During the next week it rained so hard every day that no one of the spider's family could venture out of their den.
It was no wonder that they became hungry for stories, and that at the first gleam of sunshine they all ran together and began to pull at the line of cobweb to which poor Fuz-Buz was fettered.
As for Fuz-Buz he was so wet and cold that he crawled out of his hole with trouble and pain.
"Ah, my dears!" cried he. "I ache all over with the gout. We lived too high in Spain I fear."
"Bother the gout!" said the spiders.
"Tell us a new story, and pretty soon too, or mammy will eat you, and won't that be worse than the gout?"
"I don't know," answered Fuz-Buz, "I think I would rather be eaten up at once, and have it over."
"Ha! ha!" cried Mrs. Grabem, who overheard what the fly had said.
"Ha! ha! you would like to be eaten; would you like to have your legs pulled off and your wings torn, and—-?"
"Oh dear! oh dear!" shrieked Fuz-Buz. "Pray stop, I am all in a shiver. I will never be so hasty again."