was too late, and the silver thistle swayed in the breeze. It tried to tell the breeze it was sorry for telling tales, but even the breeze did not wish to listen to a prickly thistle, so there it had to bloom unloved and alone the rest of its life. 

 

 

 DAME CRICKET'S STORY 

 

 Dame Cricket 

 "Come, children, it is time to get up," said Dame Cricket to her ten little crickets. 

 "Hurry, now, and take your bath and put on your little black caps and your little brown suits. The sun has almost gone down over the hill and the birds will soon be asleep." 

 But the little crickets snuggled under the bedclothes just as if they did not hear their mother's words. 

 "Come, come," she said, a few minutes later, "you will sleep all night if you don't hurry. Some of our cousins are already singing, and it will soon be dark." 

 "Oh dear! why do we have to get up?" said one little cricket, poking his head over the clothes.  "Lots of bugs sleep all night." 

 "Yes, but they are up all the daytime," answered Dame Cricket, "and they run a great risk, I can assure you, my dear. Our family used to sing in the daytime, but if we had kept on there would be no cricket family. There is a reason for our sleeping days and singing at night." 

 "Oh, mother, is it a story?" asked all the little crickets, jumping out of bed with a bound and gathering about their mother. 

 "Yes, there is a story about our family, and if you will all hurry and dress I will tell it to you," she said. 

 Very quietly all the little crickets began to dress, and their mother began the story: 

 "Once, long, long ago," she said, "our family sang in the daytime and slept at night; but one day the Great-grandfather Cricket noticed that our singing was not as loud as usual, so he called all the children, big and little, about him and looked at their throats. 

 

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