The Adventures of Maya the Bee Part 4

"No," said the little bee, "never. I should never have thought of such a thing."

The dragon-fly looked at her.

"A black cord was tied round his waist between his wings, so that he could fly, but not fly away, not escape. Each time my brother thought he had got his liberty, he would be jerked back horribly within the boy's reach."

Maya shook her head.

"You don't dare even think of it," she whispered.

"If a day pa.s.ses when I don't think of it," said the dragon-fly, "I am sure to dream of it. One misfortune followed another. My brother soon died." Miss Loveydear heaved a deep sigh.

"What did he die of?" asked Maya, in genuine sympathy.

Miss Loveydear could not reply at once. Great tears welled up and rolled down her cheeks.

"He was stuck in a pocket," she sobbed. "No one can stand being stuck in a pocket."

"But what is a pocket?" Maya could hardly take in so many new and awful things all at once.

"A pocket," Miss Loveydear explained, "is a store-room that men have in their outer hide.-- And what else do you think was in the pocket when my brother was stuck into it? Oh, the dreadful company in which my poor brother had to draw his last breath!

You'll never guess!"

"No," said Maya, all in a quiver, "no, I don't think I can.-- Honey, perhaps?"

"Not likely," observed Miss Loveydear with an air of mingled importance and distress. "You'll seldom find honey in the pockets of human beings. I'll tell you.-- A frog was in the pocket, and a pen-knife, and a carrot. Well?"

"Horrible," whispered Maya.-- "What _is_ a pen-knife?"

"A pen-knife, in a way, is a human being's sting, an artificial one. They are denied a sting by nature, so they try to imitate it.-- The frog, thank goodness, was nearing his end. One eye was gone, one leg was broken, and his lower jaw was dislocated. Yet, for all that, the moment my brother was stuck in the pocket he hissed at him out of his crooked mouth:

"'As soon as I am well, I will swallow you.'

"With his remaining eye he glared at my brother, and in the half-light of the prison you can imagine what an effect the look he gave him must have had--fearful!-- Then something even more horrible happened. The pocket was suddenly shaken, my brother was pressed against the dying frog and his wings stuck to its cold, wet body. He went off in a faint.-- Oh, the misery of it!

There are no words to describe it."

"How did you find all this out?" Maya was so horrified she could scarcely frame the question.

"I'll tell you," replied Miss Loveydear. "After a while the boy got hungry and dug into his pocket for the carrot. It was under my brother and the frog, and the boy threw them away first.-- I heard my brother's cry for help, and found him lying beside the frog on the gra.s.s. I reached him only in time to hear the whole story before he breathed his last. He put his arms round my neck and kissed me farewell. Then he died--bravely and without complaining, like a little hero. When his crushed wings had given their last quiver, I laid an oak leaf over his body and went to look for a sprig of forget-me-nots to put upon his grave. 'Sleep well, my little brother,' I cried, and flew off in the quiet of the evening. I flew toward the two red suns, the one in the sky and the one in the lake. No one has ever felt as sad and solemn as I did then.-- Have you ever had a sorrow in your life? Perhaps you'll tell me about it some other time."

"No," said Maya. "As a matter of fact, until now I have always been happy."

"You may thank your lucky stars," said Miss Loveydear with a note of disappointment in her voice.

Maya asked about the frog.

"Oh, _him_," said Miss Loveydear. "He, it is presumed, met with the end he deserved. The hard-heartedness of him, to frighten a dying person! When I found him on the gra.s.s beside my brother, he was trying to get away. But on account of his broken leg and one eye gone, all he could do was hop round in a circle and hop round in a circle. He looked too comical for words. 'The stork'll soon get ye,' I called to him as I flew away."

"Poor frog!" said little Maya.

"Poor frog! Poor frog indeed! That's going too far. Pitying a frog. The idea! To feel sorry for a frog is like clipping your own wings. You seem to have no principles."

"Perhaps. But it's hard for me to see _any_ one suffer."

"Oh"--Miss Loveydear comforted her--"that's because you're so young. You'll learn to bear it in time. Cheerio, my dear.-- But I must be getting into the sunshine. It's pretty cold here.

Good-by!"

A faint rustle and the gleam of a thousand colors, lovely pale colors like the glints in running water and clear gems.

Miss Loveydear swung through the green rushes out over the surface of the water. Maya heard her singing in the sunshine.

She stood and listened. It was a fine song, with something of the melancholy sweetness of a folksong, and it filled the little bee's heart with mingled happiness and sadness.

Softly flows the lovely stream Touched by morning's rosy gleam Through the alders darted, Where the rushes bend and sway, Where the water-lilies say "We are golden-hearted!"

Warm the scent the west-wind brings, Bright the sun upon my wings, Joy among the flowers!

Though my life may not be long, Golden summer, take my song!

Thanks for perfect hours!

"Listen!" a white b.u.t.terfly called to its friend. "Listen to the song of the dragon-fly." The light creatures rocked close to Maya, and rocked away again into the radiant blue day. Then Maya also lifted her wings, buzzed farewell to the silvery lake, and flew inland.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER IV

EFFIE AND BOBBIE

When Maya awoke the next morning in the corolla of a blue canterbury bell, she heard a fine, faint rustling in the air and felt her blossom-bed quiver as from a tiny, furtive tap-tapping.

Through the open corolla came a damp whiff of gra.s.s and earth, and the air was quite chill. In some apprehension, she took a little pollen from the yellow stamens, scrupulously performed her toilet, then, warily, picking her steps, ventured to the outer edge of the drooping blossom. It was raining! A fine cool rain was coming down with a light plash, covering everything all round with millions of bright silver pearls, which clung to the leaves and flowers, rolled down the green paths of the blades of gra.s.s, and refreshed the brown soil.

What a change in the world! It was the first time in the child-bee's young life that she had seen rain. It filled her with wonder; it delighted her. Yet she was a little troubled.

She remembered Ca.s.sandra's warning never to fly abroad in the rain. It must be difficult, she realized, to move your wings when the drops beat them down. And the cold really hurt, and she missed the quiet golden sunshine that gladdened the earth and made it a place free from all care.

It seemed to be very early still. The animal life in the gra.s.s was just beginning. From the concealment of her lofty bluebell Maya commanded a splendid view of the social life coming awake beneath. Watching it she forgot, for the moment, her anxiety and mounting homesickness. It was too amusing for anything to be safe in a hiding-place, high up, and look down on the doings of the gra.s.s-dwellers below.

Slowly, however, her thoughts went back--back to the home she had left, to the bee-state, and to the protection of its close solidarity. There, on this rainy day, the bees would be sitting together, glad of the day of rest, doing a little construction here and there on the cells, or feeding the larvae. Yet, on the whole, the hive was very quiet and Sunday-like when it rained.

Only, sometimes messengers would fly out to see how the weather was and from what quarter the wind was blowing. The queen would go about her kingdom from story to story, testing things, bestowing a word of praise or blame, laying an egg here and there, and bringing happiness with her royal presence wherever she went. She might pat one of the younger bees on the head to show her approval of what it had already done, or she might ask it about its new experiences. How delighted a bee would be to catch a glance or receive a gracious word from the queen!

Oh, thought Maya, how happy it made you to be able to count yourself one in a community like that, to feel that everybody respected you, and you had the powerful protection of the state.

Here, out in the world, lonely and exposed, she ran great risks of her life. She was cold, too. And supposing the rain were to keep up! What would she do, how could she find something to eat?

There was scarcely any honey-juice in the canterbury bell, and the pollen would soon give out.

For the first time Maya realized how necessary the sunshine is for a life of vagabondage. Hardly anyone would set out on adventure, she thought, if it weren't for the sunshine. The very recollection of it was cheering, and she glowed with secret pride that she had had the daring to start life on her own hook.

The number of things she had already seen and experienced! More, ever so much more, than the other bees were likely to know in a whole lifetime. Experience was the most precious thing in life, worth any sacrifice, she thought.