100 Fairy Tales

air. The sun shone, the lights sparkled, and
among the long lances of the springing grass
were scattered dozens of feathery dandelion
clocks which had shot up since he had been
indoors. Dick would not stay to admire
them nor to answer the small silvery voices
calling to him on every side; he hurried on
until at last he stopped with a cry of delight
before a beautiful round ball, formed of grass
blades woven together, and swung from the
bending head of a thistle. On the top of it
he caught sight of the bright eyes of his
friend, the harvest mouse, but when he cried
out she sat up and waved her fore-paws at
him in an agony of terror, and he could hear
the sharp little sawing squeak which meant
that he was to be silent. Dick always
minded what the creatures said, so he came
quite close on tip-toe and whispered—‘“ What
is it? Oh, how beautiful!”

“Yes, yes, yes, and of course I don’t object
to you, but how could you be so thoughtless
as to bring Agrippa! The bumble-bee has
just told me, and I wouldn’t have had him