On the seventh day Molly ran into the conservatory, followed by her brother, and uttered a cry of dismay.
"Oh, what a state it's in! Where are the syphons?"
"Why, they melted the day Edward Brown came back. We've been having such a lot of cricket, Molly!"
"There isn't a fish left, and it smells horribly."
"I'm very sorry, Molly. Let's throw it out. I don't want Grandfather to see it. Let me come."
"No, no, Francis! There may be some left. Yes, there's the beetle. I shall put it all in a pail and take it back to the pond. Oh dear! oh dear! I can't see anything of the scarlet spider. My beautiful scarlet spider! I was so fond of him. Oh, I am so sorry! And no one has watered the Soldier, and he's dead too."
"Don't cry, Molly! Please don't cry! I dare say the spider is there, only it's so small."
For some time Molly poked carefully here and there, but the spider was not to be found, and the contents of the aquarium were carried back to the wood.
I was very glad to see the pond again. The water-gnats were taking dimensions as usual, a blue-black beetle sat humming on the stake, and dragon-flies flitted hungrily about, like splinters of a broken rainbow; but the Water-Soldier's place was empty, and it was never refilled. He was the only specimen.
Molly was probably in the right when, after a last vain search for the scarlet spider, as Francis slowly emptied the pail, she said with a sigh,