“Oh, excuse me,” said the tree-toad, as he slipped up to his old seat on the log. “I didn’t mean any offence.”
“The fact is,” said the larva more pleasantly, “I have to go into my pupa case to-morrow and it makes me cross. It is no fun simply to float about without eating. Still, I shall be able to move about, and that is more than many an insect can do as a pupa, and after all it is only for a few days, and then I shall hatch out into a beautiful mosquito.”
“Well, well,” said the tree-toad, “that will be pleasant. It seems to me I have heard of the mosquito. He is a musician, like myself, is he not?”
“My mother was a fine singer,” replied the larva, proudly. “She had beautiful wings, two plume-like antennæ, and six slender legs; and she always carried about with her a case in which there were five lancets to pierce the skin of men and cattle, and she had also a drop of poison to inject into the wound. My father never did anything but fly about in the sunshine and sip honey; my mother was the talented member of the family. I think I will be going; there come the Giant Water-bugs.”
Mrs. Giant Water-bug was swimming quietly along by her husband, who looked very sulky and cross, and did not even return the Hyla’s greeting.
“My, my,” sighed a water-boatman who was swimming about on his back, “how I do pity Mr. Giant Water-bug! Do not take offence at his not speaking, Hyla; he is simply crushed with his trouble. You see his wife forces him to act as a sort of baby carriage. She fastens her eggs on his back with waterproof glue, although he struggles and struggles to escape her, and he has to carry them about with him everywhere, poor old fellow! Sometimes he is so nearly heartbroken he just hangs to a water-weed and won’t move, no matter who tries to get up a fight with him. It is hard on him, for Giant Water-bugs have gay times. They fly away from the pond in such numbers to dance about those great shining balls that hang over the village that men have changed their names to ‘electric-light’ bugs. But what a time I have been gossiping here! I think I shall go for a swim.”
The tree-toad sat sunning himself on the log, but ever on the outlook for a new acquaintance.
“Faugh!” exclaimed the Hyla at last, “there is one of those horrid things that used to frighten me most out of my wits when I was a timid little polliwog wriggling through the water. She can’t hurt me now, so I will speak to her. Good-morning, my friend! May I ask who you are, and where you are going?”
“I am not quite sure either,” replied the queer-looking creature as it dragged itself painfully up a water-weed. “I was once a larva much feared in this pool. I fed upon the juiciest polliwogs and other delicacies. But a strange change came over me. I couldn’t eat, and I fell half asleep, and to-day I feel that I just must climb out of the water; I cannot tell why. I think another change is going to take place in me. So I can only bid the world good-bye. Perhaps this is death.” And fixing herself firmly to the weed by means of two little hooks on each of her six feet she hung perfectly motionless.
“Bless me,” gasped the tree-toad, after he had watched the creature patiently for a few minutes. “Her eyes are certainly growing brighter, and what is the matter with her back? A crack, as I am a tree-toad!”