It was upon a sunny morning in June that Miss Argiope crept from the egg-tuft that had hung all through the winter upon a dried fern-leaf, and discovered herself to be a bit of happy life.
She took a long look at herself in a dewdrop, and was delighted with what she saw there. She was charmed with her velvety frock, her eight strong legs, her many sparkling eyes, but most of all with her spinneret.
”Ah,” said she, with a happy sigh, “I certainly am a pretty spider. I hope I shall prove to be as good as I am beautiful.
Being an industrious little thing, she decided to make herself a home, and she began at once to look for a suitable situation. Now the fern-leaf hung out over a little brook that babbled joyously through a pleasant meadow, and upon the opposite bank bloomed a large bunch of red clover.
“That is the very place I should like,” thought Miss Argiope. “It is sunny and high, and looks as if it would be a good hunting-ground. If I only had a bridge!” After a moment, she added, bravely, “I think I’ll try building one.”
The she mounted to the very tiptop of the fern-leaf, turned her spinnerets toward the clover, and began spinning a delicate gossamer thread; and the kindly breeze caught it and carried it out, out, over the brook, and wafted it to and fro until it gently touched the clover.
“There, that’s done,” said she, as she drew it taut and fastened it firmly to the fern. Then, without any hesitation, she stepped out upon the filmy little tight-rope, and in a moment more she was safely landed upon the clover.
But now her work was only begun; for she was growing hungry, and she must build her house and set her trap for game before she could dine.
So, fastening a firm thread, she started for the grass below, trailing the little line behind her, only pausing here and there to secure it to a leaf or grass blade. Aimlessly she seemed to travel back and forth, yet soon she had a network of regular lines laid over quite a large space. This finished, she began weaving from spoke to spoke, deftly touching the spinnerets to each of the foundation threads, until a gauzy, upright wheel of lace glistened in the sunshine. And, lo! her web was finished.
For a long time she lived very happily among the clovers. There was always much to be done, the web to be kept neat and nicely mended, game to catch, and her sisters to visit. But by and by she grew tired of it all, and she said to her youngest sister:
“I really am tired of this view and the perfume of these clovers. I was talking to a grashopper this morning, and he said I ought to travel; one is apt to grow old and poky never seeing anything of the world. He told me of a lovely road just across the meadow where there are many things to be seen, and plenty of desirable weaving sites; so I think I shall move.”
At first the little sister clasped her front pair of claws in horror at the very idea of leaving their pleasant webs. But she dearly loved her sister, and said she would never let her go alone. If she was determined to do anything so rash, she should insist upon accompanying her. It would be a long walk, but--
“Walk, you silly child!” interrupted Miss Argiope, gleefully, “who is thinking of walking? Come, this is a lovely day--what is to hinder us from starting this very moment? Follow me, my dear, and do as I bid you, and we shall be there in a trice.”
So saying, she led the way to the top of a tall ragweed that grew near. “Now,” said she, “begin spinning, but do not twist your threads as for a web; just let them all fly loose, and keep on spinning until I tell you to stop.”
And what do you think! Out of the spinnerets of each little spider floated a stream of filmy, glistening floss, more delicate than the silk of the dandelion!
“Stop spinning; that is enough,” the older sister cried, when each beautiful banner was almost a yard in length. “Now gather a bit of that up under your feet, and twist it into a sort of little basket. That’s right. Now begin spinning again.” And out waved another banner.
“There, isn’t that a beautiful little balloon?” cried Miss Argiope, excitedly, “Now, little siter, take a firm hold with all eight feet, and let the breeze lift you; but when you see me signal, remember to gather your streamers into a ball up under your chin, and you will land as lightly as a fairy.”
Then away and away they sailed, floating out over the sunny meadow as gracefully as a bit of thistledown.
When the little sister saw the signal, she took in her banners, and sank gently down beside her sister upon an aster.
“Oh! ah!” gasped the little sister. “How beautiful, and what a view!”
“Of course, my dear,” replied Miss Argiope, kindly. “Didn’t I tell you the world was worth seeing? But we have no time to spare; let us set to work and weave our new webs, and then there will be plenty of time for sight-seeing.”
And there, by the roadside, I saw them both this very morning, guarding carefully their precious eggs, which they put in a little silken pocket, for safe-keeping.
They were sunning themselves in the loveliest gauzy wheels, all splangled with dewdrops and sparkling like a queen’s diadem.
They looked very happy and contented, and not a bit homesick.