“Oh, no, indeed!  I meant only proud,” replied Betty, contritely; for Mr. Bombus’s face had really grown pale with horror at the remembrance of the bee’s awful fate, and she was very sorry she had occasioned him such discomfort.

“Then why did n’t you say only ’proud’?” asked her companion, sharply.  “You said ‘proud,’ and then added ‘stuck up.’”

Betty thought it was about time to change the subject, so she observed quietly that By-and-by seemed a long way off.

“Of course it is a long way off,” replied her companion.  “Don’t you wish it to be a long way off?”

Betty hesitated.  “Well, I don’t think I ever wished much about it.  Can you tell me how many miles it is from some place I know about?  You see, Mr. Bombus, I am pretty sure it is n’t in the geography.  At least, I don’t remember that I ever saw it on the map.  Could n’t you tell me where it is?”

Mr. Bombus considered a moment, And then asked, “Do you know where Now is?”

Betty thought a minute, and then replied, “I suppose it is Here, sir.”

“Right!” assented the old gentleman, promptly.  “Now, if you had said There, it would have been wrong; for Then is There.  You see, this is the way:  When we have lived in Now until it is all used up, it changes into Then, and, instead of being Here, is There.  I hope it’s plain to you.  Well, you asked me where By-and-by was.  That ’s the very thing about it:  it never was, not even is; it’s always going to be, and it’s generally a rather long way from Now; so, if you know where Now is, you can make your own calculations as to the distance of By-and-by.”

“But I don’t know anything about calculating distances,” said Betty, dolefully.

“It does n’t matter,” remarked Mr. Bombus; “for even if you did you could n’t apply it in this case.  But we ’re getting on in our journey.  Yes, indeed, we seem to be really getting on.”

“Why, I should hope so!” returned Betty.  “It seems to me I never flew so fast in all my life before and for such a long time.  If we were n’t getting on, I think I should be discouraged.  We seem to be almost running a race, we go so quickly.”

“We are running a race,” observed Mr. Bombus.

Betty opened her eyes wide and said:  “Why, I did n’t know it.  When did we begin?”

“When we started, Child.  Pray, don’t be stupid!” replied her friend, a little severely.

“But with whom are we running it?” queried Betty.

“With Time,” whispered Mr. Bombus, confidentially.  “One always has to beat him before one can get to By-and-by.  And then it depends on one’s self whether one likes it or not after one gets there.”

But even as he spoke Betty seemed to feel herself hurried along more rapidly than ever, as if she were making a final effort to outstrip some one; and then she was brought to so sudden a standstill that she had to do her best to keep from falling forward, and was still quite dizzy with her effort when she heard a panting voice say, “That last rush quite took away my breath!” and found herself being addressed by Mr. Bombus, who was very red in the face and gasping rather painfully, and whom she had, for the moment, forgotten.