Little Busybodies | Page 4

grubs, and they live in the ground until it is time for them to turn into grown-up beetles. While they are babies they eat as much and as fast as they can, as no baby but a beetle should. The more they eat the sooner they come out into the bright world as a June-bug or some other kind of beetle. They eat all the tender little roots they can find. This is very nice--"
"For Mary Ann, but rather hard on Abraham."
"You horrid boy," said Betty, "you don't even let me hear a story in peace! It's very nice what, mother?"
"It's very nice for the little grubs, but it's rather hard on the plants, for if too many roots are nibbled away the plants die. The caterpillars are great eaters, too."
Betty leaned over and whispered something to her mother; then they both giggled.
"I know what you're saying," said Jimmie, but after that he was quieter.
"Sometimes a caterpillar will thrive on just one kind of a plant; it may be carrot, it may be milkweed. On that it feeds until it has grown as large as possible. Then it spins itself a nice silken cocoon, or rolls itself up in a soft leaf and takes a long, long nap. And now it is time for us to take a nap, too, for we shall soon reach Bemis, and then there will be still two long lakes to cross and a carry to walk."

II
RANGELEY VILLAGE
The next morning great was the stir in the town, for it was known by the village children that Betty and Jimmie had come, and by the grown-ups that Mrs. Reece was there. All winter long the children had looked forward to their coming, for it meant jolly times: picnics, parties, expeditions, and games. Then, too, Ben Gile would begin to tell them wonderful things. Through the winter he had been teaching school, and it was only when the ice broke up in the big lake and the beavers decided to stop sleeping that Ben Gile came back to his guiding.
There was great excitement about Turtle Lodge. Lizzie kept flying out with rugs, and then forgetting they hadn't been brushed and flying in again. The cat was playing croquet with the balls and spools of an open work-basket, and Max had discovered an old straw hat which tasted very good to him. Only Mrs. Reece kept her head and stayed indoors, moving about quietly from room to room, putting the house in that beautiful order which little children never think about.
Out on the grass that sloped down to the street, which, in its turn, tumbled head over heels down to the lake, Betty and Jimmie were playing with their playmates. They were all so wild with joy that every time Jimmie saw another boy he shouted, "Come over!" when the boy was coming, anyway, just as fast as he could.
Up, up from the foot of the lake climbed an old man; up, up, up the steep street he came, his white hair shaking and shining in the brisk June breeze, his long, white beard caught every once in a while by the wind and tossed sideways.
"Mother," called Jimmie, "Ben Gile is coming!"
Out came Mrs. Reece to greet the old man.
Then, one by one, the children spoke with Ben Gile.
"You're having a good time before you can say Jack Robinson, aren't you?"
"Yes, sir," came in a chorus of voices. Then, "Tell us a story; tell us a story!"
[Illustration: A. A few facets of the compound eye of an insect. B. Brain and nerve cord of an insect.]
"Not to-day," said the old man. "Why, you want a story before you've had time to turn around."
Betty stuck her head out from behind her mother. "Mother said you would tell us about crickets and moths, and everything."
"Well, well, well," murmured the old man, "did she? But I can't tell a story to-day. I'll tell you, though, something, so that when you come to collect the little creatures you'll know what to do. All sit down."
They all sat down cross-legged on the ground, the old man in the middle.
"Here, you big Jim-boy, catch me that butterfly."
There was a wild rush, and the bright wings were soon caught.
"There, you've torn off one of its legs," said the old man.
Jimmie looked troubled. "I didn't mean to, sir."
"Do you know how it hurts to have your leg torn off, boy? Do you know, children?"
"No," came in a chorus.
The guide took out a piece of paper and drew a picture on it. "There, every part of that little fellow's body I've drawn has muscles, such fine muscles no naked eye could ever see them. I'll show them to you under the microscope in my cabin. Those muscles move the body, and each muscle is controlled by threads,