Ant ventures

The first thing to be done in the morning was to pack up what was left of the berry, of course. After his long sleep, and a scrubbing at a dew basin in a hollow of a leaf, and a good breakfast of some of the things in his lunch basket, the Ant felt ready to walk miles. So he packed up the dried berry and started down the tree, eager to be off over the field again and to see some more of the world.

For a wide space under the tree the traveling was easy, for the ground was fairly smooth and not cluttered up with things to be climbed over and under. But that soon came to an end, and the same sort of trip he had taken yesterday, when he went over and under, and down and up things all the time, had to be taken again for a long distance. This might be the way the entire journey around the world would be, for all he knew.

Everywhere along the way the whole field was busy with life. Everyone was working busily, and not one creature he met was sitting idle. Half of the ones he met did not so much as see him, they were so busy, and the other half took time merely to look at him, or to say, “Good-morning!” in such a hurry that they hardly knew they were saying it.

One old Grasshopper, however, stopped his cutting of a grass stem for a minute. “What!” exclaimed the Grasshopper. “Do you mean to tell me you are going off for a picnic, you young rascal? You ought to be at home working with your family. You are a bad boy, sir! The very idea! I never heard of such a thing! If you were my son, I should have to give you such a whipping that it would be a long time before you would forget it. What is the matter with you? Are you lame or anything?”

“No, sir,” answered Anthony Ant, rather frightened at the Grasshopper’s cross voice. “I am not going to a picnic, and I am not lame, either.”

“Then tell me, why aren’t you at home working?”

Well, of course, you know Anthony Ant had to tell all about his reason for leaving home, and at the mere mention of Dr. Alexander Beetle Bug the old Grasshopper put back his head and laughed so hard that he almost spilled a large drop of molasses out of his mouth.

“Well,” said he, when he could stop laughing long enough to speak, “I’ll let you go without the whipping. You won’t need it, for, if Dr. Bug has prescribed that trip for you, you won’t need any punishment from me. His will be quite enough. His dose will be stiff enough to fix you!” And he went on laughing so hard that the Ant thought the old Grasshopper must be crazy.

“Look here, son!” cried the Grasshopper, stopping his laugh quickly when he saw the Ant was about to run away in disgust. “Now don’t be angry. Only foolish fellows get angry at nothing at all. That is a piece of advice worth pasting in your hat: Don’t get angry at nothing at all, and don’t get angry at anything!”

“I haven’t any hat,” said Anthony Ant sulkily.

“So I have noticed,” said the Grasshopper. “Where is it? Did you run so fast away from work that you did not stop even to put on your hat? You must be a Gubblechook! And yet you took time to get your lunch basket and other things, I notice. You don’t look much like a Gubblechook, either—not yet, anyway.”

“What is a Gubblechook?” asked the Ant.

“A Gubblechook,” replied the Grasshopper, “is a fellow who is afraid of work—so afraid of it that even if he could see the shadow of it coming around a corner he would run and hide where he could not see it. You can always tell a Gubblechook when you see one too.”

“How?” asked the Ant.

“Oh, by his looks,” said the Grasshopper. “He begins to look sort of gubbly and chooky after awhile. His eyes lose their shine that is better than Fireflies’ sparks. His mouth droops like a withered squash blossom. His hair falls around over his face and flops in strings around his ears. His tongue hangs out after awhile. His nose points down for keeps, and he ends by sleeping forever and ever, and then seven more forevers besides. If you don’t look out, you’ll be a Gubblechook before long. Better paste this in your hat too: Don’t be afraid of work! It is the only thing that will keep you from turning into a Gubblechook, you’d better believe! But where is your hat?”

“A Field Mouse ate it,” answered the Ant.

The Grasshopper laughed harder than ever.

“That isn’t a joke!” said Anthony Ant with a pout.

“Well, I should think not!” exclaimed the Grasshopper. “Hats don’t grow on every bush these days, I can tell you! But, just to show you I am not making fun of you and that I really want you to be something better than a Gubblechook, I’ll make you a present of as nice a hat as you ever had in your life.”

The Ant was ashamed of himself. “I could not take it,” said he. “Besides, Mother would not think I ought to take it when I can’t pay for it, I know.”

“Nonsense!” said the Grasshopper. “She’d let you earn it, though, wouldn’t she?”

“Well, yes,” the Ant answered.

“All right, then,” said the Grasshopper. “Let me see if you have forgotten how to work. First, I’ll show you the hat to let you know I am honest when I say it is the best one you ever had—or I should say, the best you can have, for of course you have not had it yet.”

From a swinging grass back of him the Grasshopper brought out a hat that would exactly fit Anthony Ant, and it was made of the finest straw to be had in the whole wide field. It certainly was a beauty!

“Now,” the Grasshopper went on, “I want a certain hollow under a stone made a little deeper or wider or something, so I can get in and out better. That stone covers my favorite rest room, but the hollow is too small for me to wiggle into and out of easily. Here is a shovel.”

Well, sir, Anthony gave his basket and case into the Grasshopper’s care, and went at the job for all he was worth. By and by he had the hollow big enough so that when the Grasshopper tried it the size was the very thing.

“I can see that you are still able to keep the name of Anthony Ant of Ant-Hill Manor,” said the Grasshopper. “It is a pity to let your good strong muscles get flabby. A Gubblechook’s muscles always do, you know. So not only am I going to give you the hat, but I am going to give you two pieces of advice all pasted in, into the bargain. Look inside the hat.”

Anthony Ant looked inside. The Grasshopper was not a Gubblechook, anyway, for he had worked hard to make the fine lettering of the words, and he had taken much pains with the hatband he had made himself.

Anthony read the words inside the hat:

“Don’t Get Angry at Nothing at All, and Don’t Get Angry at Anything! Don’t Be Afraid of Work!”

He thanked the Grasshopper, took his hat and put it on, and, with basket and case, marched on once more over and under the scenery.