The young Cricket got up at once and did what he was bid, for he really did not mean mischief, and was sorry he had hurt her; and little Miss Glow-worm rewarded him with a smile so radiant that it illuminated the spot where they stood quite brilliantly, and sparkled through her tears with rainbow hues.
“Now I would laugh to please you if I could,” said Miss Glow-worm, again smiling.
“Oh, never mind, my dear. I’ll make you and all your kindred laugh before the ball is over,” said the lively young Cricket, hurrying away, and going straight up to the Scotch Bee, who was clad in a tartan plaid and kilt.
“Bee,” said the Cricket, “can you dance the Highland Fling?”
“Ay, she can do that.”
“I could show you a better fling than the Highland one,” said the Cricket.
“Ho! could ye? ye must be verra cliver. Wull ye let her see’t?”
“Yes, if you’ll dance the Highland fling first? Will you do it if Mrs Butterfly asks you?”
The Scotch Bee good-naturedly agreed. Of course, the Cricket had no difficulty in persuading the hostess to ask him. The musicians could not play a reel; but this mattered not, for the Bee could hum to himself. Great was the delight and surprise of the company when they beheld the Scotch Bee twirling his legs, snapping his fingers, and humming the reel of Tulloch, while the tartans fluttered round him like shreds of a shattered rainbow.
The dance waxed more and more furious, and the plaudits of the company grew louder, when, suddenly, the lively young Cricket ran in between the Bee’s legs, tripped him up, and sent him sprawling on the grass. A wild shout of laughter burst from the company—Glow-worms included—and the ball-room brightened up for a few moments as if it had been set on fire!