One warm afternoon, when the sun was shining brightly and the flowers were blooming in a colorful riot of color, I found myself sitting on a bright tulip, desiring to take a small nap. But just as I was about to close my little eyes, the shrill voice of a grasshopper, who was performing acrobatic feats upon a Dandelion, roused me, and I listened to the conversation of some of our bug neighbors below.
“It is a strange thing,” chirped a little cricket, “but I have noticed that Benny the beetle never comes over to our side of the garden. I wonder why he does not care to visit us.”
“Why should he not be afraid to come here?” said Miss Velvet Cushion, who is always trying to frighten others. “There are many awful things, I can tell you. Just the other day I saw a large black thing going all around, and I thought she was aiming at me, and I should have been killed, I’m sure. But she was a good deal bigger than I and so could not do otherwise; but whoever she is I hope we have seen the last of her - she’ll eat us all up, one by one, like young crows.”
“I have found no such thing,” said our friend the ladybird. “The trees are full of nice sweet things, of a golden sticky substance that even the most dainty insect cannot hesitate to take. I’ve eaten lots of it myself. And then our own side of the garden is simply alive with lovely sweet plants. Soon all the beautiful morning-glories will bloom and the honeysuckles will have the sweetest fragrance. Oh, it will be a lovely place, and always it is filled with the sweetest sounds. I only hope that the other side will not be too dreary and somber.”
But this last hope of the ladybird is an absurd one, for the only real cheer the garden can have comes from the warm sun and the cool breezes that do so much to spread joy.
But I was right in the middle of my nap, and I awoke a little dazed at the strangeness of the conversation, for I live in one corner of the garden quite by myself here. There are only a few sturdy weeds around me to give me company, and reserves of sweet sap and clover tops. I like to wander in the garden; but I like my own corner best of all, and love to sit on my tulip and watch the various neighbors come and go.
But it seems that Benny the beetle did not like it here, little as it is and long he stood hesitating whether to come. He was very warm, I knew, in his black satin-like coat, but gradually came nearer and nearer, looking about him all the time to see what new insect might be peeping at him.
And shortly afterwards, sure enough, there was a little black thing, looking slyly at him, I’m sure, from the grass below.
“Good afternoon to you,” said Benny, bowing politely to her. “And who might you be, may I ask? But perhaps you are seeing things you do not dare to show.”
“I am a ladybug,” she answered haughtily. “Have you never heard of us before?”
“Oh yes, I know very well you ladybugs trot about in that haughty way of yours; but if you did not look down upon us poor beetles who are just as good, you would know that when we say ladybird we mean one of your species, whereas your species is called simply beetle. And so I bow respectfully to you, Miss Ladybug.”
But she only blinked at him, and was going to say something very cutting, but stopped it just in time and ventured this way, her heart full of malice against beetles.
Now, Benny found it was getting quite cold, and felt as though he ought to go home, now that she had come and made it so abominably disagreeable. I offered him my warmth, if he would only come into my corner to sit by my side. “Oh no, thank you,” he said politely; “but it is growing colder every moment, and I really ought to be going.” So I put out my feelers and cut a strange figure with his black coat.
He shook hands heartily and hurried away home. I did not see his departure, and it was quite well that he went, for it began to rain most unmercifully, and continued so day after day and night after night - as it does sometimes. If the water only came in torrents instead of a steady drizzle, it would be something - even a grasshopper could bear that - but a perpetual drizzle water-logged everything or did so, at least, for the poor beetle, so that he was glad to creep into the first dry spot he could get to.
At last, one warm afternoon, when it had rained the whole of the previous day without once ceasing, the sun broke out all of a sudden, and the air was perfectly resplendent over the little vegetation left in our part of the garden.
Benny, of course, did not wait for anybody to invite him, but invited himself as he had done before.
“I have come back gladly, hastened the ladybug.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” answered Benny shamelessly. “I was just going to say that everything here has a cast-down, soddened appearance. It is surprising that no plants are up to bid us welcome. And now I am going. I have to go and see somebody about something at the other end of the garden.”
With this, our modest beetle made a low bow and left forthwith for the other part of the garden. He had no one to look at him this time, but the long white object, that was called Joy’s Arm - we dare not say the same poor tailbone - and was lying stretched out on the grass. There were two cherry stones which she had bowled over here that she did not pick up, and these she threatened to trip him against, which was very likely, but she was of such a good-natured disposition that she even allowed the ladybug to appear in her person as well.
Benny had to go hunting carefully before he could pluck up enough courage to lift his eyes from the ground upon the ladybug. “Forgive me for not having known you immediately,” she said modestly; “I am now staying in the neighborhood, being here on a little visit.”
“Oh, there is no need to beg my pardon!” answered Benny, “it is I that have to question you.”
“Go on,” she said meekly.
“I know it took quite a process of hard study to know well, but I am quite sure that you have come from around the klimberg, have you not?”
“I am afraid I can’t tell whether you are right,” answered the ladybug. “For you see, I have come from the other side of the garden; and after all I wanted to ask you most particularly from where you have come.”
Benny then told her of his whole trip. That morning only he had been to the beginning of the kitchen woods on the garden, where they have two venerable apple trees with a thick shade. An apple of the largest one was hurled at his head by a little girl - even such fierce cannibals you would find there. Then at last, getting absolutely sick of it, he started homewards, and now this morning only when the rain had stopped, had come to see how his acquaintances were.
“But pity the beetles who had never visited our part of the garden and only know yours. I assure you it is still worse. It is like the frightful cold our countrymen endure, we beetles, you know, are more capable of hibernation even than the ladybugs.”
The ladybug thanked Benny very politely and promised shortly to go over to the kinks struck all together with which they went off into joyful and clamorous conversations—again and again in my corner, and I listened quietly as was proper to all the conversation above.