FullReads

“You couldn’t keep him out of mischief unless you told stories all night. He loves tales dearly, but won’t stay still and listen unless they are always new and very charming,” said the bat, peeping out with one eye to see who the stranger might be.

“I know hundreds! for I was born of a fancy, and my head is full of lovely ones, and I sing such merry songs all the birds used to listen to me for hours. If I could only reach this Willy Wisp I think I could amuse him till the people got safely home,” said Bud.

“Come and try; I’ll carry you,” said the bat, shutting his wings and looking like a black mouse as he crept nearer for Bud to mount.

“No, no; stay with us, and don’t go to that dismal marsh full of ugly things and bad air,” cried the honeysuckles, trying to hold her fast with soft, sticky hands.

But Bud was eager to do all the good she might, and bravely mounted her new horse, singing as she flew away,–

“On the bat’s back I do fly
After summer, merrily.”

“She won’t do it,” said the glow-worm, putting out his lamp as he went to bed.

“Alas, no! Poor little thing! she will die over there, and never be a fairy,” sighed the flowers, looking like sad white ghosts in the dim light.

A cloud of fireflies danced over the marsh, where frogs croaked, mosquitoes hummed, and tall yellow lilies rang their freckled bells. The air was damp and hot; a white mist rose from the water that glimmered between the forests of reeds and the islands of bog moss, and sleek muskrats and bright-eyed snakes glided about, while wild ducks slept with their heads under their wings in quiet corners.

A strange, shadowy place, and Bud’s heart died within her as she thought of staying here alone. But she did want to see if she could make the bad Willy behave better and not lead poor people into danger; so she held fast while the bat skimmed to and fro looking for the naughty fellow. Soon he came dancing toward them,–a dark little body with a big head like a round lantern, all shining with the light inside.

“What have you brought me, old Leather-wing?–a pretty bride to cheer up the marsh, or an elf to dance at my ball to-night?” he said, looking at Bud with delight as she sat on the dusky bat, with her pink dress and silvery veil glimmering in the brightness, that now shone over her like moonlight.

“No; it is a famous story-teller, come to amuse you when you are tired of whisking about and doing mischief. Be very polite or I will take her away again,” answered the bat, setting Bud down on a small green island among the bulrushes and tall marsh moss.

“Let us hear one. Stop croaking, Speckle-back, and do you ladies quit dancing while I listen. Go along, Leather-wing; she shall stay till to-morrow and see what she can do,” said Willy Wisp, seating himself near Bud, while the frogs grew still and the fireflies settled on the leaves like little lamps, making the island as light as day.

“It is late now; so when you hear the clock strike twelve you can stop and go to sleep, for the people will all be safe at home and Willy can do no harm. I’ll come again soon. Good-night.”

And away skimmed the bat, glad to find the darkest part of the marsh and hunt gnats for supper.

Bud immediately began to tell the story of “The Merry Cockchafer,” and it proved so very interesting that soon a circle of frogs surrounded the island, laughing with their great mouths and winking their bright eyes as they listened. The wild ducks woke up and came to hear also; a water-snake glided nearer, with his neighbor the muskrat; while the fireflies grew so thick on the reeds and moss that everything sparkled, and Willy Wisp nodded his bright head joyfully as he sat like a king with his court about him.