THE SILK-HOUSE
Marie's prediction proved a true one, for within another fortnight the
mulberry buds were tipped with green, and it was evident they would be
in leaf with the coming of a few more days of warm sunshine.
"Our silk-growing will begin in earnest now," declared Madame Bretton,
"and before it does I think we'd better take one last careful survey of
the silk-house to make sure that everything is all right."
From a peg over the fireplace she took down a key, and going out,
crossed the lawn to a building which stood opposite. The children danced
after her, entering the silent structure with prancing steps. Once
inside, however, they stopped their skipping as if automatically and
instead began creeping softly about on their tiptoes. Then Pierre
glanced up and laughed.
"I declare if we are not as quiet as though the silkworms were here
already," said he.
His mother smiled.
"It is force of habit," she answered. "We always have to be so quiet
when they are here that it is hard to remember there is no need for the
precaution when the building is empty. How odd it is that their hearing
should be so acute! No one who has not had the care of silkworms can
realize the disastrous results of startling them."
"Father once told me he had known of a lot of silkworms that stopped
eating and died because a sudden noise frightened them," observed
Pierre.
"Such a calamity is not at all unusual, Pierre," returned his mother.
"And more than that, if anything alarms them after they have begun to
spin they will frequently snap the thread of their cocoon and refuse to
spin any more; if they do continue the interruption causes a lump, or
rough place, in the filament so that it is imperfect and has to be
broken and tied. In consequence the silk is poorer and brings a lower
price. So you see how really important it is not to jar their sensitive
nerves."
"Who would think that one of those green caterpillars had any nerves!"
ventured Marie. "Is it true, Mother, that a thunder-storm will check
their spinning?"
"Yes. It often does if the thunder is very heavy. Your father once lost
an entire crop of silkworms because of a severe thunder-storm. The
little creatures died of fright. It is wonderful how delicately attuned
they are."
"And their sense of smell is so keen," Marie continued thoughtfully. "I
remember one day Father hurried me out of the silk-house because I had
some perfume on my handkerchief. I was so cross," she added with a
shamefaced little flush, "for I thought the perfume very nice and I
couldn't understand why he did not like it."
"Miss Vanity!" cried Pierre. "I guess afterward you saw he was dead
right. He couldn't take the chance of losing his silkworms, and I don't
blame him, either. It is far too much work to raise them; isn't it,
Mother?"
"I rather think you will say so when you have raised your own crop," was
the quiet answer.
"Do you remember the Italian Father hired to help him once; and how he
afterward sent the man away because he would smoke, and smelled of
tobacco all the time?"
"Yes. That was another example of the same thing," replied Madame
Bretton. "Your father was afraid to risk keeping the man. The
caterpillars might scent the tobacco and object to it."
"I had no idea they were so fussy!" gasped Marie. "I do hope our
silkworms won't get frightened and die, or else have something make them
stop spinning."
"I don't believe they will if we take good care of them," was her
mother's soothing answer. "Still, we never can tell. We must heed
everything Father has told us if we want to make a success of our task.
To begin with there are the mulberry trees--we must not strip them of
leaves too early in the season, for if we do the sap will be lost, and
the strength of the tree weakened; in addition we must be careful not to
waste the leaves by gathering too many at a time, or by getting the
wrong kind. You know the worms will eat only freshly gathered leaves.
Let us not forget that. And the young silkworms must have small and
tender ones. As they grow older they will need more solid food and their
development will keep pace with the advancing vegetation. It is the
saccharine they take from the leaf that makes them grow; if you feed
them tough leaves with little saccharine in them the poor worm has all
the labor of eating a vast quantity of material that simply takes its
strength and leaves it exhausted and unnourished. Of course we have
plenty of leaves to choose from and we shall not need to economize our
supply of food. But where people grow silk in great quantities they
calculate very closely, and plan to get the greatest number of pounds of
silk from the smallest possible number of leaves. That is the way all
professional silk-growers work. Paying their leaf-gatherers is quite an
expense, and they do not wish this item needlessly large. They buy the
leaves by weight, and the leaf purchasers soon become expert in
selecting those lots that are the most nutritious; for every one wants
his silkworms to grow large and strong so that they may spin fine
cocoons and give out a valuable quality of silk."
"Why, Mother, just feeding them is an absolute science in itself then,"
sighed Pierre in dismay. "I thought if we kept them from going hungry it
was all we had to do. We never shall be wise enough to work out such a
problem as you have put to us."
"It is not to be expected that we shall," replied his mother kindly.
"Such scientific treatment of silkworms takes both knowledge and
experience. Many people raise a good crop of cocoons without knowing
much more than we do--sometimes not as much. I was only telling you the
possibilities of the industry if one were to pursue it on a large scale.
If you and Marie and I keep our silkworms alive, clean, and well-fed,
and reap a reasonable harvest of cocoons, we must be satisfied. I shall
consider we have done well. Only let us not waste more leaves than we
must. In time we shall learn to estimate about how many to gather at a
picking. Fortunately here in France the mulberry trees yield more leaves
than they do in most countries, so I am not worried lest we fall short.
In some countries the number of leaves is very limited, and the
gatherers are compelled to be exceedingly careful not to waste them. I
remember hearing your father say that in Persia, where the climate is
very hot, the natives gather small branches of leaves, that they may be
fresher than they would be if picked one at a time."
"Why don't we do that here?" inquired Marie. "I should think it would be
a fine plan."
"It isn't," responded her mother. "In the first place it injures the
trees to take off so many twigs and let so much sap escape; furthermore,
it makes more waste to clear away. We should only be making ourselves
work were we to follow such a method. The best way is to gather the
single leaves just as we always have done. There will be four of us,
for old Josef can help us. It is fortunate he did not go to the war, for
while he helped your father he learned many things about silk-raising
which will be useful to us, I am sure."
"I wish the silkworms did not eat so much," grumbled Marie.
"They must eat if they are to grow, dear," said Madame Bretton. "Every
creature eats more while growing--even children," she added
mischievously. "But a silkworm does all its growing in a very short
space of time, and in proportion to its size grows faster than almost
any other living thing. Remember, its whole life is over in a few short
weeks. It must live very fast while it lives."
"If only ours _do_ live," interpolated Marie dubiously.
"I see no reason to fear they won't," Madame Bretton said once more.
"But we must neglect nothing. It is the trifling carelessnesses that
bring bad results--the tiny things that it seems silly to take the
trouble to do. If we lose our crop of cocoons because of slighting the
little details it will be our own fault, and we shall deserve failure;
if, on the other hand, we do the best we know, we shall have no regrets.
We must take every precaution to keep the silk-house clean and
well-ventilated, for silkworms demand spotless surroundings as well as
plenty of fresh air. Then we must not allow withered leaves or other
refuse to collect on the shelves where the worms are feeding, for any
waste matter ferments and causes disease."
"Aren't silkworms very likely to get sick anyway, Mother?" queried
Pierre.
"They are susceptible to certain diseases," nodded Madame Bretton. "For
example, there are epidemics which sometimes sweep away the hatching of
an entire season; sometimes, too, the eggs are diseased and hatch into
diseased caterpillars, which in turn lay more diseased eggs. This was
the tragedy that befell France in 1847. At that time the French people
could get no healthy eggs anywhere in their own country, and were forced
to send to Italy for them. Afterward the infection spread to Italy. Then
those from the region of the Danube, where growers had been purchasing
them, also became diseased. The plague spread even to China, until in
1865 the only good eggs to be had were those from India. You can imagine
what a terrible experience that was for the peasants. Not only did they
lose all the eggs that they had raised and stored, but as most of them
were poor they could not afford to import perfect eggs from India. Hence
many of them gave up silk-raising entirely and the price both of
silkworms and of silk became enormous. Only the very rich could afford
to buy either."
"How did people ever get out of such a tangle, Mother?" questioned
Marie, much interested.
"Little by little those fortunate persons who secured good eggs sold a
few to those who had none, and the crop soon increased, for one
silkworm-moth will lay as many as two or three hundred eggs. But even at
this rate it took many years to get the industry up to where it was
before. It was a terrible misfortune to the French and Italian peasants,
and you may be pretty sure that as a result of the calamity every one
set about being careful to prevent another such disaster. Now when
silkworms are ill they are quickly isolated, just as people are who have
contagious diseases. And if there is danger of wide-spread infection,
and the growers think best not to take any risks, they will even kill
many of the caterpillars outright. The sacrifice is sometimes great, but
it is a necessary precaution. Furthermore, present day sericulturists
have learned much about growing silkworms, and the importance of keeping
the silk-houses clean and well aired; they have found that they must
preserve an even temperature within the buildings; wash the walls down
with lime to purify the atmosphere; sterilize the trays from which the
worms feed; and hatch the eggs in large, airy places. The most
up-to-date growers who work on a large scale use incubators. Of course,
however, there are still some ignorant peasants who insist on hatching
the caterpillars inside their clothing, where the warmth from their
bodies will bring the eggs quickly to maturity. Fortunately there are
not many who do this. They have learned better."
"I should hope so!" ejaculated both Marie and Pierre in a breath.
There was a moment of silence; then the boy looked up into his mother's
face and said:
"I understand now why Father was so particular."
"Your father is an intelligent man, who believes that 'trifles make
perfection and that perfection is no trifle,'" answered Madame Bretton.
"He has raised some very fine silk and made a good profit by selling it.
But every franc of the money was earned--it never came to him easily."
"We'll try to do as well as he has, won't we, Mother?" Marie said
softly.
"We must not expect to do anything as well as your father would have
done it; he has been a very successful silk-grower. But we will do as
well as we are able," returned Madame Bretton with a sad, far-away
glance.
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