“Dear me,” said Mrs. Lacewing, “we seem to need something cheerful after that. I am glad I never lived in the water, if it makes one so blue. Now I shall tell you what my babies _will do_, not what I _have done_. Of course it is the same thing, but it is looking forward rather than to the past. After this meeting is over I shall lay some eggs, on just what plant I haven’t yet decided, but it will be in the midst of a herd of aphides. Be sure of that. Aphides are plant lice,” she explained, seeing the question in Ruth’s eyes. “You will learn more of them later. Now as to the way I shall lay my eggs: First, from the tip of my body I shall drop a thick gummy fluid, and draw it out into a long, stiff, upright thread, and upon the end of this thread I shall fasten an egg. I shall lay a number of eggs in this way, each on its own pole, so to speak. Some people may think my way odd, but it is very wise. A lacewing knows her children. They are not beautiful. Such short-legged, spindle-shaped things couldn’t be pretty, but they are sturdy, and they have an endless appetite.” “I should think they would feel lonely on those ridiculous poles,” said Mrs. Ant Lion. “Not at all. They are not there long enough to feel lonely. They are in too great a hurry for dinner. They are hungry, with a big H. Now just suppose I should lay my eggs as the rest of you do, ever so many together, what do you think would happen? I will tell you in a few words. The dear child who came out first would eat all his unhatched brothers and sisters. He doesn’t, only because he can’t reach them.” “It’s a wonder he doesn’t eat his pole,” said Ruth, her face showing what she thought of such babies. “Yes, it is,” agreed Mrs. Lacewing, “but, strange to say, he doesn’t seem to care for it. Indeed, he leaves it as quickly as he can, and goes hunting. Of course he needn’t hunt far, for he is in the midst of aphides. Every mother looks out for that, and really it is quite a pleasure to see him suck the juice from aphid after aphid, holding each one high in the air in his own funny way. So you can see why lacewing babies are friends to the farmer and the fruit grower, for aphides kill plants and trees, and young lacewings kill aphides. They can eat and eat and eat, and never grow tired of aphides. Indeed, they really deserve their name—aphislion. When they do stop eating it is to fall into their long sleep, but first they weave a cocoon as beautiful as a seed pearl, in which they change into a most lovely creature—one like me. Now our meeting is adjourned, and I hope a certain person has learned a few things.” “Oh, ever and ever so many, thank you,” answered Ruth gratefully. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER VI RUTH GOES TO A CONCERT