struck off to the left of the road into the
plain. Then after walking for nearly an hour longer, they came to a
little dell with a pool at the bottom and bushes growing on its sides,
and here Tilsa stopped. The two children lay down together under a bush
and at once fell asleep.

When Tilsa awoke, it was broad day. She roused Tobene, and they went to
the pool and splashed some water over their faces and hands, and then
Tilsa opened the basket. Breakfast consisted only of bread and butter
and biscuits, but as they were hungry it was better than a banquet. The
real business of the day was yet to begin, and Tilsa was wondering how
to set about learning the road, when both children were startled by a
wee voice.

'I call that piggish,' it said. 'And inconsiderate too.'

Not seeing any speaker, neither child replied but only stared at each
other in puzzlement.

'Yes,' the tiny voice continued, 'people can be too tidy. Dropping
crumbs is a bad habit in the house, I know, but out of doors it becomes
a virtue. People who get up first thing in the morning to gorge
themselves with bread and biscuits in this greedy way, and then drop no
crumbs--well, piggish and inconsiderate is what I call them.'

The accusation aroused Tilsa. 'We didn't gorge,' she said, 'whoever you
are, and we've slept here all night. But here are some crumbs for you,
anyway,' and so saying, she broke up a piece of bread and scattered it
on the ground.

Immediately a little fiery-crested wren hopped down from a branch of the
bush and began to peck among the grass.

'Thank you,' he said when he had finished; 'but if you had done it
without being asked it would have been better.'

'We didn't see you,' said Tobene in excuse.

'Doesn't matter,' the wren replied; 'birds is everywhere, and always
hungry. Wherever you drop crumbs you may be sure they'll be acceptable.
Remember that. Now, is there anything I can do for you?'

'Well,' said Tilsa, 'we want to know the way to the Flamp.'

'Before I tell you,' said the wren, 'you must inform me whether I am
speaking to a boy or a girl.'

'I am a girl,' said Tilsa. 'Toby here is a boy.'

'Very well,' the wren answered. 'Then I must talk to Toby. I make it a
rule never to join in friendly conversation with women. They wear my
feathers in their hats.'

'But men shoot you,' Tobene interposed, angry that Tilsa should be
treated in this way.

'True,' said the wren, 'true. But so long as there are men, birds mu