“Not at all,” said Captain Featherweight, “not unless we hear from Colonel Claw. How would you like to have the insect choir devoured in the midst of the serenade?” Then the music-elf bowed low to the Captain in token of obedience, and said: “Your word is law, noble Captain.” “Right! Left! Shoulder arms!” called the Captain. At this command every elf scampered off and went to work. Iris-Wing went into the orchard to see if the bees that had been working there during the day had done their work well. But the flower-elf did not think so, and he called at the honey-bees’ hive to say that he was not quite satisfied. The bees were very indignant that the quality of their work should be questioned, until the flower-elf explained that the elves had charge of the growing of plants, and that he was responsible for Templeton Grounds. “Captain Featherweight,” said he, “is very strict, and if I don’t make a good report I’ll lose my place and be sent to Doomdell.” “We understand,” said the bees, “and accept your apology.” “And then, of course, it may perhaps be barely possible,” suggested a sister bee, “that the work of the dying honey-bee was somewhat at fault. “The honey-bees were humming In a smiling orchard gay, They were working hard for honey, And were up since break of day. “Many trips to many blossoms Helped to fill the honey-sacs, And the richly powdered stamens Showered gold upon their backs. “Said one sister to another: ‘Why is it you linger so? Who will feed you in the winter, When the food supply is low?’ “‘I’ll report you at the Homestead, And the Sisters shall decide, At the Council of the Bee Bread,-- If you’ll longer there reside.’ “‘I don’t care for Queen or Council, I don’t care for hive or bees, I am weary carrying honey To the Homestead from the trees. “‘Cant you see my wings are shattered, And my flight is growing slow? I am all in rags and tatters, And am ready now to go “‘To the land of blessed perfume, To the haven of the blest, Where all toil and care are ended, And the honey-bees have rest!’” These verses made the flower-elf very thoughtful--so thoughtful that he flew straight into Rainbow, who was flying in another direction. “Excuse _me_!” exclaimed Rainbow; which meant, of course, “Excuse _you_!” And when Iris-Wing recited the story of the dying honey-bee, Rainbow almost shed a tear--a thing that had never been heard of among the Elves of Mount Fern. Then Iris-Wing passed on to the veranda where the Doctor’s daughters, Mary and Anna, were shelling peas for the cook. He felt very indignant whenever he thought of the bluebird feathers, even though they were safe in the nest, for he felt sure that Anna still had the _will_ to rob the birds. He wore his invisible cap, and could see and not be seen. “I’m tired shelling peas,” said Anna, “and I don’t see why the cook can’t shell them herself.”