Spot those signposts!

     Waving goodbye to them, Pinocchio and Geppetto calmly went on their way. After a few more steps, they saw, at the end of a long road near a clump of trees, a tiny cottage built of straw.

     “Someone must live in that little hut,” said Pinocchio. “Let us see for ourselves.”

     They went and knocked at the door.

     “Who is it?” said a little voice from within.

     “A poor father and a poorer son, without food and with no roof to cover them,” answered the Marionette.

     “Turn the key and the door will open,” said the same little voice. Pinocchio turned the key and the door opened. As soon as they went in, they looked here and there and everywhere but saw no one.

     “Oh ho, where is the owner of the hut?” cried Pinocchio, very much surprised.

     “Here I am, up here!”

     Father and son looked up to the ceiling, and there on a beam sat the Talking Cricket.

     “Oh, my dear Cricket,” said Pinocchio, bowing politely.

     “Oh, now you call me your dear Cricket, but do you remember when you threw your hammer at me to kill me?”

     “You are right, dear Cricket. Throw a hammer at me now. I deserve it! But spare my poor old father.”

     “I am going to spare both the father and the son. I have only wanted to remind you of the trick you long ago played upon me, to teach you that in this world of ours we must be kind and courteous to others, if we want to find kindness and courtesy in our own days of trouble.”

     “You are right, little Cricket, you are more than right, and I shall remember the lesson you have taught me. But will you tell how you succeeded in buying this pretty little cottage?”

     “This cottage was given to me yesterday by a little Goat with blue hair.”

     “And where did the Goat go?” asked Pinocchio.

     “I don’t know.”

     “And when will she come back?”

     “She will never come back. Yesterday she went away bleating sadly, and it seemed to me she said: ‘Poor Pinocchio, I shall never see him again. The Shark must have eaten him by this time.’”

     “Were those her real words? Then it was she – it was – my dear little Fairy,” cried out Pinocchio, sobbing bitterly. After he had cried a long time, he wiped his eyes and then he made a bed of straw for old Geppetto. He laid him on it and said to the Talking Cricket, “Tell me, little Cricket, where shall I find a glass of milk for my poor Father?”

     “Three fields away from here lives Farmer John. He has some cows.  Go there and he will give you what you want.”