Johnnie Green knew that he could never find the Cricket in the dark. So he crawled out of bed and lighted a candle, blinking a few moments in its flickering flame.

From his hiding place in the crack of the baseboard, in a corner of Johnnie Green’s chamber, Chirpy Cricket saw the gleam of the candle. And he wondered whether it might be a relation of Freddie Firefly. It seemed to have a trick of moving about in a jerky fashion, as if it didn’t know where it was going and didn’t greatly care, so long as it was on the move.

Chirpy Cricket kept still as a mouse then. He soon saw that the bearer of the bright light was quite unlike Freddie Firefly, in one way. He made a tremendous racket, knocking over almost everything in the room.

In a few minutes a voice called up the stairway again. “Is the Cricket chasing you?” it asked. It was Farmer Green, speaking to Johnnie.

“Don’t tease me!” Johnnie Green cried. “Come up and help me find him!”

So Farmer Green climbed the stairs and looked into Johnnie’s room and laughed.

“Maybe I ought to have brought the old shotgun,” he said. “I’d hate to have a Cricket jump at me.”

Johnnie managed to grin at that. He was so wide awake that he no longer felt like grumbling.

“The trouble with this Cricket is that he won’t jump,” he told his father. “I can’t tell where he is, because he keeps still whenever I move. But when the light’s out and everything’s quiet he makes a terrible noise.”

“That’s a trick Crickets have,” Farmer Green observed. “And I must say that if I were a Cricket I’d act the same way.”

Of course Chirpy Cricket heard everything that was said. And he couldn’t help thinking that Farmer Green was a very sensible person. “I dare say he’d be a famous fiddler if he belonged to our family,” Chirpy told himself. And for a moment or two he was tempted to play a tune for Farmer Green. But he thought better of the notion at once. He remembered that Farmer Green had climbed the stairs to hunt for him. And Chirpy squeezed himself further into the crack where he was hiding until he was so huddled up that he couldn’t have fiddled if he had wanted to.

Though they looked carefully, neither Johnnie nor his father could find him. And at last they had to admit that it was useless to search any longer.

“What shall I do?” Johnnie wailed. “As soon as I put out the light and get into bed he’ll begin chirping again.”

“In such cases,” Farmer Green answered wisely, “there’s only one thing to do.”

“What’s that?” Johnnie inquired hopefully.

“All you can do,” said Farmer Green, “is to come downstairs and have something to eat.”

Now, that may seem a strange remedy. But somehow it just suited Johnnie Green. He pattered barefooted down the stairs. And later, when he went to bed again, and Chirpy Cricket began to chirp once more, all Johnnie Green said was this:

“Sing away—little Tommy Tucker! You may not know it, but you sang for my supper!”

And the next moment, Johnnie Green was sound asleep.