treat before Harry, and
went out to attend to some work in the farm-yard.

Just at that moment a wasp, who had grown tired of buzzing about the
peaches in the garden, and trying in vain to get at them (for Peter
had covered them with network), peeped in at the window with one of
his many eyes, and, spying Master Harry's pudding, thought, I suppose,
that he should like a share. So, without waiting to be invited, he
flew in with a loud hum, and made straight for the table, just as
Harry had stuck his fork into the first piece of crust.

Now, our farmer's boy, though he liked pudding, did not like wasps,
which he fancied were always ready to sting; and being himself rather
hasty in temper, he at once declared war against the little intruder.
First he hit at it with his knife, but without success; and then with
his fork, but only with this result--that the pudding, instead of
going into Harry's mouth, flew under the grate among the ashes, while
the wasp seemed to be humming a song of defiance.

Harry grew red in the face, and vowed vengeance against "the nasty
thing;" but "the nasty thing" would not come and be killed. Seizing a
large wooden pudding spoon, which lay close at hand, Harry jumped on
one of the wooden chairs and aimed a desperate blow at the poor
insect. But Yellow-band was too sharp for him, and Harry, losing his
balance, fell down with a thump on the sanded floor, while his weapon,
spinning across the kitchen, came in contact with one of Mrs. Jolly's
basins, and brought it down with a crash. In rushed Martha in a
fright, and, worse still, farmer Jolly's round, good-natured face
appeared close behind.

"Bless the boy," cried Martha, "what have you been up to now?"

"Why--why," said Harry, rubbing his shoulder and looking ruefully at
the broken china, "it was all that horrid wasp."

"And why couldn't you leave the wasp alone?" retorted Martha, angrily,
as she picked up some of the pieces.

"Ay, boy," said farmer Jolly, "why couldn't you leave the wasp alone,
eh? Why couldn't you leave it alone?" he repeated, catching Harry by
the arm with a grip that made him wince.

"Please, sir--please, sir," stammered the boy, "I thought the
nasty--the wasp I mean--was going to sting me."

"Stuff and nonsense," replied the farmer; "if you don't interfere with
the wasps, the wasps won't interfere with you. How often have I told
you that _it takes two to make a quarrel_? Now you have wasted your
time, spoiled your