“I hear that gentlemen spiders are not your only suitors,” continued Tibbs; “wasn’t there once a golden-haired boy?”
“Once?” exclaimed the Elderly Spinster Spider, “not once, but NOW! He is inside my den at this very moment, sound asleep.”
“I can scarcely believe it!” cried Tibbs, hiding his relief.
“Don’t you?” said the Elderly Spinster Spider, with a touch of her former severity; “then, pray walk in, and see for yourself.”
Tibbs needed no second asking.
The Spider’s den was a gruesome place—hung with the remains of flies and insects—and in a far corner lay Kiddiwee, fast asleep. The question was how to get him away from the old Spider.
“I must get her out of the way,” he said to himself. Then, turning to the Elderly Spinster Spider, he said, “By Jove, you know, he looks very pale.”
“Does he?” said the Spider, looking anxiously at Kiddiwee.
“These boys are awfully thirsty little chaps, you know,” added Tibbs; “they want plenty of water.”