“Ah, that is too bad! How did it happen?” asked the rabbit gentleman kindly.
“I was caught in a hail storm yesterday,” said the butterfly, “and the hail stones broke one of my wings. I managed to flutter to my home in the lily, but I cannot go out now, as my wing is too sore. And, if I do not fly around among the flowers and suck out the honey, on which I live, I shall surely die.”
“Ha! No, indeed, you will not!” Uncle Wiggily cried. “I will not let you die. I will help you. See, I am going now for Dr. Possum, the animal gentleman who helps us woodland creatures, and mends broken wings and legs and everything like that. He will fix your wing for you, and then as to honey and flowers—well, I can fix that, too. Just don’t worry any more.”
“Oh, how good you are!” sighed the poor butterfly.
So Uncle Wiggily hurried after Dr. Possum and brought him to the lily house, and then while the butterfly’s broken wing was being mended, with rose leaves and marshmallow candy, Uncle Wiggily went to some kind bees whom he knew, and said:
“Now, dear buzzing bees, a friend of mine—a butterfly—has broken her wing. She cannot go fluttering around the flowers, sipping honey. So, until her wing is better, will you not, every day, carry her a little honey to her home in the white lily?”
“Of course we will!” cried the queen bee. “Gladly will we do that. Why, my goodness gracious me sakes alive and some apple blossoms! I should say we would do a kindness like that! Wouldn’t we, bees?”
“Buzz! Buzz!” said all the other bees. “Yes! Yes!”
“Then everything will be all right,” said Uncle Wiggily. “Thank you!”
He hurried back to the butterfly, whose wing Dr. Possum had fixed by this time, and the rabbit gentleman told the poor creature in the lily how he had arranged for the bees to bring her honey every day until her wing was healed.