When the Oldest Dragon-Fly Nymph felt that the wings under her skin were
large enough, she said good-bye to her water friends, and crawled slowly
up the stem of a tall cat-tail. All the other Dragon-Fly Nymphs crowded
around her and wished that their wings were more nearly ready, and the
larvae talked about the time when they should become Nymphs. The Oldest
Nymph, the one who was going away, told them that if they would be good
little larvae, and eat a great deal of plain food and take care not to
break any of their legs, or to hurt either of their short, stiff little
feelers, they would some day be fine great Nymphs like her. Then she
crawled slowly up the cat-tail stem, and when she drew the tenth and
last joint of her body out of the water, her friends turned to each
other and said, "She is really gone." They felt so badly about it that
they had to eat something at once to keep from crying.
The Oldest Nymph now stopped breathing water and began to breathe air.
She waited to look at the pond before she went any farther. She had
never seen it from above, and it looked very queer to her. It was
beautiful and shining, and, because the sky above it was cloudless, the
water was a most wonderful blue. There was no wind stirring, so there
were no tiny waves to sparkle and send dancing bits of light here and
there. It was one of the very hot and still summer days, which
Dragon-Flies like best.
A sad look came into the Nymph's great eyes as she stood there. "The
pond is beautiful," she said; "but when one looks at it from above, it
does not seem at all homelike." She shook her three-cornered head sadly,
and rubbed her eyes with her forelegs. She thought she should miss the
happy times in the mud with the other children.
A Virgin Dragon-Fly lighted on the cat-tail next to hers. She knew it
was a Virgin Dragon-Fly because he had black wings folded over his back,
and there were shimmering green and blue lights all over his body and
wings. He was very slender and smaller than she. "Good morning," said
he. "Are you just up?"
"Yes," said she, looking bashfully down at her forefeet. She did not
know how to behave in the air, it was so different from the water.
"Couldn't have a finer day," said he. "Very glad you've come. Excuse me.
There is a friend to whom I must speak." Then he flew away with another
Virgin Dragon-Fly.
"Hurry up and get your skin changed," said a voice above her, and there
was a fine great fellow floating in the air over her head. "I'll tell
you a secret when you do."
Dragon-Flies care a great deal for secrets, so she quickly hooked her
twelve sharp claws into the cat-tail stem, and unfastened her old skin
down the back, and wriggled and twisted and pulled until she had all her
six legs and the upper part of her body out. This made her very tired
and she had to rest for a while. The old skin would only open down for a
little way by her shoulders, and it was hard to get out through such a
small place. Next she folded her legs close to her body, and bent over
backward, and swayed this way and that, until she had drawn her long,
slender body from its outgrown covering.
[Illustration: SHE SWAYED THIS WAY AND THAT. _Page 146_]
She crawled away from the empty skin and looked it over. It kept the
shape of her body, but she was surprised to find how fast she was
growing slender. Even then, and she had been out only a short time, she
was much longer and thinner than she had been, and her old skin looked
much too short for her. "How styles do change," she said. "I remember
how proud I was of that skin when I first got it, and now I wouldn't be
seen in it."
Her beautiful gauzy wings with their dark veinings, were drying and
growing in the sunshine. She was weak now, and had them folded over her
back like those of the Virgin Dragon-Fly, but, as soon as she felt
rested and strong, she meant to spread them out flat.
The fine Big Dragon-Fly lighted beside her. "How are your wings?" said
he.
"Almost dry," she answered joyfully, and she quivered them a little to
show him how handsome they were.
"Well," said he. "I'll tell you the secret now, and of course you will
never speak of it. I saw you talking with a Virgin Dragon-Fly. He may be
all right, but he isn't really in our set, you know, and you'd better
not have anything to do with him."
"Thank you," she said. "I won't." She thought it very kind in him to
tell her.
He soon flew away, and, as she took her first flight into the air, a
second Big Dragon-Fly overtook her. "I'll tell you a secret," said he,
"if you will never tell."
"I won't," said she.
"I saw you talking to a Virgin Dragon-Fly a while ago. You may have
noticed that he folded his wings over his back. The Big Dragon-Flies
never do this, and you must never be seen with yours so."
"Thank you," she said. "I won't. But when they were drying I had to hold
them in that way."
"Of course," said he. "We all do things then that we wouldn't
afterward."
Before long she began egg-laying, flying low enough to touch her body to
the water now and then and drop a single egg. This egg always sank at
once to the bottom, and she took no more care of it.
A third Big Dragon-Fly came up to her. "I want to tell you something,"
he said. "Put your head close to mine."
She put her head close to his, and he whispered, "I saw you flying with
my cousin a few minutes ago. I dislike to say it, but he is not a good
friend for you. Whatever you do, don't go with him again. Go with me."
"Thank you," said she, yet she began to wonder what was the matter. She
saw that just as soon as she visited with anybody, somebody else told
her that she must not do so again. Down in the pond they had all been
friends. She wondered if it could not be so in the air. She rubbed her
head with her right foreleg, and frowned as much as she could. You know
she couldn't frown very much, because her eyes were so large and close
together that there was only a small frowning-place left.
She turned her head to see if any one else was coming to tell her a
secret. Her neck was very, very slender and did not show much, because
the back side of her head was hollow and fitted over her shoulders. No
other Dragon-Fly was near. Instead, she saw a Swallow swooping down on
her. She sprang lightly into the air and the Swallow chased her. When he
had his beak open to catch her as he flew, she would go backward or
sidewise without turning around. This happened many times, and it was
well for her that it was so, for the Swallow was very hungry, and if he
had caught her--well, she certainly would never have told any of the
secrets she knew.
The Swallow quite lost his patience and flew away grumbling. "I won't
waste any more time," he said, "on trying to catch somebody who can fly
backward without turning around. Ridiculous way to fly!"
The Dragon-Fly thought it an exceedingly good way, however, and was even
more proud of her wings than she had been. "Legs are all very well," she
said to herself, "as far as they go, and one's feet would be of very
little use without them; but I like wings better. Now that I think of
it," she added, "I haven't walked a step since I began to fly. I
understand better the old saying, 'Make your wings save your legs.' They
certainly are very good things to stand on when one doesn't care to
fly."
Night came, and she was glad to sleep on the under side of a broad leaf
of pickerel-weed. She awakened feeling stupid and lazy. She could not
think what was the matter, until she heard her friends talking about the
weather. Then she knew that Dragon-Flies are certain to feel so on dark
and wet days. "I don't see what difference that should make," she said.
"I'm not afraid of rain. I've always been careless about getting my feet
wet and it never hurt me any."
"Ugh!" said one of her friends. "You've never been wet in spots, or hit
on one wing by a great rain-drop that has fallen clear down from a
cloud. I had a rain-drop hit my second right knee once, and it has hurt
me ever since. I have only five good knees left, and I have to be very
careful about lighting on slippery leaves."
It was very dull. Nobody seemed to care about anybody or anything. The
fine Big Dragon-Flies, who had been so polite to her the day before,
hardly said "Good morning" to her now. When she asked them questions,
they would say nothing but "Yes" or "No" or "I don't know," and one of
them yawned in her face. "Oh dear!" she said. "How I wish myself back
in the pond where the rain couldn't wet me. I'd like to see my old
friends and some of the dear little larvae. I wish more of the Nymphs
would come up."
She looked all around for them, and as she did so she saw the shining
back-shell of the Snapping Turtle, showing above the shallow water. "I
believe I'll call on him," she said. "He may tell me something about my
old friends, and anyway it will cheer me up." She lighted very carefully
on the middle of his back-shell and found it very comfortable. "Good
morning," said she. "Have you--"
"No," snapped he. "I haven't, and I don't mean to!"
"Dear me," said she. "That is too bad."
"I don't see why," said he. "Is there any particular reason why I
should?"
"I thought you might have just happened to," said she, "and I should
like to know how they are."
"What are you talking about?" snapped he.
"I was going to ask if you had seen the Dragon-Fly children lately," she
said. And as she spoke she made sure that she could not slip. She felt
perfectly safe where she was, because she knew that, no matter how cross
he might be, he could not reach above the edges of his back-shell.
"Well, why didn't you say so in the first place," he snapped, "instead
of sitting there and talking nonsense! They are all right. A lot of the
Nymphs are going into the air to-day!" Now that he had said a few ugly
things, he began to feel better natured. "You've changed a good deal
since the last time I saw you."
"When was that?" asked she.
"It was one day when I came remarkably near sitting down on a lot of you
Dragon-Fly children," he chuckled. "You were a homely young Nymph then,
and you stuck out your lower lip at me."
"Oh!" said she. "Then you did see us?"
"Of course I did," answered he. "Haven't I eyes? I'd have sat down on
you, too, if I hadn't wanted to see you scramble away. The larvae always
are full of mischief, but then they are young. You Nymphs were old
enough to know better."
"I suppose we were," she said. "I didn't think you saw us. Why didn't
you tell us?"
"Oh," said the Snapping Turtle, "I thought I'd have a secret. If I can't
keep a secret for myself, I know that nobody can keep it for me. Secrets
can swim faster than any fish in the pond if you once let them get away
from you. I thought I'd better not tell. I might want to sit on you
some other time, you know."
"You'll never have the chance," said she, with a twinkle in her big
eyes. "It is my turn to sit on you." And after that they were very good
friends--as long as she sat on the middle of his shell.