One night Dr. Pigg and Mrs. Pigg and Brighteyes went to a nice moving-picture show that Percival, the old circus dog, had gotten up, and they left Buddy at home alone. The reason for that was this: Buddy wasn't feeling well. He had eaten too many ice cream cones, and too much lemonade on a hot day, and he had to have some medicine that his papa fixed for him.

It was bitter, sour medicine, too, and Buddy didn't like it, and he didn't like to be ill, either, but one always is when one eats too many ice cream cones and drinks too much lemonade on a hot day; yes, indeed, and a bottle of paregoric besides.

Well, Buddy was sick, and couldn't go to the moving-picture show, but his mamma and papa thought it would be all right to leave him home alone, as he was getting better by that time.

"I'll tell you all about the show when we come back," promised Brighteyes. "There is going to be a fairy play in it."

"Oh!" cried Buddy, "how I wish I could go! I love fairy plays!"

"You will be much better in bed," said Dr. Pigg, "and if you keep quiet you won't have to take any more medicine."

There was no help for it, and Dr. Pigg and his wife and daughter started off. They knew Buddy would be much more comfortable in bed than at the show, or they would never have left him, and right next door lived a family of chickens, who would come over in case anything happened.

Buddy felt a little lonesome when his folks had gone, but after awhile he fell asleep. He dozed off for some time, and, all of a sudden, he was awakened by hearing something going "thumpity-thump-bump-bump-bump! Humpity-hump-bump-bump!" on the ceiling and walls of his room. Then it went "bangity-bung-bung," and before Buddy knew what was happening, if something didn't go slam-bang-crack into the lamp, and put it out, leaving the poor little guinea pig boy in the dark.

Then how frightened he was! He shivered, and crept down with his head beneath the bed clothes, but all the while he kept hearing that "thumpity-thump-bump-hump-lump-dump!" against the ceiling. First he thought it was the bad fox, who had gotten in to eat him up, and then he knew the fox couldn't fly around the room that way, or, if it could, it would make ever so much more noise. Then he thought it might be an owl, with big, round, staring, yellow eyes, but when he peeped out from under the clothes the least bit, he didn't see any eyes, so he knew it couldn't be the owl.

"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" cried Buddy, when he was so frightened he couldn't keep still any longer, "Oh, dear! I wish my papa and mamma would come home; and Brighteyes, too!"

"What for?" asked a voice, away high up on the ceiling.

"Because I'm—I'm lonesome—and afraid—and—and—" but Buddy was almost crying, so he couldn't finish what he had started to say.

"What are you afraid of?" asked the voice, and this time it was on the side wall, close to Buddy.

"I'm afraid of you!" cried the little boy guinea pig, and he got farther under the bed clothes.

"Nonsense! Afraid of me!" exclaimed the voice, and this time, bless me; if it wasn't on the blanket, right over Buddy's nose. "Don't be afraid, little boy," the voice went on. "I wouldn't hurt you for the world. Why, I'm only a harmless, old June bug, you know. I blundered in here by mistake, somehow, because I saw your light, but now it's dark, and I can't see to get out. But land sakes, goodness me, and some buttermilk! Don't be afraid of me! I wouldn't hurt you for the world and the moon too."

"Well, I—I don't exactly know if I'm afraid of you or not," went on Buddy. "First I thought you were a fox or an owl. I—I guess I'm a little afraid of the dark, too."

"Nonsense! The dark can't hurt anyone," said the June bug. "The dark is good for sleeping. But if you're afraid, how would you like me to tell you a story? And that will pass the time until your papa and mamma come home."

"Oh, fine!" cried Buddy, and he wasn't afraid any more, for he loved to hear stories. So the June bug perched upon the bed clothes, where they were nice and soft, and he told lots of stories to Buddy.

He told about the cow that went to school, and about the bear who was bitten by a big, black bug, and about two good boys, and about three bad boys, who lived in a cave, and about an elephant, and about a horse that had four legs and, oh, I don't know how many stories.

Then the June bug sang this little verse, only, as I have a cold in my head you'll have to get some one else to sing it for you. Anyhow this is how it goes:

And then, land sakes, and a feather pillow; if Buddy Pigg wasn't fast asleep. Then the kind old June bug sang his song over again, softly, and was about to fly away, when he saw a mosquito going to bite the little guinea pig boy.

And what did that bug do but grab the mosquito and throw him out of the window. And the June bug stayed until he heard Dr. Pigg and his wife coming back, and then he flew away, for he had managed to find the place where he had come in, and crawled out again.

Buddy woke up when his mamma came in his room to see how he was, and he told her all about the June bug, and how kind it had been, and how it had told stories.

"You must have had a lovely dream," said Mrs. Pigg, but Buddy knew it had actually happened, and wasn't a dream at all. Now if my typewriter doesn't fall down and sprain its hair ribbon we'll next have a story soon about Brighteyes and a bad boy.