AT CLOVER LODGE
To sit upon a sweet, pink clover blossom is more than pleasant. But to sit there sipping clover tea, with clover sandwiches and clover honey and clover cakes, while you talk to a nice old fubbly gentleman Bumblebee, is about as magic as anything that can happen.
“It hasn’t hurt you to take a day from your work, I’m sure,” remarked the nice old fubbly Bumblebee. “You could not have worked after that jambling and jipping you had in the Spider’s web. It is a wonder you could even crawl as far as this, but I knew that if you could manage it a bit of refreshment here at Clover Lodge would set you right up. Feel better already, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes, sir, I do!” cried the Ant.
“You are such a busy creature naturally,” said the Bumblebee, “that I have been wondering how you happened to get into the Spider’s neighborhood at all. I have not seen any Ant homes near there.”
Anthony hung his head.
“I wasn’t working,” he confessed.
“What!” cried the nice old fubbly gentleman Bumblebee. “Not working! Oh, I see, I see! You were off on a hunting trip after food for the family pantry.”
“No, sir,” said Anthony Ant meekly.
“Sick, then?” asked the Bumblebee gently.
“No, sir,” said Anthony Ant, and told him the whole story.
Well, how that nice old fubbly gentleman Bumblebee laughed! He laughed most of all at the point where Anthony told the name of the doctor.
“What! Alec Beetle Bug? The old rascal! I know him well. He is a good sort, but a regular Villain for jokes too. Oh, he’s all right, and his prescription hasn’t hurt you, though I wish he could see how nearly it made an end of you! Never mind. Stick to the cure, only look out for jumpy Spiders next time. Well, well, well!” And he fell to chuckling so hard that the Ant could see that Dr. Beetle Bug and the Bumblebee must have been full of fun in their youth.
All things come to an end, and some come to an end too soon. This little visit at Clover Lodge was one of the good things that ended sooner than the Ant could have wished. But Bumblebees have to get home before dark, and it was a long air trip the nice old fubbly gentleman Bumblebee had to take to reach his.
“I’d stay here all night if I were you,” he said to Anthony Ant. “It won’t cost you a thing. You will find plenty of honey in the clover cupboards, and all these cakes and things are paid for, so take what are left with you in the morning. Good luck to you! Some day I’m coming to Ant-Hill Manor to hear how things turned out with you. You tell Doctor Alec to take a trip over my way some day, and I’ll let him feel my pulse, ha, ha! Tell him to come over to hear my latest jokes. Good-by, lad!” And off he went.
Ah, but the Ant did not like to see the sun go down that night! Clover Lodge was so lonely and cold and blue without that nice old fubbly gentleman Bumblebee. The sun set in a glow, but it made him feel only more lonely, and all his sore spots seemed to ache. What if that jumpy Spider should crawl up Clover Lodge’s ladderway in the night and grab him! Oh, if only the nice old fubbly gentleman Bumblebee would come back!
Once asleep, poor Anthony Ant had bad dreams. He woke in a fright, and in the soft moonlight saw all kinds of things coming after him, or thought he saw them, which was just as bad. One shadow looked like the jumpy Spider—so much so, that he sat right up and screamed!
Then all at once he thought of his pass. He took it from the basket where he had stowed it away, and set it up where he could see it in the moonlight and where everything else that might come to harm him would see it. It looked almost Japanese in the moonlight.
Then he fell asleep again and dreamed a Japanese dream of cherry blossoms, and wind bells, and incense, and storks, and funny bridges, and a pale blue mountain, and plum trees, and all that sort of thing. It was such a lovely dream that it woke him up as wide awake as the bad dream had. But there was a difference now. He was not the least afraid, but he thought hard.
Now, as he thought, the night wind blew, and the stars twinkled, and the grasses swayed, and the Crickets not too tired to crick did it, and the soft moonlight kept on shining. It was all like a poem—rather solemn, and rather happy, and rather lumpy-in-the-throat—of the good, cheerful sort that made you want to cry or laugh, or a little of each without knowing whether you were happy or sad. Anyway, with a shout of joy, suddenly Anthony Ant felt the last part of the cure of Dr. Alexander Beetle Bug’s prescription take hold. He was cured! No more change for Anthony Ant! He had had all he wanted. He knew, for he asked himself all the questions the Firefly had told him that would help him know whether or not the cure was finished, and there was no doubt about the matter any more. Did Anthony Ant want to work? He did! Was he lonesome without his mother and the others? He was! Did he wish his mother was here nights when he was scared? Yes, he did, pass or no pass! Moreover, if another large, weepy sort of lump should rise in his throat, he felt he never could swallow it as he had managed to swallow the others. He would have to choke out loud! He would go right back home in the morning! He no longer needed any Firefly to tell whether or not the cure was finished. At last he himself just knew!
So he tucked himself up once more, slept the remainder of the night in peace, and finished that lovely Japanese dream.