Old Mr. Pine, who waved his green head in the air nearly a hundred and fifty feet above the earth, did not seem to have very good control over his boys, for though he himself did not often deign to pelt Mr. Maple with the few cones he possessed, he never rebuked the boys for their impoliteness.
One day the Pine boys were unusually rough, made so by the strong wind. They knew Mr. Maple was not to blame, but there was no one else to lay the blame on, so they pelted him with cones until he lost his temper. He was just wondering what he would do to prevent the annoyance, when, looking down, he saw that some little creatures had appeared upon the scene, and were striking right and left at the Pines with a sharp tool, against which needles and cones were of no use whatever.
“How good of those little things to take my part,” said Mr. Maple to himself.
In a very short time hundreds of the Pines were lying prone upon the earth. Some were formed into a house, while others were drawn away to a small stream, rolled into its sluggish waters, and soon disappeared forever from the gaze of Mr. Pine, who grieved for them, and of Mr. Maple, who did not.
“Nobody here now of any consequence,” exclaimed Mr. Pine with a contemptuous look at Mr. Maple. Mr. Maple paid no attention. “If you were not such a dwarf, I’d talk to you sometimes, even if you don’t amount to much,” he finally said with an air of great condescension. “It makes me hoarse to talk down so far.”
For a long time after that Mr. Maple kept silent, wondering why Mr. Pine and himself had been spared.
But great surprises were in store for these two enemies. A family came to live in the log house, and among them was the smallest human being that the trees had ever seen,—a little girl named Camilla. She soon got into the habit of coming out and playing under the two large trees.
One day her father brought home a small box, at sight of which she went into a transport of joy, screaming, “My kit, my darling kit! I never thought to see you again!” The box was soon opened, and she lifted a queer-shaped little instrument from it; then, taking it by its long neck, she drew a small wand across it, and it gave forth a sound that thrilled every fibre of both Pine and Maple through and through.
It is too long a story to tell how both trees came to love Camilla very dearly; how delighted Mr. Pine was when she took some resin which he held out to her; how pleased Camilla looked, how white were her teeth, and how she loved him for the gift; how Mr. Maple had his reward when the passing frost touched him and gave him a beautiful garment, much to the delight of Little Camilla, or how when the long winter was nearly done the little violinist fairly hugged him for the sugar he had yielded her.