It was just beginning to grow light in the east when Chirpy Cricket crawled into his hole in the pasture, after his fiddling with his favorite cousin. Having spent a good deal of the previous day in listening to the humming of the musical Bumblebee family, who lived next door to him, Chirpy was more than ready to rest.

All was quiet at that hour of the morning, except for the creaky fiddling of a relation of Chirpy’s who didn’t appear to know that it was time to go home. But Chirpy Cricket didn’t mind that. Fiddling never bothered him.

He never knew whether he had fallen asleep or not. He may have been only day-dreaming. Anyhow, all at once he noticed a rumbling sound, which grew louder and louder as he listened.

“They’re at it again!” Chirpy Cricket exclaimed. “The Bumblebee family have begun their music. I do hope they aren’t going to have another all-day party, for I don’t want my rest disturbed.”

But he soon found that the Bumblebees were not tuning up for nothing. Before long they were humming and buzzing away as if they hadn’t a care in the world.

“I declare,”—Chirpy cried, although there was no one but himself to hear—“I declare, they’re dancing again! It can’t be long after sunrise, either. And no doubt they won’t stop till sunset.”

He began to feel very much upset. He could understand why people should want to make music by night, and hop about in a lively fashion, too. But by day—ah! that was another matter.

Being unable to rest, on account of the uproar from the Bumblebees’ house, Chirpy crept out of his door and stood blinking in the pasture. Soon he noticed a plump person sitting on a head of clover which the cows had overlooked. Chirpy couldn’t see clearly who he was, coming up out of the darkness as he had. But he was glad there was somebody to talk to, anyhow.

“Good morning!” he greeted the person on the clover-top, adding in a lower tone, “They’re a queer family—those Bumblebees!”

To his great dismay, the person to whom he had spoken began to buzz. And leaping nearer him, in order to see him better, Chirpy Cricket discovered that he had been talking to Buster Bumblebee! Buster was a blundering, good-natured chap. And to Chirpy’s relief, instead of getting angry he merely laughed.

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” Chirpy told him. “If I’m disagreeable this morning, it’s because I need a good rest. And your family’s humming disturbs me.”

“Why do you think we’re queer?” Buster asked him.

“Don’t you call it a bit odd—having a dance at this time of day?”

“Bless you! They’re not dancing in there!” Buster Bumblebee cried. “That’s the workers storing away the honey. They’re always buzzing like that. Perhaps you didn’t know that our honey-makers can’t work without being noisy. To tell the truth, they wake me every morning. And often I’d rather sleep.”

“Will they keep this racket up all summer?” Chirpy inquired.

“On all pleasant days!” Buster Bumblebee said.

“Then,” said Chirpy Cricket, “I’ll have to move to a quieter neighborhood. This humming every day would soon drive me frantic.”

“I don’t blame you,” Buster Bumblebee told him. “I’ve often felt that way myself.”