“Come, I don’t believe that,” said Tommy, who was not an observing boy, and really thought Dick was “making up.”
“It does burst open its back, don’t it?” and Dick appealed to Mr. Bhaer, who nodded a very decided affirmative, to the little speaker’s great satisfaction.
“Well, out comes the dragonfly, all whole, and he sits in the sun--sort of coming alive, you know; and he gets strong, and then he spreads his pretty wings, and flies away up in the air, and never is a grub any more. That’s all I know; but I shall watch and try and see him do it, for I think it’s splendid to turn into a beautiful dragonfly, don’t you?”
Dick had told his story well, and, when he described the flight of the new-born insect, had waved his hands, and looked up as if he saw, and wanted to follow it. Something in his face suggested to the minds of the elder listeners the thought that some day little Dick would have his wish, and after years of helplessness and pain would climb up into the sun some happy day, and, leaving his poor little body behind him, find a new and lovely shape in a fairer world than this. Mrs. Jo drew him to her side, and said, with a kiss on his thin cheek,--
“That is a sweet little story, dear, and you remembered wonderfully well. I shall write and tell your mother all about it;” and Dick sat on her knee, contentedly smiling at the praise, and resolving to watch well, and catch the dragonfly in the act of leaving its old body for the new, and see how he did it. Dolly had a few remarks to make upon the “Ducks,” and made them in a sing-song tone, for he had learned it by heart, and thought it a great plague to do it at all.
“Wild ducks are hard to kill; men hide and shoot at them, and have tame ducks to quack and make the wild ones come where the men can fire at them. They have wooden ducks made too, and they sail round, and the wild ones come to see them; they are stupid, I think. Our ducks are very tame. They eat a great deal, and go poking round in the mud and water. They don’t take good care of their eggs, but let them spoil, and--”
“Well, some people’s do; Silas said so. Hens take good care of little ducks, only they don’t like to have them go in the water, and make a great fuss. But the little ones don’t care a bit. I like to eat ducks with stuffing in them, and lots of apple-sauce.”