Aunt Jo's scrap-bag, Volume 6 : $b An old-fashioned Thanksgiving, etc.Alcott, Louisa May
General
Aunt Jo's scrap-bag, Volume 6 : $b An old-fashioned Thanksgiving, etc.
Alcott, Louisa May
Children's stories
Daisy laughed at Aunt Wee's fancy, and stirred up the crew of the
Water-sprite, as she called her flower, till the white sails were all
set, and it was ready for a summer voyage.
"It is time we saw the fairies in blue, unless old Madam Purr deceived
us. I hope we _shall_ find one; for, though I enjoy every thing we see,
I do want my elf too."
"What is that?" cried Wee; and Daisy flew up so quickly that the boat
rocked like a cradle. A slender creature, in a blue dress, with gauzy
wings, darted by, and vanished among the rushes that nodded by the bank.
"Go nearer,--softly! softly!--and maybe it will fly out again. I really
think it was a fairy; for I never saw any thing like it before,"
whispered Daisy, much excited.
Wee rowed in among the green rushes and purple water-weeds, and out flew
half-a-dozen of the blue-bodied creatures. They didn't seem afraid, but
skimmed about the boat, as if curious to see what it was; and Daisy sat,
and stared with all her might. Presently one of the lovely things lit on
the lily in her hand, and she held her breath to watch it. A little
shadow of disappointment passed over her face as she looked; but it was
gone at once, and her voice was full of delight as she said softly:
"It's not a fairy, Aunt Wee; but it is very beautiful, with its slender
blue body, its lacy wings, and bright eyes. What name does it have?"
"We call it a dragon-fly; and it could tell you a pretty little story
about itself, could you understand it. In May the tiny eggs are dropped
on the water, and sink to the bottom, where little creatures are
born,--ugly, brown things, with six legs and no wings. They feed on
water-insects, and for a long time swim about in this state. When ready,
they climb up the stem of some plant, and sit in the sun till the ugly
brown shells drop away, and the lovely winged creatures appear. They
grow in an hour to be perfect dragon-flies, and float away to lead happy
lives in the sunshine by the river."
As if only waiting till the story was done, the dragon-fly flew off with
a whirr, and darted to and fro, hunting for its breakfast, glittering
splendidly as it flashed among the leaves or darted close above the
water. Daisy forgot her disappointment in a minute, and went fishing for
lilies; while the turtles came up to sun themselves on the rocks, the
merry little tadpoles wiggled in the shallow places, and a wild duck
paddled by with a brood of ducklings following in her wake.
"Oh, dear! it rains; and we can't go fairy-hunting at all," said Daisy
next morning, as the patter on the window-pane woke her up, and Aunt Wee
came in to dress her.
"Yes, we can, dear; jump up, and see what a funny place I'll take you
to."
Daisy thought the rain would be a capital excuse for lying in bed; for
she still liked to cuddle and drowse in her cosey, warm nest. But she
was curious to know where the curious place was; so she got up and
followed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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