Quietly he persevered.
CHAPTER LVIII
THE DOWER-HOUSE
When his father asked him how the chase went, Ernie answered with a grin,
"She hangs back a bit, dad. I spun and I pounced. What next?"
"Spin again," said the old man. "First the web; then the fly; and last the cocoon."
Ernie chuckled. Lying on the hillside amid the gorse and scrub he had often watched the spider at his work. The method was exactly as described by his father. The hunter spun his web and then retired to an ambush to wait. When the prey was caught and the wires brought the message to the citadel, he pounced. Next with incredible speed he wrapped his victim round in silk till it was but a swathed mummy to be absorbed at leisure.
"It's what I am a-doin, dad," said Ernie, and continued to wind his silken meshes about his prey; while others aided in the pleasant conspiracy.
One August afternoon Mrs. Trupp, after calling at the Dower-house, looked in at Frogs' Hall.
The little river ran like a white riband across the Brooks under shaggy willows tossing silvery tails. A flotilla of ducks came down the stream and landed quacking under the white bridge clumsily to climb the bank and waddle towards Parson's Tye. On the lower slopes of Wind-hover the corn still stood in sheaves, the stubble ruddy in the sunset on the bow-backed foothill across the stream.