HAPPY 



it through the grass, intent on some mysterious pur- 

 pose. I was quite absorbed, and from my post of 

 vantage on the breast of the floweret I followed the 

 movements of the thing that tugged at the petal. 

 I had never seen this thing before and I was wishing 

 for Crip, when, behold! he appeared. 



"What are you doing?" he cried at me. "How 

 many loads have you gathered? What are you 

 staring at?" 



He had submerged me with questions. I answered 

 none of them. I had, indeed, forgotten my work 

 momentarily, so absorbed had I been in the talk of 

 the flowers. 



"Have you a load? Let's go," cried he. 



I was ready, truly, but I could not refrain from asking 

 him about this strange animal that pulled the leaf so 

 sedulously through the grass. 



"An ant!" Crip answered, rather glumly. 



"Do you see what he is about?" 



"Yes he is gathering his winter stores. A time 

 comes when he must go indoors and he must have 

 food even as you and I. Come now, let's be off." 



I looked down at the ant struggling with his burden 

 and then at the disheveled flower, casting a last glance 

 at the tender face which had yielded up honey to me, 

 wondering at the strangeness of it all. 



"Come on," cried Crip, rising on wing. 



I did not speak, but followed him. I flew at his 

 heels until he began to fag a bit and then I came up 

 alongside, careful, however, not to outdistance him. 

 I soon saw that he had a heavier load than I, and I 

 felt ashamed, but I knew this had come through my 



54 



