yourself comfortable and cozy and listen.

After the sneering Ant had banged the door in his face, Grasshopper Green felt, as you may imagine, miserable, forlorn and friendless.

It was growing dark. He turned up the collar of his threadbare claw-hammer coat and shuffled along over the frozen ground, scarcely noticing where his benumbed feet were taking him.

He tried wrapping himself in a fallen leaf; it was red and looked as though it might be warm. But, alas! it proved to be a very thin covering against the biting, icy wind.

He tried to cheer himself up by playing on his little fiddle, but his fingers were too cold to play lively, cheerful tunes.

At last, feeling too chilled and hungry and discouraged to go any further, he sank down at the foot of an old apple tree. This was some protection at least from the wintry blasts which, by now, were moaning, "Whoo-ooh-whee-eeeh!" among the bare branches in a very disheartening way.

Poor Grasshopper Green wrapped his leaf cape tightly about him and, in spite of his chattering teeth, finally fell into an uneasy sleep.

"Well, singe my whiskers, what's this? What's this?" he heard a hearty voice exclaiming, and, looking up, was astonished to find himself in the cosy home of a family of Meadow-Mice!

This is how it had happened. When Grasshopper Green sank down exhausted among the roots of the old apple tree, he had not noticed, in the darkness, that he was leaning against a small door; this was the door of the home of the Meadow-Mouse family, who lived here in a hollow part of the tree, near the roots.

An especially strong gust of wind had blown the door open and tumbled Grasshopper Green into the room.

When he sat up and looked about he was not quite sure, at first, that this was not just a part of his dream.

Father and Mother Meadow-Mouse and their four children, Long-Tail, Sharp-Eyes, Pink-Ears, and Mouseykins, had finished their supper of cornbread and cheese, and Father Meadow-Mouse was telling of two narrow escapes he had had the night before, one from a horned owl and one from Farmer Green's cat, Mouser. He had just come to the most exciting part of his adventures and all the family were listening with breathless interest, when the door, which had been left unbolted, blew open, as I have told you, and in tumbled poor Grasshopper Green.

Father and Mother Meadow-Mouse helped him over to their most comfortable chair, by the fire, for the poor fellow was so benumbed by the cold that he could hardly even stand alone.

While Grasshopper Green was explaining, in a wheezing voice, interrupted by coughs, how it was that he had burst in on them so rudely, Mother Meadow-Mouse filled a plate with food for him; then, bustling over to a corner cupboard, she got down a little jug of homemade Gooseberry syrup, poured some of it into a pannikin and set this on the fire to heat, saying as she did so, "There's nothing like warmed Gooseberry syrup to break up a cough."

Father Meadow-Mouse would every now and then blow his nose and exclaim, "Well, singe my whiskers and twist my tail!" just to express his