"Perhaps not," replied the Bee. "Their conduct may yet want that consistency; I hope they will be reconciled to each other, but I doubt whether they will give up this perfidious acquaintance, though the more their regard for each other increases, the more must their contempt for her be increased. I question, also, if the tale she has this day told will not rankle in the breast of the hearer for many future years, and whether there will ever again be that mutual confidence in the two friends which once appeared."
The next house they saw, the Butterfly entered alone, as the Bee observed some flowers at a distance which appeared more worthy of his attention. While he was busily employed in extracting their sweets, his friend returned laughing, "Oh!" said he, "I wish you had been with me. Smile no more at the regard I shew to outward appearance; why there is a young man who is storming and raging about the house, because his neckcloths and shirts are not brought home so nicely as he expected, and he is throwing them from one end of the room to the other, while the poor woman, who has, perhaps, been working hard to make them what they are, stands trembling before him, as if she had committed the greatest trespass in the world. The beauty of my wings if once destroyed, is lost for ever, but these evils, if they are any, are soon remedied; and, at the next house," continued he, "is another instance of the vanity of the sex; there is a boy who has got a new coat just brought home from the taylor's, and because the day is rather lowering, and his father won't let him wear it out, he is determined not to go out at all, and he is now sitting in his own room with the coat on, though there is no one but himself to admire it. I have seen females carry their fondness for dress as far as this," continued he, "but I thought men and boys were above such vanity; I declare I am half ashamed of them."
At this moment a heavy shower came on, and the Butterfly hastened to the shelter of a large leaf on a cucumber bed, where also the Bee was obliged to secure himself, nor could he take home the honey he had gathered till the rain had ceased.
On his return, he found the Butterfly just ventured from his retreat, and stretching his wings, he was enquiring of one of his own species, "if their colours had received any injury?"
The Bee heard the enquiry, and though he believed his friend would not have made it had he thought him within hearing, he was not now so inclined to laugh at him as formerly on account of it, "for," said he, "since I have heard such instances of vanity in a race so superior, I can forgive it in a Butterfly."
On finding that the drops still continued on the flowers, so as to prevent his gathering any thing from them, he determined to return to the hive, and there assist in forming some cells with the wax he had been busy in procuring, though the Butterfly was earnest in desiring him to take an afternoon's flight with him, "and enjoy a little pleasure."
The Bee smiled at what his friend called by that name; "my enjoyment is to be usefully employed," said he, "and to receive my mother's approbation; but as I know this is a pleasure you cannot understand, I would not wish to deprive you of what you can enjoy; go, therefore, and take your fill of it while you may, and to-morrow perhaps we may meet again."
His friend departed with this encouragement, yet not able to comprehend why all creatures did not find a pleasure in the same thing, though to the eye of reason such a distinction of enjoyments in the various objects of creation, is an evident token of the Wisdom with which they are formed.