the water and disappeared.

By this time the day had dawned. Pinocchio, then offering his arm to
Geppetto, who had scarcely breath to stand, said to him:

"Lean on my arm, dear papa, and let us go. We will walk very slowly,
like the ants, and when we are tired we can rest by the wayside."

"And where shall we go?" asked Geppetto.

"In search of some house or cottage, where they will give us for charity
a mouthful of bread, and a little straw to serve as a bed."

They had not gone a hundred yards when they saw by the roadside two
villainous-looking individuals begging.

They were the Cat and the Fox, but they were scarcely recognizable.
Fancy! the Cat had so long feigned blindness that she had become blind
in reality; and the Fox, old, mangy, and with one side paralyzed, had
not even his tail left. That sneaking thief, having fallen into the most
squalid misery, one fine day had found himself obliged to sell his
beautiful tail to a traveling peddler, who bought it to drive away
flies.

"Oh, Pinocchio!" cried the Fox, "give a little in charity to two poor,
infirm people."

"Infirm people," repeated the Cat.

"Begone, impostors!" answered the puppet. "You took me in once, but you
will never catch me again."

"Believe me, Pinocchio, we are now poor and unfortunate indeed!"

"If you are poor, you deserve it. Recollect the proverb: 'Stolen money
never fructifies.' Begone, impostors!"

And, thus saying, Pinocchio and Geppetto went their way in peace. When
they had gone another hundred yards they saw, at the end of a path in
the middle of the fields, a nice little straw hut with a roof of tiles
and bricks.

"That hut must be inhabited by some one," said Pinocchio. "Let us go and
knock at the door."

They went and knocked.

"We are a poor father and son without bread and without a roof,"
answered the puppet.

"Turn the key and the door will open," said the same little voice.

Pinocchio turned the key and the door opened. They went in and looked
here, there, and everywhere, but could see no one.

"Oh! where is the master of the house?" said Pinocchio, much surprised.

"Here I am, up here!"

The father and son looked immediately up to the ceiling, and there on a
beam they saw the Talking-Cricket.

"Oh, my dear little Cricket!" said Pinocchio, bowing politely to him.

"Ah! now you call me 'Your dear little Cricket.' But do you remember the
time when you threw the handle of a hammer at me, to drive me fr