The Pond Part 5

"I won't have anything to do with an odious woman like you, who eats her own children," replied Mrs. Reed-Warbler.

"Oh, dear!... Surely, ma'am, you don't believe that mean carp who was here the other day? A horrid, malicious fellow like that! He doesn't even belong to the pond, you know. He's a regular man's fish. They only put him here to fatten him up and eat him afterwards ... I saw it myself last year; he was a mere sp.a.w.n then; now he has grown big and stout on men's food; and he has plenty of time, too, since he doesn't have to work like another; and so he runs round and slanders poor people and robs them of the sympathy of kind ladies like yourself."

"Stop your chattering, Goody Cray-Fish," said the reed-warbler. "You'll drive my wife quite silly with your silly talk."

"Oh, dear!... Well, I beg a thousand pardons," said the cray-fish. "I only want to remind the lady about the egg-sh.e.l.ls."

Then she went backwards into her hole.

"Why will you think so much about all that rabble?" said the reed-warbler to his wife. "There are other things in the world besides cray-fish and eels and spiders. Find something pretty to look at. That would do you good just now."

"Show me something," she said, languidly.

"Look at the beautiful white flower down below there," said he. "See how charmingly he rises above the water. He surely can be neither a robber nor a cut-throat."

It was really a beautiful white flower that grew up from the bottom of the pond on a long, thin stalk and looked exceedingly sweet and innocent. Mrs. Reed-Warbler glanced at him kindly:

"What's your name, you pretty flower?" she asked. "May I look at you a little?"

"Look as much as you please," replied the flower. "My name's Bladder-Wort, and I have no time to waste in talking to you. I have things to attend to and must hurry."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Mrs. Reed-Warbler stretched her neck and peeped down into the water.

"That horrid spider has her nest between his leaves," she said.

"Well, the bladder-wort can't help that," replied her husband. "It's a flower's fate to stand where he stands and take things as they come. He sucks his food calmly out of the ground, has no stains on his flowers, and no blood on his leaves. That's what makes him so poetic and so refined."

"Hush!" she said. "They are talking together."

And talk together they did, with a vengeance.

"Have you caught anything?" asked the bladder-wort.

"Indeed I have," replied the water-spider. "I don't go to bed fasting.

This is a good time of year for water-mites, and so I don't complain.

And how have you done?"

"Nicely, thank you," said the bladder-wort. "I have caught a hundred and fifty midge-grubs and forty carp-sp.a.w.n this afternoon. But I'm not satisfied. I don't believe I could ever be satisfied."

"What's that he's saying!" whispered little Mrs. Reed-Warbler, and looked at her husband in dismay.

"Be quiet," he said. "Let us hear more."

The spider went into her parlour, hung seven eggs from the ceiling, swallowed a mouthful of air and came out again.

"You're really a terrible robber," she said. "If it wasn't that I had come to lodge with you, I should be furious with you. Why, you take the bread out of my mouth!"

"Nonsense!" said the bladder-wort. "Surely there's plenty for the two of us! I am quite pleased to have a lodger who drives the same trade as myself. It gives one something to talk about."

"It's really odd that a flower like yourself should have turned robber,"

said the spider. "It's not in your nature, generally speaking."

"What am I to say?" replied the flower. "These are hard times. There are a great many of us, and the earth is quite exhausted. So I hit upon this and it goes swimmingly. But then I have got my apparatus just right.

Would you like to see it?"

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"Very much," said the spider. "But you won't hurt me, will you?"

"Be easy," said the bladder-wort, with a laugh. "You're too big for me.

Run along one of my stalks and I'll explain the whole thing to you."

The spider crept cautiously for some way down the branch and then stopped and looked at a little bladder there.

"That's tight," said the bladder-wort. "That is one of my traps. I catch my prey in them. I have a couple of hundred of them."

"So you can eat two hundred water-mites at a time?" said the spider, enviously.

"I can. If they come. But I'm never so jolly lucky as all that. Now just look: beside the bladder you will see a little flap, which is quite loose. When some fool or other knocks up against it, it goes in and--slap, dash!--the fool tumbles into the bladder. He can't get out; and then I eat him at my leisure."

"Do you hear?" whispered Mrs. Reed-Warbler.

"Yes," said the reed-warbler, with a very serious face.

The spider could not resist fumbling at the flap with one of her legs:

"Ow!" she yelled suddenly.

She darted back with a jerk and the leg remained caught in the bladder.

It was drawn inside in a twinkling and the flap closed and the leg was gone.

"Give me back my leg, please," said the spider, angrily.

"Have I your leg?" asked the bladder-wort. "Well then, you must have touched the flap. What did you do that for, dear friend? I made a point of warning you!"

"You said I was too big."

"So you are, worse luck! But, of course, I can easily eat you in bits, like this."

"It's not nice of you, seeing that you're my landlord," said the spider.

"But as I have seven legs left, I suppose I must forgive you."

"Do, dear friend," said the bladder-wort. "I must tell you, I am not really master of myself when those flaps are meddled with. Then I have to eat what is inside of them. So be careful next time!"

"You may be sure of that," said the spider. "One has to be cautious with a fellow like you. Would you think it indiscreet if I asked you what my leg tastes like?"