Chapter 3

"No!" replied Joseph Bumble. "I've been interrupted. And it's hardly the sort of treatment a person of royal blood--like myself--expects to receive at a party."

"Who interrupted you?" Chirpy Cricket inquired.

"I don't know," Joseph Bumble answered. "But someone was talking in a loud voice."

"Are you sure it wasn't yourself that you heard?" Daddy Longlegs wanted to know.

"Certainly not!" cried Joseph. "Don't be silly! Don't you suppose I know my own voice when I hear it?"

"Perhaps it was your echo that you heard," Daddy ventured.

At that Joseph Bumble rudely turned his back on him and began whispering to Chirpy Cricket. He was actually suggesting that Daddy Longlegs should be thrown out of the party!

And then Mr. Bumble again paused abruptly and listened.

"There!" he said to Chirpy Cricket. "Don't you hear that buzzing? That's the person that interrupted me. And I'd like to have him put out of the party too, along with this queer old chap who insulted me a moment ago."

Chirpy Cricket looked around, until his eye rested on Buster Bumblebee, who had just arrived and who was at that moment talking with Betsy Butterfly.

"There's the young man you hear!" Chirpy told Joseph Bumble. "Don't you know him?"

"No!" replied Joseph, as his eyes followed Chirpy Cricket's. "And I don't want to know him, either. He looks to me to be a very ordinary person. And anybody can see that he's annoying Betsy Butterfly. I tell you, I want him chased away from here at once. For I'm of royal blood; and I'm not accustomed to go to parties with ragtags and bobtails. I'm a cousin of Buster Bumblebee, the Queen's son."

Well, Chirpy Cricket tried hard not to laugh right in Joseph Bumble's face.

"I'll see what I can do," Chirpy promised him. "And I will admit that _somebody_ ought to be barred out of this party."

"Good!" exclaimed Joseph Bumble. "I'm glad to know that you're so sensible."

Perhaps he would have spoken in a different fashion had he known exactly what Chirpy Cricket had in mind. But now he said nothing more, though he continued to stare angrily at Buster Bumblebee, who was glad to see Betsy Butterfly, and was telling her as much, too.

XVI

NOTHING BUT A FRAUD

AT last Joseph Bumble's displeasure passed all control. He began to buzz as loud as he could, hoping to drown Buster Bumblebee's buzzing, so that Buster could no longer talk to Betsy Butterfly.

Naturally, Buster soon had to raise his own voice, in order to make himself heard. And soon the two made such a roar that everybody else had to stop up his ears.

Noticing a look of distress on Betsy Butterfly's face, Buster asked her what the trouble was.

"You and your cousin Joseph are making a terrible racket," she told him.

"My cousin Joseph!" cried Buster Bumblebee. "And who is he, I should like to know? Point him out to me, please! For I didn't know I had a cousin at this party."

"There he is!" said Betsy Butterfly, nodding her head towards the glowering Joseph.

"What! That unshaven stranger in the yellowish-brown suit?" cried Buster Bumblebee. "I assure you he's no relation of mine."

"You must be mistaken," Betsy persisted. "He says he's your cousin, and of royal blood himself."

"Nonsense!" cried Buster Bumblebee. "Just let me talk to him a moment, and I'll soon prove that your friend is nothing but a fraud."

Accordingly Buster left her, and straightway perched himself upon a daisy directly in front of Joseph Bumble.

"How-dy do!" said Buster. "I hear you've been talking about me."

Now, Joseph Bumble's only thought was that the noisy chap in the yellow and black velvet must have overheard what he had said to Chirpy Cricket about throwing him out of the party.

"I don't care to talk with you," Joseph announced in his grandest manner. "I'm from such a fine family that I have to be very particular about whom I'm seen with."

"Is that so?" said Buster. "I suppose if Buster Bumblebee were at this party you'd be glad to talk with him?"

"I should say I would!" was the other's answer. "He's my cousin."

"What's your name, anyhow?" Buster Inquired.

"Joseph Bumble!"

"What's the rest of it?" Buster Bumblebee demanded, while the whole company surged around him, so that they might hear.

"I refuse to answer!" said Joseph Bumble. And afterward Daddy Longlegs declared that at that moment he saw the fellow's knees trembling.

"Come!" said Joseph Bumble, turning suddenly to Betsy Butterfly. "I see that we've accidentally fallen in with some rough people; and we'd better be moving on."

But Betsy Butterfly didn't even look at Joseph.

"What _is_ his full name?" she asked Buster.

"He's a Bumble Flower-Beetle," Buster said. "And as for his being related to me, that's all humbug. This stranger is no kin either to the Bumblebee or any other Bee family. But his voice is so much like ours that he's taken part of our name, though our family has always claimed that he has no right to it."

"Who are you?" Joseph Bumble demanded of Buster quite fiercely. He was determined to put his enemy to rout if he could.

"I'm Buster Bumblebee!" was the reply. "Don't you know your cousin?"

When he heard that, Joseph Bumble knew at once that the game was up. His trickery was discovered beyond a doubt. So with one last lingering look at the beautiful Betsy he took to his wings. And no one ever saw him in those parts again.

As for Betsy Butterfly, she never could bear, after that, to hear the name of Joseph Bumble so much as mentioned.

XVII

DUSTY'S DIFFICULTY

IT was to be expected that as time went on, Betsy Butterfly's fame would spread far and wide. And long before the summer was over, half the creatures that lived in Pleasant Valley knew her. They were the ones that went about by daylight and rested at night.

As for the other half--the night-prowlers--many of them had heard about the beautiful Betsy, though of course they had never seen her. That is, none of them had set eyes on her except Freddie Firefly, who had flashed his light upon Betsy all one night, because Mrs. Ladybug had a strange notion that she was stealing butter from the farmhouse.

In fact, after that happened, Freddie Firefly had gone about telling all his friends how beautiful Betsy Butterfly was, and saying what a pity it was that she didn't like moonlight as well as sunshine.

He talked so much about her that at last a good many of the night-prowling people said that they wished they might see Betsy Butterfly just once, for they could scarcely believe that anybody could be as dainty and bewitching as Freddie Firefly would have them believe her.

And there was one dashing young chap of the Moth family who became especially eager to make Betsy's acquaintance. Indeed, he began to complain that he was losing his appetite, through thinking about Betsy Butterfly. So he besought Freddie Firefly to help him out of his difficulty.

Now, while he was talking with Freddie Firefly, this young Moth, who was known as Dusty, never once stopped eating. Freddie Firefly noticed how his fat sides stuck out.

And he wondered what the fellow's appetite could have been like before he lost some of it.

"You don't act like one in delicate health," Freddie Firefly observed, as he watched the greedy Dusty consume more food.

"Oh, but I am!" Dusty Moth protested feebly. "I'm so weak now that I can hardly raise myself with my wings."

Freddie was sure that Dusty's trouble was merely due to his being too fat. But he saw no reason for quarreling with him.

"Can't you think of some plan by which I could meet Betsy Butterfly?" Dusty Moth persisted. "Perhaps if I could see her just once I'd be able to get my mind _off_ her--and _on_ my meals again."

"I don't know how I can help you," Freddie Firefly confessed. "You see, Betsy goes home exactly at sunset. And at present she never seems to make her home in the same place for even two nights. So one can never be sure where she will be.

"Of course, when the sun is shining you can always find her among the flowers. But that won't help you any, because you're such a sleepy-head in the daytime that you couldn't see anything even if it was stuck right into your eyes."

"Can't you explain my sad case to Betsy Butterfly?" Dusty Moth asked hopefully. "I've heard that she's very kind-hearted. And if she knew how I'm suffering on her account I'm sure she'd be glad to meet me some pleasant, dark night."

He begged so piteously that in the end Freddie Firefly agreed to do what he could.

"But I warn you--" he said--"I warn you that I can't give you much hope."

XVIII

SOLOMON OWL'S IDEA

FREDDIE FIREFLY actually did send a message to Betsy Butterfly, telling her that Dusty Moth wanted to see her, and saying that unless she would agree to meet him in the meadow some night soon, Dusty was afraid he would lose his appetite entirely.

But Betsy thought the whole affair was only a joke. So she merely laughed--and sent Freddie no answer at all; for she hardly believed that she needed to explain to him that nothing could induce her to stir out after sunset.

Freddie Firefly was much upset because he received no answer to his message. Perhaps he would not have cared so much had Dusty Moth not made his life miserable each night from dusk to dawn. But that persistent fellow kept asking Freddie every few minutes if he had "heard from her" yet. And naturally anyone would grow tired if he had to keep saying "No! no! no!" all night long.

At the same time Dusty Moth kept insisting in a most annoying way that if he lost much more of his appetite he would be ill, and it would be Freddie Firefly's fault.

So Freddie Firefly began to worry. He came finally to detest Dusty Moth. And Freddie's family noticed that he was growing quite thin, because Dusty Moth left him little time--between questions--in which to eat his meals comfortably.

"I declare, I wish Betsy Butterfly would move away from Pleasant Valley!" Freddie Firefly exclaimed at last, quite out of patience with everybody and everything. "I'm in a pretty fix, I am! And since I don't know how to get rid of this annoying Dusty Moth, I'm going to ask Solomon Owl what I'd better do." That, at least, was a comforting thought.

So the following morning, just before dawn, he made what might be termed a flying call on Solomon Owl who lived in the hemlock woods beyond the swamp.

And luckily wise old Solomon thought of a good plan at once. As soon as he had heard Freddie Firefly's story he said to him:

"If Betsy Butterfly refuses to meet your friend, why don't you ask her for her picture?"

"That's a splendid idea!" Freddie cried. "How in the world did you ever happen to think of it, Mr. Owl?"

Solomon Owl hooted at that question.

"That's my secret," he said. "If I told all I know, everybody else would be just as wise as I am." And after giving another long string of hoots, which he followed with a burst of loud laughter, Solomon Owl popped into his house.

Anyhow, Freddie Firefly couldn't complain, for he now had a remedy for his trouble. And he felt so carefree and happy again that on his way across the meadow he stopped to talk with Jimmy Rabbit, who was taking a stroll in the direction of Farmer Green's cabbage patch.

Freddie Firefly quickly told Jimmy all about his affair with Dusty Moth. He even explained how he had gone to ask Solomon Owl's help, and related what that wise bird had advised.

"There's only one thing that worries me now," said Freddie Firefly anxiously. "I'm wondering whether Betsy Butterfly has ever had a picture made of herself."

XIX

A BIT OF LUCK

JIMMY RABBIT promptly set Freddie Firefly's fears at rest.

"I happen to know," said he, "that Betsy Butterfly has a picture of herself."

"Are you sure?" Freddie asked him eagerly.

"I ought to be," replied Jimmy Rabbit, "because I painted it myself, the very next day after I finished a portrait of old Mr. Crow."

"It ought to be a good one, if you made it," said Freddie. "But wasn't it some time ago that you were an artist?"

"It was earlier in the summer," Jimmy Rabbit admitted. "Of course, Betsy Butterfly has changed somewhat since then. But this picture was a fine likeness of her at the time I painted it.... I suppose," he added, "I was the first one in the whole valley to perceive that she was going to be a beauty when she got her full growth."

"Do you suppose she'll send me the picture, if I ask her, so I can show it to Dusty Moth?" Freddie asked.

Jimmy Rabbit looked a bit doubtful. He pondered for a few moments. And then he said:

"I'll tell you what I'll do! To-morrow morning I'll see Betsy and I've no doubt that she'll loan me the picture if I promise to return it to her."

"That'll be great!" cried Freddie. "Meet me near the duck pond as soon as it's dark to-morrow night; and be sure to bring Betsy's picture with you!"

Then Freddie Firefly hurried off to find Dusty Moth, who happened likewise to be looking for him, because he had a question to ask.

They met shortly. And Dusty Moth immediately cried:

"Have you heard from her?"--meaning Betsy Butterfly, of course.

"Now, see here!" Freddie Firefly said. "It's plain enough that Betsy doesn't care to meet you. But I have a plan that ought to suit you well enough. If you could look at her picture once you'd be satisfied, wouldn't you?"

"I would--" replied Dusty Moth--"if I got my appetite back afterward."

"Well, will you promise to stop pestering me about Betsy Butterfly if I let you see this picture of her?"

"Yes! yes!" Dusty promised impatiently. "Where is it? Quick! Let me see it!"

"Oh! You'll have to wait till to-morrow night," Freddie explained.

"I shall not be able to eat a single mouthful till then!" Dusty Moth groaned.

"Well--you can suit yourself about that," Freddie told him impatiently. "And please don't speak to me again to-night! I've been troubled enough on your account without being bothered by you any more."

"One moment!" cried Dusty, as Freddie Firefly started to leave him.

"Well--what do you want now?" Freddie growled, flashing his light impatiently in Dusty Moth's eyes.

"Are you sure she will let you take the picture?" Dusty asked him.

"Yes! yes! Of course she will! Why shouldn't she, I should like to know? You certainly do ask the silliest questions!"

And yet Freddie Firefly had put the same query himself, to Jimmy Rabbit, only a short time before. But now he was quite certain that his worries were almost at an end.

"Betsy Butterfly has caused me a powerful lot of trouble!" Freddie grumbled, as he hurried over the hollow, to join in the dance of the Firefly family.

XX

SOMETHING SEEMS WRONG

WHEN Jimmy Rabbit went to see Betsy Butterfly the next morning he found her quite willing to let him take her picture away with him.

"But I must say--" Betsy remarked--"I must say that I don't understand why anybody should want to borrow this old portrait. Everyone tells me I have changed a great deal since you made it."

"That's true," Jimmy Rabbit agreed. "But the person to whom I'm going to show it won't know the difference."

"I don't believe he knows me, then," she remarked.

"No! And probably he never will," said Jimmy Rabbit. "But don't you worry about that! From what I hear of him, he's a good deal of a bore."

"Don't bother to bring back that picture!" she called to Jimmy Rabbit as he hopped away.

"I'm afraid Betsy Butterfly is growing vain," he murmured to himself. "To be sure, she _has_ changed. But I shall always like this portrait of her, because I painted it myself."

Later, when he was in Farmer Green's garden, he wrapped the picture carefully in a rhubarb leaf and hid it beneath a pile of brush. And he didn't come back for it until after dark, just as the moon peeped above the rim of the hills.

At the duck pond Jimmy Rabbit found Freddie Firefly waiting for him, hopping up and down and flashing his light through the misty gloom.

"Did you get it?" Freddie demanded.

"It's safe in my pocket," Jimmy assured him.

"Let me have it!" said Freddie. "Dusty Moth is waiting for me at the fence-corner, near the orchard. And I want to give him a good look at Betsy Butterfly's picture before the moon gets too high, for he can't see well if there's too much light."

Jimmy Rabbit drew the picture carefully from his pocket. And Freddie Firefly took it and slung it across his back. He fairly staggered under the weight.

"Aren't you going to look at Betsy's picture yourself?" Jimmy Rabbit asked him. "It's a good bit of work, if I do say so."

"Oh! I don't care about seeing it. It's nothing to me, you know," said Freddie carelessly. "But I hope Dusty Moth will be satisfied with it."

"Well, I won't go with you, to see if he is," Jimmy Rabbit told him. "I usually have a light lunch at this hour. So I'll meet you here at the duck pond after I come back from the cabbage patch."

They parted then. And shortly afterward Freddie Firefly dropped down beside Dusty Moth, who made no attempt to conceal his pleasure.

"At last!" he cried. "At last I am to behold the beautiful Betsy Butterfly's picture!... I do hope it's a good likeness!" he added as he began, with trembling hands, to unwrap the rhubarb covering from the portrait.

"It certainly is," Freddie Firefly assured him. "It was made by a friend of mine, who once painted a famous picture of old Mr. Crow."

While Freddie danced along the top of the fence, Dusty Moth carried the picture into the shade of an apple tree, out of the moonlight, so that he might see it more clearly.

A few moments later Freddie Firefly was both surprised and alarmed to hear a cry of anguish from the direction of the apple tree.

"What's the matter?" he called. "There's nothing wrong, I hope?"

But Dusty Moth made no reply.

XXI

A STRANGE CHANGE

RECEIVING no answer to his question, Freddie Firefly skipped down from the fence and sought the shade of the apple tree, where he found Dusty Moth staring fixedly at Betsy Butterfly's picture.

Dusty's face wore a most curious look; he seemed at once angry, sorrowful and amazed. And not till Freddie Firefly asked again what _was_ the trouble did Dusty Moth say a word.

Then he pointed scornfully toward the portrait that Jimmy Rabbit had made earlier in the summer.

"So that's the charming Betsy Butterfly, eh?" he roared. "That's the beauty I've heard so much about! I can tell you right now that if I had any idea she looked like this I never would have lost my appetite over her!"

"You astonish me!" Freddie Firefly exclaimed. "Have you forgotten how anxious you were to meet the lady?"

"Meet her!" Dusty Moth howled. "I promise you I'd never go out of my way to meet anybody that looked as she does--though I might go a long distance to avoid her."

Freddie Firefly glanced toward the picture. But it had fallen face downward upon the ground. And he did not take the trouble to raise it.

"Well, you think Betsy Butterfly is beautiful, don't you?" he asked.

"Indeed I don't! I think she's hideous," Dusty Moth shouted. "Never in all my life have I been so deceived in a person."

"I don't understand how you can say that," Freddie Firefly told him. "But I suppose your idea of beauty may be different from mine--and from many other people's, too. Anyhow, I hope you'll get your appetite back again."

"I don't know about that," said Dusty Moth. "Just now I don't feel as if I ever wanted to taste food again." A shudder passed over him. And he covered his eyes, as if to shut some terrible image from his memory.

"I must leave you now," said Freddie Firefly. "And please don't forget what you promised me. You remember that you said that if I'd show you a picture of Betsy Butterfly you would stop pestering me about her."

"Don't worry about that!" Dusty Moth assured him bitterly. "I shall never mention Betsy Butterfly's name again. I don't want to think of her. But I'm afraid I can never, never get her face out of my mind.... I know--" he added--"I know I shall see it in my dreams. And just think how terrible it will be to wake at midday, out of a sound sleep, with her dreadful face and form haunting me!"

Freddie Firefly couldn't help feeling sorry for the poor chap. But he could think of nothing to do, except to show him Betsy's portrait once more. So he started to raise the picture from the ground, where it still lay face downward. And the moment Dusty Moth saw what he was about he gave a frightful scream--and flew off into the night.

"He's a queer one!" Freddie Firefly mused. "Now, I've always thought Betsy was a fine-looking----" Just then his eyes fell upon the picture for the first time. And Freddie Firefly's mouth fell open in astonishment.

So amazed was he by what he saw that he tumbled right over backwards. And then, scrambling to his feet, he wrapped the rhubarb leaf hastily around the picture and slung it across his back again.

"Jimmy Rabbit has made a terrible mistake!" he groaned, as he started for the duck pond.

* * * * *

Back at the meeting place once more, Freddie Firefly rushed up to Jimmy Rabbit in great excitement.

"Do you know what you did?" he cried. "You brought me the wrong picture. And Dusty Moth has gone shrieking off into the darkness, he was so disappointed. This is not Betsy Butterfly's picture! It's some dreadful-looking caterpillar. And when I glanced at it just now, over in the orchard, it sent a chill all through me."

For the time being Jimmy Rabbit said nothing. At first he had seemed quite upset. But before Freddie had finished speaking he had begun to smile. And then he unwrapped the picture once more and leaned it against a stone, where the moon's rays fell squarely upon it.

"You're mistaken," he informed Freddie then. "This _is_ a picture of Betsy Butterfly. I painted it myself; and I ought to know. As I explained last night, I made it earlier in the summer; and as I said, she has changed somewhat in the meantime. But it's a very good likeness of her as she was once."

"You mean--" gasped Freddie Firefly--"you mean that Betsy Butterfly was once an ugly caterpillar?"

"Why, certainly!" said Jimmy Rabbit. "And so was Dusty Moth, for that matter. Yes! he was a caterpillar himself, once--and a much uglier one than Betsy, if only he knew it.

"In fact," said Jimmy, looking at the picture with his head on one side, "as caterpillars go, Betsy Butterfly was a great beauty, even at so early an age."

XXII

THE SKIPPER

IN Farmer Green's meadow there lived a very nervous person called the Skipper. He was a distant cousin of Betsy Butterfly's. And since the two were almost exactly the same age, they quite naturally spent a good deal of time together.

The Skipper was of a dark, somber brown shade. And it always seemed to the gaily colored Betsy that he tried to make up for his dull appearance by being extremely lively in his movements. He was forever skipping suddenly from one place to another--a trick which had caused people to call him by so odd a name.

Much as she liked this queer cousin, Betsy often found his uncertain habit somewhat annoying. It was not very pleasant, when talking to him, to discover that he had unexpectedly left her when she supposed he was right beside her, or behind her. If she had anything important to tell him she frequently had to hurry after him. And the worst of it was, once she had overtaken him she never knew when he would dart away again.

As the summer lengthened it seemed to Betsy Butterfly that the Skipper grew more flighty than ever. Once she had been able to say a few words to him before he went swooping off. But now--now she could not even tell him that it was a nice day without following her cousin at least half an hour in order to finish her remark.

"You're becoming terribly fidgety," Betsy told him at last. "If you don't look out you'll have nervous prostration--or I shall, if you don't stop jumping about like a jack-in-the-box. I advise you," she said, "to see a doctor before you get any worse."