“Don’t talk of husbands to me,” said the Elderly Spinster Spider.
“Dear, dear, and I haven’t a drain of water in the den!” cried the Spider.
“I saw a dew-drop—a beauty—hanging from the next crevice as I came along,” said Tibbs. “I can’t climb for toffee, else I’d get it like a shot; it’s the very thing for a thirsty boy. But you, with your eight beautiful, long legs——”
Before he had finished the sentence, the Elderly Spinster Spider—who was very good-hearted, as Spiders go—left the den in search of the dew-drop. As soon as her back was turned, Tibbs seized the sleeping form of Kiddiwee in his arms, rushed out of the den with him, and, running down the long crevice road at breakneck speed, was soon out of reach of the Elderly Spinster Spider.
“Goodness gracious!” said Kiddiwee, waking up suddenly, and using one of Coppertop’s expressions—perhaps he had been dreaming of her—“Wherever am I? Why! it’s Tibbie. Oh, I am glad, I am!” and he threw his arms round his elder brother’s neck, and gave him a real big squeeze.
“Stop that!” cried Tibbs. “Fellows don’t hug each other,” but he was pleased nevertheless.
“’Es, but where’s Cece?” asked Kiddiwee, looking round anxiously, “and Miss Smiler?”
“Celia’s gone to Japan,” explained Tibbs, briefly, “and Smiler has followed her. We’re going there also, if we can find the way!”
“Ou! how lovely! I love going to Japan—I do!” exclaimed Kiddiwee, his fair little cheeks growing red as roses, with excitement, and his big, blue eyes sparkling like dew on a blue-bell.