In a small little garden that was called the Glowin’ Garden, two fireflies were almost quarreling. Flick said, “I’m going to fly up and dance and dance, and make all the stars look like the night-lights they are.”
But, Glow said, “We can’t dance alone, Flick. The night would look so much better, if we danced and danced together.”
“You do this, and I will do that,” said Flick. “Let us each work by ourselves.”
But they didn’t glow as brightly as they should have done, so all the flowers said, “Sh! They are talking! But we can’t tell what they are saying.”
Then they would glow a little, while Flick and Glow were quarreling. But when Flick sparkled all by herself it was just like a little light, and a little light, and a little light. And when Glow sparkled all by herself it really was just like a tiny little man with a lantern, and a tiny little man with a lantern.
Then Flick would stand at one end of the garden and look at Glow at the other end, and Flick would say, “Shall I come over?” And then Glow would say, “Yes,” or “No.” And then Glow said, “I will fly up and dance round the stars.”
But Flick said, “I want to shine on the baby stars of the flowers with my bright little light.”
So they went on saying, “You do this,” and, “I want to do that.” And, “You do this,” and, “I want to do that,” for the whole ten days of their quarrel. So at last they both of them went really, and and truly, to stop dancing altogether.
And then there were tall flames running about all in every direction, thousands of pretty little flames against the dark blue of the sky below, the Great Dipper twinkling on high, all fireflies glowing. And Flick and Glow looked at each other.
Then, at Flick, then at Glow, till at last they both burst out, laughing, as if they had been secretly saying things all the time.
So they ran and ran, with a train of different colored lights all behind them, and then twinkling on the other little flames that were running and running.
The night grew gray, with little tiny stars everywhere. The roses, the daisies, morning-glories, all twinkling with it, while the glowing asteralt said, “It was just the thing to be desired.”
And so, in perfect agreement now, Flick and Glow rose higher and higher in the air, flashing here and twinkling there, then dipping down to a flower, and hovering just over the buds below, and saying, “It charms them into hanging straight down their heads all night long; Look at the before you. No, I’m the last before you.”
Then Lady Midge, who was the queen of the garden, took off her blue pearly crown and said, “These people have a great sense of duty. We must speak to them.”
So up they flew over Flick and Glow and hovered above them for a moment. Then they said, “Well done, and some more will you do?” And, “Well done,” and, “Some more will they do,” and the like.
And then Lady Midge went on, “There are glow-worms who do a great deal of work hardily. You are sure you will do all you can?”
“Oh, yes! Yes!” said Flick and Glow, and so they said it every night, too.
The fireflies went out every night till one day a little winged fly, with a tiny blue pearl, called the bang up in the heather, called out that it was wrong to the slaves. That was always so white and pure in all her actions, and that therefore she must fly up and help them.
Then the others had been outside her door for hours, looking for it and longing for her to come out, the mothers put her on the twig, it have gone on banner. So night after night, till out came Lady Midge with who was the mother of not only those thousands of fire up and down all about the children’s beds.
Ah! Flick and Glow need never quarrel again; they only do slight things, after all.