"Dear fly, come to me. See how pretty my web is!"
"Thank you very much," said the Last Fly. "Are you my new friend? I know what your pretty cob web means. You were probably a human being at one time who is now pretending to be a spider."
"You know I wish you well," said the spider.
"Oh, you ugly creature!" said the Fly. "To eat the Last Fly means to wish me well, hey?"
They had a great quarrel. Nevertheless, it was lonely, too lonely for words to tell. The Fly was bitter against everybody. She grew weary and in a loud voice announced:
"Since all of you refuse to understand how lonely I am, I will sit here in the corner the whole winter through. That's all there is to it! Yes, I will stay in the corner and nothing will make me leave it. So there!"
When she returned to her corner she cried, thinking of last summer's gladness. There had been so many merry flies. How foolish she had been to desire to be left alone. That had been a great mistake.
The winter seemed endless and Last Fly was beginning to think that summer would never return. She wished to die and she wept quietly. Surely human beings invented winter. They always seemed to think of things that harmed flies. Perhaps it was Aunt Olga who had hidden away the summer, as she did sugar and jam. Last Fly was almost dead with despair when something unexpected happened.
One day she was sitting in her corner, as was her custom, when she suddenly heard, "Buzz! Buzz!" She couldn't believe her own ears at first and then she thought that someone was fooling her. And then—heavens!—what was that? A real live fly! A Fly, very young, flew past. It was just born and it was glad.
"Spring is coming! Spring is coming!" it buzzed.