PUPPIES AND KITTENS

THE DOLLS’ DAY

By CARINE CADBY

With 29 Illustrations by WILL CADBY

Daily Graphic.—“Wonderland through the camera. Mrs. Carine Cadby has had the charming idea of telling in ‘The Dolls’ Day’ exactly what a little girl who was very fond of dolls dreamed that her dolls did when they had a day off. Belinda the golden-haired, and Charles the chubby, and their baby doll disappeared from their cradles while their protectress Stella was dozing. They roamed through woods and pastures new; they nearly came to disaster with a strange cat; they found a friendly Brother Rabbit and a squirrel which showed them the way home. In short, they wandered through a child’s homely fairyland and came back safely to be put to bed at night. It is a pretty phantasy, but it is given an unexpected air of reality by the very clever photographs with which Mr. Will Cadby points the moral and adorns the tale.”

E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY

Salome.

PUPPIES AND
KITTENS

And Other Stories

BY
CARINE CADBY

Illustrated with 39 Photographs by
WILL CADBY

NEW YORK
E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY
681 FIFTH AVENUE

Copyright, 1920,
By E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY

All Rights Reserved

Printed in the United States of America

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PUPPIES AND KITTENS

TWO PUPPIES

CHAPTER I
TIM

Some dogs love being photographed and others simply hate it. We once had a dog called Tim who was determined to be in every photograph. It didn’t matter what we were trying to take, Tim would do his best to push in. And the worst of it was that when you were busy with the camera you couldn’t be looking after Tim at the same time, and he would somehow manage to get into the picture. Perhaps he hadn’t got in quite far enough, in which case you would see only a bit of him, which was worst of all.

So you may be sure we had no trouble with him if ever we wanted to pose him for a photograph. Tim was a proud dog then, and he would sit or stand any way we liked; the only bother was to keep his tail still, for being so pleased, he couldn’t resist wagging it.

I believe you would have liked Tim because, of course, you are fond of dogs, and he was an adorable dog. He was very sociable and hated being left out of anything, so that if two or three of us were chatting, Tim would jump on a chair and join the party. He would lean over the back, gazing so intelligently into our faces, that it really seemed as if he were talking, too.

A dog’s love for his people is a curious and beautiful thing. Tim did not mind how uncomfortable he was as long as he could be near them. He had once been known to give up his dinner to follow them when they went for a walk. Perhaps he was not as hungry as usual that day.

He would lean over the back of a chair.

We had another dog with Tim called Tess who hated the sight of a camera. We wanted to get a photograph of her and Tim sitting up together, but she was determined we shouldn’t. As soon as we had placed them in a good position and were ready to begin, that silly Tess would tumble on her back with her legs sticking up in the air, and how could you photograph a dog like that! We tried scolding her, but that only made matters worse, for she simply wouldn’t sit up at all, and as soon as we had dragged her on to her feet—flop, over she would go again! At last we had to give it up as a bad job.

Tess had five jolly little puppies, three boys and two girls, and as soon as ever the pups could get on without their mother, she was sent away. She went to some kind people who never wanted to photograph their dogs and where she would get heaps and heaps to eat, for I must tell you, Tess was rather a greedy dog and not as faithful and affectionate as Tim.

CHAPTER II
THE PUPPIES

Tim was very good to the puppies. Naturally, he didn’t trouble himself about them quite like a mother, but he was never snappy or disagreeable. Even when they played all over him and nibbled his ears he never growled like some father dogs might have done.

One day we wanted to take a picture of the puppies sitting in a row, little thinking the difficult job it was going to be. Of course, Tim kept sitting just in front of the camera, so before we began he had to be taken indoors.

The Puppies.

At first the puppies were all good except the two girls, Timette and Ann. They wouldn’t stay where they were put, but kept waddling away as if they had some very important business of their own. As soon as Ann was caught and put back, Timette would wander off, and when she was caught, Ann was off again and so it went on. It was lucky there were two of us, but we were both kept busy. Then the other puppies didn’t see why they shouldn’t have some fun and they began wandering away, too. There was only one thing to be done with the two naughty pups who had set such a bad example and that was to give them a whipping. Of course, not a real one, for they were such babies they couldn’t understand, but just a few mild pats to keep them still. You would have laughed to see their puzzled faces, for they were not sure what the pats meant and rather thought it was some new game. After this Ann was placed in the middle of the group, where she promptly went to sleep, and Timette was put at the end of the row, where she sat blinking as sleepily as you do when it is long past your bedtime.

Timette and Ann had never been so tired in their short lives. First of all, the running away and always being brought back, then being made to sit in one place, and after that the new game of pats had been too much for the babies, and when it was over they slept and slept as if they never meant to wake up again.

I wonder what they said to each other about it afterwards. I daresay the three other puppies laughed at them and probably made believe they had understood all along that they were expected to sit still. When old Tim came out again they told him all about it. “We tried hard to get away,” said Timette, and Ann joined in, “We tried and tried over and over again, but each time we were brought back.” Then the other puppies explained about the pats. “I see,” said Tim, “now I understand you have had your first whipping for disobedience; take care it is the last.”

They slept and slept.

CHAPTER III
TIMETTE AND ANN

When the puppies grew a little older, people used to come and look at them, and soon the three boy puppies were sold and taken to new homes.

Timette and Ann missed their brothers; it seemed funny to be such a small family and they did their best to entice old Tim to play with them. But he was too grown-up and dignified and rather slow in moving about, so it was not altogether a success. In the middle of a game he would prick up his ears and listen as if he heard some one calling him. And often he would trot off, pretending he was wanted elsewhere, just as an excuse to get away from the rough, romping pups.

Timette was given her name because she was so like Tim, and Ann hers because, as she was rather old-fashioned looking, it seemed to suit her. The puppies were very much alike, so only those who knew them well could tell them apart, but in character they were very different. Ann was gentle and timid, while Timette was a thorough tomboy, full of spirits and mischief and as bold as a lion.

And now I am going to tell you about the first adventure they had. They lived in a garden that ran into a wood. It was rather difficult to see just where the garden ended and the wood began, for they were only separated by a wire.

Now, Timette and Ann knew that they were not supposed to go out of the garden where they had plenty to amuse them: an india-rubber ball, a piece of wood that looked like a bone, and a bit of rag that did for playing “Tug-of-war.” Ann never had the least wish to wander, for she was much too timid. But, as I said, Timette was different; she was simply longing to go into the wood and have some adventures. She kept talking to Ann about it, making most tempting suggestions and persuading her to go.

TIMETTE AND ANN.

“Two little Airedale pups are we,

Shaggy of coat and of gender ‘she.’”

“Look at old Tim,” she said; “he often takes a walk by himself, and he never comes to any harm.”

“That’s all very well,” Ann answered; “he’s old, and he can take care of himself.”

“Well, and why can’t we take care of ourselves?”

“Because I believe there are wild animals that would eat us up.”

“Whatever makes you think that?” asked Timette, for she knew Ann had very sharp ears and keen scent; “do you smell or hear them?”

“Both,” replied Ann, “only this morning I smelt that some animal had been in the garden. I got on its track and followed it down to the cabbages and back to the wood again.”

“I don’t think much of an animal who only goes after cabbages,” Timette interrupted.

“There are others, too,” continued Ann, “I often hear very strange scratching noises like animals running up trees with terribly sharp claws,” and Ann gave a little shudder.

“Well, what of it?” said Timette boldly. “I shouldn’t mind their claws as long as the animals weren’t bigger than I am.”

“But they might run after us,” suggested Ann.

“They wouldn’t run after me,” boasted Timette, “for I should be running after them!”

“Would you really?” asked Ann, and she sighed, wishing she were as brave as her sister.

“I should say so,” said Timette, “if only you would come, too, we might even catch one. Think what fun that would be.”

“It certainly would,” replied Ann. “Oh, how I should love it!”

“Well, come along,” urged Timette, and Ann came along, and that is how the adventure began.

CHAPTER IV
DOGS AND THEIR SENSE OF SMELL

This conversation took place after the puppies had eaten their dinner and were supposed to be taking their afternoon nap. Tim was stretched out on the lawn in the sun, having a doze, and no one was about. The two puppies slunk off quietly into the wood and no one saw them go.

The wood was very exciting; there were such strange smells about, and when the puppies put their noses to the ground they began to find out all sorts of animal secrets. And now, before we go any further with Timette and Ann into the wood, I must just tell you a little about dogs and their clever noses or you will be wondering why these puppies talked so much about smells.

“Here you see us with Papa;

They sent away our dear Mamma.”

Hundreds of years ago, when there were no maps or books or papers, people could find out all kinds of wonderful things by their noses. Your nose now will tell you the difference between the smell of a violet and strawberry jam and other things, but when you know what a dog can discover by its sense of smell, you will see how feeble yours is.

A dog will know who has been along the road by smelling the footsteps. Although it cannot read the way on a sign-post it can smell out the way to places and follow any one who has been along, even if it was some time ago.

You wouldn’t know if a friend had been to see you while you were out unless you were told, but a dog would know as soon as he came back; he wouldn’t be obliged to ask, for he would know just who it was. If the friend had brought another little dog, too, your own dog would be so excited he would probably try to tell you all about it, and yet he was away when it happened.

The road is as interesting to a dog as the most thrilling story book is to you. It may look just an empty road, but to a dog it has all sorts of messages that conjure up pictures. He knows, for instance, that another dog has traveled there and can tell what kind of dog it was. By and by his nose tells him this dog found a rabbit and caught it. Then he finds out a bigger dog came along and chased the first dog and got the rabbit. At least, did he get the rabbit? He is puzzled and sniffs hard round one spot. It is exciting news he is finding out and you can see his tail wagging with eagerness. No, it seems, neither dog got the rabbit, for bunny was too sharp and between the two managed to get away. If a dog can find out all this by his sense of smell you may guess he can easily track the rabbit to its hole, and there he sits probably waiting for it to come out and give him the chance of a little sport, too.

Haven’t you often seen your dog stop suddenly when he is coming towards you and hold his head in the air? You must have wondered why he didn’t come straight on. He has probably had a message, a scent blown on the wind, which like a wireless, tells him a rat has just crossed the road and is somewhere in the hedge if he will only go and look. And so it goes on; there is not a dull moment in his walk.

To a dog every one has his own particular smell which never deceives him. If you dress yourself up you may puzzle your dog’s eyes for a little while. He may even bark at you as if you were a stranger, but once let him get near enough to smell you and it is all over. He will wag his tail and look up at you, as much as to say, “Did you really think you could take me in?” So you can understand why dogs when out hate to be made to come to heel, as they miss all the fun of the walk, and have no chances to stop and read the interesting smells that tell them so much.

“All the happy, livelong day,

We eat and sleep and laze and play.”

CHAPTER V
THE ADVENTURE

And now we must go back to Timette and Ann and their adventure.

“The tree-climbing animal has been up here,” cried Ann, sniffing at the bark of a tree. And when they looked up they saw a brown squirrel peeping at them from a branch.

“Come down! come down! come down at once!” barked the puppies, but Mr. Squirrel was too wise for that. He knew that even with such baby dogs it wouldn’t be quite safe to trust himself on the ground.

“I don’t call that playing fair,” Ann called out, jumping up at the tree and wishing she could climb it. But the squirrel just sat tight.

Presently Timette smelt an enticing smell and dived into some bushes, while Ann anxiously watched and waited. She could hear Timette working about and breathing hard.

“Hi, hi, hi!” shrieked a big bird as it flew out. Timette dashed after it, but it rose in the air and left her looking very surprised. “Well, that was a sell!” she said.

Ann meanwhile was busy with her nose on the ground. There were a number of insects crawling about; they had no smell to speak of, but they moved quickly, which was rather fun. Once she chased a big hairy buzzing thing. It settled on a bit of heather and she nearly caught it, but luckily not quite, for it was a bumble bee.

“Except when only one bone’s there,

And Sis takes care that I shan’t share.”

Timette didn’t care for the beetles; they were feeble sport for a dog, she thought, and putting her nose in the air she caught a most wonderful smell. She gave a short bark of delight and started running about to find it on the ground. Ann looked up and she too caught the message and was as busy as Timette. It was a most enticing scent: furry and alive and gamey so that it promised real sport. As soon as the puppies really got on to it, they put their noses to the ground and followed it up, their little stumpy tails wagging hard. Their instinct told them it was not an animal that could hurt them, but one their mother and father and grandfathers and great-grandfathers had chased, so you can’t blame Timette and Ann for following up the scent of a rabbit.

But although rabbits are often killed by dogs, they are not silly enough to allow themselves to be caught by two young, inexperienced puppies. The rabbit they chased was an old one who had his wits too much about him to be even very afraid. You will laugh when I tell you that he didn’t even trouble himself to hurry and just ambled along to a hole and popped down it.

This hole had been the chief entrance to his burrow, and he and his big family had used it so often that it was worn quite wide and smooth. The artful old rabbit, however, only went a little way down it, then he turned to one side and went up another little passage and out into the wood and off again.

The puppies came dashing along, giving little short barks of delight at the sport. They followed the scent to the hole, and without stopping they plunged right into what looked to them like a dark tunnel. Of course, they were in much too great a hurry to notice the little passage where the old rabbit had turned aside, and just pushed on as hard as they could. The tunnel wound downhill and grew narrower and narrower as they went on. Timette was leading and she called back to Ann, “Can you smell anything? I have lost the scent.”

“So have I,” Ann answered, and then as she was feeling nervous in the dark, she added, “Let’s go back.”

“No, it’s all right!” cried Timette, “we had better go on, I can see daylight and smell the open air.”

This was a good thing, for the fat puppies would have found it very difficult to turn round in such a small space. At the end the hole grew so narrow that Timette had to squeeze to get through, and when Ann crawled out, some of the roof fell in and there was no more hole to be seen.

CHAPTER VI
THE LOST PUPPIES

The puppies found themselves in a hole in two senses of the word. It wasn’t a nice hole either, but a deep one, cold and damp, too, and with no enticing smells. It had once been the home of a lot of rabbits, but it had all been dug up, and the only smell about it now was that of a cold dull spade.

“I want to go home,” whimpered Ann.

“So do I, Cry-baby,” said Timette, “but we shall have to climb out of here first.”

“What a pity you should be

Such a greedy little she!”

Then they both stood on their hind legs and stretched up the sides of the hole, and when this was no good they gave little feeble jumps. A child would have managed to scramble out somehow, and kittens could have reached the top in a twinkling; but puppies are so clumsy and helpless, and poor Timette and Ann’s struggles were all in vain. They only fell on their backs, and at last got so hurt and tired they gave it up. It was their teatime, too, and they were feeling hungry as well as unhappy, and you know how bad that is.

Ann cried, “Oh, I do want my bread and milk! I’m so hungry. Oh! oh! oh!” And Timette began crying, too, “We’re lost, we’re lost! Oh, do come and find us!” and then they both howled as loudly as ever they could, “Help, help, help!” But no one came and all was quiet.

Poor puppies! how miserable and lonely they felt! It did seem hard that no one should trouble about them, and when they couldn’t cry any longer they curled themselves up as close as they could to each other and went to sleep. They were like the lost “Babes in the Wood.”

CHAPTER VII
THE SEARCH PARTY

And now I want to tell you what was happening at home. A little girl called Ruth, who was very fond of the puppies, came to see them on her way home from a party. She loved playing with them, and the first thing she said when she ran in was, “I am just going to say good-night to Timette and Ann,” and was off into the garden to find them.

But, alas! there were no puppies to be found. There was the india-rubber ball and the stick and the bit of rag, all looking very lonely, but no sign of the puppies. Ruth was very puzzled. “What have you done with them?” she asked Tim, who was sitting up looking rather worried. He gave his tail a flop and his brown human eyes seemed to say, “It really wasn’t my fault; they ran away without asking me.”

Ruth felt sure they couldn’t be so very far off, as they were too babyish to be able to stray a great distance, and that with Tim’s help she would be able to find them. She ran back to tell us the news and that she and Tim were going out as a search party to look for the lost ones.

“Don’t be long,” we called after her, “remember your bedtime.”

“As if I could go to bed while the darlings are lost!” we heard her say.

We watched them go into the wood, Tim barking round Ruth most excitedly. He seemed to know there was serious business on hand, for instead of dashing off to chase rabbits, he kept near her and often put his nose to the ground. “We’ve got to find those puppies,” Ruth told him. Soon he gave a sharp bark and ran ahead of her, looking round and saying as plainly as he could, “You just follow me.” Ruth understood dogs as well as she loved them, and she trusted Tim and followed where he led.

In a few minutes they had reached the hole. The puppies woke up to see Ruth and Tim standing looking down on them. Oh, what a noise they made! I can’t tell you how delighted they were. It seemed like waking up from a bad dream. You couldn’t have heard yourself speak, for there was Tim barking, Ruth calling them all the pet names she could think of, and the puppies themselves simply shrieking with joy. Ruth soon jumped down into the hole, and when we came up there she was hugging the puppies who were covering her face with their wet sticky kisses, giving little sobbing cries as if they wanted to tell her over and over again how glad they were to be found, and to thank her for getting them out of the nasty hole. Ruth carried them home in her arms, talking to them all the way, while Tim stalked along by her side with a proud and injured air that plainly said, “Well, after all, it was really I who found them and I think you might make a little more fuss with me.”

“This they say is not quite right;

But who can keep still in the midst of a fight?”

CHAPTER VIII
TIMETTE AND ANN FALL OUT

Puppies don’t have meat to eat; they don’t really need it till they are grown up. However, sometimes as a great treat, Timette and Ann would be given a bone. They always had one each, because being rather jealous dogs they might have quarreled over one. Tim, too, always had a bone to himself. One day the cook threw Tim a bone, but he had gone off for a saunter in the wood, and the puppies rushed to get the prize. Timette was first and, with a bound, was on top of it. But she had jumped just too far and Ann quickly dived in and snatched it from under her. Poor Timette! her baby face looked so disappointed. “Well, you are a greedy pig,” she said; “you might let me have a bit.”

“Go away,” said Ann, and she went on calmly nibbling.

Then Timette made a dash for it, but Ann was prepared and wheeled round, the bone safely in her mouth. Timette tried again, but Ann was too artful; she just held on to the bone with her paws as well as her teeth and gave a little growl when Timette came too near.

At last Timette’s patience gave way, and with an angry cry she hurled herself at Ann. Ann at once turned on her and bit her ear, and then they got muddled up, both trying to bite as hard as they could. The bone was forgotten, for both puppies were in a rage. They fought almost savagely like big dogs and neither would give in. They made such a noise about it, too, that we came out to see what was the matter, and as they wouldn’t stop, we had to separate them. In the end Ann got rather the worst of it, which served her right for being so greedy over the bone. She was not much hurt, though, for Timette had only her puppy teeth, and they can’t bite really hard, although they are very sharp.

When it was over, they were both rather sulky and gave each other long scowling looks. Timette took the bone and kept it all the afternoon. Ann looked the other way, pretending she no longer wanted it. In the end we took it away altogether, and after that they were quite good friends again, ate their evening bread and milk in peace and went to sleep curled up together.

“We’re good dogs now, and once more friends,”

And so my doggy story ends.

CHAPTER IX
TRAINING DOGS

Dogs are very like children who never grow up. But a child would have to have a very loving heart to be as fond of any one as a dog. A dog is so faithful, too; he never tires of people or thinks them wrong or unfair, and he is just as devoted and obedient to them however old he gets. He is always trying to please them and is miserable and unhappy when he fails. That is why it is so easy to train a dog; you only have to make him understand what you want and he will try and do it. If dogs could understand all our language, you would only have to say to your dog, “Don’t walk on the flower-beds,” or “don’t take anything off the table,” or “don’t bark when we want to go to sleep,” and he would obey you. This doesn’t mean that dogs are never naughty; I know they are sometimes, but before you punish a dog you should be quite sure he understands what it is for. If he is an intelligent dog, a scolding will often do as well as a whipping. Tim only had a whipping once in his life, and yet he was a very well trained dog. He was taught not to go across the beds in the garden by being called off and made to go round, and he never stole after he had taken one piece of cake.

I must tell you about that. It was really not quite his fault, for it was on a very low table, and being rather new I expect it smelt extra tempting. He was made to feel horribly ashamed. Ever afterwards the cake plate was shown him with reproachful remarks, such as “Oh, Tim, how could you! Oh, fie, what a wicked thief!” till he would turn his head away as if he hated the sight of the stupid old cake and wished we would stop teasing him. After this he could be trusted never to take anything however near the ground it was, and no matter how long he was left alone with it.

One day the tea had been taken into the garden. Tim, of course, could be trusted, but the puppies had been forgotten. When he came out there was Tim sitting up with a very dejected look, and the two naughty puppies busy with the bread-and-butter, some crumbs on their shaggy mouths being all that was left of the cake!

“Did they get a whipping?” you ask.

Well, when we found all our nice cake gone we did feel inclined to give them some pats, but then they were too much of babies to understand, so they had a shaking and a scolding and were shut up for the rest of the afternoon. Tim soon got more cheery when we petted him up and told him it wasn’t his fault.

CHAPTER X
THE POET DOG

When Ann grew up she was given to Ruth as a birthday present; or to be quite truthful, she gave herself, for she was so fond of Ruth that she followed her about everywhere, and would stay with no one else.

She was a very sedate and serious animal; she might almost have been an old lady dog. You would have thought by the look of her she was wrapped in deep thought and that if only she could have spoken it would have been about very clever things.

She looked so wise and grave.

Ruth would have it she was making up poetry. The fact was Ruth was making up poetry herself, and when we are thinking hard of any subject we are inclined to imagine other people are, too. Just now Ruth was busy making verses and rhymes and thought Ann must be doing the same.

Ruth was rather shy over her poetry; she hadn’t told any one about it, she was too afraid they might laugh at her. And yet she badly wanted to know what they would think of it.

One day she sat Ann up in a chair at a table with pen and ink and paper in front of her. She looked so wise and grave that you could quite well imagine her a poet. And when Ruth called us in to look at her, there sure enough were some verses written.

“Look what Ann has made up,” cried Ruth. “I told you she was thinking of poetry.”

“How wonderful!” we said, for we saw whose writing it was. “Clever Ann! who will read it out?”

“I think Ann would like me to,” replied Ruth, who was glad to get this chance to read her own verses, “the poem is supposed to be about Ann’s young days when she and Timette were puppies.”

“How very interesting,” we remarked.

“Now I’ll begin,” said Ruth, with rather a red face, “it is supposed to be Timette speaking.”

“But why Timette?” we asked. “Why isn’t it Ann herself speaking?”

“Because she is a poet,” Ruth explained, “and poets always have to pretend to be some one else.”

Then she read these verses:—

“Two little Airedale pups are we,

Shaggy of coat and of gender ‘she.’

“Here you see us with papa,

They sent away our dear mamma.

“All the happy livelong day

We eat and sleep and laze and play.

“Except when only one bone’s there

And Sis takes care that I shan’t share.

“What a pity you should be

Such a greedy little she!

“This they say is not quite right,

But who can keep still in the midst of a fight?

“We’re good dogs now and once more friends,

And so my doggy story ends.”

The Spider in the Web.

SPIDERS AND THEIR WEBS

CHAPTER I
EMMA

“Spiders!” you say. “Ugh! what dreadful things. I don’t want to read about them.” But surely any one as big as you are need not be afraid of a poor little spider. Don’t you remember when “there came a big spider and sat down beside her” it was little Miss Moffat that was frightened away, and I don’t suppose she was much more than a baby.

You are quite a big boy or girl or you wouldn’t be able to read this, and spiders are really so clever and interesting that I believe you will enjoy hearing a little about them. Let us look at the picture of the spider in the web and pretend it is a real one; and shall we give it a name? I don’t believe Miss Moffat would have been frightened if she had known a little more about it, or if it had a name, so we will call this little spider “Emma.”

Emma is a girl spider and she will grow up ever so much bigger than any boy spider. It is rather topsy-turvy in the spider world, for the she-spiders are not only bigger but much stronger and fiercer than the little he-spiders, and they are quarrelsome, too, and love a fight. This need not make you think Emma is going to be savage with you; she would be much too afraid, for you are a big giant to her. It is only with other spiders and insects her own size she will fight.

When Emma was younger she was a light green color, but as she gets older she grows darker and darker and different markings come out on her back. As you grow, your clothes get too small for you and you have to have new ones or a tuck is let down. This is the same with Emma, only, as her coat happens to be her skin as well, it is no good thinking about a tuck. I don’t know how many new frocks you have, but Emma has changed hers seven times before she was grown up.

If you look closely at a real spider you will see it has hairs on its body and on its legs. Emma, too, has these same fine hairs which are very important. She can neither see nor hear very well, so these hairs, which are sensitive, can warn her of danger. They feel the least trembling of the web and are even conscious of sound, so you see how useful they are.

The spider is rather a lonely person and not at all sociable. Perhaps this is because she has to work so hard for a living. In fact, all her time, day and night, seems taken up either with making or repairing the web, and lying in wait, when she dozes far back in her little shelter out of sight, with one hand always on the tell-tale cord that connects with the web and lets her know of its slightest movement.

CHAPTER II
EMMA’S WEB

And now I am afraid you are finding this rather dry, and if I don’t tell you a story you will be frightened away like Miss Moffat.

A beautiful, regular pattern.

One day Emma felt very hungry; her larder was quite empty and she had been without food for nearly a week. It was a fine evening, with just a gentle little wind blowing, so she thought she would try a new place for her web, where it would have a better chance of catching something. She climbed up fairly high and then let herself drop with all her legs stretched out, spinning all the time the thread by which she was hanging. Then she climbed up it, spinning another thread, and when she had like this spun some nice strong sticky threads she waited for the wind to carry them on to some branches of furze. When these held, Emma ran along them, fastened them firmly and spun a fresh thread each time till she made a line that was strong and elastic, and so not likely to break easily. When she was satisfied it would bear the weight of the web, she spun struts from it to hold it firm and then began the web itself. She first made a kind of outline and then spun and worked towards the middle. It was wonderful to see what a beautiful regular pattern she was spinning, with nothing but her instinct to guide her.

You know when a house is being built it has tall poles all round it called scaffolding, which helps the building; well, the first outline of the web was Emma’s scaffolding, and when it was no longer wanted she got rid of it by eating it up!

“But how did Emma spin a thread?” I can hear you asking.

It is like this—suppose you had a ball of silk in your pocket and ran about twisting it round trees to make a big net. This is really what the spider does, but the silk comes from inside her and will never come to an end like the ball in your pocket. It issues from what are called spinnerets. When she lets herself drop, the spinnerets regulate the thread, but when she is running along spinning she uses two of her back legs to pay it out, just as you would have to use your hands to pull the silk out of your pocket. It is a pity spiders usually spin their webs at night, so that we seldom get a chance of watching them.

I said just now that Emma’s silk never comes to an end, but sometimes if a very big fly or wasp gets caught in her net she has to use a great deal of her silk, which she winds round and round the fly, binding him hand and foot, and then her stock of thread which is carried inside her may run low; but it soon comes again, especially if she gets a good meal and a nice long rest.

A fly struggling in her web.

When Emma had finished she was pleased with the look of her web and hid herself at the side of it under a furze branch. She watched and waited. She waited all night long and nothing happened.

CHAPTER III
A NARROW ESCAPE

In the morning she was still watching and waiting, but at last there was a sound. A deep humming was heard in the air as if a fairy aeroplane were passing. It was so loud that even deaf Emma might have heard it if she had not been too busy. Just then, however, her hairs had received a wireless message to say there was a catch at the far end of her web. Although a spider is much more patient than you, and can sit still a long time, it is a quick mover when there is need for speed. Emma darted out like a flash of lightning and found a fly struggling in her web. It was a very small thin one, and poor hungry Emma was disappointed not to see a larger joint for her larder. She quickly settled it, however, and spun some web round it to wrap it up, for, after all, it was something to eat and so worth taking care of. She was still busy with her parcel when “Buzz, buzz, buzz,” the whole web gave a big jump and there quite close to Emma was a huge, terrible beast. A great angry yellow wasp, making frightful growling noises and struggling desperately to get out of the web. Poor Emma wasn’t very old or daring and she knew the danger she was in, for this savage monster could kill her easily with his sting. He was fighting hard against the sticky meshes of the web and jerking himself nearer to her. She was too frightened to move, and for a minute she hung on to her web limp and motionless looking like a poor little dead spider. Then something happened. The wind blew a little puff, the wasp put out all his strength and gave a twist, the web already torn broke into a big hole and the great yellow beast was free. He glared at Emma and hovered over her, buzzing furiously. He would have liked to kill her, but luckily he was too afraid of getting tangled up again in that sticky, clinging web, so, grumbling loudly, he flew away.

“What did Emma do?”

Well, she quickly got over her fright and I think she had a little lunch off her lean fly; then she looked at her web and was sorry to see it so torn and spoilt. The best thing to do was to mend it then and there, and as a spider always has more silk in her pocket, so to speak, she was able to do it at once. She repaired it so well that it didn’t look a bit as if it had been patched but just as if the new piece had always been there, the pattern was just as perfect.

CHAPTER IV
ABOUT WEBS

I don’t believe you are feeling a bit afraid of spiders now, are you? There is no reason why we should fear them, for they don’t bite or sting us; and if they did the poison that paralyses and kills their prey would not hurt us. Besides, they kill the insects that harm us. I saw a spider’s web once full of mosquitoes, and you know what worrying little pests they are. I was glad to see so many caught, but sorry for the spider, as they didn’t look a very substantial meal. Then you know how dangerous flies have been found to be, making people ill by poisoning their food, so it is a good thing that spiders help us to get rid of them.

Another reason to like spiders is for their webs. There is no animal or insect that makes anything quite so wonderful and beautiful as what these little creatures spin.

The spider’s web is really a snare for catching her food. The strands of it are so fine as often to be invisible in some lights even in the daytime, and of course quite invisible at night. Sometimes the beetle or flying insect is so strong that he can tear the web and get free, but not often, for the spider can do wonders with her thread. She spins ropes and throws them at her big prey and doesn’t go near it till it is bound and helpless.

Of course, there are many different kinds of spiders who spin different kinds of webs. In a hotter country than this there is one that is as big or rather bigger than your hand, and another called the Tarantula whose bite is supposed to be so poisonous that it can kill people, but this is very exaggerated.

A Beautiful Web.

As the spider’s web is only her snare, she naturally has to have some kind of home, which must be quite near to her place of business. If you look very close and follow one of the strands of the web you will find some little dark cranny where the huntress can hide. If the web is amongst trees it will probably be a leaf she has pulled together with her thread and made into a dark little tunnel out of which she darts when something is caught.

Now before we leave the spiders’ webs you may wonder why you never see them so clearly as they show in the photographs, and I will tell you the reason. You see if the spiders’ nets which are set to catch sharp-eyed insects were always to show as clearly as they do in the pictures, I am afraid they would really starve, for no fly would be silly enough to go into such a bright trap. But sometimes in the autumn, very early in the morning, the dew hangs in tiny beads on the webs, and makes them show up clearly, and then it is that the photographs are taken. If you get up early some still September morning, just about the same time as the sun, and go for a walk in a wood, or even along a country road, you may see the webs with what look like strings of the tiniest pearls on them, and you will find that until the sun has dried up all the little wet pearls, which are of course dewdrops, the poor spider has not a ghost of a chance of catching anything.

But to return to the spider herself. The one you know best is probably the house-spider. It has eight legs and a body rather the shape of a fat egg, with a little round bead of a head. It runs up the walls, sometimes hanging by a thread from the ceiling, and seems very fond of the corners of the room. How glad these house-spiders must be when they get to a dirty untidy house, where they will be safe from the broom. Most of us hate to see cobwebs in our houses, and get rid of them as quickly as we can.

CHAPTER V
THE LITTLE HOUSE-SPIDER

I will tell you about a little house-spider who had a very exciting adventure. She had made a beautiful web in the corner of a bedroom, high up near the ceiling. One day her sensitive hairs told her there was some sort of disturbance in the room, and looking down from her web she saw all the furniture being moved out. The curtains and rugs had gone and the bed was pushed up into a corner. Then, to her dismay, a huge hairy monster came rushing up the wall. Of course, it was only a broom, but the poor little spider was so terrified she thought it was alive. It came nearer and nearer, and all at once there was a terrific rush and swish right up the wall where she lived, and web and spider disappeared. It was very alarming, but you will be glad to hear that the little spider was not killed but only stunned; and as soon as she came to her senses, she found herself right in the middle of the broom. She hung on and kept quite still, and soon the servants went into the kitchen to have some lunch and the broom was stood up against the wall.

Now was the little spider’s chance to escape, and out she popped. The coast seemed clear, so she scuttled up the wall and rested on the top of the door. Spiders haven’t good sight, so she couldn’t see much of the kitchen, but what she did see looked nice, and she thought it a much more interesting place than a bedroom, besides there were some flies about, so she determined to spin another web. No sooner had she begun when there was a crash like an earthquake. “Will horrors never cease?” thought the spider. It was really only the slamming of the door, but it so startled her that she fell and dropped on to the shoulder of some one who had just come in.

A Snare.

“Oh, Miss Molly!” cried cook, “you’ve got a spider on you, let me kill it.”

“No, no,” said Molly, “that would be unlucky, besides it’s only a tiny one,” and she took hold of the thread from which the spider hung and put it out of doors. Wasn’t that a lucky escape? She ran up the wall and got on to a window sill. Here she crouched down into a corner making herself as small as she could for fear of being seen, and then she fell asleep. You see she had gone through a great deal that morning, and the excitement had thoroughly tired her out.

When evening came she woke up and felt very hungry, so she quickly spun a web, and would you believe it, before it was even finished she felt a quiver, and there was a silly little gnat caught right in the middle. He was very tiny, but the spider wasn’t big, and he made a very good meal for her. She didn’t stop even to wrap him up, for she couldn’t wait, but gobbled him up on the spot.

CHAPTER VI
BABY SPIDERS

Before a spider lays her eggs, she spins some web on the ground. She goes over it again and again, spinning all the time, till it looks like a piece of gauze. Into this she lays her eggs—often over a hundred—and covers them with more web and then wraps them up into a round ball. I don’t suppose you would think it, but a spider is a very devoted mother, and this white ball is so precious to her that she carries it everywhere she goes and never lets it out of her sight. She will hold it for hours in the sun to help to hatch the eggs, and she would fight anything that tried to hurt it or take it away from her.

It is the same when the eggs are hatched out, for her babies are always with her. Their home is on her back, and as there is such a swarm of them, they cover her right up and you often can’t see the spider for the young. Often some of them drop off, but they are active little things and they soon climb on again. As long as they live with their mother they have nothing to eat. This fasting, however, doesn’t seem to hurt them for they are very lively; the only thing is they don’t grow.

It doesn’t seem to matter very much even to grown-up spiders to go without their dinners for several days. And when they do at last get some food they gorge. They eat and eat and eat, and instead of making themselves ill like you would do, they seem to feel very comfortable and are able to go hungry again for some time. Perhaps it is because, as babies, they got used to doing without food.

Spiders love fine weather.

Spiders love fine weather, and they seem to know when to expect the sun to shine. When it is a bright day Mother Spider brings out her big little family. It is no good offering them any food, for they can’t eat it yet, so she finds a sheltered hot place and gives them a thorough sun bath, which they like better than anything else.

And now one more little story before we say “Good-by” to spiders. When Emma was a tiny baby she had thirty-nine brothers and sisters. And as she was just a tiny bit smaller than the others, she was very badly treated. The stronger ones would be very rough and cruel to her. They used to walk over her and push her near the edge where she would be likely to fall off. Two or three times they had crowded her so that she really had slipped off and lay sprawling on the ground. However, she was very nimble and agile, and she had always been able to pick herself up quickly and clamber up one of her mother’s legs on to her back again.

One day the little spiders were more spiteful than usual. “You are a disgrace to us,” they told Emma, “you might be a silly ant.”

“I’m no more an ant than you,” said Emma, “I can’t help being small.”

“Ant, ant, ant!” they cried, “ants belong on the ground and that’s your proper place,” and pushed her off on to the ground.

The unlucky part was that Emma’s mother didn’t know what had happened, and before Emma could struggle to her feet, she had hurried away having noticed a bird hovering near. There was Emma all alone, a poor lost little spider without a mother or a home.

She was feeling very sad and wondering what would become of her, when along came another Mother Spider with a lot of babies on her back. Two of these fell off quite near to Emma, and when they ran back to their mother she ran with them. Up an unknown leg she climbed and on to a strange back, and yet she felt quite as happy and at home as if it had been her own mother and the companions she joined had been her real brothers and sisters. How different spiders are from us! Emma’s mother never knew she had lost a baby, and the new mother didn’t bother herself at all that she had adopted one, and as for the strange brothers and sisters, they treated her rather better than her own, for they happened to be just a little smaller than Emma so were not strong enough to push her off. As far as Emma was concerned it was decidedly a change for the better, and she was really a very lucky little spider.

WHAT THE CHICKENS DID

CHAPTER I
JOAN AND THE CANARIES