The wood-mouse set up her tail and shook her little head sorrowfully:
"Cousin," she said, "you have touched me on my very sorest point."
"I am really sorry, cousin," said the house-mouse. "But it appears to me that it was you who began to talk about it."
"So it was, cousin," said the wood-mouse. "And we don't do any good by holding our tongues. You see, cousin, there is a great deal of wickedness in this world; and we have to put up with it. But it's pretty hard when it comes from one's relations."
"That's true, cousin," said the house-mouse. "Are there really any of your relations who do you any harm?"
"Harm?" said the wood-mouse. "I daresay that those of whom I'm thinking don't think of doing me any harm. But they do so for this reason, that they behave themselves in such a way that we have to suffer for it. And, as far as relationship is concerned, they are your relations as well as mine."
"But who are they, cousin?" asked the house-mouse. "Tell me, quickly. I have no notion of whom you're thinking."
"I'm thinking of the field-mouse," said the wood-mouse, with a deep sigh.
The house-mouse was silent for a moment, out of respect for the other's emotion. And presently the wood-mouse began to speak of her own accord: