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THE TALE OF MRS. LADYBUG
* * * * *
_TUCK-ME-IN TALES_
(Trademark Registered)
BY
ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY
AUTHOR OF
SLEEPY-TIME TALES
(Trademark Registered)
THE TALE OF JOLLY ROBIN
THE TALE OF OLD MR. CROW
THE TALE OF SOLOMON OWL
THE TALE OF JASPER JAY
THE TALE OF RUSTY WREN
THE TALE OF DADDY LONGLEGS
THE TALE OF KIDDIE KATYDID
THE TALE OF BUSTER BUMBLEBEE
THE TALE OF FREDDIE FIREFLY
THE TALE OF BETSY BUTTERFLY
THE TALE OF BOBBY BOBOLINK
THE TALE OF CHIRPY CRICKET
THE TALE OF MRS. LADYBUG
THE TALE OF REDDY WOODPECKER
THE TALE OF GRANDMOTHER GOOSE
* * * * *
[Illustration: Mrs. Ladybug Scolds Buster Bumblebee
_Frontispiece_.--(_Page 12_)]
_Tuck-Me-in Tales_
(Trademark Registered)
THE TALE OF MRS. LADYBUG
by
ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY
Author of
"Sleepy-Time Tales"
(Trademark Registered)
and
"Slumber-Town Tales"
(Trademark Registered)
Illustrated by Harry L. Smith
New York
Grosset & Dunlap
Publishers
Made in the United States of America
Copyright, 1921, by
Grosset & Dunlap
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I THE POLKA DOT LADY
II BUSTER'S RESOLVE
III HIDDEN WINGS
IV RUSTY WREN HELPS
V A HARD SHELL
VI THE TRAVELER
VII A HANDSOME STRANGER
VIII SEEKING THE TRUTH
IX THAT CARPETBAG
X A BIT OF NEWS
XI THE NEW COUSIN
XII A QUEER WAY TO HELP
XIII JENNIE JUNEBUG
XIV BUMPS
XV ENOUGH!
XVI PLAYING DEAD
XVII A BRAVE GENTLEMAN
XVIII A MYSTERY
XIX THE DINNER BELL
XX FIRE! FIRE!
XXI PLANS FOR WINTER
XXII MRS. LADYBUG LEAVES
XXIII BACK AGAIN
XXIV MRS. GREEN'S MISTAKE
THE TALE OF MRS. LADYBUG
I
THE POLKA DOT LADY
LITTLE Mrs. Ladybug was a worker. Nobody could deny that. To be sure,
she had to stop now and then to talk to her neighbors, because Mrs.
Ladybug dearly loved a bit of gossip. At the same time there wasn't
anyone in Pleasant Valley that helped Farmer Green more than she did.
She tried her hardest to keep the trees in the orchard free from
insects.
Some of her less worthy neighbors were known sometimes to say with a
sniff, "If Mrs. Ladybug didn't enjoy her work she wouldn't care about
helping Farmer Green. If she hadn't such a big appetite she'd stop to
chat even more than she does now."
That might seem an odd remark--unless one happened to know how Mrs.
Ladybug freed the orchard of the tiny pests that attacked it. The truth
of the matter was this: Mrs. Ladybug _ate_ the little insects that fed
upon the fruit trees. Her constant toil meant that she devoured huge
numbers of Farmer Green's enemies.
Goodness knows what Farmer Green would have done had Mrs. Ladybug and
all her family lost their taste for that kind of fare. The orchard might
have been a sorry sight.
Perhaps it was only to be expected that Mrs. Ladybug should have little
patience with folk that seemed lazy. She thought that Freddie Firefly
wasted too much of his time dancing in the meadow at night. She
considered Buster Bumblebee, the Queen's son, to be a useless idler,
dressed in his black velvet and gold. Having heard that Daddy Longlegs
was a harvestman, she urged him to go to work for Farmer Green at
harvest time. And as for the beautiful Betsy Butterfly, Mrs. Ladybug
found all manner of fault with her.
Nothing made Mrs. Ladybug angrier than to see Betsy Butterfly flitting
from flower to flower in the sunshine, followed by her admirers.
"What _can_ they see in that gaudy creature?" Mrs. Ladybug often asked
her friends.
It will appear, from this, that Mrs. Ladybug was not always as pleasant
as she might have been. Moreover, she was something of a busybody and
too fond of prying into the affairs of others. And if she didn't happen
to approve of her neighbors, or their ways, Mrs. Ladybug never hesitated
to speak her mind.
When she first appeared on Farmer Green's place, wearing her bright red
gown with its black spots, everyone supposed that Mrs. Ladybug was
dressed in her working clothes. And indeed she was! Nor did she ever don
any other.
"I've no time to fritter away," she declared when somebody asked her
what she was going to wear to Betsy Butterfly's party. "If I go to the
party I'll just drop in for a few minutes as I am, in my polka dot."
Her neighbors thought that very strange. They even whispered to one
another that they didn't believe Mrs. Ladybug had anything else to
wear.
Nor had she. Nor did she want any. And it wasn't long before everybody
understood Mrs. Ladybug's ways. She was so earnest that they couldn't
help liking her, no matter if her remarks were a bit tart now and then.
II
BUSTER'S RESOLVE
NOT only was Betsy Butterfly a beautiful creature. She was pleasant to
everybody. And almost all her neighbors were just as pleasant to her.
Mrs. Ladybug was one of the few that were sometimes disagreeable to
Betsy. For Mrs. Ladybug did not approve of her. She thought that Betsy
Butterfly was frivolous. And she frowned whenever she saw Betsy in her
beautiful costume.
"She _never_ wears working clothes," Mrs. Ladybug often complained, when
talking to her friends. "Now, if Betsy Butterfly would only wear
something plain and serviceable, as I do, once in a while, people might
have a different opinion of her. She ought to try this hard-finished red
and black polka dot of mine. It's a wonderful piece of goods."
One day Mrs. Ladybug was gossiping in that fashion with Mehitable Moth,
a soberly clad person who was always a bit jealous of the gorgeous
Betsy. And Mehitable Moth nodded her head to everything that little Mrs.
Ladybug said.
"What do you think of Betsy Butterfly's wings?" Miss Moth inquired.
"They're all for show," Mrs. Ladybug declared. "They're so flimsy and
delicate that Betsy Butterfly never dares venture out in bad weather. Of
what use would I be to Farmer Green if I had wings like hers? If I
stayed under cover whenever the sun didn't shine, the orchard would soon
be overrun with insects."
Now, it happened that Buster Bumblebee was sipping nectar from a head of
clover near by. Of course, he wasn't listening to what Mrs. Ladybug and
Miss Moth were saying. But he couldn't help hearing their remarks. And
being a great admirer of Betsy Butterfly, he wasn't at all pleased. He
even buzzed near the two gossipers and said to them, "Can't you find
something else to talk about?"
"Such rudeness!" Mrs. Ladybug gasped.
"What shocking manners!" cried Miss Mehitable Moth.
They hoped that Buster Bumblebee heard what they said. Anyhow, he flew
off in his blundering, clumsy way without speaking to them again.
"Who is this Mrs. Ladybug, to pick flaws in the beautiful Betsy
Butterfly?" he asked himself savagely. "Who is she to find fault with
Betsy's lovely wings? If Mrs. Ladybug herself had wings, I shouldn't
think her chatter so strange. But a person with no wings has no business
expressing his views of somebody else's."
Buster Bumblebee was so out of patience with Mrs. Ladybug that he lost
his taste for clover heads for the rest of the afternoon. And that was a
most unusual thing with him. However, he could think of nothing but Mrs.
Ladybug and her unkind speeches. And at last, meeting Betsy Butterfly
herself along towards sunset, he stopped to tell how well she was
looking and how charming her colors were.
Betsy Butterfly was not vain. She laughed gayly and said, "You're very
kind to say those agreeable things."
"I can't help it," he replied heartily.
"Everybody's not like you," Betsy Butterfly told him.
"Then you've been hearing about Mrs. Ladybug!" he cried. "Somebody has
been tattling."
"It doesn't matter," Betsy Butterfly assured him. "Perhaps it's good for
me to know that everyone doesn't admire me."
Buster Bumblebee didn't agree with her.
"I'll have to speak to Mrs. Ladybug," he declared.
"Oh, don't!" Betsy Butterfly begged him; for she was as gentle as she
was beautiful and never wanted people to quarrel on her account.
But Buster Bumblebee had made up his mind and nothing could change it.
III
HIDDEN WINGS
THE next day Buster Bumblebee set out for the orchard to find Mrs.
Ladybug. He wanted to warn her to stop talking about Betsy Butterfly.
But Buster hadn't realized that it was not an easy matter to say
anything to Mrs. Ladybug. Mrs. Ladybug always liked to do most of the
talking herself. She preferred to let others listen.
He found her hard at work destroying insects on an old apple tree. And
when she caught sight of him Mrs. Ladybug paused in her labors.
"Well, young man!" she exclaimed, looking at Buster severely. "Are you
idling this lovely day away? You don't seem to be making any honey."
Buster wished that he had spoken first. He certainly had had no
intention of discussing such matters as honey making.
"I don't need to make honey," he told Mrs. Ladybug. "The workers in our
hive provide honey enough. Maybe you didn't know that I'm of royal
blood. I'm the Queen's son. I don't have to work," he declared somewhat
hotly.
"Rubbish!" cried Mrs. Ladybug, regarding him with a frown. "Go get
yourself some working clothes! Take off your black velvet and gold! And
save that suit for best!"
"You don't understand," Buster tried to explain. "Being a Queen's son,
I'm expected to wear my court costume every day."
"Nonsense!" Mrs. Ladybug retorted. "The sooner you get such silly
notions out of your head, the better off you'll be. Everybody ought to
work. Too much play is bad for folks."
Buster Bumblebee could feel himself flushing. The neighbors were not
expected to address a Queen's son in that fashion.
"That's exactly the way you talk about Betsy Butterfly!" he exploded.
"Huh!" Mrs. Ladybug sniffed. "You are a worthless pair. Betsy
Butterfly's wings--"
At this point Buster managed to interrupt her.
"Don't talk about wings, please!" he cried. "Who are you, to talk about
wings?--when you haven't any yourself."
Mrs. Ladybug started; and she gave him a queer look. "What's that?" she
inquired. "What's that? Say that again!"
"You haven't any wings."
"Ho!" she laughed. "You're mistaken. I _have_ wings."
"Then you've left them at home," he insisted.
Mrs. Ladybug smiled a very knowing sort of smile. When he saw it Buster
Bumblebee couldn't help feeling uncomfortable. Somehow he knew that he
had blundered. But just where he had erred he was unable to decide.
"Watch sharp, young sir!" Mrs. Ladybug bade him. "Watch sharp and
perhaps you'll be able to learn something."
Then Buster Bumblebee received the surprise of his life. As he watched,
little Mrs. Ladybug opened her shell-like, black-dotted, red back and
spread a pair of delicate brown wings.
"See these?" she said to Buster Bumblebee, who gasped at her blankly.
"I've really _two_ pairs of wings, because my polka dot wing covers are
actually wings too--only folks don't usually call them by that name."
Having spread her wings, Mrs. Ladybug decided to take a short flight.
And with Buster gazing dully after her she flitted off.
"I'll have to tell my mother, the Queen, about this," he muttered.
IV
RUSTY WREN HELPS
RUSTY WREN'S wife was getting very impatient. She was at home with her
fast-growing family of youngsters, at home in the cherry tree near
Farmer Green's chamber window.
"Dear me!" Mrs. Wren exclaimed. "I don't see what's keeping Rusty. It's
at least a quarter of an hour since he brought any food to these
children."
Mrs. Wren soon grew tired of waiting.
"I'll go and find him!" she said under her breath. And telling her
nestlings that she would be back in a few minutes, she hurried off
towards the orchard.
"I thought so!" Mrs. Wren muttered soon afterward, as she caught sight
of her husband. He was talking with Jolly Robin, in the old apple tree
where the Robin family lived. "I thought so!"
"Have you forgotten your duty as a parent?" Mrs. Wren asked her husband
in a tart voice, dropping down on a branch right behind him.
Rusty Wren jumped.
"I've been here only a second or two," he faltered. "Mr. Robin and I had
a little business together."
"So I see," said Mrs. Wren. "So I see. And now, if your business is
finished, allow me to remind you that you have six hungry sons and
daughters at home." Then Mrs. Wren twitched herself off her perch and
flew back to the cherry tree and her family.
"I declare," Rusty Wren remarked to his friend Jolly Robin, "I must
have stayed here, talking with you, longer than I thought. Those
children have enormous appetites. I'll have to work more spryly than
ever to get them fed before sunset."
"I know how that is," said Jolly Robin with a chuckle. Somehow he seemed
much more cheerful than his companion. "I was actually glad when our
last nestlings were big enough to leave home and hustle for themselves.
But, of course," he added, "I still keep an eye on them."
Rusty Wren had already begun to hunt for tidbits. Almost immediately he
found an ant, which he snatched up and carried away. Back and forth he
flew, making dozens of trips between his house and the orchard. Grubs
and caterpillars, grasshoppers and spiders--he seized them wherever he
could spy them and took them home to his famishing children.
Though he worked his hardest, Mrs. Wren hadn't a smile for him. And when
she said anything in his hearing, it was some such remark as this: "You
poor, hungry dears! It's a pity you can't have all you need to eat. I
only hope your scanty meals won't stunt your growth."
Naturally such speeches didn't make her husband feel any more at his
ease.
"I'll have to bring home something special, to please her," he thought.
"I wish I could find some dainty that would put her in better humor."
So he looked all around to see what he could discover that was different
from the food he had been gathering. And it wasn't long before he gave a
chirp of delight. "Here's a pretty beetle!" he cried. "I know it will
make Mrs. Wren smile when I show it to her."
Thereupon Rusty Wren pounced upon Mrs. Ladybug and bore her away,
struggling, in his bill.
V
A HARD SHELL
RUSTY WREN hurried home, carrying Mrs. Ladybug despite her frantic
efforts to escape. She wriggled all her six legs at the same time.
"She'll be pleased with this one," Rusty murmured, as he watched Mrs.
Ladybug's struggles. "Mrs. Wren will certainly thank me when I give her
this morsel."
And she did.
"How lovely!" Mrs. Wren exclaimed when Rusty gave her his captive.
And he was so glad that he hastened away to try to find another just
like that one. But he hadn't gone far before he said, "Ugh! I hope I
haven't made a mistake. I don't like the taste of that beetle." And he
dropped down upon the ground and carefully wiped his bill upon the
grass.
He couldn't help feeling somewhat worried.
"I don't believe the children will notice anything wrong," he muttered.
"So far, they've never refused anything that was offered them. But if
Mrs. Wren tried to eat that beetle herself, I fear there'll be trouble."
And there was. Rusty knew it a few minutes later, when little Mr.
Chippy's son, Chippy, Jr., came flitting up and peeped in his childish
voice, "Please, sir, Mrs. Wren wants you at once."
There was nothing to do except to go home. And Rusty went.
He found Mrs. Wren much upset.
"Are you trying to poison us?" she demanded.
"No, indeed--my love!" Rusty Wren replied meekly.
"Well, you made a terrible mistake, then," she declared.
Meanwhile Rusty Wren was looking all around. Yet he couldn't see the
pretty beetle (meaning Mrs. Ladybug) anywhere. "Somebody must have
swallowed it, anyhow," he thought.
"You must be more careful," his wife told him severely. "That was a
horrid-tasting beetle that you brought home. It's lucky I discovered
that it was a queer one. The children--poor dears!--are so hungry that
any one of them would have bolted it had I offered it to him."
"Then you ate it yourself," Rusty Wren faltered.
"Oh, no, I didn't," said his wife. "I dropped it upon the ground. And no
doubt I'd have thrown it away, anyhow, no matter how it tasted."
"Why?" he asked her. "I thought it was a pretty beetle."
"It was pretty enough--I dare say," Mrs. Wren replied. "But it had a
very hard shell. It wouldn't have been safe to feed it to the children.
Nor should I have cared to eat it myself."
"I thought it was a pretty beetle," Rusty said again. "It was such a gay
color--bright red, you know. It seemed to me it would please the
children, and you, too."
Mrs. Wren still seemed to be somewhat out of patience.
"When you gather food for the youngsters, never mind about the color of
it!" she exclaimed. "If you want to bring them playthings, that's
another matter. But don't fetch home any more pretty red beetles for
them to eat."
"Very well--my love!" said Rusty Wren. And then he slipped away to hunt
for food, because the children were still clamoring for more.
Mrs. Wren talked a good deal, afterward, about her terrible experience.
Yet she never stopped to think about the pretty beetle--about little
Mrs. Ladybug. For Mrs. Ladybug had had a dreadful fright. Luckily she
wasn't hurt. But it was a long time before she was her usual busy, able
self again. And later, when she told her friends about her adventure,
she said that she couldn't understand how Rusty came to make such a
mistake.
"I supposed," Mrs. Ladybug declared, "that every bird in Pleasant Valley
knew I wasn't good to eat."
VI
THE TRAVELER
FARMER GREEN'S garden was growing fast. The sweet corn waved and rustled
whenever a breeze swept it. The beets and carrots sent their pert tops a
little higher each day. The cabbages began to puff their heads out as if
they felt of some importance in the world. And the potato vines were
actually pretty, with their white blossoms amid the green leaves. Farmer
Green was very proud of his potatoes. He said, in Mrs. Ladybug's
hearing, that they were the best he had ever raised.
"I must fly over to the garden and have a look at those potatoes," Mrs.
Ladybug thought. "It's always a pleasure to see flourishing crops."
Before she found time to spare for her visit to the garden a traveler
entered the orchard one day. At least, he had every appearance of having
come from other parts. For he carried a traveling bag--an old-fashioned
carpetbag--and he seemed to have lost his way.
As soon as Mrs. Ladybug saw him she couldn't help thinking what a
handsome person he was. He wore a yellow coat. And instead of being
spotted with black, as her gown was, it was striped.
"Good morning!" said the stranger.
"Good morning!" said Mrs. Ladybug. "Can I be of any service to you?"
The stranger took off his cap. He was a most polite chap.
"Perhaps you can help me," he replied.
"I'm looking for Farmer Green's vegetable garden. Do you know where it
is?"
"Indeed I do!" Mrs. Ladybug cried. "It's at the end of this orchard,
just beyond the fence."
"And the potato patch--I suppose I'll have no trouble finding that?" the
stranger went on.
"Follow your nose!" said Mrs. Ladybug. "You're headed right for it now."
The stranger thanked her. And he was about to move on. But of course
Mrs. Ladybug wanted to talk more than that before he got away.
"The potatoes are fine this season," she remarked.
The stranger looked greatly pleased.
"That's good news," he told her. "Have you seen them yourself?"
"Not yet!" Mrs. Ladybug answered. "But I heard Farmer Green say they
were fine. And he ought to know if anybody does."
"He certainly ought," the stranger agreed. Then, thanking Mrs. Ladybug
once more, he hurried toward the garden.
"One moment!" she called. There were several questions that she wanted
to ask the newcomer. She was wildly curious to know who he was and where
he came from and what business had brought him to Pleasant Valley.
But he couldn't have heard her. Anyhow, he was out of sight in no time,
leaving Mrs. Ladybug almost bursting with the questions that had sprung
to her lips.
"He might have waited a second," she muttered. "But if he has traveled a
long way no doubt he's eager to get to his journey's end."
Luckily Mrs. Ladybug had kept her eyes open when talking with the
gentleman in the striped yellow coat. And as he turned to leave her she
looked closely at his carpetbag. On one side of it she read, in big
letters:
P. BUG
COLORADO
VII
A HANDSOME STRANGER
LITTLE Mrs. Ladybug was too excited to work. Ever since meeting the
stranger in the orchard she had been able to think of nothing but him.
Perhaps if she hadn't happened to notice his carpetbag, with the words,
"P. Bug, Colorado," upon its side, she might not have been so stirred
up.
Anyhow, Mrs. Ladybug kept wondering what business had brought the
stranger to Pleasant Valley. She wished she could find out what he was
going to do in the potato patch. She wanted to ask him why he chose to
have black stripes on his yellow coat, instead of spots. How long had
he been traveling? When did he expect to leave the farm? There was no
end to the questions that Mrs. Ladybug burned to put to him.
Meanwhile she told the news to everybody she saw. For Mrs. Ladybug
dearly loved to spread choice morsels of gossip. It pleased her mightily
to tell her neighbors something they didn't know.
People listened to her story with great interest. They were eager to
learn all about the stranger, whom Mrs. Ladybug declared to be very
handsome.
Mrs. Ladybug made her news last as long as possible in the telling. She
made her neighbors wait a bit for every fact, so they would enjoy it to
the full. And whenever she stopped anyone and told him about the
newcomer, Mrs. Ladybug kept the best part until the last. She always
ended her remarks by saying, with a most important air, "His name is
Mr. P. Bug. And he comes from Colorado."
That never failed to impress her listeners--which was exactly what Mrs.
Ladybug wanted.
Since nobody asked her how she knew the traveler's name, and where he
came from, Mrs. Ladybug did not trouble herself to explain that she had
read both name and place upon his old-fashioned carpetbag.
There was one thing that puzzled her slightly, when she paused to think
about it. How did it happen that the elegant stranger carried a most
unfashionable bag?
Mrs. Ladybug soon settled that question to her own satisfaction.
"He's like me!" she decided. "Mr. P. Bug is a hard worker and he doesn't
care for show. He's a plain person. No doubt he put on that yellow coat
to travel in, because it's his best. But he'll wear overalls, perhaps,
if he starts to work in the potato patch--as I suspect he will."
At last, however, Mrs. Ladybug met with a rude shock. She was telling
her news to Peppery Polly Bumblebee, one of the workers in the hive
ruled by Buster Bumblebee's mother, the well-known Queen. And to Mrs.
Ladybug's amazement, when she related the name of the stranger, and the
place he came from, Peppery Polly laughed in her face.
"Mr. P. Bug is not from Colorado," said Peppery Polly Bumblebee. "He has
never been off this farm."
Well, Mrs. Ladybug was staggered. She gasped. She clung to a leaf to
keep from failing.
"I don't believe that!" she cried, as soon as she could speak. "I'll
find Mr. Bug himself and learn the truth from him."
VIII
SEEKING THE TRUTH
MRS. LADYBUG was determined to know the truth about Mr. P. Bug, the
newcomer. And as soon as she had fully recovered from the rude blow that
Peppery Polly Bumblebee dealt her, she set out for Farmer Green's garden
and the potato patch.
For some time Mrs. Ladybug flew back and forth above the potato vines.
It was not an easy matter to find so small a person as Mr. Bug in so big
a field. But she discovered him at last. And she was somewhat surprised
to see him still in his elegant yellow coat, with the black stripes.
For Mrs. Ladybug had expected him to be hard at work, in overalls.
To be sure, Mr. P. Bug did appear to be busy about something or other.
He was so busy that he scarcely so much as glanced at Mrs. Ladybug when
she spoke to him, mumbling "Good morning!" in answer to her greeting,
but not taking the trouble to doff his cap.
"He's at work anyhow," thought Mrs. Ladybug. "He's helping Farmer
Green." Then she alighted on the potato vine where Mr. Bug was clinging.
"Don't you remember me?" she asked.
He shook his head. His mouth seemed to be full of something--Mrs.
Ladybug wasn't sure what.
"Don't you recall speaking to me one time?" she persisted.
After swallowing, he answered.
"I can't say I do!"
"I'm the person that told you how to get to this potato patch," Mrs.
Ladybug explained. "When you met me in the orchard, on your way from
Colorado, you stopped and asked me to direct you to Farmer Green's
potato patch."
For a moment or two Mr. Bug seemed puzzled--especially when Mrs. Ladybug
mentioned Colorado. But by the time Mrs. Ladybug had finished speaking,
he nodded.
"So I did!" he exclaimed. "I had forgotten all about that. Though now
that you speak of it, I do remember meeting a very talkative dame
dressed in a polka dot. Possibly I spoke to you about my settling in the
potato patch for the summer?"
"No!" said Mrs. Ladybug. "But I thought I'd find you here. You seemed in
a great hurry to reach this place."
"So I was!" said Mr. P. Bug. "And I'm glad I came. This is the finest
potato patch in the whole valley--so I have been told."
"You must have seen a good many others on your journey from Colorado,"
Mrs. Ladybug ventured. "It's a long way from there to here, I suppose."
"I suppose it is," Mr. P. Bug murmured. He seemed to be a bit impatient,
as if he were in haste to return to his work and didn't care to talk any
longer.
"I suppose you were weeks on the road," Mrs. Ladybug went on. "Are you
going back to Colorado after you've finished helping Farmer Green with
the potato crop?"
"Colorado!" he blurted. "I don't know where that place is. I've never
been there in all my life."
IX
THAT CARPETBAG
MR. P. BUG'S statement amazed Mrs. Ladybug. He said he had never been in
Colorado. More than that, he declared he didn't even know where the
place was.
Now, Peppery Polly Bumblebee had told Mrs. Ladybug that Mr. P. Bug was
no stranger in Pleasant Valley. But Mrs. Ladybug had not believed what
she said. Even hearing Mr. Bug's own words, Mrs. Ladybug couldn't help
doubting them.
"Can it be true--" she asked him--"can it be true that you've never been
off this farm?"
Mr. Bug quite plainly wished that she would go away and stop bothering
him.
"It can be--it _is_ true," he replied carelessly.
At last Mrs. Ladybug had to believe what she heard.
"Then you're a fraud!" she cried. '"You're a cheat! For I read on your
carpetbag, when we met in the orchard, 'P. Bug. Colorado.'"
"Oh!" said Mr. Bug with a smile. "Oh! So _that's_ where you got your odd
notion. I wondered how you happened to make such a mistake."
"A perfectly natural mistake, I'm sure!" Mrs. Ladybug exclaimed
indignantly.
"Well, I dare say it is," he admitted. "But you see, that's not my
carpetbag. At least, I didn't get it new. It belonged to my
great-great-great-grandfather. Indeed, I'm not sure he wasn't even
still greater than I've said. _He_ lived in Colorado once--so I've been
told. But I was born and raised on this farm."
"If all this is true," said Mrs. Ladybug, "what were you doing with that
carpetbag? And why did you ask me the way to this potato patch?"
"I'm in a hurry to get to work," Mr. Bug remarked. "I'll answer just
this once. When we met in the orchard I had been away on a little
vacation. And Farmer Green's potato patch--so I learned--had been moved
since last year."
"Dear me!" Mrs. Ladybug wailed. "People will laugh at me for having made
such a serious mistake."
But Mr. P. Bug didn't say anything about that.
"Good-by!" he grunted. And he crawled under a leaf, out of sight.
For once in her life Mrs. Ladybug wasn't eager to talk to her neighbors.
On the contrary, she seemed to avoid them. But Peppery Polly Bumblebee
called on her and asked her if she had seen the handsome stranger, Mr.
P. Bug.
"Yes!" said Mrs. Ladybug. "I've talked with him. And it's true that he
has always lived here. There was a slight mistake about his carpetbag.
It belonged to one of his ancestors. And since it bears his ancestor's
name and address, naturally I thought they both belonged to this Mr.
Bug."
Peppery Polly laughed.
"If you don't believe what I tell you, you can ask him yourself!" Mrs.
Ladybug snapped. "He's at work over in the potato patch, helping Farmer
Green."
Peppery Polly laughed again, more unpleasantly than ever.
"_Helping_ Farmer Green!" she exclaimed. "He's eating the leaves off the
vines as fast as he can. I know that gentleman. He's Mr. Potato Bug. And
he's one of the greatest pests on the farm."
X
A BIT OF NEWS
CHIRPY CRICKET was looking for Mrs. Ladybug. He had news for her. Now,
it wasn't often that anybody could tell Mrs. Ladybug anything. Usually
she was the one that told other people bits of gossip. So Chirpy Cricket
was specially eager to find her and make known to her what he had
learned.
It was about Mrs. Ladybug's cousin. At least, there was a person living
in the vegetable garden who claimed to be a cousin of Mrs. Ladybug's.
Chirpy found Mrs. Ladybug in the orchard. But strange to say, she
didn't seem at all interested in his news.
"I dare say I have a cousin in the garden," she told him. "Ours is a big
family. I have more cousins than I could ever count. They're as
plentiful as the leaves on the trees. I can't stop my work to go and see
this one. If I called on all my cousins I'd never have time to help
Farmer Green."
Chirpy Cricket looked disappointed. He had expected Mrs. Ladybug to show
great interest in what he told her. She certainly always thought that
others ought to pay strict attention when she related the happenings
about the farm. And she always wanted them to act surprised and pleased,
too.
"Aren't you going to the garden?" Chirpy Cricket demanded. "Don't you
intend to be polite to your cousin?"
"Humph!" said Mrs. Ladybug. "She can't be any busier than I am. Why
doesn't she come to the orchard to call on me?"
"She can't do that," he explained. "Your cousin says that it wouldn't be
etiquette. She says you've lived on the farm longer than she has."
"Rubbish!" Mrs. Ladybug scolded. "I'm a plain working person. There's
too much to do, during the summer, for me to bother with such nonsense."
Chirpy Cricket found her rather discouraging. Still he hadn't given up
hope of making Mrs. Ladybug change her mind.
"I fear you're making a mistake," he remarked. "You ought to see this
cousin. She's different from any of your family that I've ever met
before."
"How is she different?" Mrs. Ladybug demanded, pausing in her pursuit of
insects on the leaves of the apple tree. At last she began to show some
signs of interest.
"I don't know," Chirpy Cricket replied. "I can't say. Maybe it's her
clothes that make her look strange."
Mrs. Ladybug then started to ask him questions--which was the best of
proof that her curiosity had been aroused.
"What sort of gown was my cousin wearing?" she inquired. "Was it a red
polka dot, like mine?"
"I don't remember," he answered.
"What colors did she have on?"
"I didn't notice," said Chirpy Cricket.
Mrs. Ladybug gave him a look of disgust.
"Well, if that isn't just like a man!" she spluttered. "Men never can
tell how a body's dressed. If I want to learn anything more about this
cousin of mine I suppose I'll have to go and see her with my own eyes."
And that afternoon she went to the vegetable garden.
XI
THE NEW COUSIN
FOR Mrs. Ladybug, finding her unknown cousin in Farmer Green's vegetable
garden was not an easy task. Since Chirpy Cricket hadn't been able to
tell Mrs. Ladybug what colors her cousin wore, Mrs. Ladybug didn't know
what to expect.
"I wish I knew whether she was dressed in red, black, blue, yellow or
some other color," Mrs. Ladybug complained to herself. "But I don't know
that. I don't even know if she carries an umbrella."
There was nothing Mrs. Ladybug could do except to ask everyone she met.
So she inquired right and left if anybody happened to be acquainted
with her cousin. And at last Betsy Butterfly came to Mrs. Ladybug's
help.
"Look among the squash vines!" Betsy Butterfly advised her. "I noticed
somebody there that looks a bit like you. Maybe it's your cousin."
That was very kind of Betsy Butterfly. Mrs. Ladybug was no friend of
hers. Indeed, Mrs. Ladybug had often found fault with Betsy for being
too pleasure-loving. But Betsy Butterfly was not one of the kind that
nurses grudges. She was only too glad to do Mrs. Ladybug a favor.
Mrs. Ladybug thanked her--albeit somewhat grumpily. Then, flying to the
place where Farmer Green had planted his squashes, she found a person at
whom she stared hard for a few moments.
"Do you want to speak to me?" this strange lady inquired. She was a gay
appearing creature, dressed in yellow, with black patches on it.
"I can't tell whether I care to talk to you or not," said Mrs. Ladybug.
"It all depends. If you're my cousin, I do. If you aren't, I don't."
The strange lady laughed lightly.
"I wonder--" she replied--"I wonder if you are Mrs. Ladybug."
"I am," said Mrs. Ladybug.
"Then I'm your cousin!" cried the other. "At last I've met you!" And she
rushed towards Mrs. Ladybug with every intention of embracing her.
Mrs. Ladybug backed hastily away.
"Not so fast!" she exclaimed. "If you really are my cousin, well and
good! But how do I know that you aren't an impostor?"
"A _what_?" the strange lady faltered. She was, quite naturally,
somewhat taken aback by Mrs. Ladybug's coolness.
"How do I know that you're not a cheat?" Mrs. Ladybug asked her. "Have
you any references?"
"Any _what_?" stammered the would-be cousin.
"Any letters about yourself," Mrs. Lady explained. "For all I know, you
may be dissembling."
"I may be _whatting_?" quavered the lady in yellow.
"Dear me!" Mrs. Ladybug muttered to herself. "Must I address this person
in words of one syllable?" Then, to her companion she said bluntly,
"Tell me why you think you and I are related!"
"That's easy!" cried the yellow one. "I belong to the Ladybug family."
Now, you might think that would have satisfied Mrs. Ladybug. But she
wasn't convinced yet.
"My family--" she declared--"my family are all famous workers. If you're
one of us, where are your working clothes? Where's your red and black
polka dot?"
The cousin tittered. She seemed to be a silly sort of creature.
"I haven't any red and black polka dot," she replied. "These are my
working clothes that I'm wearing now."
Mrs. Ladybug shook her head. It was plain that she didn't approve of
those clothes--nor of their wearer.
XII
A QUEER WAY TO HELP
MRS. LADYBUG wished that she hadn't come to the vegetable garden to see
the person who called herself Mrs. Ladybug's cousin. She wasn't at all
the sort of relation that Mrs. Ladybug cared to have.
Although the stranger in yellow was most agreeable, somehow Mrs. Ladybug
disliked her exceedingly. And strange to say, Mrs. Ladybug couldn't have
told exactly what it was in her cousin that displeased her. It wasn't
alone the yellow gown that the new cousin wore. Nor her simpering smile.
Nor her trifling manner. It was something else--something that made
Mrs. Ladybug feel that she was not to be trusted.
"I must hurry back to the orchard," Mrs. Ladybug announced. "There's
work waiting for me there. I really ought not to have left it to come to
see you."
"Don't take your work so seriously!" her cousin advised her. "You ought
to take more time for amusement. I hope you'll come to see me often."
Mrs. Ladybug's opinion of the stranger sank even lower.
"If some of us weren't earnest about our work the rest of the world
would have a sorry time," she declared. "I may as well tell you that I
shall not be able to call on you again. I shall be too busy. And there's
no use of my urging you to come to see me, because of course you have
your work to do too."
"Oh, naturally!" said Mrs. Ladybug's cousin with an odd smile. "Still, I
could leave it once in a while to make a cousinly call."
"It won't be necessary," Mrs. Ladybug told her. "If I need you, I'll
send for you." And she said to herself grimly, under her breath, "She'll
never hear from me."
"If I can help you at any time, don't fail to let me know," the cousin
told Mrs. Ladybug. "Doubtless I could be of some service, though I'd
always rather work on vines--squash and pumpkin preferred."
Mrs. Ladybug thanked her. "I shouldn't want her helping me," she
thought. "I'll warrant she's so careless that she would do more harm
than good." And Mrs. Ladybug looked at the vine on which they were
standing.
"I see you're helping Farmer Green with his squash vines at present,"
she remarked aloud.
"Yes!" said her cousin. "I have this one almost finished."
"Good!" said Mrs. Ladybug. And she took a closer look at the vine. It
seemed far from healthy. In fact she noticed that the leaves were
tattered and torn.
"What are these great holes in the squash leaves?" she inquired.
Her cousin fidgeted and made no reply. Glancing at her, Mrs. Ladybug
thought she was growing a bit red in the face.
Then all at once Mrs. Ladybug guessed the dreadful truth.
"You've been _eating_ these leaves!" she cried.
Her cousin tossed her head.
"A person has to eat something," she retorted.
Mrs. Ladybug threw up her hands.
"I _knew_ you weren't trustworthy," she muttered. "I _knew_ you weren't
the sort of relation I'd want anything to do with."
Then Mrs. Ladybug left her.
Later, when Chirpy Cricket met her, he asked her if she had seen her
cousin who was spending the summer among the squash vines. And he was
astonished when Mrs. Ladybug glared at him and exclaimed:
"Never mention her to me again!"
XIII
JENNIE JUNEBUG
JENNIE JUNEBUG was a frolicsome fat person. And she was a great joker.
The joke that she loved most was this: she loved to bump into people
that were flying through the air--to bump into them and knock them,
spinning, upon the ground.
Being much heavier than many of her neighbors, Jennie Junebug suffered
little from such collisions. And she never could understand why anybody
should find fault with her favorite sport. If a body objected to her
rough play Jennie Junebug only laughed heartily.
"I don't mind when I take a tumble," she would retort. "So why should
you?"
And if the sufferer complained that it wasn't the tumble that hurt, so
much as the shock of her hard, bulky self, Jennie would shake with
merriment and crash into him again.
Really, it was useless to try to reason with her. The safest way was to
avoid her if possible, especially after dark. For then was the time that
she preferred for her rowdy tricks.
Mrs. Ladybug couldn't abide her. Not only did she dislike Jennie
Junebug's jokes. She disapproved of her treatment of Farmer Green. For
Jennie Junebug did everything she could to ruin the trees on the farm.
She ate their leaves. And that was one thing that Mrs. Ladybug couldn't
forgive in anybody.
"It's a shame--" Mrs. Ladybug often said--"it's a shame, the way Jennie
Junebug riddles the foliage. Here I work my hardest to save the leaves
by ridding them of tiny insects that feed upon them--insects that suck
the juices from the leaves and make them wither. And there's Jennie
Junebug, trying her best to destroy the leaves that I save.... It's
enough to make an honest person weep."
Perhaps Jennie Junebug wasn't so bad, at heart, as Mrs. Ladybug thought
her. Maybe she was merely a gay, careless creature who never stopped to
consider that she was injuring Farmer Green when she hurt his trees. At
least, that was what some of Mrs. Ladybug's other neighbors sometimes
remarked.
But Mrs. Ladybug never could believe that Jennie had a single good
trait--unless it was good nature. For she was always ready with a laugh,
no matter what anybody said to her.
It was seldom that Mrs. Ladybug hesitated to speak her mind right out to
a person if she happened to disapprove of him. But she had always kept
out of Jennie Junebug's way. Jennie was many times bigger than little
Mrs. Ladybug. Mrs. Ladybug trembled to think what might happen to her if
Jennie should ever hurl her fat body against Mrs. Ladybug with a dull,
sickening thud.
"If that ever happens," Mrs. Ladybug thought, "I fear I'll never be able
to do another day's work for Farmer Green. It might be the end of me."
Now, in spite of her fears, Mrs. Ladybug had even more than her share of
courage. And as time went on, and she saw the awful havoc that Jennie
Junebug played with the trees, Mrs. Ladybug reached the point where she
couldn't any longer stand by silently and let Jennie Junebug riddle the
leaves. "Something will have to be done!" Mrs. Ladybug declared to her
friends. "I can't compel Jennie Junebug to stop. She's too big for me to
handle.
"I'm going to have a talk with her," said Mrs. Ladybug.
XIV
BUMPS
SOME busybody went straight to Jennie Junebug and told her what Mrs.
Ladybug had said.
"Mrs. Ladybug is going to have a talk with you," this meddling person
told the fat and frolicsome Jennie. "She wants you to stop eating
leaves. She says you are doing your best--or your worst--to hurt the
trees that she is trying to save. She claims that you are no friend of
Farmer Green's. She--"
Jennie Junebug broke in upon her companion with a loud laugh.
"I'd like to have Mrs. Ladybug try to speak to me," she chuckled. "If
she does, I'll have fun with her. I'll knock her over. I'll send her
spinning."
Jennie's friend seemed somewhat alarmed at that.
"Now, be careful!" she begged the fat lady. "Don't forget that Mrs.
Ladybug is a little creature! You'll injure her if you're too rough with
her."
"Ho! ho!" laughed Jennie Junebug, and also, "Ha! ha!" She had to stop
and hold her sides, while she rocked back and forth. "This is a great
joke!" Jennie cried. "Imagine Mrs. Ladybug trying to talk with me! Why,
she'll be lucky if she can get her breath after I've flown into her
once."
"Dear me!" said the tale-bearer. "I wish I hadn't mentioned this matter
to you. Of course, everybody knows that Mrs. Ladybug talks too much. And
I thought maybe you'd enjoy meeting her and making her keep still. But
I had no idea you would do her any harm."
"Bless you!" cried Jennie Junebug. "I wouldn't harm a hair of her head!"
And she roared with laughter, for she had made a joke. You see, Mrs.
Ladybug had no hair. She was quite bald.
Well, Mrs. Ladybug found Jennie Junebug that very evening. She knew that
Jennie wasn't often seen except after sunset. For Jennie loved to see
the lights twinkling through the gloom. And she delighted in surprising
people in the dark, by flying _bang!_ into them and knocking them down.
So Mrs. Ladybug didn't leave her work and set out to seek this dangerous
fat lady until twilight came.
"Good evening!" said Mrs. Ladybug as soon as she spied Miss Junebug.
"Have you a few minutes to spare? If you have, I'd like to talk with
you."
Jennie Junebug grinned broadly.
"I can give you a few seconds of my valuable time," she replied. "I was
just going over to the meadow, for Freddie Firefly will be there soon.
He dances in the meadow every night. And I like to see his flickering
light--and watch him bounce when I hit him. So you'll have to talk fast,
for I'm in a hurry," said Jennie Junebug.
"Good!" thought Mrs. Ladybug. "She's going to listen to me, after all."
And then she fixed Miss Junebug with her eye and spoke to her severely.
"Don't you think you ought--" she began.
And then Jennie Junebug bumped into her, sending Mrs. Ladybug sprawling.
"Don't I think I ought to frolic with you?" Jennie cried. "Certainly I
do."
Mrs. Ladybug managed to rise off the ground.
"Won't you please--" she started to say.
"Won't I please knock you down? Of course I will!" Jennie Junebug
exclaimed. And thereupon she struck Mrs. Ladybug again.
Poor Mrs. Ladybug was much shaken. In her fall she had dropped her
umbrella, and her handkerchief too. But she didn't stop to pick them up.
She scrambled to her feet and rose into the air again, angrier than she
had ever been before in all her life.
"I'll thank you--" she spluttered.
"You'll thank me if I'll do that again, eh?" said Jennie Junebug,
interrupting her rudely. "Very well! Here goes!" This time she gave Mrs.
Ladybug a terrific blow. She dropped upon the grass, where she clung to
a blade and swayed up and down for a few moments, dizzy and trembling.
And she was gasping so hard, in order to get her breath, that she
couldn't speak.
Watching her, Jennie Junebug shrieked with laughter. Then, seeing
Freddie Firefly's light flashing in the meadow, Miss Junebug hurried
away.
XV
ENOUGH!
"SUCH impudence!" Mrs. Ladybug gasped, as soon as she could speak. "That
terrible Jennie Junebug didn't care whether I ever got my breath or
not."
After bowling Mrs. Ladybug over three times, Miss Junebug had flown
away, leaving poor little Mrs. Ladybug clinging to a blade of grass and
wondering if she would be able to move again.
Mrs. Ladybug had attempted to take Jennie Junebug to task. She had
intended to berate Jennie for devouring the leaves of Farmer Green's
trees and to order her to stop such damage at once. But Jennie Junebug
hadn't allowed her to say much. In her playful way she had knocked the
breath out of Mrs. Ladybug.
"I must try some other plan," thought Mrs. Ladybug. "And I'll have to
have help." So she sent Miss Moth over to the meadow, to find Freddie
Firefly and ask him if he wouldn't come to the orchard because Mrs.
Ladybug wanted to talk with him.
He came. He came at once; for he saw Jennie Junebug looking for him. And
he was only too glad to escape her attentions. He found her too rough to
suit him.
Mrs. Ladybug quickly explained her difficulty.
"What shall I do?" she asked him.
"I don't know," he answered. "I can't do a thing with Jennie Junebug.
She knocks me down whenever I meet her. She annoys me."
"It's not so much myself I'm thinking of," said Mrs. Ladybug. "It's
Farmer Green's fruit trees that I'm disturbed about. Jennie Junebug eats
the leaves. I must put an end to that."
"I have it!" Freddie Firefly exclaimed suddenly. "I'll ask her why she
doesn't bump into Solomon Owl!"
Mrs. Ladybug didn't seem to care for his suggestion. "What good would
that do?" she inquired.
"Ah!" he said. "Solomon Owl wouldn't let her browbeat him. He'd soon
cure her of her rude pranks."
"Then please speak to her, and to Solomon Owl at once--that is, if you
dare to," said Mrs. Ladybug.
"I'm not afraid of him," Freddie Firefly boasted. "He won't touch me.
He's a-scared of my light." And then Freddie Firefly flitted away.
He found Solomon Owl easily enough. He had heard Solomon's _Wha-wha_,
_whoo-ah_! booming from the edge of the woods. And he soon persuaded
Solomon to fly down into the meadow.
Solomon Owl sailed above the waving grass, while Freddie Firefly spoke
to Jennie Junebug.
She liked his scheme. She thought it would be a great joke to bump into
solemn Solomon Owl. And for once she forgot to fling herself against
Freddie Firefly.
Only a little while later she struck Solomon Owl with an awful thud. To
her huge surprise she fell headlong, while he merely paused in his low
flight.
"Who struck me?" he bawled.
"Jennie Junebug!" said Freddie Firefly.
"Where is she now?" Solomon hooted. "If I find her I'll fix her."
Jennie Junebug heard everything he said. She was lying hidden in the
grass near-by. And she wouldn't have come out for anything.
"I'll keep an eye out for her," Solomon Owl announced. "I come to the
meadow often, a-mousing."
Jennie Junebug kept still as a mouse, herself, until Solomon had gone
back to the woods. Then she stole forth from her hiding place, showing a
battered face to her friends.
"Good-by, everybody!" she called. "I'm going to move. I'm going 'way
down to the end of the valley to live.... I'm off already," she added,
as she spread her wings.
Nobody ever saw Jennie Junebug on Farmer Green's place again.
And Mrs. Ladybug was more than satisfied.
XVI
PLAYING DEAD
FARMER GREEN'S apple trees looked green and flourishing. Thanks to Mrs.
Ladybug--and some of her relations--there was scarcely an insect left on
the leaves. And since there was no more work to be done in the orchard
just then, and nothing for her to eat, Mrs. Ladybug settled among the
raspberry bushes near the duck pond. She said that they needed her
attention.
One day she paused in her labors, feeling that she had earned a few
minutes' rest. And she dropped out of the bushes and strayed close to
the water's edge.
A light breeze ruffled the surface of the duck pond into tiny waves.
"What a terrible, rough sea there is to-day!" Mrs. Ladybug murmured as
she gazed upon the troubled water. "Perhaps, if I cling to a tall grass
stalk, I can get a better view of it."