Her threat, however, failed to frighten Freddie Firefly.
As soon as he saw that his companion was afraid of
the dark, he ceased to be afraid of her. So he
flashed his light impudently in her eyes.
“Come on!” he urged her with a grin which
she could not see. “Let’s get to
the clover field, for I like to see people work.”
“You do, eh? “snapped Peppery Polly.
“Yes! Watching others work is play for
me,” he remarked cheerfully. “And
I hope to have as much fun to-night as I would have
had if I’d gone to the dance over near the swamp.”
“Are you fond of music?” Peppery Polly
asked him suddenly.
“Am I?” he exclaimed. “I should
say I was!”
“Then tell me how you like this,” she
said. And she began to sing the most terrible
song that Freddie Firefly had ever heard in all his
life.
A TERRIBLE SONG
It was no wonder that Freddie Firefly grew uneasy
again as he listened to the song of Peppery Polly
Bumblebee, while they flew towards the clover field
through the darkness. The chorus, especially,
filled him with alarm. And he shuddered as the
disagreeable honey-maker sang it:
“I’ve never learned to take a joke;
So if you try to trick me,
My sting in you I’ll quickly poke—
You’ll find that it
will prick ye!
It feels like fire—though twice
as hot.
And I would rather sting than not!”
“How do you like that?” Peppery Polly
inquired, after she had finished her song.
“You have a beautiful voice,” Freddie
Firefly hastened to tell her.
“Yes—of course!” she agreed.
“But I refer to the words. What do you
think of them?”
“I think they’re awful!” Freddie
Firefly cried; for his companion had scared the truth
out of him before he stopped to think how it would
sound.
“Quite right!” said Peppery Polly.
“I made up that song. And I flatter myself
it’s about the worst I ever heard.”
To Freddie Firefly’s relief, she seemed quite
pleased.
He was able to draw a deep breath again as they reached
the field of red clover, where Peppery Polly Bumblebee
settled quickly upon a clover-top and began sucking
up the sweet nectar with her long tongue. For
some time she worked busily without saying a word.
And indeed, how could she have spoken with her tongue
buried deep in the heart of a clover blossom?
But when she withdrew her tongue and flitted from
one clover-top to another, she never failed to fix
her wicked eyes on Freddie Firefly and demand “more
light—and be quick about it!”
Since no harm had yet fallen him, he began to wonder
after a while if Peppery Polly’s bark was not
worse than her bite—or perhaps it would
be better to say that he wondered if her song was
not worse than her sting. Anyhow, he knew that
he was very tired of her masterful way of speaking
to him. And he soon determined to play another
trick on her.
