This was quite a long business, for the Cricket had to keep moistening his fingers, and Winnie and the Beetles had to keep crawling up and down his back, so as not to be in the way. At last everything was ready, and the Cricket poised himself on the edge of the chimney, spread his wings wide apart, and slid into the air. Winnie was just a little frightened at first, and she put her head down close to the Cricket's neck and shut her eyes and dug her fingers into the chinks of his back; but presently she felt that it was no good being frightened, for they were going quite smoothly, and the Cricket's wing-covers were high up on either side of her, so that she could hardly have fallen off if she had tried to. Soon she felt brave enough to raise her head very carefully and look about her. The kitchen chimney was some way behind, the great elm on her left, and the river close in front. Just before they reached the river the Cricket's wings buzzed like blue-bottles, and she felt they were going upwards. Then came another long, gentle glide, and the Cricket landed on the blackberry hedge at the bottom of the meadow.
"You must all get off here," he said.
Winnie stepped off his back on to a slippery thorn, missed her footing, and fell on the top of the Great Green Grasshopper's wife.
"I beg your pardon!" said the Great Green Grasshopper's wife.
"I think I ought to beg yours," said Winnie politely—which is where the story began some time ago.
"I beg your Pardon," said the Great Green Grasshopper's Wife
The Great Green Grasshopper's wife was more amused than offended.