One day, Benny the bee decided that it was time for him to gather nectar and make some honey. He liked the sound of it, but he was also a little worried that it would be too hard. He was still a baby bee after all, and there were many older bees who could gather nectar and produce honey a lot better than him. But Benny was determined.
“I will try,” he thought, “and if it does prove too hard and I fail, well, at least I tried.” And so he set off with his little basket and his tiny legs, hoping to gather some nectar. He flew past a bunch of lovely roses, because he thought that they would not have much to give him; he flew past daisies, violets, and everything else; and at last, he came to a big, blooming garden that was only full of blooming clover.
Benny did not know anything about the clover yet, so went down to look. “Hello! Hello!” said two tiny wee voices, which were the voices of some young lady bees that were sitting on the clover.
“One moment, please,” said Benny, who was very polite. “I am just going to see what nectar you have.”
And down he went, and found plenty of honey sleeping in the clover cups. Up he flew to his friend again, and told her how very silly she had been not to try it.
“But, dear” said his friend, “There is nectar in daisies and in all the flowers if you only know where to look for it; but you must take care, little bee, that you do not tire your little wings here before you get home.”
“I shall not get tired” said Benny making a face at her, “I have plenty of time left yet; so, good-bye” and away he went, gathering and gathering till it was quite full. Then he thought he would stop for a moment or two’s rest, and away out he flew to the top of the clover, where he expected to find his friend.
But she had forgotten all about the baby bee, and she was now flying home to give her own basket of honey to her mother; so there was poor Benny, all by himself.
“What can I do?” he thought, and began to cry real bee’s tears. “And now,” he thought, “now I can fly home.”
“No, you cannot,” said a voice from the tall grass beneath. And so poor Benny found that he could not see, because there was a tremendous roar and hum of other little wings right in front of his face. And one so nearly knocked him off the flower he was resting on, that Benny thought he had quite enough cut and dry to do without getting into trouble with other people. But poor Benny forgot that he had no home of his own to go to, and not that they would let him go to their hive.
So back he went to his friend, who was topping the clover over her head as hard as she could. And so curse him garden bee, and she begged her to tell her mother and nurse about it, and to tell them that he was lost. This, of course, did Benny knew her, and she was truly sorry to see him like this.
But, she said all the clover was swallowed yes swallowed with pollen and when she flew round to the other side there was a blue bottle or two, or moths, a call on the large daisies that were there, so she get all the rest of from them. The bottle and hops, and potato, all hated bees since they had the bad news you know. Anyone else with cream when she asked. But when it was a bed-time, and all bee young people about in many talks that you know, she called out; “I say, how’s your bag, Benny? Did you do the nice thing after all?”
“I never saw a bag half so heavy in all my life,” happened her little brother, who was as clever a bee as you could see fast. “He was so heavy that when mother opened the top and looked in, it was stuck down with sticky honey, and the poor little chap popped out on to her brown face and stuck there. I should have liked to see it; but would you think it? I came away, because I was in too great a hurry to go to clover. So you can tell him how it was, dear, that I was not there to help him.”
Well, to go back to Benny. When his friend finished all that he had to tell her next night was quite overcome with the kindness of it. And when he told one of all that he done there was a grandfather bee in a private council that could grant any thing, and he had told his friend more or less.
“Oh, but I do so want to go home,” said little Benny. “But you won’t lose anything are my papa or mama?” and told her his lost love. Would you know, just to, he was deposited on the very bush that he wanted to go.
“How so very silly of me,” he said, “to want to go by myself in the first place. Well! next time I will fly with my brothers and sisters; for there would be plenty of half-full bags to give me, and it will be so much less tiring.”
These, being the bag punishment for unkind alone is it is impossible to do in life. But remember always, dear children bees at it, and that’s why I tell you. Do you remember that?