“And I know where you get the milk!” cried Ruth, all excitement. “It is from the aphides, isn’t it? The cicada told me. The aphides are his cousins. He doesn’t think so much of them, but he says you do.” “Well, why shouldn’t we? They give us the most delicious milk. We have a fine herd of aphides now pasturing on a stalk of sweetbrier, and when Winter comes we will keep their eggs down in our nest, and put them on the sweetbrier in the Spring, so that the little aphides which hatch from them will have plenty to eat. Yes, and we may even build tiny sheds for them to keep their enemies from reaching them.” “I wonder if you intend to talk all day?” broke in a sharp voice. “I sha’n’t wait another minute.” It was not Mrs. Horntail, as Ruth thought at first, but Madame Vespa Maculata, or, in plain English, the white-faced hornet, and, as she was a fiery lady, no one disputed her when she said: “I am the largest and most distinguished of my family, and I build a nest whose delicacy and beauty make it a wonderful piece of insect architecture. It is proper that I should speak first, and I will speak right now.” “Speak, by all means,” said the little ant. “I have quite finished.” “Then move,” answered Vespa; “I need space.” The whole audience gave it to her, including Ruth, who did not edge up close, as she did to the other speakers. “It is this way,” she whispered to Belinda. “Those sharp people are very interesting, but it is better not to get too near until you know them quite well.” [Illustration: “VESPA MACULATA”]