IT was almost fall.  The nights ­and some of the days ­were chilly.  Those that had spent the whole summer out of doors began to think about where they should pass the winter.  Yet everybody was amazed by the news that Mrs. Ladybug spread broadcast.  She said that she expected, soon, to go into winter quarters.

“Humph!” cried Daddy Longlegs’ wife when she heard what Mrs. Ladybug was saying.  “She never had any quarters, so far as anyone knows.  Mrs. Ladybug hasn’t been able to tear herself away from the orchard long enough to live anywhere except in the apple trees.”

It was plain that Daddy Longlegs’ wife didn’t believe what Mrs. Ladybug was telling her neighbors.  And there were many more folk that agreed with her.

Little Mrs. Ladybug smiled a knowing smile when she heard what her friends thought.

“They’ll see!  They’ll see!” she said.  “I’m going to spend the winter in the biggest and finest house on this farm.”

That was all she would tell.  She wouldn’t breathe another word about her plans.  And naturally, every one became very curious.  There wasn’t a soul that wasn’t agog to know what Mrs. Ladybug intended to do.

The neighbors asked her, begged her, teased her ­some even threatened her.  But she declined to answer.  She said that if she told where she expected to pass the cold months everybody would want to go to the same place and maybe there wouldn’t be any room left for her.

Perhaps some of her friends had intended to follow her into her winter quarters.  Anyhow, many of them looked guilty when she made that remark.  And a few of them looked angry, and declared that Mrs. Ladybug was selfish.

“If the house is as big as she claims it is, it ought to hold a few extra guests without being crowded,” they grumbled.

“Guests ­” said Mrs. Ladybug ­“guests should always wait for an invitation.”

“Have you had one?” Buster Bumblebee asked her.

Mrs. Ladybug did not answer his question.  Most people thought Buster Bumblebee a stupid fellow.  Many people paid little heed to him.  Yet strange to say, he often hit the nail on the head, so to speak.  And this time he made Mrs. Ladybug somewhat uncomfortable.  She had had no invitation to spend the winter in the fine, big house.  But she didn’t care to have her neighbors know that.

“There’s just one thing to do,” Buster Bumblebee decided.  “I’ll ask the Carpenter Bee if he’s building a house for her.”

So he went to the big poplar by the brook, where the Carpenter Bee lived.  And that mild person himself ­sawdust-covered as usual ­answered Buster’s knock at his door.

“Are you building a house for Mrs. Ladybug?” Buster Bumblebee inquired.

“No!” said the Carpenter.  “We couldn’t agree.  She wanted me to work twelve hours a day.  And I wanted to work twenty-four.  I told her I must have some time to rest.  But she couldn’t see things as I did.”

Buster Bumblebee was puzzled.

“I don’t understand,” he said.

The Carpenter kindly made matters clear to him.

“I rest only when I’m working,” he explained.