It was a dull, dark, rainy morning, just the nicest kind of a day to stay
indoors. The windows were closed, and a bright fire was burning in the
fireplace.
A fly was having a wonderful time walking on a mirror over the fireplace.
It was very much pleased with itself and much amused at its reflection in the
glass. It would fly away, and then fly back quickly to the mirror. Tiring of
the mirror, it suddenly remembered that flies could walk on the ceiling. So it
flew up there and walked ever so far across the ceiling, never once falling.
This made it very venturesome, so it looked about for something else to do.
What a noise! A door was opened, and someone crossed the room and opened a
window. Now that the fly looked about, it saw the Sun was shining brightly,
the rain was over, so it flew straight to the open window and out into the
warm sunshine.
It was just a little fly without much experience. And for once it was
alone — no one to say: "Don't go there"; "Be careful." Oh, it was delightful to
be free. Now was the time to see the great wide world it had heard so much
about. So it flew over to a honeysuckle vine where a bee was gathering
sweetness from the flowers and buzzing merrily. It watched the bee admiringly.
Then the bee flew away and the fly went too. Into the woods they went, for the
bee was a wild bee and lived in the woods. As they flew along together they
became good friends.
"Do you like the woods?" buzzed the bee.
"This is the first time I have ever been here," replied the fly.
"Oh," said the bee, "then take care where you go. Don't be too
venturesome. Be happy and enjoy yourself, but keep a sharp lookout for
flytraps or you may get caught."
"Silly bee," thought the fly; "I'm all eyes, and quick and sure-footed. I
have nothing to fear. I will have my great adventure."
"Well," buzzed the bee, "I must be going." Buzz, buzz, and it was gone.
And the fly was all alone.
Lighting on a nice cool green flower to rest, the adventurer looked down
into this strange blossom. A rustle in the leaves nearby startled the
ever-watchful fly, and a bird warned: "Be careful; that Jack-in-the-pulpit
looks very pious, but he bears watching." Now do you know this made the fly
more venturesome than ever. It could take care of itself, it thought, and it
would make friends with this Jack-in-the-pulpit. Was he not known as the
woodland preacher?
The fly seemed to hear a little voice saying: "Come down into my pulpit.
Don't be afraid."
You know Jack-in-the-pulpit, don't you ? How straight he stands in the
flower, with a wonderful leaf folded in such a way that it makes a pulpit with
a sounding board overhead.
"Don't be afraid," said the wee voice.
"Who's afraid?" said the fly, "I'll be right down."
Down, down, ventured the tiny visitor, admiring the beautiful shiny,
striped walls of green and maroon and black. At the foot of the pulpit were
the prettiest clusters of tiny flowers, round and greenish. The fly lighted on
one of these flowers, and a wee voice said: "We are the little flowers that
Jack guards so carefully until by and by we become bright scarlet berries.
And then out of his pulpit Jack will step so everyone can see the scarlet
babies."
The fly was quite thrilled to have discovered Jack-in-the-pulpit's secret.
It was stuffy down at the foot of the pulpit, so the adventurer started to
crawl out for a breath of air. But that was not so easy, for the walls were
very slippery, and its feet did not hold. Strange, it could walk on a ceiling
or a shiny mirror, but this was different. Then all of a sudden the fly
remembered what the bee had said. Just suppose this were a flytrap! But no,
this could not be, for Jack was a preacher. Weak and weary and quite exhausted
from trying to escape, finally the tiny adventurer called out in a frightened,
weak little fly voice: "Oh, kind bee, if you are near please come to my
rescue." Then too tired to try again the fly dropped on the floor of the
pulpit at Jack's feet completely exhausted.
A lusty buzz, buzz, buzz, made the adventurer stir. The bee had lighted on
the same flower.
"Kind bee, please help me," said the fly.
"Where are you?" buzzed the bee, looking down into the flower but not
venturing in.
"Way down here," said the fly.
"Quick!" said the bee; "look for the opening in the flap." So the fly made
one more try for escape and, yes — it found the opening in the flap in front
where the leaf folds together. It didn't feel very venturesome now, just glad
to be alive.
"Thank you, kind bee," humbly said the fly. "You saved my life. I was a
foolish fly."
"Yes," buzzed the bee, "but we are all foolish sometimes. There is always
a way out though if we can only find it."
Then the bee and the fly flew away together and became even better
friends.
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