“What jumped at Minerva, James?”
“It was on’y a grasshopper, sir. Never saw anyone afraid of a grasshopper before.”
“Why, Minerva!” said Ethel. “You said it looked like a horse.”
James, with a chuckle, stooped and picked something from the floor. It bent its legs for a spring as he put his hand down and again Minerva screamed. It leaped with a thud against his palm and he held it between thumb and forefinger and said,
“She’s right. It does look like a horse.”
I had never noticed the resemblance before, but there was no gainsaying it, once our attention had been called to it. I imagine that if the head were increased to horse size and the body and legs were in proportion, it would be a more formidable looking beast than the hyena. And if a hyena were reduced to grasshopper size he would be as “cute” as a caterpillar.
“Minerva,” said Ethel, “sit down. You may go, James. I wish you would not scare Minerva.”
“Never thought she’d scare so easy, Mrs. Vernon,” said he respectfully. He was always respectful. He went out into the woodshed to split some kindlings. He had already split enough to last us all of a winter, but it was healthful exercise and I kept him at it when he was not singing or mowing the lawn.
“Minerva, I don’t suppose that there is a more harmless insect in the world than a grasshopper,” said Ethel.
“What are they for?” said Minerva.