 
 "You're nice fellows, you are," he 
 said, "the way you reward me for my 
 hospitality! When you were little, I 
 
 158
 
 THE BEECH AND THE OAK 
 
 let you grow on my food and pro- 
 tected you against the storm. I 
 let the sun shine on you whenever he 
 wanted to and I treated you as if you 
 were my own children. And now you 
 choke me by way of thanks." 
 
 "Fudge!" said the beeches. 
 
 Then they blossomed and put forth 
 fruit and, when the fruit was ripe, 
 the wind shook their branches and 
 spread it all around. 
 
 "You are active people, like my- 
 self," said the wind. "That's why I 
 like you and will gladly give you a 
 hand." 
 
 And the fox rolled at the foot of 
 the beech and filled his coat with 
 the prickly fruit and ran all over the 
 country with it. The bear did the same 
 and moreover laughed at the old oak 
 while he lay and rested in the shadow 
 
 159
 
 THE BEECH AND THE OAK 
 
 of the beech. The wood-mouse was 
 delighted with the new food which 
 he got and thought that beech-nuts 
 tasted much better than acorns. 
 
 New little beeches shot up round 
 about and grew just as quickly as 
 their parents and looked as green 
 and happy as if they did not know 
 what a bad conscience was. 
 
 But the old oak gazed out sadly 
 over the forest. The light beech- 
 leaves peeped forth on every hand 
 and the oaks sighed and told one an- 
 other their troubles. 
 
 "They are taking our power from 
 us," they said and shook themselves 
 as well as they could for the beeches. 
 "The land is no longer ours." 
 
 One branch died after the other and 
 the storm broke them off and flung 
 them to the ground. The old oak had 
 
 160
 
 THE BEECH AND THE OAK 
 
 now only a few leaves left in his 
 top. 
 
 "The end is at hand," he said, 
 gravely. 
 
 But there were many more people 
 in the land now than before and they 
 hastened to cut down the oaks while 
 there were still some left: 
 
 "Oak makes better timber than 
 beech," they said. 
 
 "So at last we get a little apprecia- 
 tion," said the old oak. "But we shall 
 have to pay for it with our lives." 
 
 Then he said to the beech-trees: 
 
 "What was I thinking of, when I 
 helped you on in your youth? What 
 an old fool I have been! We oak- 
 trees used to be lords of the land and 
 now, year after year, I have had to 
 see my brothers all around succumb 
 in the struggle against you. I myself 
 
 161
 
 THE BEECH AND THE OAK 
 
 am almost done for and not one of 
 my acorns has shot up, thanks to 
 your shadow. But, before I die, I 
 should like to know what you call 
 your behaviour. 
 
 "That's soon said, old friend!" re- 
 plied the beeches. "We call it compe- 
 tition and it's no discovery of ours. 
 It's that which rules the world." 
 
 "I don't know those foreign words 
 of yours," said the oak. "I call it 
 rank ingratitude." 
 
 Then he died. 
 
 162
 
 THE WEEDS
 
 THE WEEDS 
 
 IT was a fine and fruitful year. 
 
 Rain and sunshine came turn and 
 turn about, in just the way that was 
 best for the corn. No sooner did the 
 farmer think that it was getting 
 rather dry, than he could be quite 
 sure that it would rain the next day. 
 And, if he was of opinion that he 
 had had rain enough, then the clouds 
 parted at once, just as though it 
 were the farmer that was in com- 
 mand. 
 
 The farmer, therefore, was in a 
 good humour and did not complain, 
 as otherwise he always did. Glad and 
 
 165
 
 THE WEEDS 
 
 rejoicing, he walked over the land 
 with his two boys. 
 
 "It will be a splendid harvest this 
 year," he said. "I shall get my barns 
 full and make lots of money. Then 
 Jens and Ole shall have a new pair 
 of trousers apiece and I will take 
 them with me to market." 
 
 "If you don't cut me soon, farmer, 
 I shall be lying down flat," said the 
 rye and bowed her heavy ears right 
 down to the ground. 
 
 Now the farmer could not hear 
 this, but was quite able to see what 
 the rye was thinking of; and so he 
 went home to fetch his sickle. 
 
 "It's a good thing to be in the serv- 
 ice of men," said the rye. "I can be 
 sure now that all my grains will be 
 well taken care of. Most of them will 
 go to the mill and that, certainly, is 
 166
 
 THE WEEDS 
 
 not very pleasant. But afterwards 
 they will turn into beautiful fresh 
 bread; and one must suffer some- 
 thing for honour's sake. What re- 
 mains the farmer will keep and sow 
 next year on his land." 
 
 2 
 
 Along the hedge and beside the 
 ditch stood the weeds. Thistle and 
 burdock, poppy and bell-flower and 
 dandelion grew in thick clusters and 
 all had their heads full of seed. For 
 them too it had been a fruitful year, 
 for the sun shines and the rain falls 
 on the poor weeds just as much as on 
 the rich corn. 
 
 "There's no one to cut us and cart 
 us to the barn," said the dandelion 
 and shook her head, but very care- 
 fully, lest the seed should fall out too 
 
 167
 
 THE WEEDS 
 
 soon. "What is to become of our chil- 
 dren?" 
 
 "It gives me a headache to think of 
 it," said the poppy. "Here I stand, 
 with many hundreds of seeds in my 
 head, and I have no idea where to 
 dispose of them." 
 
 "Let's ask the rye's advice," said the 
 burdock. 
 
 And then they asked the rye what 
 they ought to do. 
 
 "It doesn't do to mix in other peo- 
 ple's affairs when one's well off," 
 said the rye. "There is only one piece 
 of advice that I will give you: mind 
 you don't fling your silly seed over 
 my field, or you'll have me to deal 
 with!" 
 
 Now this advice was of no use to 
 the wild flowers and they stood all 
 day pondering as to what they should 
 
 168
 
 THE WEEDS 
 
 do. When the sun went down, they 
 closed their petals to go to sleep, but 
 they dreamt all night of their seed 
 and the next morning they had found 
 a remedy. 
 
 The poppy was the first to wake. 
 
 She carefully opened some little 
 shutters in the top of her head, so 
 that the sun could shine right in upon 
 the seeds. Next, she called to the 
 morning-wind, who was running and 
 playing along the hedge. 
 
 "Dear wind," she said, pleasantly. 
 "Will you do me a service?" 
 
 "Why not?" said the wind. "I don't 
 mind having something to do." 
 
 "It's a mere trifle," said the pop- 
 py. "I will only ask you to give a 
 good shake to my stalk, so that my 
 seeds can fly far away out of the 
 
 shutters." 
 
 169
 
 THE WEEDS 
 
 "Right you are," said the wind. 
 
 And away flew the seeds to every 
 side. The stalk certainly snapped; 
 but that the poppy did not bother 
 about. For, when one has provided 
 well for one's children, there's really 
 nothing left to do in this world. 
 
 "Good-bye," said the wind and 
 wanted to go on. 
 
 "Wait a bit," said the poppy. 
 "Promise me first that you won't tell 
 the others. Else they might have the 
 same idea and then there would be 
 less room for my seed." 
 
 "I shall be silent as the grave," said 
 the wind and ran away. 
 
 "Pst! Pst!" said the bell-flower. 
 "Have you a moment to do me a tiny 
 little service?" 
 
 "All right," said the wind. "What 
 is it?" 
 
 170
 
 THE WEEDS 
 
 "Oh, I only wanted to ask you to 
 shake me a little," said the bell- 
 flower. "I have opened some of the 
 shutters in my head and I should like 
 to have my seed sent a good distance 
 out into the world. But you must be 
 sure not to tell the others, or they 
 might think of doing the same 
 thing." 
 
 "Lord preserve us!" said the wind 
 and laughed. "I shall be mute as a 
 fish." 
 
 And then he gave the flower a thor- 
 ough good shaking and went on. 
 
 "Dear wind, dear wind!" cried the 
 dandelion. "Where are you off to so 
 fast?" 
 
 "Is there anything the matter with 
 you too?" asked the wind. 
 
 "Not a bit," said the dandelion. "I 
 only wanted a word with you." 
 
 171
 
 THE WEEDS 
 
 "Then be quick about it," said the 
 wind, "for I am thinking seriously 
 of going down." 
 
 "You see," said the dandelion, "it's 
 very difficult for us this year to get 
 all our seed settled; and yet one 
 would like to do the best one can 
 for one's children. How the bell- 
 flower and the poppy and the poor 
 burdock will manage I do not 
 know, upon my word. But the this- 
 tle and I have combined and have 
 hit upon an expedient. You shall 
 help us." 
 
 "That makes four in all," thought 
 the wind and could not help laugh- 
 ing aloud. 
 
 "What are you laughing at?" asked 
 the dandelion. "I saw you whisper- 
 ing with the bell-flower and the pop- 
 py just now; but, if you tell them a 
 
 172
 
 THE WEEDS 
 
 thing, then you will simply get no- 
 thing out of me." 
 
 "What do you take me for?" said 
 the wind. "Mum's the word! What 
 is it you want?" 
 
 "We've put out a nice little um- 
 brella right up at the top of our seed. 
 It's the sweetest little toy you can 
 think of. If you only just blow on 
 me, it will fly up in the air and fall 
 down wherever you please. Will 
 
 9" 
 
 you? 
 
 "Certainly," said the wind. 
 
 And, whoosh! he blew over the 
 thistle and the dandelion and took all 
 their seeds with him across the fields. 
 
 3 
 
 The burdock still stood pondering. 
 She was thick-headed and that was 
 why she took so long. But, in the 
 
 173
 
 THE WEEDS 
 
 evening, a hare jumped over the 
 hedge. 
 
 "Hide me! Save me!" he cried. 
 "Farmer's Trust is after me." 
 
 "Creep round behind the hedge," 
 said the burdock; "then I'll hide you." 
 
 "You don't look to me as if you 
 were cut out for the job," said the 
 hare; "but beggars can't be choos- 
 ers." 
 
 And then he hid behind the hedge. 
 
 "Now, in return, you might take 
 some of my seeds to the fields with 
 you," said the burdock and she broke 
 off some of her many burs and scat- 
 tered them over the hare. 
 
 Soon after, Trust came running 
 along the hedge. 
 
 "Here's the dog!" whispered the 
 burdock and, with a bound, the hare 
 leapt the hedge into the rye. 
 
 174
 
 THE WEEDS 
 
 "Have you seen the hare?" asked 
 Trust. "I can see that I'm getting 
 too old for hunting. One of my eyes 
 is quite blind and my nose can no 
 longer find the scent." 
 
 "I have seen him," replied the bur- 
 dock, "and, if you will do me a ser- 
 vice, I will show you where he is." 
 
 Trust agreed and the burdock stuck 
 some of her burs on to his back and 
 said: 
 
 "Would you just rub yourself 
 against the stile here, inside the field? 
 But that's not where you're to look 
 for the hare, for I saw him run into 
 the wood a little while ago." 
 
 Trust carried the burs to the field 
 and ran off to the wood. 
 
 "So now I've got my seeds settled," 
 said the burdock and laughed to her- 
 self contentedly. "But goodness 
 
 175
 
 THE WEEDS 
 
 knows how the thistle is going to 
 manage and the dandelion and the 
 bell-flower and the poppy!" 
 
 4 
 
 Next spring, already the rye stood 
 quite high. 
 
 "We are well off, considering all 
 things," said the rye-stalks. "Here we 
 are in a great company that contains 
 none but our own good family. And 
 we don't hamper one another in the 
 very least. It's really an excellent 
 thing to be in the service of men." 
 
 But, one fine day, a number of little 
 poppies and thistles and dandelions 
 and burdocks and bell-flowers stuck 
 their heads up above the ground in 
 the midst of the luxuriant rye. 
 
 "What's the meaning of this now?" 
 
 176
 
 THE WEEDS 
 
 asked the rye. "How in the world 
 did you get here?" 
 
 And the poppy looked at the bell- 
 flower and asked: 
 
 "How did you get here?" 
 
 And the thistle looked at the bur- 
 dock and asked: 
 
 "How on earth did you get here?" 
 
 They were all equally surprised and 
 it was some time before they had 
 done explaining. But the rye was the 
 angriest and, when she had heard all 
 about Trust and the hare and the 
 wind, she was quite furious. 
 
 "Thank goodness that the farmer 
 shot the hare in the autumn," said 
 she. "And Trust, luckily, is dead too, 
 the old scamp! So I have no further 
 quarrel with them. But how dare the 
 wind carry the seed of the weeds on 
 to the farmer's land!" 
 
 177
 
 THE WEEDS 
 
 "Softly, softly, you green rye!" 
 said the wind, who had been lying 
 behind the hedge and had heard all 
 this. "I ask no one's leave, but do as 
 I please ; and now I shall compel you 
 to bow before me." 
 
 Then he blew over the young rye, 
 so that the thin stalks swayed to and 
 fro. 
 
 "You see," he then said, "the far- 
 mer looks after his rye, for that's his 
 business. But the rain and the sun 
 and I: we interest ourselves in all of 
 you alike, without distinction of per- 
 sons. For us the poor weeds are quite 
 as attractive as the rich corn." 
 
 Now the farmer came out to look at 
 his rye and, when he saw the weeds 
 that stood in the fields, he was vexed 
 and scratched his head and began to 
 scold in his turn. 
 
 178
 
 THE WEEDS 
 
 "That's that dirty wind," he said to 
 Jens and Ole, who stood beside him 
 with their hands in the pockets of 
 their new trousers. 
 
 But the wind dashed up and blew 
 off the hats of all three of them 
 and trundled them ever so far away. 
 The farmer and his boys ran after 
 them, but the wind was the quicker. 
 At last, he rolled the hats out into 
 the pond and the farmer and his boys 
 had to stand ever so long and fish for 
 them before they got them out. 
 
 179
 
 THE WATER-LILY AND 
 THE DRAGON-FLY
 
 THE WATER-LILY AND 
 THE DRAGON-FLY 
 
 A LITTLE stream ran between trees 
 and bushes. Along the banks stood 
 tall, slender reeds and whispered to 
 the wind. In the middle of the water 
 floated the water-lily, with her white 
 flower and her broad, green leaves. 
 Generally the water was very still, 
 but when, as sometimes happened, 
 the wind went for a trip over the 
 surface of the stream, then the reeds 
 rustled and the water-lilies dived 
 right down under the water and the 
 leaves flew up or to either side, so 
 that the thick green stalks, which 
 
 183
 
 THE WATER-LILY 
 
 came all the way from the bottom, 
 found it difficult to hold them tight. 
 
 All day long, a dragon-fly grub 
 crept up and down the water-lily's 
 stem. 
 
 "What a terrible bore it must be," 
 said the grub, looking up at the flow- 
 ers, "to be a water-lily!" 
 
 "You speak of things which you 
 don't understand," replied the water- 
 lily. "It is just the pleasantest thing 
 in the world." 
 
 "Well, I can't understand that," 
 said the grub. "I should always want 
 to be tearing myself free and flying 
 round like a great, splendid dragon- 
 
 fly." 
 
 "Nonsense!" said the water-lily. "A 
 fine pleasure that would be! No, to 
 lie peacefully on the water and 
 dream and to drink sunshine and 
 
 184
 
 AND THE DRAGON-FLY 
 
 now and again to rock upon the 
 waves: there's some sense in that." 
 
 The grub reflected for a moment 
 and then said: 
 
 "I have higher aspirations. If I 
 could have my way, I should be a 
 dragon-fly. I should skim over the 
 water on great stiff wings, kiss the 
 white flowers, rest for a second on 
 your leaves and then fly on again." 
 
 "You are ambitious," said the wa- 
 ter-lily, "and that is silly. Wise peo- 
 ple know when they are well off. 
 May I make so free as to ask you 
 what you would propose to do to turn 
 into a dragon-fly? You don't look as 
 if you were made for one. In any 
 case, you must see that you grow up 
 prettier; you're very gray and ugly 
 now." 
 
 "Yes, that's the pity of it," said the 
 
 185
 
 THE WATER-LILY 
 
 grub, a little disheartened. "I myself 
 don't know how it is to happen; but 
 I still hope that it will. That's why I 
 crawl around here and eat all the 
 little insects I can catch." 
 
 "Ah, so you think you can eat your- 
 self into something big!" said the 
 water-lily, mockingly. "That would 
 be a pleasant way of improving one's 
 condition." 
 
 "Yes, but I believe it's the right way 
 for me!" cried the dragon-fly grub. 
 "I shall eat and eat all day, till I 
 grow stout and fat, and then, one 
 fine morning, I hope my fat will 
 change into wings with gold on them 
 and all the rest that a real dragon- 
 fly wants." 
 
 The water-lily shook her wise white 
 head : 
 
 "Let those foolish thoughts be," she 
 
 186
 
 AND THE DRAGON-FLY 
 
 said, "and learn to be contented with 
 your lot. You can now live in peace 
 and quiet among my leaves and creep 
 up and down my stalk as much as 
 ever you like. You have plenty of 
 food and no cares nor worries: what 
 more can you want?" 
 
 "You have an inferior nature," an- 
 swered the grub, "and therefore you 
 have no sense of higher things. I 
 want to become a dragon-fly!" 
 
 And then she crept down to the bot- 
 tom to catch lots of little insects and 
 eat herself fatter than ever. 
 
 The water-lily lay quietly on the 
 water and reflected: 
 
 "I can't understand animals!" she 
 said to herself. "They do nothing but 
 dance about from morn till night, 
 hunt and eat one another and know 
 no moment's peace. We flowers are 
 
 187
 
 THE WATER-LILY 
 
 more sensible. We grow up calmly 
 and placidly, side by side, drink sun- 
 shine and rain and take everything 
 as it comes. And I am the luckiest of 
 them all. How often have I not float- 
 ed contentedly here on the water, 
 while the other flowers were suffer- 
 ing from the drought on land! We 
 flowers are by far the happier; but 
 that is what those stupid animals fail 
 to see." 
 
 When the sun set in the evening, 
 the dragon-fly grub lay very still on 
 the stalk with her legs drawn up un- 
 der her. She had eaten a heap of in- 
 sects and was so fat that she felt as 
 though she would burst. And yet she 
 was not glad: she pondered on what 
 the water-lily had said and could not 
 
 188
 
 AND THE DRAGON-FLY 
 
 sleep all night for restless thinking. 
 And all that reflecting made her head 
 ache, for it was a labour to which she 
 was not used. And she felt pains in 
 her back too and in her chest. It was 
 as though she were going to be pulled 
 to pieces and die on the spot. 
 
 When morning began to break, she 
 could bear it no longer: 
 
 "I don't know what it is," she cried 
 in despair. "These pains hurt so that 
 I can't think what is to become of 
 me. Perhaps the water-lily is right 
 and I shall never be more than a poor, 
 wretched grub. But the thought of 
 that is too terrible! I should so love 
 to turn into a dragon-fly and fly 
 about in the sun. Oh, my back, my 
 back! I must be dying!" 
 
 Again she felt as if her back was 
 bursting and she screamed for pain. 
 
 189
 
 THE WATER-LILY 
 
 At the same moment, the reeds on 
 the bank began to rustle. 
 
 "That is the morning-wind," 
 thought the grub. "At least, let me 
 see the sun once more before I die." 
 
 And, with a great effort, she crawled 
 to one of the leaves of the water-lily, 
 stretched out her legs and prepared 
 for death. 
 
 But, when the sun had risen and 
 stood red and motionless in the east, 
 suddenly there came an opening right 
 in the middle of the grub's back, ac- 
 companied by a frightful itching. 
 Oh, the pain of it, the anguish! It 
 was a terrible feeling. Almost swoon- 
 ing, she closed her eyes, but the ago- 
 ny and the itching grew no less. 
 And then, suddenly, she perceived 
 that the pain was gone; and, when 
 she opened her eyes, she was hover- 
 
 190
 
 AND THE DRAGON-FLY 
 
 ing through the air on stiff, glitter- 
 ing wings, a brilliant dragon-fly! 
 Beneath her, on the leaf of the water- 
 lily, lay the ugly gray covering which 
 she had worn as a grub. 
 
 "Hurrah!" cried the new dragon- 
 fly. "Now the wish of my heart is 
 fulfilled." 
 
 And she flew through the air as 
 swiftly as though she meant to fly to 
 the end of the earth. 
 
 "The hussy has got her way after 
 all!" thought the water-lily. "Now 
 we shall see if she is more contented 
 than before." 
 
 3 
 
 Two days later, the dragon-fly came 
 flying up and settled on the flowers 
 of the water-lily. 
 
 "Good-morning," said the water- 
 
 191
 
 THE WATER-LILY 
 
 lily. "So you've come at last. I was 
 beginning to think that you had 
 grown too grand to come and see 
 your old friends." 
 
 "Good-morning," said the dragon- 
 fly. "Where shall I lay my eggs?" 
 
 "Oh, you'll find a place somewhere," 
 replied the flower. "Sit down first and 
 tell me if you are happier now than 
 when you were an ugly little grub 
 crawling up and down my stalk." 
 
 "Where can I lay my eggs? Oh, 
 wherever can I lay my eggs?" cried 
 the dragon-fly and flew buzzing from 
 leaf to leaf, laying one here and one 
 there, and at last sat down, tired and 
 exhausted, on a leaf. 
 
 "Well?" said the water-lily. 
 
 "Oh, I was much better off then," 
 sighed the dragon-fly. "The sun- 
 shine is glorious and it is a great de- 
 
 192
 
 AND THE DRAGON-FLY 
 
 light to fly over the water, but I 
 never have time to enjoy it. I tell you, 
 I'm awfully busy. In the old days, 
 I had nothing to think of. And now 
 I have to fly about all day long to 
 lay these silly eggs. I haven't a mo- 
 ment to myself and have hardly time 
 to eat." 
 
 "What did I tell you?" cried the 
 water-lily, triumphantly. "Didn't I 
 prophesy that your happiness would 
 be no greater?" 
 
 "Good-bye," said the dragon-fly, 
 with a sigh. "I have no time to listen 
 to you: I must go and lay more 
 eggs." 
 
 But, just as she was about to fly 
 away, the starling came: 
 
 "I say, I say, what a dear little 
 dragon-fly!" he said. "Just a nice lit- 
 tle mouthful for my youngsters 1" 
 
 193
 
 THE WATER-LILY 
 
 And with a whizz! he snapped up 
 the dragon-fly in his beak and flew 
 away with her. 
 
 "There they go!" cried the water- 
 lily, shaking her leaves with anger. 
 "Those animals, those animals! What 
 extraordinary creatures they are. I 
 must say I prefer my own quiet life. 
 I hurt nobody and no one injures me. 
 I am so hap . . ." 
 
 She got no further, for a boat glided 
 close past her. 
 
 "Oh, what a lovely water-lily!" said 
 Ellen, who sat in the stern. "I must 
 have it." 
 
 She bent over the side and tore the 
 flower away. When she got home, 
 she put it into a glass of water, where 
 it stood for three days with a lot of 
 other flowers. 
 
 "I don't know what to think," said 
 
 194
 
 AND THE DRAGON-FLY 
 
 the water-lily, on the fourth day. "I 
 have not fared a whit better than that 
 poor dragon-fly." 
 
 "The flowers are faded," said Ellen 
 and threw them out of the window. 
 
 And the water-lily lay with her fair 
 white petals on the dirty ground. 
 
 195
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 IT was winter. 
 
 The leaves were gone from the trees 
 and the flowers from the hedge. The 
 birds too were gone, that is to say 
 the more important ones; they had 
 all departed for the South. 
 
 But some, of course, had remained 
 behind. 
 
 There was the everlasting sparrow, 
 for instance, and the nimble little tit- 
 mouse, besides the crow and the ra- 
 ven, who looked twice as black and 
 hungry against the snow. There were 
 also a few birds who preferred to 
 
 199
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 take the rough with the smooth 
 rather than travel so far afield. 
 
 Down on the beach there was more 
 life than in summer. 
 
 There were the gulls who plunged 
 about, in great flocks, wherever a 
 hole had been made in the ice. And 
 there were the wild-duck, who swam 
 in the open water and quacked and 
 dived and flew up whenever a shot 
 was heard from the fishermen's guns. 
 
 "What a crowd!" said the sparrow. 
 
 "They come from the North," said 
 the gull. "From Norway and the 
 Faroe Islands, where it is a hundred 
 times colder than here. As soon as 
 there is the least bit of a change in 
 the temperature, they fly back again. 
 Do you know those two who are com- 
 ing this way over the ice?" 
 
 "How should I know them?" said 
 
 200
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 the sparrow. "I was born last sum- 
 mer and I only wish I were back in 
 the nest!" 
 
 "They are eider-ducks," said the 
 gull. "Look, there's one more com- 
 ing." 
 
 So there was. And he was a very 
 handsome bird. He had a green neck, 
 a white throat and a white breast, 
 with a pink sheen on it, and lovely 
 yellow legs. 
 
 "That is the drake," said the gull. 
 "The other two are females and not 
 so smart, although they don't look 
 bad either." 
 
 The three eider-ducks had now come 
 so near that the sparrow and the gull 
 could hear what they were talking 
 about. 
 
 "Dear lady," said the drake, "I can- 
 not understand why you stay on the 
 201
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 ice. Do come to the open water and 
 let us all enjoy ourselves." 
 
 "I must stay with my niece," said 
 the elder eider-duck. "She is my sis- 
 ter's child." 
 
 "And why should not Miss Eider- 
 Duck come too?" said the drake. "In 
 the summer, she was the gayest of 
 us all in the Faroes." 
 
 "That was then," said Miss Eider- 
 Duck. "But now I have begun to 
 think of other and more serious 
 things." 
 
 The drake tried just a little longer 
 to persuade them, but to no pur- 
 pose. Then he flew back across the 
 ice. 
 
 "Are there no cliffs here, auntie?" 
 asked the young eider-duck. "I am 
 dying to get married and to build a 
 nest." 
 
 202
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 "If I may venture to make a re- 
 mark," said the sparrow, "I should 
 say that it is still a little too cold. 
 And there are no cliffs in this coun- 
 try." 
 
 "But you can brood in the sand," 
 said the gull. 
 
 "Thank you for the information, 
 my good women," said Aunt Eider- 
 Duck. "But it is only a fancy of my 
 niece's. She is three years old now 
 and marriageable." 
 
 "Lord!" said the sparrow. "I was 
 born last summer and, if it was only 
 a little warmer, I could get married 
 at once." 
 
 "It's easier for one than for an- 
 other," said the aunt. 
 
 "Let us fly home to the Faroes and 
 ger married, auntie," said the young 
 duck. 
 
 203
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 "In a month's time, my child," said 
 auntie. "But I must decline the hon- 
 our for myself. I have now been mar- 
 ried seven times and have had enough 
 of it. Still, I will gladly chat about 
 it with you. That is so awfully inter- 
 esting." 
 
 "The trees will not be green yet in 
 a month," said the sparrow. "This is 
 only January." 
 
 "We have no trees in the Faroes, 
 my girl," said auntie, "and we don't 
 want them either." 
 
 "Has the young lady a sweetheart?" 
 asked the gull. 
 
 "Not yet," said auntie. "But he'll 
 come. You can get sweethearts for 
 the asking. She has spent her three 
 years dancing on the sea and having 
 a good time. One must see a little life 
 first." 
 
 204
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 "If only she hits upon the right 
 one," said the gull. 
 
 "All men are alike, my good 
 woman," said auntie. "They court 
 you and marry you and, perhaps, 
 just lend a hand with the nest and 
 then they go off and leave the rest 
 to us." 
 
 "I can't say that I agree with you, 
 ma'am," said the gull. "My hus- 
 band has always helped me faith- 
 fully." 
 
 "And I got lots of flies from my 
 father when I was in the nest," said 
 the sparrow. 
 
 "Then you were luckier than we,'* 
 said auntie. "Not one of my seven 
 husbands so much as saw his young 
 ones." 
 
 "Lord!" said the sparrow. 
 
 "Shall we be going home to the 
 
 205
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 Faroes soon?" asked Miss Eider- 
 Duck. 
 
 "Dear, dear, how interesting youth 
 is!" said auntie and flapped her 
 wings. 
 
 Then they flew into the water; but, 
 the next day, they came again and 
 this happened every day until well 
 into February. The young eider- 
 duck's longing for home grew ever 
 greater and her aunt never tired of 
 talking to her about it. 
 
 "Now it's coming, now it's com- 
 ing!" said she. "It's getting almost 
 too hot here to bear." 
 
 "I don't think so," said the sparrow, 
 shivering and longing for the spring. 
 
 One day, a charming young eider- 
 drake came and sat beside the two 
 ladies on the ice. 
 
 "If he proposes to you, accept him," 
 
 206
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 whispered auntie. "He has the green- 
 est neck I've seen for many a year." 
 
 "If only he would!" said the young 
 girl. 
 
 And he did. 
 
 After sitting for a while and talk- 
 ing of indifferent things, as long as 
 etiquette required and etiquette 
 does not demand half as much of 
 eider-duck as it does of men he 
 asked the young lady if she would be 
 his wife. He went on to talk of birds'- 
 nests and cliffs and dear little eggs 
 and so on, but she stopped him: 
 
 "Yes," she said; and so they were 
 engaged. 
 
 He was awfully eloquent and swore 
 to be faithful to her all his life and 
 to build a nest for her and to sit on 
 the eggs for her and to feed the chil- 
 dren from morn till night. She 
 
 207
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 nodded and could not speak for sheer 
 happiness. 
 
 "Every word that he says is a lie," 
 said auntie. "But, lord, how charm- 
 ing it is!" 
 
 "It's terrible!" said the sparrow and 
 the gull. "Such a dear young lady!" 
 
 "Fiddle!" said auntie. "We all 
 have to go through it. My seven hus- 
 bands all said the same and not one 
 of them kept his promise. But they 
 were charming, for all that. Only 
 they had not such green necks as this 
 one. He's splendid. I could fall in 
 love with him myself." 
 
 "When do we start?" asked Miss 
 Eider-Duck. 
 
 "To-morrow early, my darling, if 
 the wind is fair," said her beau. 
 
 "I'll go with you," said auntie. "In 
 the first place, it's more proper. And 
 
 208
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 then it's so charming to see young 
 people so happy." 
 
 They started the next morning. 
 
 It was not yet light when the birds 
 began their passage. Thousands of 
 eider-duck flew along in successive 
 flocks, while thousands more came up 
 from every side. The gull and the 
 sparrow woke up when they heard 
 the screaming and singing in the air. 
 
 "Fancy going north in weather like 
 this!" said the sparrow, shivering. 
 "Why, it's colder than ever!" 
 
 "There's spring in the air when 
 one's in love," said the gull. 
 
 2 
 
 Day and night, the northward flight 
 proceeded. 
 
 There were so many birds that they 
 were quite bewildering to see and, as 
 
 209
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 time passed and they neared their 
 destination, their longing increased 
 and they flew as though there were 
 fire under their wings. The aunt 
 never left the young couple and was 
 as light and swift as they and as 
 happy as if she herself were going to 
 be married for the eighth time. 
 
 At last they reached the Faroes, 
 which were their home. 
 
 They screamed and quacked for joy 
 when they saw the rocks rise from the 
 sea and their wings beat with re- 
 newed vigour, tired though they were 
 by the long journey. They fell upon 
 the cliffs as upon a prey and soon 
 there was not a spot left but a happy 
 bird sat in it and flapped her wings 
 and screamed. 
 
 "Now I'll show you a good place 
 for a nest," said auntie to the young 
 210
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 pair, who sat exchanging loving 
 looks. "Come with me to the other 
 side of the rock." 
 
 They flew with her and reached the 
 place where the man to whom the 
 rock belonged had put little wooden 
 boxes for the birds. There was just 
 one empty one left and the bride- 
 groom at once took possession. 
 
 "Here you will be able to sit on the 
 eggs safely and comfortably, my 
 darling," he said. 
 
 "Yes and you too," she answered. 
 "Don't you remember that you prom- 
 ised to help me with my work?" 
 
 "I should think I did!" said he and 
 kissed her. 
 
 "Lord, how charming!" said auntie. 
 
 "And I don't want to live in that 
 nasty box," said the young duck. "I 
 was looking forward most awfully to 
 
 211
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 collecting sea-weed and straw and 
 heather, as you told me you used to 
 with your former wife. And that's 
 what I want to do also." 
 
 "Be easy, my dear little girl," he 
 said. "Of course, we will line the box 
 a bit, but let us be glad that there is 
 something to start on. Remember 
 that we have a long life before us, 
 full of work and happiness, and don't 
 let us begin by doing more than we 
 shall be able to keep up." 
 
 "Lord, how he lies!" said auntie 
 and cast up her eyes to the sky. "But 
 how lovely it is to listen to!" 
 
 "What did you say?" asked the lit- 
 tle duck. 
 
 "I was saying that your future hus- 
 band has the loveliest green neck in 
 all the Faroes," said auntie. "I 
 should like to give it a little bite. But 
 
 212
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 now I will leave you to your happi- 
 ness." 
 
 Then she flew quacking over the 
 rock and splashed into the water with 
 the others. The two young people be- 
 gan to line their box with what they 
 could find. Soon the wedding took 
 place, with mirth and pomp, and 
 thousands of other young eider-duck 
 were married on the same day. 
 
 "Lord, how beautiful it is to be 
 young!" said auntie, who was pay- 
 ing wedding-visits with a swarm of 
 other old ladies. 
 
 3 
 
 And the young couple were com- 
 fortable and very happy. But, when 
 she had laid her first egg in the nest, 
 they had a tiff. 
 
 He wanted her to go for a little 
 
 213
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 trip with him over the rock, while the 
 egg lay in the nest, and she had no 
 objection, but she did think that he 
 might have shown rather more pleas- 
 ure at the sight of that fine gray- 
 green egg. 
 
 "I am saving up my emotions," he 
 said, "as befits a man. Come along." 
 
 Then she said, however, that it was 
 out of the question to leave the egg 
 lying like that, with nothing over it. 
 They must cover it with something. 
 She plucked some fine down from 
 under her wings and laid it on the 
 egg. But when she asked him to do 
 the same, he shook his head with de- 
 cision. 
 
 "I am saving up my feathers," he 
 said. "You will lay four more eggs 
 and my turn will come when you've 
 run out of down. I shall pluck my- 
 
 214
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 self bald if it's for the good of our 
 children." 
 
 "Lord, how he's romancing!" said 
 auntie, who was standing near and 
 heard all they said. "He's just like 
 my own husbands. They don't mean 
 a word of it, but still it does an old 
 heart good to hear them." 
 
 The young wife now accompanied 
 her husband to the beach, where all 
 was life and jollity. 
 
 Scores of husbands were there with 
 their wives and all the old gentlemen 
 and ladies who no longer had a nest. 
 They dived and chatted and told 
 funny stories. But the young wife 
 mostly sat apart or talked to the 
 other young wives, who also were in 
 a rather solemn mood. And soon she 
 declared that she must positively lay 
 another egg. 
 
 215
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 "Come, dear," she said. "Come, let 
 us go home. There's a new egg com- 
 ing." 
 
 "What a misfortune!" said her hus- 
 band, who was in the midst of a 
 quadrille with a couple of young 
 ducks of the summer before, who 
 were not yet thinking of marriage. 
 
 But he went back with her to the 
 nest and she laid her egg. She 
 plucked some more down, while he 
 addressed her in beautiful and touch- 
 ing phrases, and then they went out 
 again, for he simply could not stay 
 at home in the nest. 
 
 But they had not gone half-way 
 when she felt another egg coming 
 and told him so. 
 
 "You had better stay up there in 
 the nest," he said, crossly. "This 
 running to and fro does not amuse 
 
 216
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 me and is bad for the children's 
 health." 
 
 "Won't you stay with me?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "I'll come and have a look at you 
 as often as I can," he said. 
 
 "And that's the way you keep the 
 promises you made me!" said she and 
 burst into tears. 
 
 "My own darling little wife!" he 
 said. "I can't help you the least lit- 
 tle bit with the eggs. You've got to 
 lay them and lay them you must. My 
 work for our dear children and for 
 yourself will begin when the eggs are 
 all laid and you have started hatch- 
 ing them. And then, of course, when 
 the little darlings come out, they will 
 have to be fed and taught how to get 
 on in the world. I am saving up my 
 strength till that time comes, you see. 
 217
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 And then I will sit on the eggs, while 
 you go for a nice little trip and play 
 about with the others down below." 
 
 "Did you ever hear the like?" said 
 auntie. "How beautifully he talks! 
 You've got a really nice husband." 
 
 And so the 'young wife went back 
 to the nest alone and laid her third 
 egg. Auntie flew down to the beach 
 with the husband: 
 
 "I'll look after him, dear," she whis- 
 pered ; "trust me for that." 
 
 And then the fourth egg came and 
 the fifth. 
 
 She had plucked all the feathers 
 from her breast that she thought she 
 could spare and placed them in a 
 nice little, mouse-gray heap around 
 the eggs. Then she sat upon them 
 herself and brooded and brooded. At 
 first, from time to time, she went to 
 
 218
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 the edge of the cliff to look down at 
 the beach, where her husband was 
 with the other men and the ladies 
 who had no eggs. But she did this 
 less and less often. She took no food, 
 grew thin and brooded and brooded. 
 Her aunt called every day to have 
 a chat with her. 
 
 4 
 
 One day, the husband came and sat 
 down by the nest. He looked very 
 spruce with his green neck and his 
 bright eyes. 
 
 "Well, how are you getting on?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "I despise you," she said. "Go away 
 and never show your face to me 
 again. You coaxed me with your fair 
 promises and not one of them have 
 you kept. I have had to pluck all the 
 
 219
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 down I wanted from my own breast. 
 I've been sitting here alone, day af- 
 ter day, while you've been amusing 
 yourself with all those revellers on 
 the beach. You haven't brought me a 
 bite of food." 
 
 "Tush!" he said, scratching in the 
 sand with his fine, yellow feet. "I 
 shall be pleased to bring you a small 
 mussel from time to time, if that 
 gives you any satisfaction. But, for 
 goodness' sake, don't be so formal! 
 Do you really imagine that men 
 weigh their words when they're en- 
 gaged?" 
 
 "Get out of this!" she screamed. "I 
 don't want my children to see their 
 unnatural father." 
 
 "Oh, as for that, I wouldn't give a 
 straw to see that callow brood," he 
 replied. "And, upon my word, you're 
 
 220
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 no beauty yourself! You're so lean 
 and full of bald spots. You're very 
 different from the pretty girl I fell 
 in love with." 
 
 She was about to fly up out of the 
 nest and give him one for himself; 
 but she lay as though rooted to the 
 floor and stared at a man who put his 
 head over the edge of the cliff. Her 
 husband flew away with a loud 
 scream and auntie did the same. But 
 the man hardly gave them a glance. 
 He scrambled up the rock and set 
 down a great basket, which he car- 
 ried, beside the nest. 
 
 "What a fine nest!" he said. "There's 
 down enough here to stuff a little pil- 
 low with." 
 
 "What do you want?" asked the 
 eider-duck. 
 
 "I shan't hurt you," said the man. 
 
 221
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 "It would be silly of me to do you 
 any harm; why, I put the box here 
 for you myself. I only want the 
 down that's in your nest." 
 
 "Never!" cried the bird, spreading 
 out her wings and holding on to the 
 nest as fast as she could. "What 
 should I do with my children?" 
 
 "Why, pluck some more down from 
 your pretty breast, my dear," said 
 the man, kindly. "Now stand aside 
 and let me get by, without any non- 
 sense. After all, I'm the stronger 
 of the two and the nest belongs to 
 me." 
 
 But the young eider-duck did not 
 stir from her place. She pecked at his 
 hands with her beak and cried: 
 
 "Go down to the beach and catch 
 my husband and my old aunt! Kill 
 them, if you like, and take all their 
 
 222
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 down. It's only what they deserve. 
 But you must let my down be!" 
 
 "Stuff, my petl" said the man. 
 "The best down is what a mother 
 plucks from her breast. We all know 
 that. And, if your children have to 
 do without, it will come in useful for 
 other children, dainty little human 
 children, whose parents can afford to 
 buy the softest little pillows for 
 them." 
 
 "At least, wait until my children 
 are ready!" cried the eider-duck in 
 despair. 
 
 "A nice thing!" said the man. 
 "What, let you lie there and spoil the 
 down? Come, clear out!" 
 
 He pushed her aside, took all the 
 down, put it in his basket and went 
 away, saying: 
 
 "Pluck some more feathers if you 
 
 283
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 want them for your young. That's 
 what a good mother always does." 
 
 Then she went to the edge of the 
 rock and looked out. 
 
 The eider-duck were disporting 
 themselves gloriously. She could dis- 
 tinctly see her husband and her aunt 
 diving and amusing themselves as 
 though life were a sheer enjoyment. 
 And all the others were doing the 
 same: not one of them thought that 
 there was a man up above emptying 
 all the nests of their precious down. 
 
 "Come up here and pluck your 
 breast!" she screamed. "Now is the 
 time to keep some of your promises. 
 Your eggs are lying bare and cold, 
 while you are enjoying yourself 
 down there, you wretch!" 
 
 But her voice died away in the noise 
 of the wind and surf. No one heard 
 
 224
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 her cries or beheld her despair. She 
 remembered that the eggs were 
 really getting cold, while she stood 
 there, and she hurried back to the 
 nest. 
 
 One of the eggs began to burst and 
 soon a tiny beak peeped out of the 
 hole in the shell. She now flew to help 
 the little chap out. She stood gazing 
 at him for a moment and saw what 
 a darling he was. And then, like a 
 mad thing, she began to pluck the 
 last remaining feathers from her 
 breast and every part of her and laid 
 them round the little fellow. She 
 ceased complaining and thought only 
 of how she could make her children 
 warm and comfortable. 
 
 225
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 Two days later, all the five young 
 ones were out. 
 
 The young mother saw with pride 
 how smart they were. Already, they 
 stretched out their feet, which had 
 a delicate web between the toes, 
 yawned, lifted their little wings and 
 even quacked a bit. 
 
 "You must go to the beach at once," 
 she said. "I am sure that there are no 
 prettier children on the whole rock. 
 But, should you meet your wretch of 
 a father, mind you look the other 
 way." 
 
 She went down the rock and the five 
 little ones followed so nimbly that it 
 was a joy to see. Half-way down, 
 she met her aunt : 
 
 226
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 "I was just coming up to see you," 
 said the old lady. "I say, what dar- 
 lings your five children are!" 
 
 "Aren't they dears?" said the 
 mother, who forgot all her rage when 
 she heard her aunt's praises. 
 
 "Let me take one of them to walk 
 with," said auntie. 
 
 "Not while I live!" said the mother, 
 severely. "I know too well how 
 flighty you are, auntie. My children 
 are mine and nobody else's and mine 
 they shall remain." 
 
 At that moment, a shot rang 
 out through the air. 
 
 It was a silly shot, fired at random 
 by a silly boy who wanted to show 
 off his father's gun. But the gun was 
 loaded and the shot spread and 
 Mother Eider-Duck sank to the 
 ground with a scream. 
 
 227
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 "My young ones! My young ones!" 
 she moaned. 
 
 "They're all right, all five of them," 
 said auntie. "Be easy. But what's the 
 matter?" 
 
 "I'm dying," said the mother. "I 
 am full of shot. I know for certain 
 that I'm dying. Oh, my children, my 
 children!" 
 
 "Never mind about them," said 
 auntie. "I shall be a mother to them 
 in your stead and look after them as 
 if they were my own." 
 
 "Oh, auntie," said the mother, in a 
 feeble voice, "you are so terribly 
 frivolous. I have seen you myself 
 from up there, playing and fooling 
 about with the men and the girls on 
 the beach. How can a mother trust 
 her children to you?" 
 
 "What do you mean?" asked 
 
 228
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 auntie. "Surely, it's quite different 
 when one has children to care for. 
 You just die in peace, do you hear?" 
 
 And that is what Mother Eider- 
 Duck did. 
 
 She sank into herself and only just 
 had time to take a last look at her 
 children. But her aunt did not even 
 wait till she was quite dead. She for- 
 got everything, except that she had 
 suddenly got five beautiful children, 
 and at once walked off with them to 
 the beach. She knew the nearest way, 
 because she had already been there 
 several times with children. She made 
 the road easy for them and helped 
 them in every possible manner, fond- 
 ling them with her beak and praising 
 or scolding them according to their 
 deserts. 
 
 By the time that their mother had 
 
 229
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 closed her eyes, the children were 
 down on the beach. 
 
 They at once swam and dived in a 
 way that was a joy to see. Auntie 
 watched over them and almost burst 
 with pride. An old beau came up and 
 asked her to take a walk with him, 
 but she gave him a smart rap with 
 her beak: 
 
 "Don't you see the children, you old 
 coxcomb?" she said. "Get out of this, 
 or I'll teach you!" 
 
 And she remained with the children 
 until they were able to take care of 
 themselves. She travelled to the South 
 with them, winter after winter, and 
 listened to the men courting them 
 and befooling them, just as their 
 father had done to their mother. She 
 showed them good places for their 
 nests, paid wedding-visits and was 
 
 230
 
 AUNT EIDER-DUCK 
 
 honoured and esteemed all over the 
 rock, until, one day, a sea-eagle came 
 and caught her and gobbled her up. 
 
 THE END 
 
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