The Tale of Mrs. Ladybug
A >>
Arthur Scott Bailey >> The Tale of Mrs. Ladybug
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 20097-h.htm or 20097-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/0/0/9/20097/20097-h/20097-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/0/0/9/20097/20097-h.zip)
THE TALE OF MRS. LADYBUG
* * * * *
_TUCK-ME-IN TALES_
(Trademark Registered)
BY
ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY
AUTHOR OF
SLEEPY-TIME TALES
(Trademark Registered)
THE TALE OF JOLLY ROBIN
THE TALE OF OLD MR. CROW
THE TALE OF SOLOMON OWL
THE TALE OF JASPER JAY
THE TALE OF RUSTY WREN
THE TALE OF DADDY LONGLEGS
THE TALE OF KIDDIE KATYDID
THE TALE OF BUSTER BUMBLEBEE
THE TALE OF FREDDIE FIREFLY
THE TALE OF BETSY BUTTERFLY
THE TALE OF BOBBY BOBOLINK
THE TALE OF CHIRPY CRICKET
THE TALE OF MRS. LADYBUG
THE TALE OF REDDY WOODPECKER
THE TALE OF GRANDMOTHER GOOSE
* * * * *
[Illustration: Mrs. Ladybug Scolds Buster Bumblebee
_Frontispiece_.--(_Page 12_)]
_Tuck-Me-in Tales_
(Trademark Registered)
THE TALE OF MRS. LADYBUG
by
ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY
Author of
"Sleepy-Time Tales"
(Trademark Registered)
and
"Slumber-Town Tales"
(Trademark Registered)
Illustrated by Harry L. Smith
New York
Grosset & Dunlap
Publishers
Made in the United States of America
Copyright, 1921, by
Grosset & Dunlap
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I THE POLKA DOT LADY
II BUSTER'S RESOLVE
III HIDDEN WINGS
IV RUSTY WREN HELPS
V A HARD SHELL
VI THE TRAVELER
VII A HANDSOME STRANGER
VIII SEEKING THE TRUTH
IX THAT CARPETBAG
X A BIT OF NEWS
XI THE NEW COUSIN
XII A QUEER WAY TO HELP
XIII JENNIE JUNEBUG
XIV BUMPS
XV ENOUGH!
XVI PLAYING DEAD
XVII A BRAVE GENTLEMAN
XVIII A MYSTERY
XIX THE DINNER BELL
XX FIRE! FIRE!
XXI PLANS FOR WINTER
XXII MRS. LADYBUG LEAVES
XXIII BACK AGAIN
XXIV MRS. GREEN'S MISTAKE
THE TALE OF MRS. LADYBUG
I
THE POLKA DOT LADY
LITTLE Mrs. Ladybug was a worker. Nobody could deny that. To be sure,
she had to stop now and then to talk to her neighbors, because Mrs.
Ladybug dearly loved a bit of gossip. At the same time there wasn't
anyone in Pleasant Valley that helped Farmer Green more than she did.
She tried her hardest to keep the trees in the orchard free from
insects.
Some of her less worthy neighbors were known sometimes to say with a
sniff, "If Mrs. Ladybug didn't enjoy her work she wouldn't care about
helping Farmer Green. If she hadn't such a big appetite she'd stop to
chat even more than she does now."
That might seem an odd remark--unless one happened to know how Mrs.
Ladybug freed the orchard of the tiny pests that attacked it. The truth
of the matter was this: Mrs. Ladybug _ate_ the little insects that fed
upon the fruit trees. Her constant toil meant that she devoured huge
numbers of Farmer Green's enemies.
Goodness knows what Farmer Green would have done had Mrs. Ladybug and
all her family lost their taste for that kind of fare. The orchard might
have been a sorry sight.
Perhaps it was only to be expected that Mrs. Ladybug should have little
patience with folk that seemed lazy. She thought that Freddie Firefly
wasted too much of his time dancing in the meadow at night. She
considered Buster Bumblebee, the Queen's son, to be a useless idler,
dressed in his black velvet and gold. Having heard that Daddy Longlegs
was a harvestman, she urged him to go to work for Farmer Green at
harvest time. And as for the beautiful Betsy Butterfly, Mrs. Ladybug
found all manner of fault with her.
Nothing made Mrs. Ladybug angrier than to see Betsy Butterfly flitting
from flower to flower in the sunshine, followed by her admirers.
"What _can_ they see in that gaudy creature?" Mrs. Ladybug often asked
her friends.
It will appear, from this, that Mrs. Ladybug was not always as pleasant
as she might have been. Moreover, she was something of a busybody and
too fond of prying into the affairs of others. And if she didn't happen
to approve of her neighbors, or their ways, Mrs. Ladybug never hesitated
to speak her mind.
When she first appeared on Farmer Green's place, wearing her bright red
gown with its black spots, everyone supposed that Mrs. Ladybug was
dressed in her working clothes. And indeed she was! Nor did she ever don
any other.
"I've no time to fritter away," she declared when somebody asked her
what she was going to wear to Betsy Butterfly's party. "If I go to the
party I'll just drop in for a few minutes as I am, in my polka dot."
Her neighbors thought that very strange. They even whispered to one
another that they didn't believe Mrs. Ladybug had anything else to
wear.
Nor had she. Nor did she want any. And it wasn't long before everybody
understood Mrs. Ladybug's ways. She was so earnest that they couldn't
help liking her, no matter if her remarks were a bit tart now and then.
II
BUSTER'S RESOLVE
NOT only was Betsy Butterfly a beautiful creature. She was pleasant to
everybody. And almost all her neighbors were just as pleasant to her.
Mrs. Ladybug was one of the few that were sometimes disagreeable to
Betsy. For Mrs. Ladybug did not approve of her. She thought that Betsy
Butterfly was frivolous. And she frowned whenever she saw Betsy in her
beautiful costume.
"She _never_ wears working clothes," Mrs. Ladybug often complained, when
talking to her friends. "Now, if Betsy Butterfly would only wear
something plain and serviceable, as I do, once in a while, people might
have a different opinion of her. She ought to try this hard-finished red
and black polka dot of mine. It's a wonderful piece of goods."
One day Mrs. Ladybug was gossiping in that fashion with Mehitable Moth,
a soberly clad person who was always a bit jealous of the gorgeous
Betsy. And Mehitable Moth nodded her head to everything that little Mrs.
Ladybug said.
"What do you think of Betsy Butterfly's wings?" Miss Moth inquired.
"They're all for show," Mrs. Ladybug declared. "They're so flimsy and
delicate that Betsy Butterfly never dares venture out in bad weather. Of
what use would I be to Farmer Green if I had wings like hers? If I
stayed under cover whenever the sun didn't shine, the orchard would soon
be overrun with insects."
Now, it happened that Buster Bumblebee was sipping nectar from a head of
clover near by. Of course, he wasn't listening to what Mrs. Ladybug and
Miss Moth were saying. But he couldn't help hearing their remarks. And
being a great admirer of Betsy Butterfly, he wasn't at all pleased. He
even buzzed near the two gossipers and said to them, "Can't you find
something else to talk about?"
"Such rudeness!" Mrs. Ladybug gasped.
"What shocking manners!" cried Miss Mehitable Moth.
They hoped that Buster Bumblebee heard what they said. Anyhow, he flew
off in his blundering, clumsy way without speaking to them again.
"Who is this Mrs. Ladybug, to pick flaws in the beautiful Betsy
Butterfly?" he asked himself savagely. "Who is she to find fault with
Betsy's lovely wings? If Mrs. Ladybug herself had wings, I shouldn't
think her chatter so strange. But a person with no wings has no business
expressing his views of somebody else's."
Buster Bumblebee was so out of patience with Mrs. Ladybug that he lost
his taste for clover heads for the rest of the afternoon. And that was a
most unusual thing with him. However, he could think of nothing but Mrs.
Ladybug and her unkind speeches. And at last, meeting Betsy Butterfly
herself along towards sunset, he stopped to tell how well she was
looking and how charming her colors were.
Betsy Butterfly was not vain. She laughed gayly and said, "You're very
kind to say those agreeable things."
"I can't help it," he replied heartily.
"Everybody's not like you," Betsy Butterfly told him.
"Then you've been hearing about Mrs. Ladybug!" he cried. "Somebody has
been tattling."
"It doesn't matter," Betsy Butterfly assured him. "Perhaps it's good for
me to know that everyone doesn't admire me."
Buster Bumblebee didn't agree with her.
"I'll have to speak to Mrs. Ladybug," he declared.
"Oh, don't!" Betsy Butterfly begged him; for she was as gentle as she
was beautiful and never wanted people to quarrel on her account.
But Buster Bumblebee had made up his mind and nothing could change it.
III
HIDDEN WINGS
THE next day Buster Bumblebee set out for the orchard to find Mrs.
Ladybug. He wanted to warn her to stop talking about Betsy Butterfly.
But Buster hadn't realized that it was not an easy matter to say
anything to Mrs. Ladybug. Mrs. Ladybug always liked to do most of the
talking herself. She preferred to let others listen.
He found her hard at work destroying insects on an old apple tree. And
when she caught sight of him Mrs. Ladybug paused in her labors.
"Well, young man!" she exclaimed, looking at Buster severely. "Are you
idling this lovely day away? You don't seem to be making any honey."
Buster wished that he had spoken first. He certainly had had no
intention of discussing such matters as honey making.
"I don't need to make honey," he told Mrs. Ladybug. "The workers in our
hive provide honey enough. Maybe you didn't know that I'm of royal
blood. I'm the Queen's son. I don't have to work," he declared somewhat
hotly.
"Rubbish!" cried Mrs. Ladybug, regarding him with a frown. "Go get
yourself some working clothes! Take off your black velvet and gold! And
save that suit for best!"
"You don't understand," Buster tried to explain. "Being a Queen's son,
I'm expected to wear my court costume every day."
"Nonsense!" Mrs. Ladybug retorted. "The sooner you get such silly
notions out of your head, the better off you'll be. Everybody ought to
work. Too much play is bad for folks."
Buster Bumblebee could feel himself flushing. The neighbors were not
expected to address a Queen's son in that fashion.
"That's exactly the way you talk about Betsy Butterfly!" he exploded.
"Huh!" Mrs. Ladybug sniffed. "You are a worthless pair. Betsy
Butterfly's wings--"
At this point Buster managed to interrupt her.
"Don't talk about wings, please!" he cried. "Who are you, to talk about
wings?--when you haven't any yourself."
Mrs. Ladybug started; and she gave him a queer look. "What's that?" she
inquired. "What's that? Say that again!"
"You haven't any wings."
"Ho!" she laughed. "You're mistaken. I _have_ wings."
"Then you've left them at home," he insisted.
Mrs. Ladybug smiled a very knowing sort of smile. When he saw it Buster
Bumblebee couldn't help feeling uncomfortable. Somehow he knew that he
had blundered. But just where he had erred he was unable to decide.
"Watch sharp, young sir!" Mrs. Ladybug bade him. "Watch sharp and
perhaps you'll be able to learn something."
Then Buster Bumblebee received the surprise of his life. As he watched,
little Mrs. Ladybug opened her shell-like, black-dotted, red back and
spread a pair of delicate brown wings.
"See these?" she said to Buster Bumblebee, who gasped at her blankly.
"I've really _two_ pairs of wings, because my polka dot wing covers are
actually wings too--only folks don't usually call them by that name."
Having spread her wings, Mrs. Ladybug decided to take a short flight.
And with Buster gazing dully after her she flitted off.
"I'll have to tell my mother, the Queen, about this," he muttered.
IV
RUSTY WREN HELPS
RUSTY WREN'S wife was getting very impatient. She was at home with her
fast-growing family of youngsters, at home in the cherry tree near
Farmer Green's chamber window.
"Dear me!" Mrs. Wren exclaimed. "I don't see what's keeping Rusty. It's
at least a quarter of an hour since he brought any food to these
children."
Mrs. Wren soon grew tired of waiting.
"I'll go and find him!" she said under her breath. And telling her
nestlings that she would be back in a few minutes, she hurried off
towards the orchard.
"I thought so!" Mrs. Wren muttered soon afterward, as she caught sight
of her husband. He was talking with Jolly Robin, in the old apple tree
where the Robin family lived. "I thought so!"
"Have you forgotten your duty as a parent?" Mrs. Wren asked her husband
in a tart voice, dropping down on a branch right behind him.
Rusty Wren jumped.
"I've been here only a second or two," he faltered. "Mr. Robin and I had
a little business together."
"So I see," said Mrs. Wren. "So I see. And now, if your business is
finished, allow me to remind you that you have six hungry sons and
daughters at home." Then Mrs. Wren twitched herself off her perch and
flew back to the cherry tree and her family.
"I declare," Rusty Wren remarked to his friend Jolly Robin, "I must
have stayed here, talking with you, longer than I thought. Those
children have enormous appetites. I'll have to work more spryly than
ever to get them fed before sunset."
"I know how that is," said Jolly Robin with a chuckle. Somehow he seemed
much more cheerful than his companion. "I was actually glad when our
last nestlings were big enough to leave home and hustle for themselves.
But, of course," he added, "I still keep an eye on them."
Rusty Wren had already begun to hunt for tidbits. Almost immediately he
found an ant, which he snatched up and carried away. Back and forth he
flew, making dozens of trips between his house and the orchard. Grubs
and caterpillars, grasshoppers and spiders--he seized them wherever he
could spy them and took them home to his famishing children.
Though he worked his hardest, Mrs. Wren hadn't a smile for him. And when
she said anything in his hearing, it was some such remark as this: "You
poor, hungry dears! It's a pity you can't have all you need to eat. I
only hope your scanty meals won't stunt your growth."
Naturally such speeches didn't make her husband feel any more at his
ease.
"I'll have to bring home something special, to please her," he thought.
"I wish I could find some dainty that would put her in better humor."
So he looked all around to see what he could discover that was different
from the food he had been gathering. And it wasn't long before he gave a
chirp of delight. "Here's a pretty beetle!" he cried. "I know it will
make Mrs. Wren smile when I show it to her."
Thereupon Rusty Wren pounced upon Mrs. Ladybug and bore her away,
struggling, in his bill.
V
A HARD SHELL
RUSTY WREN hurried home, carrying Mrs. Ladybug despite her frantic
efforts to escape. She wriggled all her six legs at the same time.
"She'll be pleased with this one," Rusty murmured, as he watched Mrs.
Ladybug's struggles. "Mrs. Wren will certainly thank me when I give her
this morsel."
And she did.
"How lovely!" Mrs. Wren exclaimed when Rusty gave her his captive.
And he was so glad that he hastened away to try to find another just
like that one. But he hadn't gone far before he said, "Ugh! I hope I
haven't made a mistake. I don't like the taste of that beetle." And he
dropped down upon the ground and carefully wiped his bill upon the
grass.
He couldn't help feeling somewhat worried.
"I don't believe the children will notice anything wrong," he muttered.
"So far, they've never refused anything that was offered them. But if
Mrs. Wren tried to eat that beetle herself, I fear there'll be trouble."
And there was. Rusty knew it a few minutes later, when little Mr.
Chippy's son, Chippy, Jr., came flitting up and peeped in his childish
voice, "Please, sir, Mrs. Wren wants you at once."
There was nothing to do except to go home. And Rusty went.
He found Mrs. Wren much upset.
"Are you trying to poison us?" she demanded.
"No, indeed--my love!" Rusty Wren replied meekly.
"Well, you made a terrible mistake, then," she declared.
Meanwhile Rusty Wren was looking all around. Yet he couldn't see the
pretty beetle (meaning Mrs. Ladybug) anywhere. "Somebody must have
swallowed it, anyhow," he thought.
"You must be more careful," his wife told him severely. "That was a
horrid-tasting beetle that you brought home. It's lucky I discovered
that it was a queer one. The children--poor dears!--are so hungry that
any one of them would have bolted it had I offered it to him."
"Then you ate it yourself," Rusty Wren faltered.
"Oh, no, I didn't," said his wife. "I dropped it upon the ground. And no
doubt I'd have thrown it away, anyhow, no matter how it tasted."
"Why?" he asked her. "I thought it was a pretty beetle."
"It was pretty enough--I dare say," Mrs. Wren replied. "But it had a
very hard shell. It wouldn't have been safe to feed it to the children.
Nor should I have cared to eat it myself."
"I thought it was a pretty beetle," Rusty said again. "It was such a gay
color--bright red, you know. It seemed to me it would please the
children, and you, too."
Mrs. Wren still seemed to be somewhat out of patience.
"When you gather food for the youngsters, never mind about the color of
it!" she exclaimed. "If you want to bring them playthings, that's
another matter. But don't fetch home any more pretty red beetles for
them to eat."
"Very well--my love!" said Rusty Wren. And then he slipped away to hunt
for food, because the children were still clamoring for more.
Mrs. Wren talked a good deal, afterward, about her terrible experience.
Yet she never stopped to think about the pretty beetle--about little
Mrs. Ladybug. For Mrs. Ladybug had had a dreadful fright. Luckily she
wasn't hurt. But it was a long time before she was her usual busy, able
self again. And later, when she told her friends about her adventure,
she said that she couldn't understand how Rusty came to make such a
mistake.
"I supposed," Mrs. Ladybug declared, "that every bird in Pleasant Valley
knew I wasn't good to eat."
VI
THE TRAVELER
FARMER GREEN'S garden was growing fast. The sweet corn waved and rustled
whenever a breeze swept it. The beets and carrots sent their pert tops a
little higher each day. The cabbages began to puff their heads out as if
they felt of some importance in the world. And the potato vines were
actually pretty, with their white blossoms amid the green leaves. Farmer
Green was very proud of his potatoes. He said, in Mrs. Ladybug's
hearing, that they were the best he had ever raised.
"I must fly over to the garden and have a look at those potatoes," Mrs.
Ladybug thought. "It's always a pleasure to see flourishing crops."
Before she found time to spare for her visit to the garden a traveler
entered the orchard one day. At least, he had every appearance of having
come from other parts. For he carried a traveling bag--an old-fashioned
carpetbag--and he seemed to have lost his way.
As soon as Mrs. Ladybug saw him she couldn't help thinking what a
handsome person he was. He wore a yellow coat. And instead of being
spotted with black, as her gown was, it was striped.
"Good morning!" said the stranger.
"Good morning!" said Mrs. Ladybug. "Can I be of any service to you?"
The stranger took off his cap. He was a most polite chap.
"Perhaps you can help me," he replied.
"I'm looking for Farmer Green's vegetable garden. Do you know where it
is?"
"Indeed I do!" Mrs. Ladybug cried. "It's at the end of this orchard,
just beyond the fence."
"And the potato patch--I suppose I'll have no trouble finding that?" the
stranger went on.
"Follow your nose!" said Mrs. Ladybug. "You're headed right for it now."
The stranger thanked her. And he was about to move on. But of course
Mrs. Ladybug wanted to talk more than that before he got away.
"The potatoes are fine this season," she remarked.
The stranger looked greatly pleased.
"That's good news," he told her. "Have you seen them yourself?"
"Not yet!" Mrs. Ladybug answered. "But I heard Farmer Green say they
were fine. And he ought to know if anybody does."
"He certainly ought," the stranger agreed. Then, thanking Mrs. Ladybug
once more, he hurried toward the garden.
"One moment!" she called. There were several questions that she wanted
to ask the newcomer. She was wildly curious to know who he was and where
he came from and what business had brought him to Pleasant Valley.
But he couldn't have heard her. Anyhow, he was out of sight in no time,
leaving Mrs. Ladybug almost bursting with the questions that had sprung
to her lips.
"He might have waited a second," she muttered. "But if he has traveled a
long way no doubt he's eager to get to his journey's end."
Luckily Mrs. Ladybug had kept her eyes open when talking with the
gentleman in the striped yellow coat. And as he turned to leave her she
looked closely at his carpetbag. On one side of it she read, in big
letters:
P. BUG
COLORADO
VII
A HANDSOME STRANGER
LITTLE Mrs. Ladybug was too excited to work. Ever since meeting the
stranger in the orchard she had been able to think of nothing but him.
Perhaps if she hadn't happened to notice his carpetbag, with the words,
"P. Bug, Colorado," upon its side, she might not have been so stirred
up.
Anyhow, Mrs. Ladybug kept wondering what business had brought the
stranger to Pleasant Valley. She wished she could find out what he was
going to do in the potato patch. She wanted to ask him why he chose to
have black stripes on his yellow coat, instead of spots. How long had
he been traveling? When did he expect to leave the farm? There was no
end to the questions that Mrs. Ladybug burned to put to him.
Meanwhile she told the news to everybody she saw. For Mrs. Ladybug
dearly loved to spread choice morsels of gossip. It pleased her mightily
to tell her neighbors something they didn't know.
People listened to her story with great interest. They were eager to
learn all about the stranger, whom Mrs. Ladybug declared to be very
handsome.
Mrs. Ladybug made her news last as long as possible in the telling. She
made her neighbors wait a bit for every fact, so they would enjoy it to
the full. And whenever she stopped anyone and told him about the
newcomer, Mrs. Ladybug kept the best part until the last. She always
ended her remarks by saying, with a most important air, "His name is
Mr. P. Bug. And he comes from Colorado."
That never failed to impress her listeners--which was exactly what Mrs.
Ladybug wanted.
Since nobody asked her how she knew the traveler's name, and where he
came from, Mrs. Ladybug did not trouble herself to explain that she had
read both name and place upon his old-fashioned carpetbag.
There was one thing that puzzled her slightly, when she paused to think
about it. How did it happen that the elegant stranger carried a most
unfashionable bag?
Mrs. Ladybug soon settled that question to her own satisfaction.
"He's like me!" she decided. "Mr. P. Bug is a hard worker and he doesn't
care for show. He's a plain person. No doubt he put on that yellow coat
to travel in, because it's his best. But he'll wear overalls, perhaps,
if he starts to work in the potato patch--as I suspect he will."
At last, however, Mrs. Ladybug met with a rude shock. She was telling
her news to Peppery Polly Bumblebee, one of the workers in the hive
ruled by Buster Bumblebee's mother, the well-known Queen. And to Mrs.
Ladybug's amazement, when she related the name of the stranger, and the
place he came from, Peppery Polly laughed in her face.
"Mr. P. Bug is not from Colorado," said Peppery Polly Bumblebee. "He has
never been off this farm."
Well, Mrs. Ladybug was staggered. She gasped. She clung to a leaf to
keep from failing.
"I don't believe that!" she cried, as soon as she could speak. "I'll
find Mr. Bug himself and learn the truth from him."
VIII
SEEKING THE TRUTH
MRS. LADYBUG was determined to know the truth about Mr. P. Bug, the
newcomer. And as soon as she had fully recovered from the rude blow that
Peppery Polly Bumblebee dealt her, she set out for Farmer Green's garden
and the potato patch.
For some time Mrs. Ladybug flew back and forth above the potato vines.
It was not an easy matter to find so small a person as Mr. Bug in so big
a field. But she discovered him at last. And she was somewhat surprised
to see him still in his elegant yellow coat, with the black stripes.
For Mrs. Ladybug had expected him to be hard at work, in overalls.
To be sure, Mr. P. Bug did appear to be busy about something or other.
He was so busy that he scarcely so much as glanced at Mrs. Ladybug when
she spoke to him, mumbling "Good morning!" in answer to her greeting,
but not taking the trouble to doff his cap.
"He's at work anyhow," thought Mrs. Ladybug. "He's helping Farmer
Green." Then she alighted on the potato vine where Mr. Bug was clinging.
"Don't you remember me?" she asked.
He shook his head. His mouth seemed to be full of something--Mrs.
Ladybug wasn't sure what.