Off they set together; but what was their surprise to find the poor little brown Lark sitting on them with rumpled feathers, drooping head, and trembling limbs.
"Ah, my pretty eggs!" said the Lark, as soon as she could speak, "I am so miserable about them—they will be trodden on, they will certainly be found."
"What is the matter?" asked the Grasshopper. "Perhaps we can help you."
"Dear Grasshopper," said the Lark, "I have just heard the farmer and his son talking on the other side of the hedge, and the farmer said that to-morrow morning he should begin to cut this meadow."
"That is a great pity," said the Grasshopper. "What a sad thing it was that you laid your eggs on the ground!"
"Larks always do," said the poor little brown bird; "and I did not know how to make a fine nest such as those in the hedges. Oh, my pretty eggs!—my heart aches for them! I shall never hear my little nestlings chirp!"
So the poor Lark moaned and lamented, and neither the Grasshopper nor the Fairy could do anything to help her. At last her mate dropped down from the white cloud where he had been singing, and when he saw her drooping, and the Grasshopper and the Fairy sitting silently before her, he inquired in a great fright what the matter was.
So they told him, and at first he was very much shocked; but presently he lifted first one and then the other of his feet, and examined his long spurs.
"He does not sympathize much with his poor mate," whispered the Fairy; but the Grasshopper took no notice of the speech.
Still the Lark looked at his spurs, and seemed to be very deep in thought.