Little Flutter's yellow wings trembled with fear as she saw her brother
start upward. She told him in a faint voice that window panes were very
dangerous. Mother Moth had cautioned them both about window panes.

Dizzy stumbled onto the sill with a sickening thud, scattering the
diamond dust from his sun-colored pearl wings into a fine glittering
mist upon the green paint. Ugh! with a jar up flew the window and Dizzy,
thinking faintly about little Flutter, cuddled among the clover
blossoms, was swept into the room and its blinding light. The soft, warm
fragrance of the night air reminded him of the cozy little place on the
grass at the foot of the hill--the little birch-leaf home. Mother Moth,
Flutter, and Father Buzz were all down there now, and listening perhaps
to the Cob-web Symphony played by the Marsh Grass Vesper Quartette. And
this, too, was the evening when the June Bug was to sing the June Bug
Wing Solo, composed by himself. Dizzy had heard his father practising
the accompaniment; and the melody and words kept running through Dizzy's
head somewhat like this:

_The June Bug Wing Solo

Moderately fast_

"Crack! Crack! my brittle wing,"
Is all I ever sing,
Tho' I've almost always said,
When I've struck my little head,
That I'm angry, with a buzz, buzz, buzz.

"Crack! Crack! my brittle wing,"
Be careful how you fling