The Adventures of Maya the Bee | Page 5

head fitted in perfectly and
glided back and forth without a click.
"You seem to be only of yesterday?" he said, and laughed--not so very
politely. Altogether there was something about him that struck Maya as
unrefined. The bees had more culture and better manners. Yet he
seemed to be a good-natured fellow, because, seeing Maya's blush of
embarrassment, he softened to her childish ignorance.
"It's a rose," he explained indulgently. "So now you know.-- We moved
in four days ago, and since we moved in, it has flourished wonderfully
under our care.-- Won't you come in?"
Maya hesitated, then conquered her misgivings and took a few steps
forward. He pressed aside a bright petal, Maya entered, and she and the
beetle walked beside each other through the narrow chambers with
their subdued light and fragrant walls.
"What a charming home!" exclaimed Maya, genuinely taken with the
place. "The perfume is positively intoxicating."
Maya's admiration pleased the beetle.
"It takes wisdom to know where to live," he said, and smiled
good-naturedly. "'Tell me where you live and I'll tell you what you're

worth,' says an old adage.-- Would you like some nectar?"
"Oh," Maya burst out, "I'd love some."
The beetle nodded and disappeared behind one of the walls. Maya
looked about. She was happy. She pressed her cheeks and little hands
against the dainty red hangings and took deep breaths of the delicious
perfume, in an ecstasy of delight at being permitted to stop in such a
beautiful dwelling.
"It certainly is a great joy to be alive," she thought. "And there's no
comparison between the dingy, crowded stories in which the bees live
and work and this house. The very quiet here is splendid."
Suddenly there was a loud sound of scolding behind the walls. It was
the beetle growling excitedly in great anger. He seemed to be hustling
and pushing someone along roughly, and Maya caught the following, in
a clear, piping voice full of fright and mortification.
"Of course, because I'm alone, you dare to lay hands on me. But wait
and see what you get when I bring my associates along. You are a
ruffian. Very well, I am going. But remember, I called you a ruffian.
You'll never forget that."
The stranger's emphatic tone, so sharp and vicious, frightened Maya
dreadfully. In a few moments she heard the sound of someone running
out.
The beetle returned and sullenly flung down some nectar.
"An outrage," he said. "You can't escape those vermin anywhere. They
don't allow you a moment's peace."
Maya was so hungry she forgot to thank him and took a mouthful of
nectar and chewed, while the beetle wiped the perspiration from his
forehead and slightly loosened his upper armor so as to catch his
breath.

"Who was that?" mumbled Maya, with her mouth still full.
"Please empty your mouth--finish chewing and swallowing your nectar.
One can't understand a word you say."
Maya obeyed, but the excited owner of the house gave her no time to
repeat her question.
"It was an ant," he burst out angrily. "Do those ants think we save and
store up hour after hour only for them! The idea of going right into the
pantry without a how-do-you-do or a by-your-leave! It makes me
furious. If I didn't realize that the ill-mannered creatures actually didn't
know better, I wouldn't hesitate a second to call them--thieves!"
At this he suddenly remembered his own manners.
"I beg your pardon," he said, turning to Maya, "I forgot to introduce
myself. My name is Peter, of the family of rose-beetles."
"My name is Maya," said the little bee shyly. "I am delighted to make
your acquaintance." She looked at Peter closely; he was bowing
repeatedly, and spreading his feelers like two little brown fans. That
pleased Maya immensely.
"You have the most fascinating feelers," she said, "simply sweet...."
"Well, yes," observed Peter, flattered, "people do think a lot of them.
Would you like to see the other side?"
"If I may."
The rose-beetle turned his fan-shaped feelers to one side and let a ray of
sunlight glide over them.
"Great, don't you think?" he asked.
"I shouldn't have thought anything like them possible," rejoined Maya.
"My own feelers are very plain."

"Well, yes," observed Peter, "to each his own. By way of compensation
you certainly have beautiful eyes, and the color of your body, the gold
of your body, is not to be sneezed at."
Maya beamed. Peter was the first person to tell her she had any good
looks. Life was great. She was happy as a lark, and helped herself to
some more nectar.
"An excellent quality of honey," she remarked.
"Take some more," said Peter, rather amazed by his little guest's
appetite. "Rose-juice of the first vintage. One has to be careful