The Cricket in Times Square by George Selden

thought a moment. “Today is Thursday,” he said. “How about tomorrow night?”
    â€œFriday is an excellent day for retiring,” said the mouse. “If I ever retire from scrounging, it will be on a Friday.”
    Chester Cricket heaved a big sigh. “Oh—I feel better,” he said. “If you want me to learn some new pieces for tomorrow now, I will.”
    â€œWhy bother?” said Harry Cat. “Tonight’s your last full night in New York. You may as well enjoy yourself.”
    â€œCome to the drain pipe!” said Tucker Mouse. “We’ll have a party in honor of your retirement. I have plenty of food—and no matches to burn the place up!”
    So the three friends hopped, scuttled, and padded across to Tucker’s home, where a fine farewell feast was held. And it was thoroughly enjoyed by all.
    *   *   *
    The next day, at five minutes to six, Chester was about to begin the last public piece he would ever play in New York City. It was Friday night, the busiest time of all. Besides the commuters coming home from work, the station was swarming with men and women who were leaving the city for the weekend, on their way to Grand Central Station. But they all stopped to listen to Chester. There were so many people crowded around the newsstand that the police had to keep the aisles to and from the subway trains open with ropes.

    The cricket had just finished his most beautiful concert. For this final encore he wanted to play the sextet from an opera called Lucia di Lammermoor. It had been written for six people, but even though he was very talented, Chester could do only one part. So he took the tenor’s music because it carried the main theme most of the time.
    They didn’t know it, but Chester was playing the sextet in honor of the whole Bellini family. It was Papa’s favorite of favorites, and Mario and Mama loved it too. Chester wanted them always to remember him playing this piece. As he struck up the first notes, a sigh of pleasure came from Papa Bellini and he settled back on the stool with his eyes closed. Mama leaned against the side of the newsstand, resting her head on one hand. At the sound of the familiar strains, without her meaning to, a smile spread over her face. Mario was bending over the cricket cage, fascinated by the way Chester moved his wings when he played. And he was awfully proud that it was his pet that everyone was listening to.
    Over in the drain pipe opening, Tucker and Harry were sitting side by side. The animals were the only ones who knew that it was his farewell performance, and it made them feel solemn and a little sad. But the music was so sweet that they couldn’t help but be happy too.
    â€œIt’s the sextet from Loochy the Murmurer, ” announced Tucker Mouse, who had become quite an expert on all things musical during the past week.
    â€œToo bad there aren’t five other crickets like Chester,” whispered Harry Cat. “They could do the whole thing.”
    Then they too were silent, and for as long as the music lasted, no one moved a hair or a whisker.
    Chester’s playing filled the station. Like ripples around a stone dropped into still water, the circles of silence spread out from the newsstand. And as the people listened, a change came over their faces. Eyes that looked worried grew soft and peaceful, tongues left off chattering, and ears full of the city’s rustling were rested by the cricket’s melody.
    The men at the other newsstands heard Chester and stopped shouting for people to buy their newspapers and magazines. Mickey the counterman heard him and left off making a Coca-Cola. Three girls came to the door of the Loft’s candy store. Passengers coming up from the lower level paused before asking the policemen for directions. No one dared break the hush that had taken hold of the station.
    Above the cricket cage, through a grate in the sidewalk, the