She was nervous and tired from sitting on the eggs and she had just a touch of fever. She could not sleep at night, or else she dreamt of the cray-fish and the carp and the eel¹ and screamed so loud that her husband nearly fell into the pond with fright.

 

"I wish we had gone somewhere else," she said. "Obviously, there's none but common people in this pond. Just think how upset I was about Goody Cray-Fish. Do you really believe she eats her children?"

 

Before he could reply, the eel stuck his head out of the mud and made his bow:

 

"Absolutely, madam," he said, "ab-so-lutely. That is to say, if she can get hold of them. They decamp as soon as they can, for they have an inkling, you know, of what's awaiting them. Children are cleverer than people think."

 

"But that's terrible," said Mrs. Reed-Warbler.

 

"Oh, well," said the eel, "one eats so many things from year's end to year's end! I don't condemn² her for that. But, I admit, it doesn't look well amid all that show of affection.... Hullo, there's the pike!... Forgive me for retiring in the middle of this interesting conversation."

 

He was off.

 

And the pike appeared among the reeds with wide-open mouth and rows of sharp teeth and angry eyes.

 

"Oof!" said Mrs. Reed-Warbler.

 

"Come down here and I'll eat you," said the pike, grinning with all his teeth.

 

"Please keep to your own element," said Mrs. Reed-Warbler, indignantly.

 

"I eat everything," said the pike, "ev-e-ry-thing. I smell eel, I smell cray-fish, I smell carp. Where are they? Tell me at once, or I'll break your reed with one blow of my tail!"

 

 

The reed-warblers were silent for sheer terror. And the pike struck out with his tail and swam away. The blow was so powerful that the reeds sighed and swayed and the birds flew up with startled screams. But the reeds held and the nest remained where it was. Mrs. Reed-Warbler settled down again and her husband began to sing, so that no one should see how frightened he had been. Then she said:

 

"A nice place this!"

 

"You take things too much to heart," said he. "Life is the same everywhere; and we must be satisfied as long as we can get on well together. I am very much afraid that all this excitement will hurt the children's voices and then they will disgrace us at the autumn concert. Pull yourself together and control yourself!"

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