"Well, there is one leaf in the box; 

 won't it eat that?" asked the little girl, 

 watching the caterpillar crawling over it. 



"No, dear, caterpillars are very par- 

 ticular about their food ; they all eat 

 leaves, but different kinds of caterpillars 

 eat different kinds of leaves. This kind 

 feeds on the leaves of the milk-weed. 

 The butterfly is always very careful to 

 lay the eggs on the plant whose leaves 

 supply the food of the caterpillar so when 

 the little caterpillar comes out of the tiny 

 egg its food is all ready for it." 



"Why, Aunt Doris! How can butter- 

 flies ever know so much ? They don't eat 

 leaves, do they?" asked Neva in a sur- 

 prised tone. 



"No, butterflies eat honey and over- 

 ripe fruit and such things ; it is indeed 

 wonderful that they can select the right 

 plant, but the One who made the butter- 

 fly gave it wonderful instinct. Who is 

 He, Neva?" 



"Our Father," answered the little girl. 

 "I know that we sing in school : 



"The little sparrow falleth not 

 But Jesus taketh heed." 



but I never thought of His paying much 

 attention to such a little thing as butter- 

 flies. I'm not afraid of this caterpillar 

 now ; I just, almost, pretty nearly love 

 it." 



Aunt Doris smiled, then setting the 

 box upon the railing she said : "This 

 caterpillar must have taken quite a jour- 

 ney ; we will go down the road a ways 

 and see if we can find some milk-weed 

 leaves for it." 



Neva ran ahead and her bright eyes 

 soon discovered the leaves. When they 

 had been placed in the box the little girl 

 sat and watched the caterpillar make a 

 good meal, while her aunt explained to 

 her how it would first become a chrysalis 

 and then a butterfly. 



"How long does it have to be a cater- 

 pillar?" she asked. 



"Twenty or thirty days," answered 

 Aunt Doris. "But I think that this one 

 is quite old and will hang itself up before 

 long now." 



"How can you tell, auntie?" 



"I judge by the color and size. When 

 this caterpillar is very young it is green- 



ish, but as it grows older it casts its skin 

 several times; each time it grows brighter 

 and weighs more." 



"Why, how can it ever cast off its 

 skin?" questioned Neva in astonish- 

 ment. 



Aunt Doris smiled as she replied : 

 "Wait until it is ready to become a chrys- 

 alis and you will see." 



Neva kept close watch of her new pet 

 after that, she was so afraid some change 

 might take place that she did not see. 

 When bedtime came her aunt let her take 

 the box up to her room and put it on the 

 dresser that she mi^ht look at it the first 

 thing in the morning. 



"Why can't we have a name for this 

 creature?" Neva asked while she was 

 getting ready for bed. "I mean a real 

 name spelled with a capital, like mine?" 



"When it gets to be a butterfly it will 

 have a name," replied her aunt." 



"What will it be?" asked Neva. 



"Danais," replied Aunt Doris. 



"Danais," repeated Neva, "That's a 

 pretty name, let's call it that now. There 

 isn't any last name to it, is there?" 



"Why, yes, there is another name," 

 said her aunt, "but it is a pretty long 

 one. It is Archippus, Danais Archippus ; 

 can you remember that?" 



"Oh, yes," said Neva, '"I'll say it over 

 lots of times and then I'll never forget 

 it," and when Aunt Doris went past the 

 door a little later she heard a very sleepy 

 voice saying "Danais Archippus, Danais 

 Archippus, Archippus." 



The next two days the caterpillar 

 crawled around in the box and ate or 

 slept and although Neva looked at it 

 anxiously many times she could see no 

 change and she was beginning to feel a 

 little impatient. Early the third morn- 

 ing she was awakened by a robin which 

 was singing in a tree near her window. 

 Almost before she had her eyes open she 

 jumped out of bed and ran over to look 

 in the box. A moment later Aunt Doris 

 heard a mournful little voice saying: 

 "Danais Archippus, I just believe you're 

 a groner." 



"Good morning, little girl, you are an 

 early bird; is there trouble in the box?" 

 she said going over to the dresser. 



"There don't seem to be anything in 



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