ON A DAMP DAY

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 300, 10 March 1928, Page 29

ON A DAMP DAY

A worm was winding its tortuous way through the earth. “Of course, that bird up there thinks I am going to be such a silly as to put my head up through the earth,” he said to his wife. “Oh, no!” said the bird from above. “I know you are far too clever for that; besides, I’ve gone off worm lately—they are too stringy for my delicate inside.” “Well, there’s no need to be rude about it,” said the worm. “It’s a lovely day for you,” said the robin. “Damp and cold, with a strong smell of earth. Why not come up? I give you my word of honour not to eat you, and you know a robin always keeps his word.” “Yes, that’s tree,” said Horace. He was dying to go up for a breath of damp air, as his wife was bathing her six wormlets, and there was such a commotion. “Well, I think I’ll come up if you’ll promise not to eat me.” “I promise,” said the robin, and winked at a daisy, who shed a Sew dewdrop tears in apprehension for the | worm. As soon as Horace appeared the robin seized him. “But you promised?” “Not to eat you,” said the Robin. “Well, I’m not going to. I’m taking you back to my wife. She adores worm.” He could not resist adding: “But you are very tough; she will have to stew you.” The word “stew” was his undoing, as; no bird can say “stew” with a. worm in his mouth, and Horace dropped to the ground. , , _ With a squirm and a wriggle he burrowed into the soft earth and presently reached his home. “Let me help you, my dear.” he said to his wife who was still bathing their large family.