“Now, there lived in that house a man. He always wore spectacles, and whenever he walked in the garden always carried a book, and from what I could gather from the maids’ conversation, was really very clever. Now, being myself very ignorant, I naturally admired clever people, and a great longing grew in my mind to gain his approbation and attention. So whenever he walked out in the garden, I watched my opportunity, and hopped along the path beside him. But for a long time he either never noticed me, or if he did do so, was never attracted by my charms. This upset me so much that my health became visibly enfeebled. I felt that if he could but see it, I might become of value in his eyes, and thus raise myself in his good graces and esteem. Still, I felt I could not give in, for I had a friend of somewhat duller coat always watching me, ready to say upon the first occasion: ‘I told you so.’ So I continued hopping by his side in these walks, which, of late, had become habitual. But one day, as he came down the path, he closed his book, and his eyes suddenly lighted on me. I know not what the expression in them was, but my vanity took it favourably. I sat there as still as a frog can sit, because I had heard it was a sign of good breeding to sit still, and pretended to be gazing at the sun, because I thought it would appear good taste to admire a thing so generally esteemed. And he stood still too, but I was quite content that _he_ should be admiring _me_. It would have disappointed me had he turned his attention likewise to the sun. Suddenly he stooped down, and made a grab in my direction. I had almost waited for this, and being prepared, hopped quickly to one side. I felt it would not enhance my charms to be caught too quickly. He made no further attempt to catch me, but went back into the house, and I heard my friend of the duller coat laughing, as much as to say, ‘I told you so.’ But I pretended to consider we had made great advances. In a little while, however, he came out again. He carried in his hand a curious string thing, which is called a net, and this he laid with great ingenuity across the path where he and I had previously been walking. This I took as a great compliment; the ground was evidently not good enough for me to walk upon. Over this he spread a few crumbs. They were not, certainly, to my mind, as I liked more tasty things, but I thought he had probably noticed my fragile appearance, and was showing his sympathy with my delicacy. So to show my trust in and appreciation of him, after a little coquettish skipping on the edge, I hopped straight to the centre of the net. He was kneeling by the side, and I must admit my heart beat loudly at my own boldness, but still remembering the kindness of the maids, the only human beings that I knew, I felt no particular or definite fear. In fact, I felt like some great queen before a kneeling courtier. But the next moment I was much upset to find