“Yes, indeed,” replied the fox, with a sigh, “I’ve got a wife and ten little ones at home, and very hungry they all are, for I have had an attack of an old complaint, which laid me up for the last three days, so that I have not been able to go out a-hunting.”

The moon’s angry face became a little milder when it thought of the hungry little foxes, so it threw some more light over the country and said—

“An old complaint, eh? what was it, Mister Fox?”

“I believe that it is called ‘laziness’ by men; but Madam Fox and I call it ‘lassitude.’”

“Hum! never heard of it before,” said the moon. “Very bad complaint, I suppose, eh?”

“Oh, shocking!” replied the fox.

“Well then, get along with you,” said the moon, throwing a flood of light over the whole country, “and see that you don’t do more mischief than you can help. You’re too fond of mischief, Mister Fox. Indeed, I have often said I would be glad to see you hanged. But I have a feeling of pity for your hungry little ones; so get along and I’ll show you a light.”

“Thank you very much, dear moon,” said the fox.

Then with a whisk of his bushy tail, he galloped far away over the hills, and fields, and meadows.