The fellow had certainly furnished her with a strange experience. Buffoon though he was, still she had to admire his wide information and worldly wisdom; and though she could not agree with his views of hopping, she was amazed by all the new things he had taught her in their brief conversation. If he had been more reliable she would have been only too glad to ask him questions about a number of different things. It occurred to her that often people who are least equipped to profit by experiences are the very ones who have them.

He knew the names of human beings. Did he, then, understand their language? If he came back, she'd ask him. And she'd also ask him what he thought of trying to go near a human being or of entering a human being's house.

"Mademoiselle!" A blade of gra.s.s beside Maya was set swaying.

"Goodness gracious! Where do you keep coming from?"

"The surroundings."

"But do tell, do you hop out into the world just so, without knowing where you mean to land?"

"Of course. Why not? Can _you_ read the future? No one can. Only the tree-toad, but he never tells."

"The things you know! Wonderful, simply wonderful!-- Do you understand the language of human beings?"

"That's a difficult question to answer, mademoiselle, because it hasn't been proved as yet whether human beings have a language.

Sometimes they utter sounds by which they seem to reach an understanding with each other--but such awful sounds! So unmelodious! Like nothing else in nature that I know of.

However, there's one thing you must allow them: they do seem to try to make their voices pleasanter. Once I saw two boys take a blade of gra.s.s between their thumbs and blow on it. The result was a whistle which may be compared with the chirping of a cricket, though far inferior in quality of tone, far inferior.

However, human beings make an honest effort.-- Is there anything else you'd like to ask? I know a thing or two."

He grinned his almost-audible grin.

But the next time he hopped off, Maya waited for him in vain.

She looked about in the gra.s.s and the flowers; he was nowhere to be seen.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER VI

PUCK

Maya, drowsy with the noonday heat, flew leisurely past the glare on the bushes in the garden, into the cool, broad-leaved shelter of a great chestnut-tree.

On the trodden sward in the shade under the tree stood chairs and tables, evidently for an out-door meal. A short distance away gleamed the red-tiled roof of a peasant's cottage, with thin blue columns of smoke curling up from the chimneys.

Now at last, thought Maya, she was bound to see a human being.

Had she not reached the very heart of his realm? The tree must be his property, and the curious wooden contrivances in the shade below must belong to his hive.

Something buzzed; a fly alighted on the leaf beside her. It ran up and down the green veining in little jerks. You couldn't see its legs move, and it seemed to be sliding about excitedly. Then it flew from one finger of the broad leaf to another, but so quickly and unexpectedly that you might have thought it hadn't flown but hopped. Evidently it was looking for the most comfortable place on the leaf. Every now and then, in the suddennest way, it would swing itself up in the air a short s.p.a.ce and buzz vehemently, as though something dreadfully untoward had occurred, or as though it were animated by some tremendous purpose. Then it would drop back to the leaf, as if nothing had happened, and resume its jerky racing up and down.

Lastly, it would sit quite still, like a rigid image.

Maya watched its antics in the sunshine, then approached it and said politely:

"How do you do? Welcome to my leaf. You are a fly, are you not?"

"What else do you take me for?" said the little one. "My name is Puck. I am very busy. Do you want to drive me away?"

"Why, not at all. I am glad to make your acquaintance."

"I believe you," was all Puck said, and with that he tried to pull his head off.

"Mercy!" cried Maya.

"I must do this. You don't understand. It's something you know nothing about," Puck rejoined calmly, and slid his legs over his wings till they curved round the tip of his body. "I'm more than a fly," he added with some pride. "I'm a housefly. I flew out here for the fresh air."

"How interesting!" exclaimed Maya gleefully. "Then you must know all about human beings."

"As well as the pockets of my trousers," Puck threw out disdainfully. "I sit on them every day. Didn't you know _that_?

I thought you bees were so _clever_. You pretend to be at any rate."

"My name is Maya," said the little bee rather shyly. Where the other insects got their self-a.s.surance, to say nothing of their insolence, she couldn't understand.

"Thanks for the information. Whatever your name, you're a simpleton."

Puck sat there tilted like a cannon in position to be fired off, his head and breast thrust upward, the hind tip of his body resting on the leaf. Suddenly he ducked his head and squatted down, so that he looked as if he had no legs.

"You've got to watch out and be careful," he said. "That's the most important thing of all."

But an angry wave of resentment was surging in little Maya. The insult Puck had offered her was too much. Without really knowing what made her do it, she pounced on him quick as lightning, caught him by the collar and held him tight.

"I will teach you to be polite to a bee," she cried.

Puck set up an awful howl.

"Don't sting me," he screamed. "It's the only thing you can do, but it's killing. Please remove the back of your body. That's where your sting is. And let me go, please let me go, if you possibly can. I'll do anything you say. Can't you understand a joke, a mere joke? Everybody knows that you bees are the most respected of all insects, and the most powerful, and the most numerous. Only don't kill me, please don't. There won't be any bringing me back to life. Good G.o.d! No one appreciates my humor!"

"Very well," said Maya with a touch of contempt in her heart, "I'll let you live on condition that you tell me everything you know about human beings."

"Gladly," cried Puck. "I'd have told you anyhow. But please let me go now."

Maya released him. She had stopped caring. Her respect for the fly and any confidence she might have had in him were gone. Of what value could the experiences of so low, so vulgar a creature be to serious-minded people? She would have to find out about human beings for herself.

The lesson, however, had not been wasted. Puck was much more endurable now. Scolding and growling he set himself to rights.

He smoothed down his feelers and wings and the minute hairs on his black body--which were fearfully rumpled; for the girl-bee had laid on good and hard--and concluded the operation by running his proboscis in and out several times--something new to Maya.

"Out of joint, completely out of joint!" he muttered in a pained tone. "Comes of your excited way of doing things. Look. See for yourself. The sucking-disk at the end of my proboscis looks like a twisted pewter plate."

"Have you a sucking-disk?" asked Maya.

"Goodness gracious, of course!-- Now tell me. What do you want to know about human beings?-- Never mind about my proboscis being out of joint. It'll be all right.-- I think I had best tell you a few things from my own life. You see, I grew up among human beings, so you'll hear just what you want to know."

"You grew up among human beings?"