“Life is certainly full of accidents,” buzzed a big horse fly. “I’m here to tell Mrs. Mosquito, if she is looking for the messenger she sent out a while ago, she’d better make up her mind never to see her again. She went too near a horrid warty toad, and you can guess the rest.” “We can,” sighed Mrs. Mosquito. “If it isn’t frogs, it’s toads and——” “Often it’s birds,” finished Mrs. Horse Fly, “and they are the worst of all.” “Such subjects remind me that I am hungry,” said Mrs. Mosquito, “and I’m off to find a juicy somebody for dinner. I think I shall lay some eggs too.” “I wonder if it was my toad who ate that mosquito,” thought Ruth, as she watched the audience fly away. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER V RUTH HEARS ABOUT SOME WATER BABIES An inner impulse rent the veil Of his old husk, from head to tail Came out clear plates of sapphire mail. —_Tennyson._ Ruth lay in the grass, under the old willow tree, watching a dainty little creature with a pale green body and four gauzy wings flashing with all the tints of the rainbow. “What a beautiful dragon fly,” she said, half under her breath. “I never saw one so lovely before. I wonder if it is a dragon fly. Do you think it is, Belinda?” “I am not a dragon fly,” came in answer from the dainty creature herself. “I’m a lacewing. Why don’t you use your eyes? It’s about time you learned something.” “I do want to learn,” said Ruth meekly. “I am trying all the time. I wish you would tell me things. I thought you were prettier than most dragon flies.” Mrs. Lacewing looked pleased. “Now you show your taste,” she said, “and I am quite willing to help you. Just wait a little while, and see what happens. Then if you don’t like it, well——” And without waiting to say more, or to let Ruth thank her, she was off. “I think she means to come back,” said Ruth, expecting, she scarcely knew what, “and it will be nice, I am sure. Oh, Belinda, isn’t it just like living in Fairyland, since we can hear what they talk about? There! what did I tell you! It is Fairyland.” Ruth added this with a rapturous little squeeze, for just then she saw the lacewing flying toward her, and with her many other beautiful winged creatures. “The order Neuroptera, or the nerve wings,” said the lacewing, flitting close to Ruth, “that is some of them.” Then she introduced Ruth as a friend, adding in a self-satisfied tone: “She thinks I’m beautiful, and I quite agree with her, don’t you?” Apparently the audience did. Of course she _was_ beautiful, and, besides, she carried a scent bag which was not at all pleasant, and they knew they were likely to have the full benefit of it if they contradicted or displeased her.