Dark as he was, Chirpy Cricket almost turned pale.
“You—you weren’t intending to—to swallow the pieces, were you?” he stammered.
“Dear me! No!” Mr. Meadow Mouse gasped. “I’m what’s known as a vegetarian.”
Well, when he heard that, Chirpy Cricket made ready to jump out of the stranger’s way. He didn’t know what a vegetarian was; but it sounded terrible to him.
Mr. Meadow Mouse must have guessed that Chirpy was uneasy. Anyhow, he hastened to explain that a vegetarian was one that ate only food that grew on plants of one kind or another.
“I live for the most part on seeds and grain,” he said. “So you see I’m quite harmless.”
Chirpy Cricket told him that he was glad to know it.
“I’m a vegetarian myself,” he added proudly, “for I eat blades of grass. And you see I’m harmless too.”
Mr. Meadow Mouse bestowed another fat smile on him.
“Then,” he said, “it must be quite safe for me to stay here and talk with you.”