SPINNY SPIDER

"Why don't you grow wings?" asked the Red Butterfly. "And whatever is

the good of having all those legs? Eight! Why, I am sure six are

enough for anybody. You are not at all handsome."

Spinny Spider turned herself round and round, and looked her velvety

body all over with her six eyes.

"We seem to look at things from different standpoints," she said. "I

have no fault to find with my shape. I don't admire wings at all, and

I certainly need all my legs. But I have no time to argue. I have my

web to make."

She ran to the top of the hedge and found a nice space between several

twigs. Then she sat still, and from a little spinneret on each side of

her body she drew hundreds of fine threads of silk, so soft and gummy

that they looked like honey. With the tiny combs she carried on each

hind foot she combed the threads in the air till they dried and

hardened; then she twisted them into a single silken rope.

She worked hard, and soon had made enough of the rope to reach to the

opposite twig, so she put a drop of gum on it and let it float in the

air till it caught the twig and stuck there. "This is a good start,"

she said. Now she climbed a higher twig and made another rope, and

dropped it across the first one at right angles. Then she made several

more, fastening them all together in the middle and gumming them

tightly to twigs at the ends, until at last the foundation of the web

was made. It looked like the spokes of a wheel without the rim.

She began to spin a finer rope. As she spun she moved slowly from

spoke to spoke, drawing the new rope with her and gumming it firmly to

each spoke. Round and round she went in ever-widening circles, till

the web was complete.

Then she stood for a moment to admire her finished work. And well she

might admire, for a moonshine wheel in a fairy coach could not be more

beautiful than this. The delicate white silk glistened and shone in

the sunlight, and here and there on every circle were set tiny drops of

gum that gleamed like golden balls.

In the centre there was no gum, for that was to be Spinny's waiting

place. She curled herself up to rest after her work and to wait for

her tea. And her tea soon came. A gnat came flying past in a hurry,

caught one of his wings in the web, and in a moment was struggling for

his life. "The gum will hold him," thought Spinny to herself. "I need

not move." The gum did hold him, and his struggles only tightened the

web about him. In a few minutes he was dead; Spinny went over to him,

and had him for tea. Then she rolled herself up again.

Presently a big blue-bottle fly came noisily buzzing along, and

blundered into the net.

"Goodness gracious! what's all this?" he shouted; and he banged and

kicked with all his wings and legs. Such a commotion! "He will smash

my web and get away, after all," cried Spinny, and she was out to him

in a moment. Quickly she spun a few threads and bound them round him

to hold him. Then she unsheathed two sharp claws in her feelers. She

drove these into the fly, holding them still for a second while a drop

of poison from her poison bag ran down each claw into the wound. Very

soon Blue-bottle was dead.

"This is a splendid tea!" said Spinny. "The wings are too hard and

dry, but the body is just what I like."

"You savage creature!" cried the Red Butterfly, who had seen the death

of the fly. "How can you bear to be so cruel?"

"Again we look at things from different standpoints," said Spinny. "I

cannot eat honey like you, but am made to live on flesh and blood.

What seems cruelty to you is only my nature, and I cannot help my

nature. I must get my food in this way, or I should die."

The Sun's Babies · 第 49 / 97 题