onest to demand it back, he saw that they were galled, and they
cast such black looks at Solomon, who was rather vain of his cleverness,
that he flew away to the end of the island, and sat there very depressed
with his head buried in his wings. Now Peter knew that unless Solomon
was on your side, you never got anything done for you in the island, so
he followed him and tried to hearten him.

Nor was this all that Peter did to pin the powerful old fellow's good
will. You must know that Solomon had no intention of remaining in office
all his life. He looked forward to retiring by-and-by, and devoting his
green old age to a life of pleasure on a certain yew-stump in the Figs
which had taken his fancy, and for years he had been quietly filling his
stocking. It was a stocking belonging to some bathing person which had
been cast upon the island, and at the time I speak of it contained a
hundred and eighty crumbs, thirty-four nuts, sixteen crusts, a pen-wiper
and a bootlace. When his stocking was full, Solomon calculated that he
would be able to retire on a competency. Peter now gave him a pound. He
cut it off his bank-note with a sharp stick.

This made Solomon his friend for ever, and after the two had consulted
together they called a meeting of the thrushes. You will see presently
why thrushes only were invited.

The scheme to be put before them was really Peter's, but Solomon did
most of the talking, because he soon became irritable if other people
talked. He began by saying that he had been much impressed by the
superior ingenuity shown by the thrushes in nest-building, and this
put them into good-humour at once, as it was meant to do; for all the
quarrels between birds are about the best way of building nests. Other
birds, said Solomon, omitted to line their nests with mud, and as a
result they did not hold water. Here he cocked his head as if he had
used an unanswerable argument; but, unfortunately, a Mrs. Finch had come
to the meeting uninvited, and she squeaked out, "We don't build nests to
hold water, but to hold eggs," and then the thrushes stopped cheering,
and Solomon was so perplexed that he took several sips of water.

"Consider," he said at last, "how warm the mud makes the nest."

"Consider," cried Mrs. Finch, "that when water gets into the nest it
remains there and your little ones are drowned."

The thrushes begged Solomon with a look to say something crushing in
reply to this, but again he was perplexe