“That’s something I’d like to know,” said a handsome little beetle in a striped coat. “I’m a beetle, if there ever was one, yet I have a world-wide reputation as a bug.” “Pray don’t get excited, Mrs. Potato Bug. It isn’t your time to talk yet. We are on the main issue, and I will answer my own question.” Ruth was glad some one would answer it, for at this rate it seemed they would never get anywhere. “We are beetles for several reasons,” went on the elater. “In the first place, we belong to the order Coleoptera.” Another tera, thought Ruth. “That name is taken from a language called Greek, and means sheath wing. It is given to us because we have handsome outside wings which we use to cover our real flying wings. All beetles have them, though those of our cousin, Mr. Rove Beetle, are quite short.” “That’s a fact,” said a rove beetle, “and no one need think we have outgrown our coats. It is simply a fashion in our family to wear our sheath wings short. We can always fold our true wings under them, and I’d like to see the fellow who says we can’t.” “Well, you needn’t get so mad about it,” answered the elater in mild tones. “And don’t curl your body up as if you were a wasp,” added Mrs. Sawyer. “Everybody knows you can’t sting.” “I don’t care,” said the rove beetle. “I hate to be misunderstood. We are useful too. I heard a man call us scavengers. I don’t know what it means, but something good, I am sure, from the way he said it. I must be going soon. It is so dry here. You know my home is in damp places under stones or leaves.” “You may go when you wish,” answered the elater. “We are still on the main issue. As I said before, we are beetles, and there is no reason to take us for bugs. Calm yourself, Mrs. Potato Bug. We have no sucking beak as the bugs have, but we have two sets of horny jaws, which move sideways, and _not_ up and down. These are to bite roots, stems, and leaves of plants, so most of our order live on vegetable food and are enemies to the farmer, but some of us are his friends, for we eat the insects that injure his crops. Our children are called grubs. Some of them make a sort of glue, with which they stick together earth or bits of wood for a cocoon; others make tunnels in tree trunks or wood and transform in them. We may well be proud, for we belong to a large and beautiful order, and we are found in all parts of the world. We are divided into two sub-orders—true beetles and snout beetles. I hope our cousins, the snout beetles, will not be offended. They are real in a way.” “The farmer and fruit grower think so anyway,” said a little weevil. “We have been called bugs just because we have a snout, but any one can see at a glance that it isn’t a bug’s snout. It is not a tube at all, but has tiny jaws at the tip.” “I don’t believe I could see all that,” said Ruth rather timidly, for these clever little people had a way of making her feel she knew very little.