“Now then, Edwin, it is your turn to talk; so what have you to tell us about the flowers?”
Edwin.—“O not a great deal about the garden flowers, mama, because I can never recollect their names;—only just the Dahlias, because I used to be so fond of standing before them to watch that sweet little humming-bird-bee, which used to spin round and round, and dart its long tongue that looked just like a bill, first into one flower and then into another; and Emily and I thought it really was a bill, and that the humming-bird-bee really was a bird; and we used to hunt among the shrubs for its tiny nest, and wonder whether its eggs were bigger than the beads of Emmie’s necklace; till one day you caught the little cheat under your handkerchief, and we found out that instead of being a beautiful lilac bird, it was nothing but a plain dull-coloured moth, and that it was only its spinning round and round that made its colour and its shape so pretty.—Yes, yes, Mr. Humming-bird-bee, you may twirl about as much as you please when you come back in the summer, (for we did let you go, though you were such a sad cheat,) but you will never take us in again, I promise you.
“And I remember, mama, about the trumpet-honeysuckle, because of my toy trumpet, and because of something that happened about it too. We had been watching a poor bee a long time, which was working very busily getting its little wings and legs all laden with honey, and every now and then it came to the mouth of the trumpet-honeysuckle, and we saw its little powdery nose, and then it went back again, as if it thought it might still get a little more; at last it came quite out, and seemed very busy packing the wax and honey tight under its wings, that it might not be blown away as it flew;—and then, O what a sad, sad thing happened to the poor bee! A great horrid hornet came rushing over our heads, pounced upon it, carried it away in its frightful arms, settled upon a laurel leaf just by, and began to devour it with a crackling noise, till Emmie threw her basket at it, and then it soared in the air, and carried the poor bee off far over our heads to some tall tree, where I dare say it eat it up, honey and all, in a minute.”
Emily.—“Now, mama, it is your turn, and I am sure you must have a great deal to remind us of, for you were quite as much interested about the young birds as we were.”
“It is too late to begin now, dear Emily, and to-morrow evening I shall be from home; but on the one following, I will certainly keep my promise. But now my loves, good night.”