The Tale of Buster Bumblebee Part 4

Somewhere he could hear a loud buzz, as of several angry voices. But he did not care to show himself enough to find out what was happening. For the time being he was content to stay snugly hidden among the thick clover leaves.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Buster Shouted For Everybody to Keep Quiet. (_Page 48_)]

After a while the uproar ceased. But even then Buster b.u.mblebee was in no hurry to leave his shelter.

When he did at last reach home he found the whole family much upset.

Everybody was talking at once. And in a household of more than two hundred that meant that the noise was almost deafening.

Naturally, Buster b.u.mblebee wanted to know what was the matter. It was a long time, however, before anyone would--or could--listen to him. But at last he succeeded in getting the ear of the trumpeter.

"Haven't you heard the news?" she asked. "The Robber Fly came to the clover patch to-day. And Peevish Peggy had a very narrow escape. If it hadn't been for several other workers who happened to be gathering clover nectar nearby, there's no telling where she would be now."

"Where is she?" Buster inquired.

"Resting in bed," the trumpeter explained. (Even Buster wondered how she could rest with all that racket in the house!) "She's had a bad fright, poor thing!" the trumpeter added.

Buster b.u.mblebee suddenly grew much excited. And he climbed up on a table and shouted for everybody to be quiet.

"I don't believe you know about me!" he cried, as soon as the house was still. "The Robber Fly attacked me. But _I_ don't need to go to bed. I'm not the least bit nervous."

Several of the family near him began to t.i.tter.

And the Queen herself stepped forward and commanded Buster to hop down from the table at once.

He obeyed promptly. But he was quite puzzled. No one seemed to believe what he said. And it was a long time before he learned what had actually happened. At last a spiteful worker informed him that he had never been in the clutches of the Robber Fly at all. Peevish Peggy and some of her companions had played a trick on Buster--because of his boasting. She had seized him when he wasn't looking. And he had screamed so loud that the Robber Fly--who happened to be near--had heard him.

Then the Robber Fly had rushed up and seized Peevish Peggy, who had promptly let go of Buster b.u.mblebee.

The worker who told these things to Buster b.u.mblebee actually laughed in his face. And Buster was so surprised--and so crestfallen--that he couldn't say a word for a long time.

And never again did Buster mention the Robber Fly's name.

XI

THE DRONE

Yes! Buster b.u.mblebee was a drone. He never gathered any nectar from the flowers and brought it home to help swell the family store of honey. He let the workers of the household do that. And since they never complained, but seemed to enjoy their drudgery, Buster saw no reason why he should interfere with the honey-making in any way.

He was content to live a life of ease and pleasure. And never having to bestir himself--never having to hurry or worry--he quickly grew into a somewhat clumsy and blundering young gentleman. And what was still worse, this handsome young idler soon gained the name of being none too keen-witted. _Good-natured, but a bit stupid_--that was what the field and forest folk called Buster b.u.mblebee.

But bless you! _He_ never bothered his head with what people said. When anybody called him a drone he would only laugh. And when some busybody asked him for pity's sake why didn't he go to work, he would merely grin and reply that he was a queen's son and that queens' sons never did anything except eat a plenty and have a good time.

Well, that must have been an excellent answer, for it seemed to keep people quiet. And it made some think that perhaps Buster b.u.mblebee was not quite so dull as he often appeared.

Once, indeed, he had thought it would be fun to help with the honey-making. So he stopped one of the workers when she was on her way home with a load of nectar.

"Let me help you carry that home!" Buster said.

Now, the workers were all a shrewish lot. They were terribly short-tempered--especially if anybody interfered with their work, which they loved better than anything else in the world.

"Don't you come near me!" snapped the worker angrily. "Keep away or I'll sting you!" she threatened.

Naturally, a happy, easy-going person like Buster b.u.mblebee wasn't looking for trouble of that sort. So he dodged clumsily out of sight behind a milkweed; and he made up his mind then that that was the last time he would ever have anything to do with one of those testy honey-makers.

Of course it was a bit difficult to avoid them entirely in a family of two hundred or more, all living together in a medium-sized house. And so Buster b.u.mblebee decided at last that he would be far happier in some place that was not so crowded, and where there was no work going on--and no workers.

And so, one fine August day, Buster left the family home, never to set foot inside it again. But he often pa.s.sed that way and lingered just outside the door, to listen to the music and the sound of dancing within.

That was the thing that he missed most; for, like all his family, he was fond of music. And he was forever humming to himself as he sipped nectar from the clover-tops or the flowers in Farmer Green's garden.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Buster Listened to Mrs. Ladybug's Suggestion. (_Page 56_)]

XII

THE CARPENTER BEE

After Buster b.u.mblebee left the old house in the meadow, where Mrs. Field Mouse had once lived, he had no real home. Like that quarrelsome rascal, Peter Mink, he would crawl into any good place that he happened to find.

Sometimes Buster chose a hole in a fence-rail, and sometimes a crack in the side of one of the farm-buildings. He really didn't much care where he spent the night, provided it was not too far from the flower garden or the clover field.

Not being one of the worrying kind, Buster was quite contented with his lot. And it would never have occurred to him to live in any different style had it not been for a remark that little Mrs. Ladybug made to him one day.

"I should think--" she said--"I should think that the son of a queen ought to have a house of his own, instead of sleeping--like a tramp--where night overtakes him."

Now, Mrs. Ladybug's words did not offend Buster b.u.mblebee in the least.

"No doubt you know best," he told her. "But how can I build a house? I've never worked in all my life. And I don't intend to begin now."

"Why not get some one to build a house for you?" she asked him.

"I never thought of that!" he cried. "Whom would you suggest?"

"I know the very person!" Mrs. Ladybug told him. "He's a Carpenter Bee; and he lives in the big poplar by the brook. Perhaps you know him.

Johnnie Green calls him Whiteface," she said. "They do say he's a very skillful workman."

Buster b.u.mblebee replied that he had never met the Carpenter, but that he would go and see him at once. So over to the big poplar he flew. And soon he was knocking boldly at the door of the Carpenter's house.

Pretty soon a mild-appearing person, who looked not a little like Buster himself, stepped through the doorway. He wore a white patch across his front and his clothes needed brus.h.i.+ng sadly, for they showed many marks of sawdust.

"Are you the Carpenter?" Buster b.u.mblebee inquired.

The mild stranger said he was.