And at last he gave up catching even the flies; for he made
acquaintance with one by accident and found him a very merry little
fellow. And this was the way it happened; and it is all quite
true.

He was basking at the top of the water one hot day in July,
catching duns and feeding the trout, when he saw a new sort, a dark
gray little fellow with a brown head. He was a very little fellow
indeed: but he made the most of himself, as people ought to do.
He cocked up his head, and he cocked up his wings, and he cocked up
his tail, and he cocked up the two whisks at his tail-end, and, in
short, he looked the cockiest little man of all little men. And so
he proved to be; for instead of getting away, he hopped upon Tom's
finger, and sat there as bold as nine tailors; and he cried out in
the tiniest, shrillest, squeakiest little voice you ever heard,

"Much obliged to you, indeed; but I don't want it yet."

"Want what?" said Tom, quite taken aback by his impudence.

"Your leg, which you are kind enough to hold out for me to sit on.
I must just go and see after my wife for a few minutes. Dear me!
what a troublesome business a family is!" (though the idle little
rogue did nothing at all, but left his poor wife to lay all the
eggs by herself). "When I come back, I shall be glad of it, if
you'll be so good as to keep it sticking out just so;" and off he
flew.

Tom thought him a very cool sort of personage; and still more so,