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Tale of Betsy Butterfly, The

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<h2>XX</h2> <h3>SOMETHING SEEMS WRONG</h3> When Jimmy Rabbit went to see Betsy Butterfly the next morning he found her quite willing to let him take her picture away with him. "But I must say—" Betsy remarked—"I must say that I don't understand why anybody should want to borrow this old portrait. Everyone tells me I have changed a great deal since you made it." "That's true," Jimmy Rabbit agreed. "But the person to whom I'm going to show it won't know the difference." "I don't believe he knows me, then," she remarked. "No! And probably he never will," said Jimmy Rabbit. "But don't you worry about that! From what I hear of him, he's a good deal of a bore." "Don't bother to bring back that picture!" she called to Jimmy Rabbit as he hopped away. "I'm afraid Betsy Butterfly is growing vain," he murmured to himself. "To be sure, she has changed. But I shall always like this portrait of her, because I painted it myself." Later, when he was in Farmer Green's garden, he wrapped the picture carefully in a rhubarb leaf and hid it beneath a pile of brush. And he didn't come back for it until after dark, just as the moon peeped above the rim of the hills. At the duck pond Jimmy Rabbit found Freddie Firefly waiting for him, hopping up and down and flashing his light through the misty gloom. "Did you get it?" Freddie demanded. "It's safe in my pocket," Jimmy assured him. "Let me have it!" said Freddie. "Dusty Moth is waiting for me at the fence-corner, near the orchard. And I want to give him a good look at Betsy Butterfly's picture before the moon gets too high, for he can't see well if there's too much light." Jimmy Rabbit drew the picture carefully from his pocket. And Freddie Firefly took it and slung it across his back. He fairly staggered under the weight. "Aren't you going to look at Betsy's picture yourself?" Jimmy Rabbit asked him. "It's a good bit of work, if I do say so." "Oh! I don't care about seeing it. It's nothing to me, you know," said Freddie carelessly. "But I hope Dusty Moth will be satisfied with it." "Well, I won't go with you, to see if he is," Jimmy Rabbit told him. "I usually have a light lunch at this hour. So I'll meet you here at the duck pond after I come back from the cabbage patch." They parted then. And shortly afterward Freddie Firefly dropped down beside Dusty Moth, who made no attempt to conceal his pleasure. "At last!" he cried. "At last I am to behold the beautiful Betsy Butterfly's picture!... I do hope it's a good likeness!" he added as he began, with trembling hands, to unwrap the rhubarb covering from the portrait. "It certainly is," Freddie Firefly assured him. "It was made by a friend of mine, who once painted a famous picture of old Mr. Crow." While Freddie danced along the top of the fence, Dusty Moth carried the picture into the shade of an apple tree, out of the moonlight, so that he might see it more clearly. A few moments later Freddie Firefly was both surprised and alarmed to hear a cry of anguish from the direction of the apple tree. "What's the matter?" he called. "There's nothing wrong, I hope?" But Dusty Moth made no reply. <hr class="chapter" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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