Chapter II: Part 2

"I flew rather far from the hive," she said, "and a huge monster called a boy threw his cap over me and then picked me up in his hand. I would not sting him as you might have done, so I was helpless. He carried me round the garden to another boy-monster, and they agreed to pull off my wings. Think of my terror! I struggled hard to escape, and at last managed to slip through the clumsy fingers of the monster, and flew home. Oh dear, it was terrible! I shall never again go out by myself."

"No, you must not," said her people. "We could not bear to lose our dear Queen."

They comforted her, and fed her, and soon the hive was going on again in its old, happy way.

BILLYBUZZ THE DRONE

"You are lazy," said the boy who watched the bees. "Why don't you work like the others?"

Billybuzz the Drone helped himself to a little more honey from the best pantry; then he turned his big brown head slowly towards the boy who watched the bees.

"You people will never take the trouble to understand us," he said. "You call us lazy, but we cannot work. We are not made like the workers."

"How is that?" asked the boy. "Surely you can fly about and gather honey? That is easy enough."

"Not if one's tongue is too short," replied the Drone. "The Worker Bees have long, hairy tongues to lick the honey out of the deep flower-cups, but my tongue is too short, and would not reach far enough down."

"But you could gather pollen to make bee-bread for the baby bees," said the boy.

"I have no pollen-basket," said the Drone.

"Can you not make wax?"

"No. I have no wax pockets in my coat."

"Then you could be a soldier-bee, and help to guard the Queen and hive."

"I should be useless. I have no sting."

"Oh, well, at any rate you could be a nurse and give the babies their meals, like those nurses over there."

"Why should I? Why should I work at all when I am the King?"

The boy stared. "You a King!" he cried

"Yes. Did you not know that we have a King and Queen?" asked the Drone.

"I knew that you have a Queen; we often hear about her. But I didn't think about a King."

"Well, I am the King--at least, I intend to be soon. At present I am a Prince. When my Queen comes out we shall be married, and then I shall be King. There are other drones waiting, but they shall not have her. Listen--she is singing in her golden room now. That means that she is coming out soon. I must be ready for the beautiful Queen."

He walked out of the hive into the sunshine. Here he brushed himself and spread his shining wings and looked very big and handsome. There was a stir in the hive, and the young Queen flew out and mounted into the air. With a rush Billybuzz flew swiftly after her, followed by the other drones who had been waiting. Whoever could catch the Queen first was to marry her, so they all did their best. Higher and higher they flew, till they were all out of sight.

The boy waited below, and presently the disappointed drones came back, bringing the news that Billybuzz had won the race. So Billybuzz the Drone married the Queen, and became King.

A few days later the boy again came to watch the bees.

"Where is Billybuzz the King?" he asked a drone who sat at the front door in the sunshine.

"Dead!" said the drone.

"Dear me!" said the boy. "How did that happen?"

"Oh, he just died," said the drone. "We all die very soon after we become kings. We are not made to live as long as the workers or the queens."

"Is that so? Then I would rather be born a worker than a king," said the boy.

"Everyone to his taste," said the drone. "A short life and a merry one for me."

HONEY

A little golden flower-cup,
A little golden bee.
A little store of honey made
For Nell, and Jack, and me.

A little crystal honey-jar,
A little pantry shelf.
A naughty little Nelly-girl
Falls down, and hurts herself.

ON THE HILLSIDE

The sun shone gaily, the skylark sang her morning song, and the crickets chirped their merriest; but the things that usually lived so peacefully on the hillside were quarrelling.

It was the wind who began it. As he lifted the pollen from one patch of grass-flowers and carried it to the next he cried boastingly: "What a friend I am to you tiny creatures! If it were not for me you could bear no seed. I am indeed useful. I am sure nobody does so much good."

"How absurd!" cried the bees. "Anyone would think you did all the work of the world. You certainly carry the grass pollen, but think of the flowers whose pollen we carry. What would the clover here do without us? And the wild flowers, and the flowers in the gardens and orchards all over the world. We are certainly the most useful."

At this thousands of earth-worms popped their heads above the ground. "If you are talking about usefulness, don't forget us," they said. "You see very little of us, for we come out at night when most of you are asleep. But think of all the work we do. We burrow and burrow here in our millions, ploughing the ground day after day till every inch is opened up to let in the sweet air and drain away the water from the surface. How could the flowers and grasses live if we did not do this? Think how fine we keep the soil, powdering it as we do in our burrowings! And how rich we make it by dragging down decaying leaves into our holes every night. The world would be a sorry place for everything that grows and lives if we did not work so hard. We are surely more useful than anybody."

The grasses waved their flowered heads. "All that is true enough," they said; "but nobody can possibly be more useful than we are. Think how we clothe the land and give food to hundreds of animals and shelter to millions of insects."

A little cloud sailed softly down on to the hill-top to listen. "What could any of you do without the clouds?" she asked. "You all depend on our rain for your lives; you must confess you are less useful than we are."

"Ho! ho! ho!" laughed the merry sun. "Fancy quarrelling this fine morning! Now I will tell you, and this will settle it once for all. You are all useful, and not one of you could be spared, and not one of you could do well without the other. Everything helps everything else. The worms help the grass, and the grass feeds the worms; the bees help the flowers, and the flowers feed the bees; the wind helps the clouds, and the clouds become rain and help the wind in its work. And I am here over you all, and if it were not for me nothing could live, so, after all, I am the most useful. If I did not shine there would be no grass, no worms, no flowers, no bees, no wind, and no clouds. Now go on with your work."

THE SUN'S NEST

Winnie and I went sailing fast
Out to the golden West.
We wished to see the Sun drop down
Into his shining nest.

Our ship was soft and pearly white--
A dear little cloud up high.
We sailed along at sunset time,
Across the flaming sky.

Winnie stood up and laughed with joy;
Her curls blew round her head.
The golden clouds raced past our ship,
To see the Sun to bed.

The nest was made of red, red cloud,
Hung like a rosy swing:
An angel stood on either side--
We heard them softly sing.

The tired Sun came dropping down,
And cuddled in his nest.
The angels spread their snow-white wings
To guard him through his rest.

The soft wee clouds went home with us,
The sky grew grey and blue;
The stars peeped out and laughed and winked,
And said: "Good-night, you two!"

CRIKITTY-CRIK

Mrs. Cricket flew busily round, looking for a good place for her eggs. "This will do," she said at last. "Here is plenty of food for them when they hatch." She flew down close to the roots of a soft green plant, pierced a hole in the ground with her piercer, placed the eggs in it with her egg placer, and flew off.

"Just the very dinner I like best," said Mr. Beetle to himself; he ran to the hole, dug out the eggs, and ate them up.

He thought he had them all, so he went away; but there was one left, hidden under a grain of earth. After a while it hatched out into Crikitty-Crik.

Crikitty-Crik could not fly, or sing, or lay eggs, for he was only a tiny cricket-baby. All he could do was eat, but that he did thoroughly. He gobbled up every scrap of soft vegetable food he could find in the earth, and as his mother had chosen a good place for him he found plenty and soon grew fat. His front legs were specially made for burrowing, and his jaws were made for nibbling.

One day he stopped eating and said: "I should like to fly." So he let his skin grow hard, and he shut himself up in it, and made his wings. He altered the shape of his mouth, too. "For I am going to suck leaves when I am a grown-up cricket," he said.

When everything was ready he pushed himself out through the top of his old skin and left it lying on the ground. Then up he flew to suck the juices of the leaves.

Such a handsome fellow he was--all green and gold and fine lace-work. And he could make music, for under his body he had grown two little flat sounding boards. When he moved his hind-legs quickly over these they made the cricket-song: "Crikitty-Crik! Crikitty-Crik! What a fine world it is!"

THE DISCONTENTED ROOT

The Root was grumbling again, and everybody felt unhappy. "It's not fair," she said. "Why should I have to stay down here in the dark while you can all live in the sunshine? It is work, work, work all day down here, finding water and food for you all; while you do nothing but enjoy yourselves."

"Oh, you must not say that," cried the stems. "We are as busy as you are. Your work would be useless if we did not spend our time carrying water and food from you to the leaves and flowers. And think of the weight we are bearing. You cannot say your work is harder than ours."

"It certainly is not harder than ours," said the leaves. "Think of all that goes on in our workshops. We supply as much food from the air as you from the earth. You must not say we are not busy."

The flowers bent their heads and spoke. "Dear little Root-sister," they said, "do not make us unhappy with your discontent. Life is very full of work for all of us. You must give us food or we cannot live, and we flowers must make our seed or the family would die out, so we help each other. Your work lies in the dark earth, certainly, while ours is in the sunshine; but the life up here would not suit you. I am sure you would die if you tried to live above the ground."

But the Root would not understand. "Fine words," she said, "but no comfort to me! Oh! I wish I could go up into the sunshine."

One day she had her wish, for a slip of the gardener's spade turned her above the ground. She was delighted, but the others were in despair. "Oh, dear, whatever will become of us now?" they cried. "If only the gardener would see you and put you in again!" But the gardener did not notice; it lay there all day.

"The sunshine is delightful," said the Root, though really its glare and heat were making her feel quite dizzy.

"How hot the sun is! And how parched we are!" sighed the drooping flowers. "Now we must die, and our poor little half-formed seeds will never grow into beautiful plants." And they laid their tender faces on the hot earth and died.

The afternoon wore on. The gasping leaves and soft stems almost died too, but the coolness of evening and the night dew revived them a little; when the morning came they tried to lift themselves and live on in spite of the hot sunshine that came again.

As for the Root, she was longing now for the gardener to come and put her in the earth. She had been dried and withered by the heat, then half frozen by the cold night dew; now here was another day to face in this glare of light and cruel sunshine. She knew now that the flowers were right in saying that the life above ground would not suit her. "If the gardener does not come soon I shall die, too," she thought.

The gardener came, saw the upturned Root, and set it in its old place. "I will never grumble at my life again," said the Root as the soft cool earth closed in around her.

"How thankful we are!" whispered the leaves faintly. "Now we shall live again."

But the flowers said nothing, for they were dead.

CREEPY-CRAWLY

At first Creepy-Crawly was nothing but a tiny egg on a blade of grass; but when he hatched out into a caterpillar he was Creepy-Crawly indeed, for though he had about sixteen pairs of legs, they were all so tiny that he could not be said to walk on them. But he crawled about quite happily, and was well content with life as he found it.

"Why don't you grow long legs like me?" said the Spider. "It must be terribly slow work crawling about like that."

Creepy-Crawly did not stay to answer. Out of his body he drew two threads as fine as the spider's own, glued them together with his mouth into a rope, and dropped by the rope from the branch to the ground. He did not like Mrs. Spider.

"Well, I wouldn't wear a green coat if I were you," said an Earth-worm whom he met. "Brown is a much nicer colour."

"Brown may be best for you who live in the ground," said Creepy-Crawly, "but green is better for me. The birds would like me for dinner, you know, but they cannot see me so well if I look like the leaves I feed on."

"You should wear a hard shell on your back." said a Beetle. "You are absurdly soft."

Creepy-Crawly wriggled quickly out of the beetle's sight, and a Butterfly who saw him laughed. She said: "Better grow wings, Creepy-Crawly. They are the best means of escape from your enemies."

Creepy-Crawly looked wistfully at her as she flew off. "Yes," he said to himself, "that is what I should like--to fly through the air in that grand, free way. That would be glorious! Ah, well! I have no wings, but I may as well be as happy as I can."

Creepy-Crawly had been eating hard for weeks, but now he began to feel less and less hungry and more and more drowsy. One day he curled himself up under a dead leaf and went to sleep; there he slept on and on for week after week without waking once to eat.

As he slept his skin turned brown like the worm's, and hard like the beetle's; but inside the skin a still more wonderful change was taking place. From his body six slender jointed legs with clawed toes grew slowly out, followed by four wings, which promised to be broad and beautiful when they had room to open. From the head grew two long feelers with little knobs at their ends. Over body, head, and wings a coat of tiny, many-coloured scales spread itself, softer than down, and as beautiful as the rainbow.

Creepy-Crawly woke up at last, but he was Creepy-Crawly no longer. He pushed his way out of his hard shell and stood on the dead leaf to dry himself. He spread his wings in the sun; he shook his six jointed legs one after the other; he turned and twisted himself this way and that in his delight.

"Who would have thought I should have come to this?" he said to himself. "Now I am a Butterfly. I am like the one that spoke to me that day. I will fly through the air as she did, and find her, and show her how I have changed."

He spread his beautiful wings and rose up into the warm air, and flew away to drink honey from the flowers and to dance with his butterfly cousins.

BLACKIE

At first Blackie was only a tiny speck in an egg, but he grew so fast that he soon filled the shell. Mrs. Blackbird covered him with her warm feathered body, and turned him over every day so that he should grow evenly; and Mr. Blackbird sat on a branch and sang: "How the sun shines! How bright is the world!"

It was delightfully warm and cosy in the little shell-house, so Blackie was content for a long time. But when he had grown as big as the shell would let him, and had used up all the food that had been stored for him, he wished to come out. He pecked at the shell, and his mother heard him.

"That is well," she said; "so you are ready to come out into the world. Peck hard till you make a hole. Then poke out your head."

He pecked hard, and Mrs. Blackbird helped gently from her side. Presently a hole was made, and out popped the little head.

"Cheep!" he said. "Cheep! Cheep!"

"Push with your shoulders till you crack the shell," said his mother. He pushed and pushed, and soon the shell split, and he stepped out.

"Well, you are not very handsome," said his father, looking in over the edge of the nest, "but you will be much better looking when your feathers come."

He certainly was not handsome, for he was bald all over, and his mouth looked too big for his body. But he did not know that, so he was quite happy. "Cheep!" he said. "What a brown world it is!" For all he could see was the inside of the nest, and he thought that was the world.

"Here is a worm," said Mrs. Blackbird. How that big mouth of his opened! In the weeks that followed both father and mother had to work hard to keep it filled. But they had their reward, for Blackie grew big and strong, and his feathers came.

He could look over the top of the nest now. "Cheep! What a green world it is!" he said; for all he could see was the tree, and he thought that was the world. The wind blew, and the branches swayed to and fro and rocked the nest till he fell asleep.

"Come out and learn to fly," said his mother one day. "Stand on the edge of the nest and fly down to the branch below."

She showed him how to do it, and he peeped over the edge of the nest and watched her. But it looked such a long way to the branch that he was afraid. He crept down into the nest again and would not come out. "What nonsense!" said Mrs. Blackbird; and she tumbled him out with her beak. He landed safely on the branch, as she knew he would. Then she and Mr. Blackbird sat beside him and showed him how to grasp with his toes, and how to spread out his wings. With the greatest patience they taught him step by step to fly, leading him first from twig to twig, then from big branch to big branch, and last from tree to tree.

Then he was taught how to find his food--taught how to pull a worm out of its hole, where to look for caterpillars and grubs, and how to catch a fly on the wing. At last he knew it all, and he could earn his own living.

Then he, too, sat on a branch and sang like his father: "How the sun shines! How bright is the world!"

LITTLE BIRDS

"Pretty Dearie! Pretty Dearie!"
Hear the gay father-bird sing to his wife.
"Pretty Dearie! Pretty Dearie!
Ours is a beautiful life.

"Sweetest Birdie! Sweetest Birdie!"
Hark how he calls while she sits on her nest!
"Sweetest Birdie! Sweetest Birdie!
Of all the world I love you best."

THE BROWNIES

Amongst the roots of the grass in the lawn lay hundreds of tiny eggs. One by one they hatched out as the sun warmed the earth and the soft showers moistened it, and soon the grass roots were alive with tiny grubs. They crawled about, cutting the poor grass roots and stems with their hard little jaws, and at once beginning to grow fat on the pieces they bit out and swallowed. All day and every day they ate, for their one aim in life was to be big and strong. "Then by and by our wings will grow and we shall fly," they thought. They were not as brown now as they would be when their wings had grown. Only their heads and jaws were brown as yet; their soft ringed bodies and curled-up tails and six jointed legs were all grey-green.

They had a lazy time under the ground, for they had nothing to do but to burrow and eat; but that just suited them. They made such good use of their time that the master of the garden looked with despair at the brown patches in his lawn. "Those dreadful grubs!" he said. "They are spoiling my beautiful lawn."

They lived there for three or four years. Then one by one they all stopped eating. They were so fat that they could hardly move, and so drowsy that they didn't want to. So they curled themselves up and went to sleep, and did not wake for many a day.

As they slept their skins grew hard and transparent, and new ones grew underneath. Two wings grew along their sides, though there was not yet room for them to open out, and two brown shields grew to cover them.

One by one the Brownies woke up. "Our wings have come! We must go out and fly!" they said.

They stretched their dried outside skins till they cracked open down the middle of the back. Then they pushed themselves out of the opening, and crawled out under the grass blades to dry themselves in the sun. Slowly and carefully they stretched out their fine new wings, tried their feelers, and lifted their strong brown shields till they hardened in the air.

They were brown beetles now, and they felt proud of themselves. They crept about to show themselves and to look at one another, and they chattered together and made plans for flying off when they were ready.

Just as evening came they were all ready to go. They lifted their wings again and again to let the air into their bodies, then up they flew, out into the wide garden-world.

Away at the back of the house there was a patch of growing potatoes. They soon found it out. They alighted on the leaves and began at once to eat them, for they were hungry after their long sleep.

They feasted all night, but when the daylight came they slipped under the leaves and hung there out of sight. They had been so long used to the darkness under the earth that now they preferred shady corners to open daylight.

"Those dreadful brown beetles have been here and spoilt my potato plants," said the master of the garden. "I wish I could catch them." He did not know that they were hiding under the leaves quite close to him.

BRAVE ROSE-PINK

Autumn was passing, and Jack Frost was frightening all the flowers away. Even the seeds could not bear to stay above the ground, but crept underneath out of the cold. The tiny underground elves gathered them and carried them away to the Earth-mother's warm nurseries, and tucked them into soft cradles till it should be time to return them to the garden for the spring growth.

But a sweet-pea seed refused to come down. "No," she said; "I do not wish to lie in a cradle all the winter. I wish to stay here and grow. I am already sprouting, and I intend to go on." She would not be moved.

The elves went to the Earth-mother.

"There is a sweet-pea seed above the ground, Rose-Pink by name, who refuses to come below," they said. "What shall we do with her?"

"Tell her that Jack Frost will nip her with his cruel fingers if she stays there," said the Earth-mother.

The elves took the message, but soon returned.

"She says she is strong and hardy, and will laugh at Jack Frost," they reported.

"Tell her the Storm-king will beat her down with his great winds, and break her back," said the Earth-mother.

They went again, but returned and said: "She says she will grow little tendrils with which to hold tightly to the fence, so that the great winds cannot tear her down."

"Tell her that the Snow-queen will bury her in her cold white snowflakes," said the Earth-mother.

"She says she will not die, but will push her head through the cold white snowflakes," they said when they came back.

"Then leave her alone," said the Earth-mother. "She is brave, and perhaps her courage will carry her safely through the winter. If it does her reward will come in the summer."

So Rose-Pink was left alone, and went on growing quietly by the fence, taking advantage of every little bit of sunshine that came her way. Jack Frost nipped her with his cruel fingers, but she only laughed at him; the Storm-king tried to beat her down with his great winds, but she clung to the fence with her little tendrils; the Snow-queen buried her in her cold white snowflakes, but she pushed her head through and lived on.

At last the winter passed, and the soft spring air blew over the garden. The elves brought back the seeds and set them in their places. "Rose-Pink must be dead," they said, and they ran to look.

"I am alive and well, and very happy," sang Rose-Pink from half-way up the fence.

She grew fast now, and soon reached the top of the fence. Then came her reward; for while the other sweet-peas were only half grown, her little buds came and her flowers opened out. Such glorious flowers they were, flushed like the sunrise sky. Rose-Pink sang for joy, and breathed out scented happiness on every breeze.

"You have come long before your sisters," said the Bees. "Nothing in all the garden is so sweet and beautiful as you."

SWEET-PEA LAND

Oh, have you been to Sweet-pea Land,
Where little brown seeds once lay?
And have you seen the tall green swings
That cover that Land to-day?

And have you seen in Sweet-pea Land
The dear wee ladies who swing?
They've blowing frocks of blue and pink
As light as a silken wing.

And have you smelt in Sweet-pea Land
The scent the wee ladies throw
From each to each, as up and down
The wonderful green swings go?

And have you heard in Sweet-pea Land
The question-song of the bee?
"Dear Lady Pink, Dear Lady Blue,
Have you some honey for me?"

Oh, come with me to Sweet-pea Land,
Where little brown seeds once lay;
Where green swings rock in the summer wind.
And pretty wee ladies play.

MRS. FROG, MR. FROG, AND THE LITTLE FROG

"Do you mean to say I was ever like that?" asked Mrs. Frog.

"Of course you were. We all were," said Mr. Frog.

"I don't believe you," said Mrs. Frog. "Why, it is nothing but a little ball of jelly with a spot in it. How can it grow into a frog?"

"Well, I don't know exactly how it does it," said Mr. Frog, "but you can see it is an egg, and eggs grow into the most wonderful things."

"I am not going to believe this one will grow into a frog till I see it," said Mrs. Frog; and she swam away.

The egg lay in the water under a lily leaf. It certainly did not look in the least like a frog; indeed, it did not at first seem alive at all. But the spot began to spread, and day by day it grew till at last a tiny tadpole came out of the jelly and hung on to the lily leaf.

Mrs. Frog saw it, and called Mr. Frog to come and look.

"You were wrong," she said. "It is not a frog. It is only a kind of wormy thing."

"Give it time," said Mr. Frog. "We all began like that."

"What nonsense you talk, Mr. Frog! If it's a frog, where is its head? Where is its mouth? Where are its legs? The thing is nothing but a jelly-worm stuck on a leaf. And you tell me I was once like that! I have no patience with you. I shall not stay to hear another word."

Left to herself, the little tadpole dropped from the lily leaf and swam about in the water. In a day or two the head and mouth appeared, and funny, frilly breathing gills grew out from her sides. Then these went away and inside gills grew. A hard little beak grew on her mouth, just the thing for nibbling leaves and stalks. Now she spent all the day eating vegetable dinners and growing. How fast she grew, to be sure!

Mrs. Frog came one day to see how she looked. "Do you call that a frog?" she asked Mr. Frog scornfully. "Whoever saw a frog with a tail? Or eating leaves? Or breathing like a fish?"

"My dear, think back," said Mr. Frog. "Have you no memory of a time in your youth when we all swam together in the water, never wishing to go up on the land? You had a lovely long tail in those days. And do you not remember how sweet those green things tasted to us?"

A puzzled look came into Mrs. Frog's eyes, and a dim remembrance flashed across her brain.

"Oh, well, I shall watch," she said.

So every day Mrs. Frog jumped into the pool and swam round the little tadpole, watching the changes that took place. Soon she saw the hind-legs begin to grow. Then one day the tadpole left off eating, and startling changes began to take place. The tail dwindled away, giving up its strength to feed the body; the horny beak dropped off; the mouth widened and widened, till it went nearly round the head; the tongue grew big; the eyes and the front legs came out through the skin. Day by day the changes went on, and Mrs. Frog was at last convinced that the little tadpole was really a frog.

When she saw the little creature rise up to the surface and swim to the shore, breathing as frogs breathe, and when she saw her jump up on the land and catch a fly and eat it, she went home.

"You were right, after all," she said to Mr. Frog.

"Of course I was," said Mr. Frog.

BUTTERCUPS

It was not at all a pretty spot, this swampy bit of roadside. A coarse grass was the only thing that grew on it, for its soil was always wet and spongy.

Its neighbours despised it. "If you grew pink-tipped daisies and pretty white bells like mine," said the Hill, "the children would love you." "Or if you grew red and white clover like mine," said the Field, "they would love you." "Or if you grew wild roses like mine," said the Hedge, "they would love you."

But the swampy ground could grow neither daisies nor bells nor clover nor wild roses. It lay there, ugly and useless and sad.

One day a bird dropped a clinging seed from its feet as it passed; that was the beginning of the wonderful change that came to the despised piece of ground. The tiny seed sank into the soft wet earth, sprouted, and grew. Soon it was a well-grown plant, with beautiful broad leaves. It stretched its soft green stems over the ground, rooted afresh on this side and on that, and spread and spread and spread. How quickly the white roots grew! The damp soil suited them perfectly.

"This is a splendid growing place," they said.

"You dear things!" said the Ground. "How pleased I am that you have come! I will do my very best for you."

The summer and the winter passed, and spring came. From the new plants little round buds pushed up their heads. They grew fast, and opened out into golden flowers. "Buttercups! Buttercups!" shouted the children. They ran down the hill to where the new flowers shone in the morning sun. How lovely these golden flowers were! How their polished petals glittered! They looked like fairy-cups in the children's hands.

The swampy ground has never been sad since, for now it is always beautiful, and the children love it. Year after year they watch the little buds unfold; then they fill their hands and pinafores with the golden buttercups, and carry them home as treasures to be loved and prized above all other flowers.

SPINNY SPIDER

"Why don't you grow wings?" asked the Red Butterfly. "And whatever is the good of having all those legs? Eight! Why, I am sure six are enough for anybody. You are not at all handsome."

Spinny Spider turned herself round and round, and looked her velvety body all over with her six eyes.

"We seem to look at things from different standpoints," she said. "I have no fault to find with my shape. I don't admire wings at all, and I certainly need all my legs. But I have no time to argue. I have my web to make."

She ran to the top of the hedge and found a nice space between several twigs. Then she sat still, and from a little spinneret on each side of her body she drew hundreds of fine threads of silk, so soft and gummy that they looked like honey. With the tiny combs she carried on each hind foot she combed the threads in the air till they dried and hardened; then she twisted them into a single silken rope.

She worked hard, and soon had made enough of the rope to reach to the opposite twig, so she put a drop of gum on it and let it float in the air till it caught the twig and stuck there. "This is a good start," she said. Now she climbed a higher twig and made another rope, and dropped it across the first one at right angles. Then she made several more, fastening them all together in the middle and gumming them tightly to twigs at the ends, until at last the foundation of the web was made. It looked like the spokes of a wheel without the rim.

She began to spin a finer rope. As she spun she moved slowly from spoke to spoke, drawing the new rope with her and gumming it firmly to each spoke. Round and round she went in ever-widening circles, till the web was complete.

Then she stood for a moment to admire her finished work. And well she might admire, for a moonshine wheel in a fairy coach could not be more beautiful than this. The delicate white silk glistened and shone in the sunlight, and here and there on every circle were set tiny drops of gum that gleamed like golden balls.

In the centre there was no gum, for that was to be Spinny's waiting place. She curled herself up to rest after her work and to wait for her tea. And her tea soon came. A gnat came flying past in a hurry, caught one of his wings in the web, and in a moment was struggling for his life. "The gum will hold him," thought Spinny to herself. "I need not move." The gum did hold him, and his struggles only tightened the web about him. In a few minutes he was dead; Spinny went over to him, and had him for tea. Then she rolled herself up again.

Presently a big blue-bottle fly came noisily buzzing along, and blundered into the net.

"Goodness gracious! what's all this?" he shouted; and he banged and kicked with all his wings and legs. Such a commotion! "He will smash my web and get away, after all," cried Spinny, and she was out to him in a moment. Quickly she spun a few threads and bound them round him to hold him. Then she unsheathed two sharp claws in her feelers. She drove these into the fly, holding them still for a second while a drop of poison from her poison bag ran down each claw into the wound. Very soon Blue-bottle was dead.

"This is a splendid tea!" said Spinny. "The wings are too hard and dry, but the body is just what I like."

"You savage creature!" cried the Red Butterfly, who had seen the death of the fly. "How can you bear to be so cruel?"

"Again we look at things from different standpoints," said Spinny. "I cannot eat honey like you, but am made to live on flesh and blood. What seems cruelty to you is only my nature, and I cannot help my nature. I must get my food in this way, or I should die."

SPINNY SPIDER'S CHILDREN

"What are you making now?" asked the Red Butterfly of Spinny Spider.

"A round cradle for my babies," said Spinny Spider.

"Really! And where are the babies?"

"They are not here yet. Don't talk to me. I am busy."

She went on working, spinning fine silk threads and weaving them carefully into a ball-shaped cradle.

Then she put her little white eggs in it, and picked it up and carried it about with her.

"Well, you are a silly!" cried the Butterfly. "Fancy carrying that weight about with you wherever you go. Why don't you do as I do?"

"What do you do?" asked Spinny Spider.

"I leave my eggs on a stalk or a leaf," said the Butterfly. "The sun hatches them, and I have no further trouble."

"And do you mean to say you do nothing more for them?"

"Nothing at all."

"Don't you even go to see how they are? Why, something might eat them!"

"I lay them as far out of sight as I can," said the Butterfly. "That is all I can do."

"That way would never suit me," said Spinny Spider. "You call me cruel, but I say you are heartless."

"It is my nature. I cannot help it," said the Butterfly. "As you yourself said, we look at things from different standpoints."

Spinny Spider said nothing, but hugged her precious burden more closely to her. By and by, however, a wasp was caught in her nest, so she hid the cradle for safety in the darkest corner of her little house near by, while she attended to Mr. Wasp.

After a few days the children came out of their shells. What a crowd! They ran all over the little house and peeped into everything. "Come out and see the world," said Spinny Spider. She led them out into the sunshine.

Wicked Mr. Striped Spider was passing the door. "Good day, Spinny Spider!" he said. "That is a fine family of yours. May I look at the little dears?"

"No, indeed!" cried Spinny Spider, for she knew he only wanted to eat them.

She placed herself in front of them, and a great fight began. Mr. Striped Spider was hungry, and if he could only kill Spinny Spider he might have the whole family for dinner. But Spinny Spider was fighting for the lives of her children, and her love for them gave her strength and fierceness. Mr. Striped Spider soon lay dead at her feet. Then the family had him for dinner.

The Red Butterfly had seen it all. "How you fight!" she said. "What are you going to do next?"

"Come in and see," said Spinny Spider.

"No, thank you," said the Butterfly. She flew off. She knew Spinny Spider's ways too well.

The children began at once to make dainty little webs for themselves, and to catch their own food. Spinny Spider saw with pride that without any teaching they were able to make their webs as perfectly as she could. They soon started out in life on their own account, each one looking after himself.

TINYBOY

Tinyboy lived in a big red poppy. It was a pretty house. The walls were red silk, and the floor was black velvet, and there were plenty of soft velvet balls to play with. In the day-time the bees and butterflies came to see him; at night, when the poppy shut its petals, he crept down into the seed-box and slept in his warm blankets.

But Tinyboy grew very lonely, for he had no one to play with. The bees and butterflies were always in such a hurry that they had no time for a game, and he had no one else to talk to. He was really a merry little fellow, but just now he was so lonely that he grew quite cross.

He sat on his doorstep and kicked his heels, and said: "Oh, dear! I wish I had somebody to play with. I'm tired of this big, lonely house, and those silly bees and butterflies that are always in such a hurry. I do wish somebody would come and play with me."

"How cross you are to-day," said a Red Butterfly who heard what he said. "If you are so rude we won't come to see you at all," she went on. "Fancy calling us silly!"

"Oh, well," said Tinyboy, "you know I didn't mean it. Only I'm so lonely, and you never will stop to play with me."

"I should think not," said the Butterfly. "I have my work to do, and I can't stop to play. Why don't you go out and look for a playmate?"

"How can I?" asked Tinyboy. "You know I can't get out of this house. It's so high up that I should fall and hurt myself if I stepped out. I can't fly like you, for I have no wings."

"No, neither you have! I forgot about that," said the Butterfly. "Well, I feel sorry for you, so I'll tell you what I shall do. I shall give you a ride round the garden on my back, and we'll look for a playmate for you."

"Oh, that will be grand," said Tinyboy. "I'm ready now."

"Jump on, then," said the Butterfly, "and hold tight."

Tinyboy jumped on and held tight, and off they started.

It was a wonderful ride. Tinyboy had never been out of his house before, so he knew nothing about the other flowers in the garden. When he saw the roses and lilies and pansies and bluebells he thought this must be the great world he had heard the bees talking about.

"Is this the world?" he asked.

The Butterfly laughed.

"No," she said; "this is only a garden. Over the hedge there is another garden, and past that there is another, and many more after that. It takes more gardens than one to make a world."

"Ah, well. I'm sure it is pretty enough to be a world," said Tinyboy; and so it was. The sun shone, the birds sang, the bees and butterflies flew gaily about their work, and the flowers laughed and nodded to one another across the garden. It was all lovely; Tinyboy would have liked to ride all day on the Butterfly's back. But he knew the Butterfly must soon go on with her work, so he began to look about for a playmate.

"Let us see if anyone is at home here," said the Butterfly, stopping at a large pink rose.

"Come out, Rose-lady!" she called, and out came the prettiest little lady you ever saw. She was dressed in soft pink silk, and her hair was yellow and fluffy. She came out smiling at the Butterfly, who was her friend, but as soon as she saw Tinyboy she hid her face shyly in her curls and ran back into her house. The Butterfly called and Tinyboy called, but she was too shy to come out again, so they had at last to fly away to another flower.

The Butterfly stopped next at a bluebell's door. He had no need to call out there, for a little lady dressed all in blue sat on the doorstep.

"Good day, Red Butterfly," she called as they came near. "Who is this on your back?"

"This is Tinyboy," said the Butterfly. "He is looking for a playmate. Will you come?"

The blue lady looked at Tinyboy and shook her head. "I don't like red," she said, pointing to Tinyboy's red clothes. "I like boys in blue suits."

"That's right," called a merry voice from the next bluebell. Tinyboy looked and saw a little fellow in a bright blue suit laughing up at him. "The blue lady is my playmate," he said, "and you are not to take her away."

So Tinyboy and the Butterfly went on. By and by they came to a big red poppy with a black velvet floor. "Why, that is just like my house," Tinyboy said when he saw it. "Is it my house?"

"No," said the Butterfly. "Your house is at the other side of the garden. Tinygirl lives here."

The Butterfly stood on the edge of the poppy, and Tinyboy looked in. There sat a dear little Tinygirl on the doorstep, swinging her feet just as Tinyboy had done in his house, and looking just as lonely as he had been. She was dressed all in red silk, and her wee cap of black velvet was just like his.

She smiled at Tinyboy and Tinyboy smiled at her, and said: "Will you play with me?"

"Of course I will," she said at once. "Come into my house and play ball."

THE MOSQUITO BABIES

On the top of the pool floated a dainty raft of mosquito eggs, glued together by their careful mother to keep them from sinking. In a day or two tiny wrigglers came out of the eggs, and began to dart about in every direction to find their food.

They were the queerest little water-babies! Their bodies were long and jointed, and from every jointed bit little bundles of swimming hairs stuck out on both sides. They had feelers on their heads, and they breathed through their tails--of all strange places! When they wanted a fresh supply of air they stood head downwards in the water, with tails stuck up to breathe.

How those babies did wriggle about, to be sure! They seemed never to be still for a moment. They would take in air, then sink to the bottom of the pool and draw in tinier creatures than themselves with their mouth hairs, then, having made their meal, wriggle up again to the top. And every movement was so wonderfully quick! It had to be so, indeed, for young dragon-flies and water-spiders and many other enemies were always waiting to swallow them if the chance came.

After a few days the wrigglers changed their shapes in the strangest ways. Funny round shields grew over their heads, and two little tubes grew up from the top of each shield. These tubes stood above the water when the babies were at the top, and now the tail curled round, and was not used for breathing any more, for the babies breathed through the two little tubes.

Under the shield the babies were busily making their wings and growing into mother and father mosquitoes. But though they were so busy, they did not rest; they moved about almost as much as ever, but now their heads were so heavy that they tumbled and bobbed up and down instead of wriggling. So everybody in the pond called them tumblers.

Now came their last days in the pond. One by one they pushed themselves out of their old skins, and stood on top of them to dry their wings. Then they left their old home, flying off to the nearest bushes for their first rest, and from there seeking out their food. "We want only juices," said the father mosquitoes; "juices of fruit or sweet green things."

But the mother mosquitoes said: "We want blood. Nothing but blood. Where is it? Where is it?"

THE SCRAMBLER

He was a young blackberry plant; but he was so tiny that he could scarcely be seen. Indeed, there was such a crush of growing things round him that it was a wonder he was not choked. He had started life under a hedge where the tangled weeds grew so thickly that even air was scarce; it looked for a time as if the little Scrambler must die.

But his heart was bold; he did not give up. He pushed and pushed till he rose a little higher and could breathe a little more freely; then he grew a number of strong curved hooks on his arms.

"Kindly allow me to hold on to you," he said to the nearest weeds. He held on to them with his hooks and rose yet higher in the crowd.

"Take your hooks out. You are hurting us!" cried the weeds. They tried to grow above him and to crush him down, but he had the start now, and he made the most of it. Higher and higher he grew, holding on to the taller plants, and sending out new hooked branches on every side to help in his support. At last his head rose above all the surrounding plants. He could breathe freely in the sweet air. "Ah! this is delightful!" he cried. He grew fast, spreading himself out widely on both sides.

Next he turned his attention to the hedge. "I must climb to the top," he said, "so as to escape its shadow and get all the sunshine there is." Hook by hook and branch by branch he climbed up the side of the hedge until he could look over the top.

"Why don't you grow thick stems of your own instead of hanging on to other people?" grumbled the hedge. But the Scrambler took no notice; he was busy making his flowers. "Now that I have been so successful, I must do my duty and bear seeds," he said to himself.

When the buds opened he was starred with pretty white blossoms tinged here and there with pink. He put plenty of honey in the honey-cups, so the insects came in crowds and carried his pollen from flower to flower. "That is well," he said. "Now my seeds will set."

Soon the petals fell and the seeds set. "I must make a sweet berry, so that the birds will carry my seeds away to grow," he said. So he set his seeds in berries that turned black and sweet and juicy. The birds came and picked them, and carried the seeds away to grow.

"I wonder you like to see your children going so far away from you," said the Hedge.

"It is the best thing for them," replied the Scrambler. "There is no room for them here. They would be choked if they fell beneath my branches."

There was indeed no room for them there. The Scrambler had not only covered the top of the hedge, but had grown over the other side too, down to the ground.

WOOLLYMOOLLY

Woollymoolly blamed the sweet-peas and sunflowers and gold and purple pansies; but I blame Woollymoolly for not doing as he was told. He never would do what he was told, and that caused all the trouble. When he was only a few weeks old he jumped down from the railway truck, away from his mother; and though she called him and called him and called him, he just ran and ran and ran till he was lost. Then a big kind lady found him and took him home and fed him; and he became a Pet Lamb.