“I cannot find Selina,” he said; “but, Cousin Leila, you are always so good-natured, perhaps you will go with me to Mrs. Roberts,--I have done a cruel thing, though I did not mean to be cruel, and I would like to have some one with me when I tell it.” Leila, having placed the flower-pot in what David pronounced to be the most favoured spot in the conservatory, proceeded immediately with Alfred to seek Mrs. Roberts. They found Selina and Matilda with her. “Mrs. Roberts,” Alfred began, in a hesitating manner, as they entered the room, “you told me not to be cruel, and I promised, and indeed I was not cruel; but I have brought the body to you to see if you can bring it alive again;” and he placed a little bit of paper, crumpled up, before Mrs. Roberts. Matilda jumped up. “What is the boy saying? the _body_! what body?” and she was about to seize the paper, but Alfred spread his hands over it. “Matilda, you are not to touch that paper,” Mrs. Roberts said gently; and, turning to Alfred, she continued,--“and now, my little man, compose yourself, and tell me distinctly what has happened.” Alfred then proceeded to say that he had been playing in the garden, and on lifting up a stone, a number of spiders had run out from below it, that one was very large and beautifully spotted, that he did not mean to kill it or even to catch it, only to touch it very gently with his finger; but on his doing so, immediately all its legs fell off, and it dropped down dead; that he instantly looked for its legs, but could not see them, they had quite melted away. And Alfred was so overcome by the recital of this sad catastrophe, that he dissolved into tears. “Crying for such a thing as that?” Matilda exclaimed; “foolish Alfred.” “But, Matilda, it had eight legs.” “And so,” Matilda continued, “because its eight legs melted away you must melt away also. Take care, Alfred, we shall be looking for _you_ next on the carpet, and not be able to find you.” Alfred now did not know whether to laugh or cry, but unfolding the paper, he carefully laid before Mrs. Roberts what appeared to be a very small, shapeless particle of brown earth--it certainly had no resemblance to a spider. “That is the body,” he said, in a mysterious whisper, intended only for the ears of Mrs. Roberts; “and now,” he continued aloud, “do you think I can do any thing to revive it? If I were to put it into a cup of warm water, perhaps----” Matilda laughed. “Perhaps its legs would grow on again, you mean. Well, Alfred, this certainly would be a wonderful water-cure; you should set up an establishment and call it the warm water-cure for making legs and arms grow on again. You would make a fortune; for I heard mamma say the other day, that this seemed to be the age for believing in every sort of wonderful cure that could be invented, the more improbable the better.”