Chapter 2

But we have spent too much time in discussing the lullabye and the trouble it brought Mrs. Frisky. The concert began. A _Warm Night_ was vigorously applauded, and the _Fire-Fly Dance_ was the success of the evening. Miss K. T. Did had bought at a most extravagant price from Stingy one fourth of an inch of his best rainbow-hue cobweb. This made for her a beautiful scarf, which she waved over the light of the glow-worms that had been arranged in a wide circle on the broad, flat toad-stool. Around, in and out, now over, now under her scarf, three fireflies sped with burning wings. And Miss Katy never danced better, flashing her cobweb scarf in and out the glow-worm circle as with lightsome foot and wing she danced round and round. Mrs. Cricky said she did wish the little ones had been allowed to come. Usually it did not seem right for children to stay up late at night. But this night she did believe it would have added to their education to see such skill, especially as Chee was a little inclined to toe in and be clumsy. You remember, Chee stumbled and fell into the lake.

All of the evening was successful, and the applause at the close of the concert as they responded to an encore with the Mosquito Aria was wonderful. There were no clapping hands, but rather the beating of wings, the enthusiastic croaking from various kinds of little red throats, and the flash-flash of lights from the Fire-Flies and Glow-Worms. Mr. Cricky in writing it up for the June Bug Journal pronounced it the success of the season. We will close with a few stanzas of "There's Dreamland Coming." Probably you have heard it, for it has a way of singing itself the moment you are off to sleep. Try sleeping and see if it is not heard.

_There's Dreamland Coming_

Adaptation from EUGENE COWLES "FORGOTTEN"

_Moderately slowly_

There's dreamland coming, dearie, And dreaming, coming, too, Sweet dreamland for the weary, To cradle such as you.

Then close your eyes, my darling, And say your little prayer; Dreamland is waiting for you, And God will take you there.

There's dreamland coming, dearie, And dreaming, coming, too, Sweet dreamland for the weary, To cradle such as you.

THE NOISY FLY

Mrs. Cricky came out of her house with an angry flounce. What in the world was all this noise about! zzz! zzz! then a thump and a bump and the strangest little noises, more like a falsetto squeak than anything else. This had been going on for the last minute, which is a whole hour for a cricket, and going on while she was trying to teach Chee and Chirk and Chirp their lessons in Running and Humming. These two things, unlike other people, they always did at the same time.

Mrs. Cricky came out with an angry little flounce, as I said, onto the piazza of Grass Cottage. She had been fearfully disturbed, but the instant she saw the Noisy Fly she broke into chirping merriment. The Noisy Fly had evidently been to last evening's concert and was trying to imitate Miss K. T. Did in the Fire-Fly Dance. He was whisking around at a great rate, his long legs looking very spindly under his fat black body. But what amused Mrs. Cricky most was the way, in trying to do the wing step, his legs got tangled up for all the world as if they were on sticky fly paper. Of course, he fell over, and that accounted for the bumping and the buzzing. But each time he got up and went at it again as if nothing had happened, singing in his high falsetto voice the tune Miss Glo-Worm had sung, which was a little Moonbeam Song,--to find out what a Moonbeam Song is you must look long at the sky.

_Moonbeam Song

Not too fast_

Moonbeams weave, About this place, Fairies leave No Fairy trace.

Weave him in And weave him out, Spin it thin And round about.

Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding

See our spell Can hold him fast. Tinkle bell The hour is past.

It was not very polite for Mrs. Cricky to laugh, but really she could not help it. Never did she see such a buzzing, clumsy attempt at imitation as this. By this time the Noisy Fly had spied Mrs. Cricky, and his popping black eyes scanned her anxiously, for he was accustomed to be driven off wherever he went. Mrs. Cricky remembered the interrupted lessons and spoke severely to him:

"Well, Noisy! here again. You are always disturbing somebody. You are just like some other folks who never know when they are _not_ wanted. Noisy people are always a nuisance. You are about, before respectable crickets have a chance to go to sleep. Buzz, Buzz, Buzz! so that there is no sleeping after that. Your noisy wings are worse than Toadie Todson's heavy feet, when he used to come hopping onto the piazza after the folks were asleep. And what is more, you're not much cleaner." By this time Mrs. Cricky had worked herself into a state of "righteous indignation," and concluded all she had to say with a sharp, "Be off."

Off went Noisy in a great flurry and skurry; he fairly dropped from the roof of the piazza, where he had been hanging upside down, in his haste to let go and get away. When Mrs. Cricky went back into the school room she found that Chirp had upset his brown Grasshopper writing ink all over the floor and was wiping it up with his little wing and smearing it onto Chee. Now this ink was expensive, and could be bought only from the Grasshopper who manufactured it himself. She looked at Chirp just one second and told him to bring the Timothy Grass rod hanging in the corner. Chirp knew what that meant, but he took his punishment bravely.

When Mrs. Cricky had finished, she dropped the rod on the floor with a sigh and gathered Chirp into her wings: "O! Chirpie, Chirpie, why will you be such a naughty little cricket and make me punish you?" Then Mother Cricky gave them a little talk about Noisy, and told them there were two things they must always remember to be: Clean, and quiet when it was proper to be quiet. After this she gave them some Red Clover Honey and sent them out to play.

THE DIZZY MOTH

Dizzy batted up against the window, striking his head and wings with a hard rattle. Mother Moth, like a good mother, had told Dizzy time and time again never to fly toward a light. Dizzy had already had some experience with odd lights hung up on poles among the oak-trees. These lights had hoods over them, hard and white. Dizzy often wondered why the white hoods were not as soft as the oak-buds, notwithstanding the fact that his mother as often explained both to him and his little Sister Flutter that electric lights were not oak-buds.

Poor Dizzy, there is no use in preaching! Up, up through the oak-tree he flew, now tumbling against a branch, now untangling himself from a sticky new bud. Up, up Dizzy sped toward a square white glare of light. Little Flutter's yellow wings trembled with fear as she saw her brother start upward. She told him in a faint voice that window panes were very dangerous. Mother Moth had cautioned them both about window panes.

Dizzy stumbled onto the sill with a sickening thud, scattering the diamond dust from his sun-colored pearl wings into a fine glittering mist upon the green paint. Ugh! with a jar up flew the window and Dizzy, thinking faintly about little Flutter, cuddled among the clover blossoms, was swept into the room and its blinding light. The soft, warm fragrance of the night air reminded him of the cozy little place on the grass at the foot of the hill--the little birch-leaf home. Mother Moth, Flutter, and Father Buzz were all down there now, and listening perhaps to the Cob-web Symphony played by the Marsh Grass Vesper Quartette. And this, too, was the evening when the June Bug was to sing the June Bug Wing Solo, composed by himself. Dizzy had heard his father practising the accompaniment; and the melody and words kept running through Dizzy's head somewhat like this:

_The June Bug Wing Solo

Moderately fast_

"Crack! Crack! my brittle wing," Is all I ever sing, Tho' I've almost always said, When I've struck my little head, That I'm angry, with a buzz, buzz, buzz.

"Crack! Crack! my brittle wing," Be careful how you fling Where the dusty little Toad, Is still sitting on the road, Waiting for you, with a gulp, gulp, gulp.

How distinctly Dizzy could still hear Father Buzz linger over the last line with so much feeling, and with what terror he thought of all the dangers that might befall him.

Round and round the room Dizzy flew, scattering silver hairs from his lacy wings, each moment his head growing heavier. For an instant there was a tiny flash of light and the faint noise of a shrivelling wing. Half of Dizzy's wing had been burned off. What would Flutter think now of the blackened silver wing of her brother! Down went Dizzy, his good wing beating helplessly upon the window sill Flutter and Mother Moth were in his mind. The cool air blew in through the shutter, which a few minutes before had closed upon him.

But, wonderful Providence a big white hand opened the shutter and gently brushed out Dizzy. He had learned his lesson, and Mother Moth did not speak one reproachful word, as with dragging wing he hobbled into the little birch-leaf home. Father Buzz, however, was heard singing in an undertone these words to one of the melodies in the Cob-Web Symphony.

"Singed wings Teach many things!"

THE HONEST ANT

Anty,--when she was Godmother to any of the little ones her full name was given as Anty Hill--well, to go on, Anty was in a great hurry. She often preached against hurry, but she found that there was really so much worth while doing in life and that life was so short, she had to hurry once in a while to get it all done. This particular morning there was more than ever to do. First she had milked the cows, you would call them little white bugs, but they were really cows, which she drove into a tiny pen. There, sitting on a milking stool Sandy Ant had whittled out of a bit of straw for her, she milked as fast as she could make her hands go. After that she went bustling into the house, and taking the silkie tassel from a piece of Timothy Grass she swept the house out till it was as clean and fresh as a May morning.

She was very happy; it was her nephew Sandy Ant's birthday and he was coming of age, for he was just twenty-one hours old. She still had his cake to bake, and candles to make from the waxy bayberries that grew near the shore, and last but not least his presents to arrange. Sandy had always been a very good boy and so to-day everybody had remembered him and wished him well.

But what excited Anty Hill more than anything else was that the King and Queen, for the Ant State was a monarchy, had sent a special messenger to say that they would honor them with their royal presence on this occasion. Anty Hill had been a hard working, honest ant all her life and she felt that this honor was a reward for all that she had done to bring Sandy up as a good and honest citizen of the kingdom.

She bustled about busily, and every time Sandy came in the house she shoo-ed him out and told him to go take care of the horses and cows, By and by she called him in and bade him put on his best clothes. She didn't tell him that the King and Queen were coming, for Sandy was a bashful boy and she was afraid this would frighten him.

Now the King and Queen had heard reports far and wide of the honesty and goodness of Anty Hill and her nephew Sandy. If there were any Ants sick in the kingdom Anty Hill and Sandy did something to help them. All this pleased the King and Queen very much, and they made up their minds to do something for Anty and Sandy. The other guests had come, and it was time for the King and Queen. At last their coach drew up in front of the door. It was a beautiful, shiny green beetle shell drawn by two gnats. Two little liveried green midges tumbled off the coach-box, opened the coach-door, and the King and Queen stepped out, while the guests bowed low to the ground as they passed up the entrance to the house where Anty and Sandy were waiting. Anty Hill bowed low to the King and kissed the Queen's hand, while Sandy bowed very low to both.

Then the King called all the guests about him and made a little speech. He said he always liked to reward kindness and honesty, and that Anty Hill and her nephew Sandy had been as kind and honest as any two people in his kingdom. After this the King drew out his sword which was a fine blade of sharp grass, and telling Sandy to kneel down, he said: "I dub thee Knight of the Red Hill." This was a great honor and ever afterward Sandy served the King; and Anty Hill, who became Lady Hill, lived with him at the court.

That night Mrs. Cricky told all the little Cricketses she hoped they would remember Sandy's honor, and that if they helped other people they, too, might be honored some day. Chee and Chirk and Chirp looked much awed, and waved their little pink clover sunbonnets helplessly in the air till Father Cricky said he did wish they would stop, it kept him from seeing the music he was studying for the Marsh Grass Vesper Quartette.

"What is it, Father?" called Chee, who was always curious.

"It's a Cantata," said Mr. Cricky. Chee nudged Chirk and whispered:

"Say, what's that?"

"O, I don't know," said Chirk, "let's ask him to sing it, then we'll find out."

"All right, you do," said Chee.

Father Cricky was very glad to sing it, and this was the song he sang:

_Tree-Top Cantata

Moderately fast_

Swing tree top, swing, This morning bright Swing gold and green In gay sunlight Swing, tree-top, swing.

Swing tree top, swing In night time too, There's shining stars, And falling dew, Swing, tree-top, swing.

THE WALKING STICK

The Walking Stick was soberly walking down the path looking spindly in every way: long, thin legs and a long thin body that were for all the world like a stick. Probably you have seen the Walking Stick many times and thought him just a twig. If you hadn't been in such a hurry you might have seen something interesting. Each time he picked up a leg, he seemed to wave it in the air before he put it down again. That was, I suppose, because he had to, each leg was so very long. The Walking Stick had been given the name of the "Parson" by some naughty little crickets, for no other reason, I am sure, than that he was so exceedingly grave.

Chee and Chirk and Chirp were the naughty crickets who gave him the name, and although Mrs. Cricky said it was unkind, yet other people took it up. Now Chee and Chirk were waiting for the "Parson" when they saw him come out of Grass Cottage, where he had been visiting Mrs. Cricky.

"Ssh!" said Chee, "don't make so much noise, he'll hear us. There! Chirk, take that blade of grass and stretch it across the path. He'll never see it. They say he's always thinking about things that folks don't think about at all."

"Say," said Chirk, tugging at the blade of grass, "if I wind it around this buttercup stalk, will that do?"

"Yes," replied Chee, "here he comes. Oh! I wish Chirp was here!"

Along came the "Parson," gravely swinging one leg after the other in the air and thinking with much pleasure of the kindliness of Mrs. Cricky who was always a very cordial hostess.

"Ssh!" whispered Chirk, "he's thinking of Miss K. T. Did. They say--"

But the sentence was never finished, for with a sprawl, the "Parson" stumbled over the blade of grass and came down on the other side with a clatter.

"Tee-hee! Tee-hee! Tee-hee!" chirruped both Chee and Chirk, so amused at the funny tangle of legs in which the Walking Stick was, that they forgot to run away.

Now the "Parson's" long legs made great strides, and before they knew what had happened Chee was being soundly beaten. "Whack! Whack! Whack!" went the Walking Stick on his little shiny black back.

"O! O! O!" cried Chee, "I'll never do it again!"

"No," said the "Parson," in a high thin voice, "I think you won't, you black imp!"

By this time Mrs. Cricky had come out to see what all the noise was about. When she heard the explanation, she said in a sorrowful tone:

"Chee and Chirk, is this the way I've brought you up? When your father hears of this he will be very angry. Come into the house with me at once." And into Grass Cottage they were marched.

When they were inside Grass Cottage Mrs. Cricky said in a sad way, that the worst thing anybody could do in his own house was to be inhospitable to strangers; that they had been rude to Mr. Walking Stick upon their own grounds. Then Mrs. Cricky went on to say that she feared they would never grow up to be gentle crickets if this was the way they intended to behave.

Both Chee and Chirk were too unhappy for words, and said they would never do it again, and that really they did not want to hurt anybody's feelings.

"Well," said Mrs. Cricky, "I don't see how you could forget so soon after that song your father taught you. We will sing it together again, and perhaps you will remember next time." And this was the song they sang:

_The Cricket Rule

Rather slow_

Chirp, for chirp is all our song Cheerful chirps Will help a long.

Do not say What will not cheer Try to soothe Each tiny fear

Chirp, for chirp is all our song Cheerful chirps Will help a long.

LADY BUG AND MRS. POE TATO-BUG

"Well," said Mrs. Poe Tato-Bug, "it's a pity such things have to go on. What those horrid black Road-worms mean by eating up all the apple leaves is more than I can see."

Lady Bug listened to this outburst quietly, as if she had been accustomed to such words from her kinswoman. Finally she said:

"Really, I can't see that they do any more harm than--"

"Crack! Crack! Crack!" spluttered Mrs. Poe Tato-Bug, forgetting entirely the dignity of a hyphenated name; "hum! why, there won't be a single leaf on a single apple tree left to shade me and my family by time July comes. Hum, indeed!"

"Yes, my dear," said Lady Bug, who was always reasonable as well as gentle, "I understand all you say, but you know yourself that _we_ eat leaves."

"Huh!" sniffed Mrs. Poe Tato-Bug, "I can't see that it's the same thing at all. What good's a leaf to a Potato, now, just tell me that!"

"I only know this," replied Lady Bug, "last year Mrs. Cricket overheard Farmer Hayseed say that if he could get rid of the Poe Tato-Bug family he'd live twenty years longer. He said we ate up the leaves and made the roots good for nothing. I presume he meant our family"

"For a quiet body you can say the meanest things," exclaimed Mrs. Poe Tato-Bug. Just then Mrs. Cricket, head down, went hurrying by and said as she passed,

"You'd better go home. Farmer Hayseed is pouring white stuff all over your houses. Most of your folks have left, but I saw little Poe and Tato still there."

"Dear me! O! O!" they both cried, "those children will be choked to death!" No two mothers could have hurried home faster. Lady Bug tried to give a little comfort on the way.

"I think," said she, "that Rose Bug will help the children, for all she lives in such a beautiful new home. Rose is so fond of Poe and Tato; and then, too, Bush Manor is not so far away."

Not one word did Mrs. Poe Tato-Bug say, but flying and jumping she hurried home. Her red speckled wings kept cracking louder and louder as she hurried along faster and faster.

"I wish you would not hurry so fast," said Lady Bug, gently, "really I am quite out of breath; and see! there is Farmer Hayseed way up at the other end of the patch. He hasn't reached our home yet."

Mrs. Poe Tato-Bug looked eagerly, and sure enough, there was Farmer Hayseed with a big box marked "Paris Green" in one hand, and in the other a sieve through which he was sifting fine white powder.

"Dear me!" sighed Mrs. Poe Tato-Bug, "this is such a relief. Here we are." At once she began scurrying around over every leaf of her home, but not a sign of little Poe and Tato could she find.

"Gracious!" said Lady Bug, "how very unfortunate. Where do you suppose they are?"

"I don't suppose, but I guess I know," replied Mrs. Poe Tato-Bug, as off she scurried toward the Rose Bush in the old fashioned garden near by.

And as they hurried toward the bush they could see Rose Bug with her wings around little Poe and Tato. She was singing a lullabye, trying to keep them quiet or put them to sleep, and this was the lullabye she sang:

_Lullabye Lake

Quietly_

Lullabye Lake Is a place I know Where the tree tops sing, And the breezes blow, Where the treetops sing And the breezes blow.

The moon shines dim With a silver light And the ripples dance And the stars are bright, And the ripples dance And the stars are bright.

The glow worm burns On the misted green And scatters his lights For the Faery Queen, And scatters his lights For the Faery Queen.

Mrs. Poe Tato-Bug listened carefully to the song. At last she exclaimed:

"That Rose Bug always did sing strange songs. I hope my children will not remember any such unpractical nonsense. The Poe-Tato family never was given to notions. What in the world can she mean by the Faery Queen? I dare say some romantic tale!"

THE TUNEFUL HUMMING-BIRD

The clover blossoms grew heavier every day with honey, and their great red heads bobbed about clumsily in the little breezes that visited the grass by the lake shore. Squirm, Glummie's caterpillar brother, had been heard to say that it was so sweet about those clover blossoms that he could scarcely crawl by them; it made him faint. But every morning, just as the sun got up, Hummy came whirring along, singing so busily and sweetly, that even Toadie Todson stuck his head out of his mudhole to listen, and the Frisky Frog on the water's edge stopped croaking.

Hummy came for a very simple reason, and that was to get his breakfast; his luncheon and dinner he always took from the honeysuckle vines and the rose bushes that grew on the side of the Giant's house. He preferred his breakfast, however, from the clover, for he said that the dew on them was fresher than on the blossoms up by the big house. It made Hummy's beak feel cool and fresh, for all the world like a morning bath in the clear, fresh dew. All the time Hummy sang away and made everybody within hearing distance happy because of his tunefulness. And he waved his wings about so prettily that it made you feel good to see them, they were such little rainbows of color.

Every morning when Hummy came round just as the sun got up, Mrs. Cricky called all her children to the door and told them that it was as good as going to school for them to watch the manners of such a perfect gentleman as Master Hummy. She said she wished them always to remember that to be so beautifully clean and so very cheerful as Master Hummy would make up for a multitude of other sins. Then as Hummy flew past their door all the little Cricketses, and Mrs. Cricky, too, gave a hop and a cheerful chirrup, as a good morning to him.

And at every place that Hummy went that day he made a sweet sound and everybody felt happier because he had been there. Hummy did a great many things besides making others happier with his tunefulness. He pulled a young hopper out of a mud puddle into which he had hopped by accident. He turned over a beetle that got stranded on its back. And everything he did was so pleasant and full of song that it was a pleasure to have him do things for you. Anty Hill said she did wish Sandy could learn to sing that way, it did make one feel so much happier when there was somebody around who was always merry and in such a good temper about helping people. She said she didn't see how Ma 'Squiter's family had lived, they were so nagged with her ugly buzz and her bad temper.

Late that same night Anty Hill overheard Sandy trying to sing a song the Frisky Frog had taught him. Sandy's voice was very poor, and this is the song he sang in a most mournful way:

_The Frog Song

Rather slowly_

Come, Froggie sing Your evening song, The summers short And winters long Come, sing away Now that the day Has faded quite Into the night