A. Cocoon of a polyphemus moth.
B. Cocoon of a cecropian moth.
"It means just that—to lie quiet and change. They do it in different ways. Some crawl down into the ground and some pull out their silky hairs, and with these and the silk they can spin they make a soft, silken cocoon. Some make over their last skin into a hard covering. The monarch butterfly does this.
"And there is a troublesome creature called the clothes moth—Mrs. Reece can tell you about that—who lays its eggs on anything woollen it can find. After a while a baby clothes moth, a whitish worm, hatches out. Then this little fellow eats the fibres of the wool, and finally spins a cocoon out of these fibres and its own silk.
"Some caterpillars are leaf-rollers—that is, when they pupate they roll over the corners of a leaf, make themselves a neat hammock, and there lie quite still in a cool and comfortable place to sleep."
Poor Peter had tumbled over, his head on Mrs. Reece's lap. Betty and Hope, wide awake, were thinking just as much of the wonderful tent in which they were to sleep as of the butterflies and moths. They were wide awake enough to point their fingers at sleepy Peter.
"I think there is one kind of moth," said Mrs. Reece, stroking Peter's silky hair, "that spins something almost as soft as this."
"Softer," affirmed Ben Gile; "and that is the silk-worm."
"Does the caterpillar make the silk our dresses are made from?" asked Betty.
"Yes, indeed. The mother moth is a creamy-white. She lays several hundred eggs; from each of these eggs comes a little worm. These little worms have been cared for so long by men that they don't know how to take care of themselves any more.