The Cheerful Cricket and Others Part 2

_Moderately slowly_

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

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

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

THE NOISY FLY

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

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

_Moonbeam Song

Not too fast_

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

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

Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding

See our spell Can hold him fast.

Tinkle bell The hour is past.

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

"Well, Noisy! here again. You are always disturbing somebody. You are just like some other folks who never know when they are _not_ wanted. Noisy people are always a nuisance. You are about, before respectable crickets have a chance to go to sleep. Buzz, Buzz, Buzz! so that there is no sleeping after that. Your noisy wings are worse than Toadie Todson's heavy feet, when he used to come hopping onto the piazza after the folks were asleep. And what is more, you're not much cleaner."

By this time Mrs. Cricky had worked herself into a state of "righteous indignation," and concluded all she had to say with a sharp, "Be off."

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

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

THE DIZZY MOTH

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

Poor Dizzy, there is no use in preaching! Up, up through the oak-tree he flew, now tumbling against a branch, now untangling himself from a sticky new bud. Up, up Dizzy sped toward a square white glare of light.

Little Flutter's yellow wings trembled with fear as she saw her brother start upward. She told him in a faint voice that window panes were very dangerous. Mother Moth had cautioned them both about window panes.

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

_The June Bug Wing Solo

Moderately fast_

"Crack! Crack! my brittle wing,"

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

"Crack! Crack! my brittle wing,"

Be careful how you fling Where the dusty little Toad, Is still sitting on the road, Waiting for you, with a gulp, gulp, gulp.

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

Round and round the room Dizzy flew, scattering silver hairs from his lacy wings, each moment his head growing heavier. For an instant there was a tiny flash of light and the faint noise of a shrivelling wing.

Half of Dizzy's wing had been burned off. What would Flutter think now of the blackened silver wing of her brother! Down went Dizzy, his good wing beating helplessly upon the window sill Flutter and Mother Moth were in his mind. The cool air blew in through the shutter, which a few minutes before had closed upon him.

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

"Singed wings Teach many things!"

THE HONEST ANT

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

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

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

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

Now the King and Queen had heard reports far and wide of the honesty and goodness of Anty Hill and her nephew Sandy. If there were any Ants sick in the kingdom Anty Hill and Sandy did something to help them. All this pleased the King and Queen very much, and they made up their minds to do something for Anty and Sandy. The other guests had come, and it was time for the King and Queen. At last their coach drew up in front of the door. It was a beautiful, s.h.i.+ny green beetle sh.e.l.l drawn by two gnats.

Two little liveried green midges tumbled off the coach-box, opened the coach-door, and the King and Queen stepped out, while the guests bowed low to the ground as they pa.s.sed up the entrance to the house where Anty and Sandy were waiting. Anty Hill bowed low to the King and kissed the Queen's hand, while Sandy bowed very low to both.

Then the King called all the guests about him and made a little speech.

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

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

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

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

"Say, what's that?"