But to any that desires to know the truth of the thing, the spider herself will speedily resolve the difficulty. Watch her at work, and it will soon be seen that the beads are formed on the line not by twanging, but by stretching. At the moment each length of sticky thread is drawn from the spider’s spinnerets, it is destitute of beads. But the spider quickly stretches it out to nearly double its original length, and then as quickly slackens it; whereupon, before she has well had time to fasten the thread in its place, the beads will be seen to have formed themselves throughout its entire length. II Said Miss Susan Angel this evening, as I leant over the counter of her little dark shop, studying the rows of sweetstuff bottles beyond: ‘Th’ chillern here, ’tis real astonishin’ how changeable they be. One time ’tis all lickrich wi ’em, an’ next ’tis all sherbet-suckers, an’ then maybe ’tis nought but toffee-balls for weeks on end. But you!’—she turned me a glance full of smiling, proud approbation—‘You!—come winter or summer, come rain or shine, I allers knaws ’twill be nobbut black-fours!’ She reached down the ancient glass jar, and stabbed at its contents ruminatively with an iron fork. ‘Black-fours—ah!’ she mused, as the shining magpie lumps rattled into the brass scale-pan. ‘An’ I never smells ’em but I thinks o’ my ould missus as— Lorey me! how many long year ago! Fond on ’em, wur she? Ah! an’ scrunch ’em up, ’a could, quicker ’n e’er wan wi’ a nateral jaw!’ ‘What kind of jaw, then, had she, Susan?’ ‘Ah! I believe ye! My dear! th’ money as ut costed! All gold, an’ ivory like, an’ red stuff! An’ when ’a died— Did never I show ’em to ye?’ She disappeared into the little kitchen behind the shop. I heard a drawer unlocked; there was a sound of rummaging, accompanied by asthmatic interjections; Miss Susan Angel came forth again bearing a bulky parcel. This, as she removed various coverings, became smaller and smaller until, from a final wrapping of tissue-paper, there appeared a beautiful double set of false teeth. Miss Angel held them up to my gaze admiringly. ‘Left ’em to me, ’a did! ’Twur all writ in her will—“To my faithful servant an’ friend, Susan Angel, I give an’ bequeath”—an’ all th’ rest on ’t. Ah! bless her an’ rest her sowl!’ It seemed rather an appropriate legacy, for Miss Angel had possessed not a single tooth of her own in all the years I had known her. But the display of the treasure provoked a very natural commentary. ‘How long have you had these put by, Susan?’ ‘Nigh upon thirty year, my dear.’ ‘And never used them yourself all that time, although you—’ ‘What!’ The old lady drew herself up, the youthful blue eyes in her wrinkled face flashing indignation. ‘What d’ ye say!—me use ’em? _Me_? Th’ very same as my dear ould missus chawed wi’? Shame on ye! Not if there was nought to eat but cracking-nuts left i’ th’ wureld fer us all!’