“Now, they are beginning again,” thought Ruth, but the elater paid no attention to Mrs. Sawyer.
“As I said before,” he repeated, “we have reason to be proud, for though we build no cities, like ants, wasps, and bees, and make no honey or wax, or have, in fact, any special trades, yet we are interesting and beautiful. The ancient Egyptians thought some of us sacred and worshipped us.”
“There!” cried Mrs. Tumble Bug, literally tumbling into their midst. “I couldn’t come at a better time.”
Ruth gave a little scream of delight when she saw her, and Mrs. Tumble Bug nodded with the air of an old friend.
As usual, her black dress looked neat and clean, though she and her husband had rolled and tumbled all over the road in their effort to get their ball to what they considered the best place for it. They had succeeded, and Mrs. Tumble Bug’s shovel-shaped face wore a broad smile in consequence.
“I knew about this meeting,” she said, “but my husband and I agreed that duty should come before pleasure.”
“She heard me say that,” whispered the little peach weevil to her nearest neighbour.
“I didn’t,” answered Mrs. Tumble Bug. “I have just come. We only found a safe place for our ball a little while ago.”
“That ball!” said Mrs. Sawyer in disgusted tones. “I should think you would be tired of it.”
“Tired of our ball?” repeated Mrs. Tumble Bug. “Why, our ball is the most important thing in the world. This was a big one, too. We made it in Farmer Brown’s barnyard, and then I laid my eggs in it, and we rolled it all the way here. Of course it grew on the road, and I couldn’t have moved it alone, but my mate helped me. He always helps. Indeed it seems to me tumble bugs are the only husbands in the insect world who care about their children’s future.”