“Usually he slept late on Sunday, but today he was up before either of his parents and kept urging Papa Bellini to hurry. They lifted off the cover and Mario dashed inside. He held up the matchbox and looked in. There was Chester, lying on the Kleenex. The cricket wasn’t asleep though—he had been waiting for Mario. He chirped once. Papa smiled when he heard the chirp. “He must like it here,” he said. “He didn’t run away in the night.” “I knew he wouldn’t,” said Mario. For breakfast Mario had bro...ught a crust of bread, a lump of sugar, and a cold Brussels sprout. He wasn’t quite sure what crickets liked, so he decided to try him out on everything. Chester jumped over Mario’s little finger into the palm of his hand where the food was. Back in the meadow his usual diet was leaves and grass, and every now and then a piece of tender bark, but here in New York he was eating bread and candy and liverwurst, and finding them very tasty at that. When Chester had had as much as he wanted, Mario wrapped what was left in a piece of wax paper and put it inside the cash register.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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