And as the Child sat there, a little Mouse rustled from among the
dry leaves of the former year, and a Lizard half glided from a
crevice in the rock, and both of them fixed their bright eyes upon
the little stranger; and when they saw that he designed them no
evil, they took courage and came nearer to him.

"I should like to live with you," said the Child to the two little
creatures, in a soft, subdued voice, that he might not frighten
them. "Your chambers are so snug, so warm, and yet so shaded, and
the flowers grow in at your windows, and the birds sing you their
morning song, and call you to table and to bed with their clear
warblings."

"Yes," said the Mouse, "it would be all very well if all the plants
bore nuts and mast, instead of those silly flowers; and if I were
not obliged to grub under ground in the spring, and gnaw the bitter
roots, whilst they are dressing themselves in their fine flowers and
flaunting it to the world, as if they had endless stores of honey in
their cellars."

"Hold your tongue," interrupted the Lizard, pertly; "do you think,
because you are grey, that other people must throw away their
handsome clothes, or let them lie in the dark wardrobe under ground,
and wear nothing but grey too? I am not so envious. The flowers
may dress themselves as they like for me; they pay for it out of
their own pockets, and they feed bees and beetles from their cups;
but what I want to know is, of what use are birds in the world?
Such a fluttering and chattering, truly, from morning early to
evening late, that one is worried and stunned to death, and there is
never a day's peace for them. And they do nothing; only snap up the