Ootside the birds were singing in the trees, and the air came in gently.
"Oh, it's good to be alive!" said Mac.
But I dinna ken whether it was the poetry of the day or the great biscuit he had just spread wi' jam that moved him! At any rate there was no doot at a' as to what moved a great wasp that flew in through the window just then.

It wanted that jam biscuit, and Mac dropped it.
But that enraged the wasp, and it stung Mac on the little finger.

He yelled.

The girl who was singing in the next room stopped; the birds, frightened, flew away.

I leaped up--I wanted to help my suffering friend.
But I got up so quickly that I upset the teapot, and the scalding tea poured itself out all over poor Mac's legs.