Ladybirds on Every Leaf

Arthur found a ladybird on his toast. Then he found another one on his sleeve. When he opened the back door, the whole garden was red and spotty. Ladybirds sat on the roses, the beans and the washing line.

"Ladybirds, ladybirds, everywhere!" said Arthur.

He wanted to count them. He wanted to know the exact number, because that was a good thing to tell Grandad.

He started on the fence. "One, two, three, four." A ladybird flew off his finger. Now he had lost his place. "Oh no."

He started again at the beans. "One, two, three, four, five, six..." Then the ladybirds wandered about, and he did not know which ones he had counted.

"Ladybirds, ladybirds, stay still!" said Arthur.

They did not. Ladybirds never do.

Arthur sat on the step and thought. Then he looked at his biscuit tin. Inside it was a pile of little paper circles from his last painting day. He had a better idea.

He took a circle and put it on the ground. "One ladybird for one circle," he said.

He set a circle under each ladybird on the leaves low down. When a ladybird sat on a circle, it stayed counted. Then he lined the circles up on the path, one by one.

A big bumblebee came buzzing by. She did not help at all. She only wanted the lavender, and she zoomed past with a loud bzzzzz. The wind from her wings blew three circles away.

"Oh, bumblebee!" said Arthur, and he laughed. He picked the circles up and put a pebble on each.

At last the path was full of circles. Arthur counted them slowly. "Twenty-eight!"

Just then a ladybird landed on his nose. Then another landed on his ear. Then a third landed right on top of his hat.

"Thirty-one," said Arthur softly, and he did not move at all.

The garden hummed, and the sun was warm, and thirty-one tiny red coats sat on him, shining.