"I don't care to go hunting wildly for food," said the carp. "I open my mouth where the water is moderately thick and let whatever there is run in. Something always sticks. Then one needn't kill people and one doesn't see all that misery."
"It's just so with us," said the fresh-water mussel. "I employ exactly the same methods. It's more gentlemanly and I have grown stout on it."
Then the two sat and talked and yawned all the time and amused themselves capitally notwithstanding.
"Mind you don't go too near them," said Mrs. Reed-Warbler to the May-fly grub.
"Yes, I will; thanks very much," said the grub.
"The carp and the mussel are nicer than the others, I think," said Mrs. Reed-Warbler to her husband.
"Really? And why, pray, madam?" asked the eel, who was always where he was least expected. "Surely they do just the same as all of us ... only the animals which they eat are smaller."
"There is a difference, my good fellow," said the reed-warbler. "It's only your lack of refinement that prevents your seeing it."
"Yes, wriggle and twist!" said the eel.
The reed-warbler did not condescend to answer him, but turned to the carp and the mussel, struck up a little trill and said politely: