“Billy can eat cores.” After this statement, silence was broken only by munching, till Tod remarked: “What makes things?” The children, having the instinct that he had not asked them, but himself, came closer. He had in his hand a little beetle. “This beetle lives in rotten wood; nice chap, isn't he?” “We kill beetles; we're afraid of them.” So Susie. They were now round Tod so close that Billy was standing on one of his large feet, Susie leaning her elbows on one of his broad knees, and Biddy's slender little body pressed against his huge arm. “No,” said Tod; “beetles are nice chaps.” “The birds eats them,” remarked Billy. “This beetle,” said Tod, “eats wood. It eats through trees and the trees get rotten.” Biddy spoke: “Then they don't give no more apples.” Tod put the beetle down and Billy got off his foot to tread on it. When he had done his best the beetle emerged and vanished in the grass. Tod, who had offered no remonstrance, stretched out his hand and replaced Billy on his foot. “What about my treading on you, Billy?” he said. “Why?” “I'm big and you're little.” On Billy's square face came a puzzled defiance. If he had not been early taught his station he would evidently have found some poignant retort. An intoxicated humblebee broke the silence by buzzing into Biddy's fluffed-out, corn-gold hair. Tod took it off with his hand. “Lovely chap, isn't he?” The children, who had recoiled, drew close again, while the drunken bee crawled feebly in the cage of Tod's large hand. “Bees sting,” said Biddy; “I fell on a bee and it stang me!” “You stang it first,” said Tod. “This chap wouldn't sting—not for worlds. Stroke it!” Biddy put out her little, pale finger but stayed it a couple of inches from the bee. “Go on,” said Tod. Opening her mouth a little, Biddy went on and touched the bee. “It's soft,” she said. “Why don't it buzz?” “I want to stroke it, too,” said Susie. And Billy stamped a little on Tod's foot. “No,” said Tod; “only Biddy.” There was perfect silence till the dog, rising, approached its nose, black with a splash of pinky whiteness on the end of the bridge, as if to love the bee. “No,” said Tod. The dog looked at him, and his yellow-brown eyes were dark with anxiety. “It'll sting the dog's nose,” said Biddy, and Susie and Billy came yet closer.