"Hold your tongue and mind your own business, you ugly fish," said Mrs. Reed-Warbler. "Your husband has come round to my views long ago," said the eel. "I can see that plainly. He would give anything to be able to roam about as a free bird, instead of wearing himself out with a big family." "You're quite mistaken, my good fellow," said the reed-warbler. "I certainly admit ..." "You'd better mind what you're admitting!" screamed his wife and pecked at him. "Wriggle and twist!" said the eel; and off he went. That afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Reed-Warbler sat discussing the question again: "If only we can hold out," said he. "Just now, I was fighting like mad with my old friend, the flycatcher, for a ridiculous little grub. I got it, but he will never forgive me. When poverty comes in at the door, love flies out at the window, as the human beings say. It will end in screaming and quarrelling all over the pond." "It cannot be worse than it is," said she. "Do as I do and think of all the beautiful things the poets have sung about us. It always helps to keep one's spirits up." [Illustration] "I wish I had a couple of nice little poets here to feed the children with," said he, grumpily. They sat again for a while, plunged in gloomy thoughts. The young ones were having their mid-day nap. Then he said: "Things are queerly divided in this world. The number of sorrows and cares that we have, we free birds, to whom the whole world is open! Look at the water-lily. She's bound to her place. She has to struggle up through the dark water for ever so many days before she reaches the surface. Then she's there and unfolds her white flower and is happy. She hasn't a care ... look at her, lying and rocking and dreaming. I wish we were water-lilies!" "Yes," said Mrs. Reed-Warbler. "And her seeds ripen in her lap and then glide down in the water and take root and grow up and, next year, they blossom around her. Oh, how delightful it must be!" "Yes, but think of the bladder-wort and how he took us in!" said he. "Pooh!" she replied. "Of course, it was that horrid spider who lived with him that led him into evil courses. No one will make me believe that there is anything but peace and contentment in the water-lily's beautiful calyx." "Hush!" he said. "She's talking to that pretty little spear-wort beside her." The two anxious birds bent their heads and listened. "You spiteful minx!" said the water-lily. "You enticed two bumble-bees away from me to-day, though you haven't a farthing's-worth of honey in your withered calices." "Scold away!" said the spear-wort. "All your fine clothes won't help you in the least. Things go by merit, you see. No respectable bumble-bee will look at a frivolous person like you. And you may be sure that I have more honey in one of my flowers than you in your whole body."