The prompter
The Flea had guessed Mother Drop was in some sort of dilemma. Trying not be noticed by her, he went closer to the little Worm’s house, looking to the other side, so that he wouldn’t give rise to any suspicions from his friend, but when he was sufficiently close, he whispered to the little Child, with a maximum of discretion:
“My friend, please bear in mind that the poor Drop hurt her head quite badly this evening. She sacrificed herself, striking the half-burned plant. Otherwise, that giant grass would have fallen on top of her family! I think she will need some time to recover. And there’s something else,” the Flea added, secretly, after a few moments.
The little Worm looked at him with his eyes getting bigger:
“Come closer, so the Drop won’t hear,” the Flea fidgeted, act
