Here he was interrupted by a curious stridulating noise which Thomas made, thereby rendering it impossible to catch the remainder of the Dear Friend’s silence. The poor little insect cooled down again at once. He saw that enthusiasm would not do; that he had been taking matters too fast, and that Thomas was a beetle who required to be treated with a good deal of tact. The Dear Friend himself was unable to stridulate, and had sometimes felt the want of it; but it is not a gift which belongs to every kind of beetle. Perhaps it would be as well to show some interest in the process, and then gradually to lead up to more serious subjects. He waited till the last whir had died away, and then he said: “May I inquire how you make that noise? It is most interesting.” Thomas knew all about it. “It is caused,” he answered drily, “by the friction of a transversely striated elevation on the posterior border of the hinder coxa against the hinder margin of the acetabulum, into which it fits.” “Ah!” gasped the Dear Friend; but he speedily recovered himself. “That is indeed interesting--really, extremely interesting.” He was trying to think in what way it would be possible to connect this with more important matters. “Talking about fits,” he said, “I have just come away from such a sad case, quite a young----” “I was not talking about fits, sir,” interrupted Thomas, a little irritably. The Dear Friend hastened to agree with him. “No, Mr. Thomas, you were not. I see what you mean, and it’s very good of you to correct me. I was wrong. I was quite wrong. But you happened to use the word fits, and that suggests----” “And talking about jests,” retorted Thomas severely, “I don’t think this is the time for them. When you’re calmer, my friend, and have got over your inclination to make sport of serious subjects, you will see this. Please don’t get excited; I’m not equal to it. You come to see me on my death-bed, and when I try to talk about my past life, you wax ribald, and begin to make puns that a school-girl would be ashamed of. I’m sorry for you, sir,--very sorry. Mary, show that bug out. I want to think of my latter end, and he interrupts me.” “Oh, dear, dear!” said the poor, well-meaning little insect, almost whimpering, “I’m afraid I’ve made a very bad beginning. I didn’t intend to offend you, and I do hope you’ll make allowances. I know I’m not very clever, and I’m very young, and I’ve never had any education to speak of, because I’ve always been going about in my humble way trying to teach others. But I do want to be your really dear friend, and my heart does yearn to----” “Mary,” said the exasperated Thomas, “I asked you to show that bug out. Will you kindly go away, sir, and drown yourself? I insist upon thinking of my latter end, and I simply cannot do it when you are here.” “I will go away, if you wish it, Mr. Thomas, but you will let me come back this evening?” “You won’t be able to come back, if you drown yourself.”