“Say, Mary Frances, if you want me to go away, just keep on praising me, will you,” interrupted Billy.
“All right,” said Mary Frances, “I’ll stop, but I’ve gone over and over in my mind the lesson about the seed babies. It all seems so wonderful to me. Do you know, Billy, I’ve often wondered how the little seed babies are made. Where does their mother get them?”
“Well,” began Billy, “I guess I can explain.”
“Oh,” shrieked Mary Frances suddenly. “Oh, Billy, excuse me, please, but that bee nearly dashed in my face.”
“It’s not after you, Mary Frances,” laughed Billy. “That’s good Mrs. Bee looking for honey. And she’ll have hard work to find it to-day, I’m thinking. Still, I saw a few very early blossoms out on the shrubs at the end of the garden.”
“I saw them, too, Billy. Isn’t it lovely that we have such beautiful things to enjoy.”
“That’s what Mrs. Bee thinks, too,” said Billy; “and in fact, the flowers are made beautiful, not for us especially, but to attract the bees and moths and butterflies.”
“But I can’t imagine why,” said Mary Frances; “the bees only steal honey from them.”
“Only steal honey!” exclaimed Billy. “But then, I used to think so myself, Mary Frances, until about a year ago, when I learned better. You see, the bees do every bit as much for the flowers as the flowers do for the bees.”
“Oh, do they? That’s wonderful, Billy. Please tell me about it?”