Ruth was up in a second.
“I must talk to that funny measuring worm,” she said to herself. “Why, where is he?” she added, standing before the bush on which she had seen him a while before.
“Right here,” answered what Ruth thought was a twig, and which proved to be none other than Mr. Looper himself, who raised his head and began to walk on his hind legs in his own eccentric fashion. Indeed, not only he, but a number of other Mr. Loopers, all showing themselves in different positions.
“‘SMART CHILDREN, AREN’T THEY?’ ASKED SOME MOTHS”
“Smart children, aren’t they?” asked some moths, variously coloured in black and brown and yellow, hovering above the tree where the loopers were feeding. “They are ours—that is, not exactly ours, but ours will be like them when they are hatched. These fellows will soon make little cradles of leaves and go into the ground to go to sleep, and when they come out they will be like us. Wonderful, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” agreed Ruth, “but I’d like to know about their legs.”
“I can explain that,” said Mr. Looper quickly. “I have no legs in the middle of my body, and as that part of me isn’t supported, I can’t walk like other caterpillars, for I am a caterpillar, even if they do call me a worm.”
“The legs, or the want of them, is a fault of his ancestors no doubt,” interrupted a voice. “Probably they walked in his idiotic fashion for fun, or to be different, even when they did have the right number of legs, and so lost the use of them, and the legs, too, finally. That often happens. I could tell you of cases——”
“Why, you look something like Miss Papilio,” said Ruth, turning to the last speaker, and interrupting her reminiscences.