The Tale of Betsy Butterfly Part 10

But Dusty Moth made no reply.

XXI

A STRANGE CHANGE

RECEIVING no answer to his question, Freddie Firefly skipped down from the fence and sought the shade of the apple tree, where he found Dusty Moth staring fixedly at Betsy b.u.t.terfly's picture.

Dusty's face wore a most curious look; he seemed at once angry, sorrowful and amazed. And not till Freddie Firefly asked again what _was_ the trouble did Dusty Moth say a word.

Then he pointed scornfully toward the portrait that Jimmy Rabbit had made earlier in the summer.

"So that's the charming Betsy b.u.t.terfly, eh?" he roared. "That's the beauty I've heard so much about! I can tell you right now that if I had any idea she looked like this I never would have lost my appet.i.te over her!"

"You astonish me!" Freddie Firefly exclaimed. "Have you forgotten how anxious you were to meet the lady?"

"Meet her!" Dusty Moth howled. "I promise you I'd never go out of my way to meet anybody that looked as she does--though I might go a long distance to avoid her."

Freddie Firefly glanced toward the picture. But it had fallen face downward upon the ground. And he did not take the trouble to raise it.

"Well, you think Betsy b.u.t.terfly is beautiful, don't you?" he asked.

"Indeed I don't! I think she's hideous," Dusty Moth shouted. "Never in all my life have I been so deceived in a person."

"I don't understand how you can say that," Freddie Firefly told him.

"But I suppose your idea of beauty may be different from mine--and from many other people's, too. Anyhow, I hope you'll get your appet.i.te back again."

"I don't know about that," said Dusty Moth. "Just now I don't feel as if I ever wanted to taste food again." A shudder pa.s.sed over him. And he covered his eyes, as if to shut some terrible image from his memory.

"I must leave you now," said Freddie Firefly. "And please don't forget what you promised me. You remember that you said that if I'd show you a picture of Betsy b.u.t.terfly you would stop pestering me about her."

"Don't worry about that!" Dusty Moth a.s.sured him bitterly. "I shall never mention Betsy b.u.t.terfly's name again. I don't want to think of her. But I'm afraid I can never, never get her face out of my mind.... I know--" he added--"I know I shall see it in my dreams. And just think how terrible it will be to wake at midday, out of a sound sleep, with her dreadful face and form haunting me!"

Freddie Firefly couldn't help feeling sorry for the poor chap. But he could think of nothing to do, except to show him Betsy's portrait once more. So he started to raise the picture from the ground, where it still lay face downward. And the moment Dusty Moth saw what he was about he gave a frightful scream--and flew off into the night.

"He's a queer one!" Freddie Firefly mused. "Now, I've always thought Betsy was a fine-looking----" Just then his eyes fell upon the picture for the first time. And Freddie Firefly's mouth fell open in astonishment.

So amazed was he by what he saw that he tumbled right over backwards.

And then, scrambling to his feet, he wrapped the rhubarb leaf hastily around the picture and slung it across his back again.

"Jimmy Rabbit has made a terrible mistake!" he groaned, as he started for the duck pond.

Back at the meeting place once more, Freddie Firefly rushed up to Jimmy Rabbit in great excitement.

"Do you know what you did?" he cried. "You brought me the wrong picture.

And Dusty Moth has gone shrieking off into the darkness, he was so disappointed. This is not Betsy b.u.t.terfly's picture! It's some dreadful-looking caterpillar. And when I glanced at it just now, over in the orchard, it sent a chill all through me."

For the time being Jimmy Rabbit said nothing. At first he had seemed quite upset. But before Freddie had finished speaking he had begun to smile. And then he unwrapped the picture once more and leaned it against a stone, where the moon's rays fell squarely upon it.

"You're mistaken," he informed Freddie then. "This _is_ a picture of Betsy b.u.t.terfly. I painted it myself; and I ought to know. As I explained last night, I made it earlier in the summer; and as I said, she has changed somewhat in the meantime. But it's a very good likeness of her as she was once."

"You mean--" gasped Freddie Firefly--"you mean that Betsy b.u.t.terfly was once an ugly caterpillar?"

"Why, certainly!" said Jimmy Rabbit. "And so was Dusty Moth, for that matter. Yes! he was a caterpillar himself, once--and a much uglier one than Betsy, if only he knew it.

"In fact," said Jimmy, looking at the picture with his head on one side, "as caterpillars go, Betsy b.u.t.terfly was a great beauty, even at so early an age."

XXII

THE SKIPPER

IN Farmer Green's meadow there lived a very nervous person called the Skipper. He was a distant cousin of Betsy b.u.t.terfly's. And since the two were almost exactly the same age, they quite naturally spent a good deal of time together.

The Skipper was of a dark, somber brown shade. And it always seemed to the gaily colored Betsy that he tried to make up for his dull appearance by being extremely lively in his movements. He was forever skipping suddenly from one place to another--a trick which had caused people to call him by so odd a name.

Much as she liked this queer cousin, Betsy often found his uncertain habit somewhat annoying. It was not very pleasant, when talking to him, to discover that he had unexpectedly left her when she supposed he was right beside her, or behind her. If she had anything important to tell him she frequently had to hurry after him. And the worst of it was, once she had overtaken him she never knew when he would dart away again.

As the summer lengthened it seemed to Betsy b.u.t.terfly that the Skipper grew more flighty than ever. Once she had been able to say a few words to him before he went swooping off. But now--now she could not even tell him that it was a nice day without following her cousin at least half an hour in order to finish her remark.

"You're becoming terribly fidgety," Betsy told him at last. "If you don't look out you'll have nervous prostration--or I shall, if you don't stop jumping about like a jack-in-the-box. I advise you," she said, "to see a doctor before you get any worse."

Of course, it must not be supposed that Betsy b.u.t.terfly could say all that to her cousin without going to a good deal of trouble. As a matter of fact, she had to follow him about the fields for two whole days and travel several miles before she succeeded in finis.h.i.+ng what she wanted to say to him.

"Why, I feel fine!" the Skipper cried. "I don't need a doctor. I----"

He started to skip away from the wild morning-glory blossom on which he had perched himself. But Betsy caught him just in time--and held him.

"Now, you listen to me!" she commanded. "You're in a dangerous condition. Some day someone will come to you with an important message.

And if you go sailing off the way you do, how's he ever going to tell the whole message until it's too late, perhaps?"

"If it was good news it wouldn't hurt it to keep it a while," the Skipper a.s.serted cheerfully. And he gave a quick spring, with the hope of escaping from Betsy's grasp. But she held him firmly by the coat-tails.

"Suppose I wanted to warn you not to go near the flower garden, because Johnnie Green was waiting there for you with his net, to capture you and put you in his collection? You might be sorry, afterwards, if you didn't sit still and listen to me."

"That's so!" said the Skipper. "I hadn't thought of that. I'd see a doctor at once; but I don't know any."

"Go to Aunt Polly Woodchuck, under the hill," Betsy b.u.t.terfly advised him. "She's the best doctor for miles around."

So they went, together, to call on Aunt Polly. The old lady looked at the Skipper and shook her head. "I can't help him," she said.