“Now, Selina, that is so like you; how can you expect a spider to have a sense of justice, and it is natural for spiders to fight, I dare say; indeed it is natural for other people also sometimes, and just because they have a sense of justice. But, Leila, do tell us all about it.”
Leila coloured; “Mrs. Roberts could explain it much better,” she said.
“No, my dear, I don’t think I could; you will do it more simply, because you will tell only what you understand yourself; but stay, did you not say, Alfred, that you saw a great many spiders under the stones in the garden? perhaps, Leila, you might find some with a bag of eggs—take this tumbler to catch them in—bring two, if you can find them, a larger and a smaller, and put this paper over the glass, that they may not escape. Matilda, I see you are eager to go also—you may accompany Leila; but allow her to catch the spiders—great care must be taken not to injure the bags.”
They were off in a moment, and soon returned with two spiders in the tumbler.
“Now we shall see it all,” Matilda said, “you can’t think how cleverly Leila caught them; she is an excellent spider hunter. Now, Leila, begin; do try to make them fight.”
Leila lifted the smaller of the two spiders very gently, and took up a needle.
“Stop, stop,” Matilda exclaimed; “are you going to stick a needle in its body? I don’t want to see that.”
“No, no,” Leila answered; “don’t be afraid; I am only going to take off the bag, and the bag is not a part of its body, though it looks like it—it will easily come off; the spider glues it on, and it can easily do so again, after we have seen them fight.”
She then very dexterously disengaged the bag of eggs without breaking it, and put it on the table. The spider, instead of running away, as it otherwise would have done, showed the greatest anxiety to regain it. She slowly wandered over every corner of the table, crawling over books, work-boxes, &c., &c., as if in search of something; then, having at last discovered the lost bag behind Selina’s work-box, she suddenly made a rush towards it, and having seized it with her upper pair of jaws, she ran off with it, carrying it as a cat often does its kitten.
“O look!” Matilda exclaimed, “she is stopping behind your writing-desk, Leila; she thinks she has got into a cunning hole, where no one will see her—what is she about now?—she is pushing the bag between her legs, and I do believe she is glueing it in—yes, indeed, for there she is scampering off again, and with her bag just as it was before; she will be off the table in a moment.”