"IT IS LIKE A FAIRY STORY"
"IT IS LIKE A FAIRY STORY"
"And France—was she left out, Father?" asked Pierre anxiously.
"Have no fears for your native land, my son. France came into her silk-making heritage about the time of Francis I. England followed her example more slowly because, you know, our English brothers are a little more conservative than we are. All in good time, however, England made silks and very beautiful ones, too, in which her kings and queens were resplendent on state occasions."
"It is like a fairy story, Father," murmured Marie.
"Then you are not tired?"
"Tired!"
The priest smiled.
"At the beginning of the sixteenth centuryBologna had the finest throwing mills for the twisting and spinning of thread then known. But China with its peculiarly fertile soil still continued to be the land best adapted for raising raw silk, although several other countries surpassed it in the manufacture of fabrics. In Italy silk-making like glass-making was held to be one of the most honorable of occupations; and silk-makers intermarried with the nobility, being accorded equality of rank with the best born families."
Père Benedict paused for breath; then gave an odd little chuckle.
"I could tell you many an amusing tale of the early uses of silk," he said. "Picture, for example, Henry V celebrating his victory at Agincourt by putting purple silk sails on his ships! And think of Queen Elizabeth receiving as a gift a pair of knitted silk stockings which, by the way, so spoiled her for wearing woolen ones that she disliked ever to wear them again. Silken hose were a rarity in those days, even for queens. Now of course as people saw more and more uses to which silk could be put they came to want it; and themonarchs of all countries, realizing that silk-making would bring money into their coffers, urged their subjects to take up sericulture. Henry IV of France did much to make it popular among the French peasants, offering rewards to those who would grow mulberry trees. England was found to have too cold a climate for silk cultivation; so James I, who was king at that time, tried to have the industry transplanted to the new colony of Virginia. This plan did not succeed, however, as the American planters found the growing of potatoes and tobacco far more profitable. In 1732 another attempt was made in the American states of Georgia and South Carolina and was again abandoned, because although America could raise both mulberry trees and silkworms she lacked the supply of cheap coolie labor in which the Orient abounded. Now the producing of raw silk is left to China, Bengal, the Coromandel coast, India, France, Italy, and Turkey. Bengal proves an ideal silk-raising country, for because of the climate there are yearly three crops of cocoons—one in March, onein July, and one in November. Some of the other countries have two crops; others only one."
"And France?" put in Pierre.
"Ah, Pierre, there should be no need for me to tell you, a French boy, of your own land. The growing of our silk, as you know, is done in our southern provinces; while its manufacture takes place in our great northern cities. Marseilles is the big market for raw silk, and Lyons the centre for the manufactured fabric. Meanwhile England has come to excel in silk manufacture and she now excludes our French made goods whenever she can that her people may patronize their own makers, who get their silk from the English colonies. And it is in this great and wonderful story of silk-making that you and Marie are now to have a share," concluded Father Benedict. "May you and your good mother be successful in a work that has brought to our beloved France much of her prosperity."
There was a moment of silence.
Then Madame Bretton came to the door.
"Supper is ready, Father, and I beg you comein quickly—for while you have been talking I have made you a tea cake!"
The venerable priest smiled with pleasure, and with a child clinging to each of his hands he passed into the tiny cottage.
Chapter Decoration
The interior of the Bretton home was extremely simple; and simple, too, was the supper laid out upon the sand-scoured table. In war time even the more well-to-do families were living on the plainest of rations, that all the food which could possibly be spared should be sent to the men on the fighting lines. There was no sugar, little salt, a scant quantity of flour, and no meat to be had in the village. Still no one complained. Was not each serving his country by denying himself those things which, after all, could easily be done without? Healthy boys and girls were as well off—nay, better—without cakes andcandies, the grown-ups said; and even the children themselves had come to admit this.
Therefore the little group ate without comment their frugal meal, thankful that their food was as plenty as it was. The kind old priest, like his people, was accustomed to scanty fare, and would have been the first to reprimand his parishioners had any of them offered him anything else. Simple, however, as was the supper it was well-cooked and satisfying; and after the chairs had been pushed back, and Marie and her mother had washed the few dishes, a candle was lighted and the Brettons, together with their guest, drew their seats into the circle of its radiance.
"I wish, Father, you would tell us how they make velvet," ventured Marie, who delighted in the Curé's stories. "That, too, is made from silk, isn't it?"
"Velvet!" ejaculated the priest. "What a frivolous little damsel you are! Are you planning already how you will one day dress yourself in the clothes of a princess, my dear?"
Mischievously he pinched her cheek.
Marie laughed.
"No, indeed, Father. It was only that on Sunday when I saw the hangings about the high altar it came to me of a sudden to wonder how the velvet was made."
"You would much better have been thinking of your prayers, naughty one," replied Père Benedict, touching her hair lightly with his long, slender fingers. "However, in order that you may not a second time fill your mind with such questions I will tell you what I can about velvet making."
With a sigh of pleasure Marie settled back onto the tiny stool at the priest's feet.
They all loved to listen to the Father's tales.
"He is better than any story-book!" Pierre often declared.
"The first velvet we know anything about," began the Curé, "was probably brought from India, where it must have been woven on hand-looms. When the Greeks and Romans invaded the East, among other spoils they brought back with them great webs of crimson velvet, with which they immediately began to decorate their palaces. Theyhad no idea how it was made, and of course did not give it the name it now bears. Instead they called itVillosus, meaningshaggy hair. It is from this quaint old term that our modern word velvet is derived."
The children smiled.
"It was not strange they should have chosen that name, for you must remember they had never seen woven material with a fur-like pile, or nap, such as velvet has; and it must have puzzled them not a little. So you see it is due to these conquests of the Orient that velvet found its way into the world. As time went on the supply of velvet increased. People in other places than India learned to make it. By the fourteenth century it was extensively used for hangings in the churches of France and Italy, and was also much seen at court. Robes of blue velvet marvelously embroidered in gold, which evidently had been worn by church dignitaries, have been found in an old French church, and are carefully preserved as curiosities, since all the velvet of that period was either black or of a crimson color. Now as lace-making wasone of the arts of the time, and as much wonderful hand-made lace was used on vestments and altar-cloths, you can readily understand how velvet was a rare means of showing it off, and became a favorite material for church use."
He paused thoughtfully.
"And not only did it rise in favor in the churches, but also kings, queens, and noblemen purchased all of it they could afford, to adorn themselves. It was far more expensive than silk, which at that early date was very costly. In fact it is only since present day manufacture has mastered the art of making velvet less expensively that its price has lessened. Although some of the rare patterns and some of the silkiest qualities are still made on hand-looms, the greater part of it is now made by machinery. The coronation robes for the King and Queen of England, for example, are always made on hand-looms."
"Is velvet hard to make, Father?" inquired Pierre.
"Yes. Good velvet weavers are few. You see when our king Louis XIV of France drove theHuguenots, who were famous silk and velvet weavers, out of the country, they took with them the trades of silk and velvet making. Some carried the art to England; some to Germany. The German towns of Elberfeld and Krefeld now make a large part of the velvet used by the world—or did before the war. Krefeld alone has one hundred and twenty velvet factories, besides many others devoted to dyeing the silk from which the velvet is made. The German Government gives to those who will follow the industry free instruction in the chemistry of dyes, in designing, and in other branches furthering the manufacture. As a consequence the making of velvet has increased there until now many varieties formerly only obtainable in other countries are now woven in Germany."
"But some of our own French cities make velvet, too, Father," protested Marie.
"Ah, surely, dear child! The velvet from Lyons has long been famous. Lyons and Genoa, many persons say, make the most beautiful velvets there are to be had. Some are of exquisite design,having great flowers, scrolls, or garlands brocaded upon them; others are of solid color—a rare and rich shade—and are made from the purest of silk, which gives to them a sheen wondrous to see. Such velvets are, of course, very costly, and only the rich can afford them; but as a product they are a magnificent achievement. You see velvet-making has now become a well-perfected art. Time has eliminated ancient methods, and bettered machinery so that effects never before dreamed of can now be obtained. There is, for example, the soft panne velvet made by pressing the goods after it has been woven until it presents a satiny finish, then there is what is known as mirror velvet, a product woven from more than one shade of silk, and which in a strong light has a changeable quality."
"It is wonderful, isn't it?" murmured Madame Bretton, who was leaning forward and listening as intently as were her boy and girl.
"Yes; all that man thinks out with his brain and perfects with his hands is wonderful," agreed the priest. "It is a test of ingenuity and patience,and as such should be respected. Moreover, velvet is a useful product. The best silk varieties are very durable. They ravel little, and can be steamed almost to their original freshness when they become worn. Of course cheap velvets and plushes—which are merely velvets with a longer nap—are another matter. There is much cotton in them, and consequently they catch the dirt, and are soon defaced. More and more they are passing out of use as coverings for furniture, or for seats in cars and halls. The material cannot be cleaned, and as a collector of dust is most unhygienic. It is well it should give place to something that is not such a fosterer of germs."
"Won't you tell us how they make the fur on the velvet, Father?" begged Marie, who was fearing every moment that the good priest would insist on starting homeward.
The Curé laughed.
"You'll have me here until midnight, little one," said he. "Should I tell you just how velvet is made it would take me hours; nor, in fact,am I sure I know every step of the process. I do know, however, that the soft nap is made by drawing the threads of the silk warp over an extra wire which leaves millions of tiny loops standing upright, and packed very close together all over it. In order that the velvet may be smooth, these loops must be perfectly even and very near together. The closer they are, the more rich and beautiful will be the velvet. It is when these loops are cut that we get the silky sheen of the goods. If they are not cut we have instead the material known as uncut velvet, largely used for upholstery purposes. Yet another variety called raised velvet is made by having loops of different lengths so arranged as to form a pattern. Sometimes, too, we see figures of velvet woven into backgrounds of satin. I am sure I need not tell you the name for that sort of goods."
"Brocade!" Marie cried.
"Quite right!" nodded the priest.
"And velveteen, like my trousers, Father—what about that?" questioned Pierre.
"Velveteen? Velveteen, my boy, was firstmade in England, and is a less expensive material, made largely of cotton."
Pierre looked disappointed.
"Nay, nay, son," exclaimed the kindly priest, noticing his face, "do not scowl at your clothing. Velveteen is a warm and durable kind of cloth, and is most useful. Only a prince would be raising silkworms arrayed in a costume of real velvet; and even then, were he to do it, he would be an extravagant fellow."
"Is velvet made in America?" Madame Bretton asked.
"America makes almost no velvet cloth, but much velvet ribbon, some of which is very fine. The American mills also turn out a great deal of cheaper, cotton-backed velvet ribbon. The best quality of their silk velvet variety is made on looms the exact width of the goods, and has a selvage and back of satin."
"Can people make——" began Pierre.
But the priest had sprung resolutely to his feet, and was standing with his fingers pressed to his ears.
"No more! No more!" he cried. "Not another question will I answer. See, it is already past your bedtime. Besides, I myself must be getting home. Would you keep me here forever? Run fetch my hat and stick—off with you!"
They flew to do his bidding.
Then with a good-night kiss on the brow of each child, and a wave of his hand to their mother, he was gone.
Chapter Decoration
The next few weeks were such busy and exciting ones for the Bretton family that not only did Marie and Pierre find no time for play but Madame Bretton herself could scarcely snatch the necessary moments to cook the meals. Josef, the old servant who had always helped Monsieur Bretton about the silk-house, and who had been too feeble to go to the war, started low fires in the building where the eggs were to be hatched and kept the great rooms at an even temperature in readiness for their coming occupants. The eggs when exposed to the air were so small it seemed incredible that out ofthem could come the hungry little caterpillars who would spin that delicate silken filament.
"They are about the size of mustard seed, aren't they, Mother?" remarked Marie.
"Just about, and they also are not unlike mustard in color," replied her mother, "although they will not remain so—at least we hope not."
"Why?"
"Because after three or four days they should turn to a light slate color if they are the sort of eggs we want. Those that remain yellow are the unfertilized ones and will be of no use to us; we must discard them."
"And do the eggs always remain slate color until hatched?" questioned Pierre.
"No, they next turn to a dull, brownish slate tint and then the caterpillar comes out. The changes may take place more rapidly than this and the entire process require but a day or two. It all depends on the temperature and the light. Josef knows by long experience just what to do to hurry things along."
As Marie and Pierre glanced at the immaculatewhite shelves that awaited the newcomers, and realized that for the first time the actual care of the work they had so many times idly watched was upon their young shoulders, it seemed like a dream.
"Now there are many pitfalls which we must be careful to avoid," announced Josef. "In the first place we must beware of rats, mice, spiders, ants—even chickens. All of these creatures can work havoc among the caterpillars. Probably you will not need to worry about them very much; certainly not the rats, mice or chickens. Hens and chickens cannot get in here if you are watchful and close the doors. As for the rats and mice, your father has pretty thoroughly exterminated them. Spiders and ants will find little encouragement in a clean place like this, but we must be on the lookout for them, because one never knows when they will creep into a building. The greatest danger, aside from some epidemic spreading and destroying your crop, lies in feeding your silkworms wrongly. Remember, they must have no wet leaves if we want them to live. You knowthat already, I guess, or you ought to, for you certainly have gathered enough food for them. Moist leaves will make silkworms ill sooner than almost anything else. So never get leaves that are wet with dew or those that have been rained on. When it looks as if a storm was coming pick a sufficient number of leaves in advance and keep them fresh and cool in the cellar."
"The picking does not trouble us so much as the feeding, Josef. We have never done that. How many times must we feed the worms?"
"At the beginning three times a day; and never forget that the young worms must have the youngest and most tender leaves. Later they will need the tougher ones, with more solid food elements in them, but not at first."
"They are pretty fussy, aren't they, Josef?" laughed Marie. "Lots more particular about their food than we are. Mother makes us eat what is set before us, and never allows us to argue as to whether we like it or not; sometimes it isn't what we'd rather have, either."
"But you manage to live and grow fat on it justthe same," grinned the old servant. "Now your silkworms wouldn't. They'd die, and that would be the end of them. Of course some varieties are more robust than others; but they all have to have the same care."
"I didn't know there was more than one kind of silkworm!" exclaimed Marie in surprise.
"Of course there are," Pierre retorted. "Even I knew that. There are lots of kinds, and some make much better silk than others."
"Some give more silk, too," Josef put in. "Their cocoons are much larger. The big white worm such as we raise here is one of the most profitable. It has four moultings."
"You mean it changes its skin four times?" Marie said.
"Just that. It's a queer life it has, isn't it?" mused the man. "First there is the tiny egg; then comes the caterpillar with all its moultings and its ravenous appetite—then follows the spinning of the cocoons; and the long sleep of the chrysalis, or aurelia, as the slumberer inside the cocoon is sometimes called. And last of all is themoth that comes out of the cocoon—when we will let it—and lays hundreds of eggs for future crops of silkworms. What a short, hard-working life it is!"
"They are funny creatures anyway," observed Pierre thoughtfully. "They don't seem to want to do any of the things other animals do. Silkworms never crawl about as most caterpillars would. Shouldn't you think that after they were hatched they would like to see where they were and would go crawling all round the room?"
"You would think so," replied Josef. "But they don't. They seem to have no wish to move. Perhaps they realize that all their strength must be saved for eating and spinning. Now and then, of course, if they do not find food near at hand when they are first hatched they will bestir themselves until they reach it; they move more at this stage than at any other; and yet they would not move then if they were not hungry. Their chief aim in life seems to be to eat. They are no travelers, that's sure. Even when they emerge from the chrysalis into the moth they use theirwings very little, only fluttering a short distance when they are mating."
"But suppose, Josef, that one wants to get them somewhere else and they won't go," speculated Marie.
"Oh, it is easy enough to move them. That can be done any time by means of a good tempting mulberry leaf; they will cling to it tight as a leach and you can cart them round wherever you wish."
"When do you suppose our silkworms will first change their skins, Josef?" asked Pierre.
"Moult?"
"Yes. I forgot the word for it."
"That all depends on the temperature of the room and on how fast they develop. Usually with the degree of heat we keep here the first moulting takes place within eight days. You see your silkworms are only about a quarter of an inch long at first, and as they increase in size to about three inches their skin is not elastic enough to accommodate their rapid growth. It simply won't hold them. Suppose you or Marie grewtwelve times your natural size in a few short weeks?"
"I'd pity Mother, letting out our clothes!" chuckled Marie.
"They couldn't be let out; the material wouldn't be there," replied Josef. "And it would be the same way with your skin. It wouldn't stretch. You'd have to have a new one. That's what the silkworm does—only it does it several times over. No skin made can cover an animal that is a quarter of an inch long one week and three-quarters of an inch long the next, and so on growing in leaps and bounds until it gets up to three inches and sometimes more. Think of growing at that rate! And the little gourmands are not eating all the time, either, because after they are hatched it is three days before they eat much. They act stupid, and as if they didn't feel well. But later they make up for their loss of appetite—don't you fret."
Josef smiled grimly.
"By the fourth day they are eating at a furious rate," he went on, "and they keep right on stuffingthemselves for five days. When they are about eight days old they have expanded until their skin is so tight that it makes them uncomfortable. It seems to pinch and make them ill. At any rate they act as if they felt pretty poorly and did not want to eat much more. Their next move is to cast their skins. This takes about three or four minutes and is a strenuous business while it lasts; every bit of the old skin goes—even that from the head, jaws, and feet. The ordeal leaves them weak and exhausted, but they soon cheer up, and are eating again furiously as ever. You can't stop them from eating very long."
"How does the new skin look?" inquired Marie. "Just like the other?"
"Why do you ask such foolish questions, Marie?" grumbled Josef. "Haven't you seen your father's silkworms hundreds of times?"
"I'm ashamed to say I never noticed them very much, Josef," returned the girl. "They seemed such horrid little things that I never was interested in them."
"I don't know much about them either," put in Pierre. "I never expected to be raising them myself. If I had I should have examined them more carefully and asked Father lots of questions. It was such a bother always to be gathering mulberry leaves for them that I came to dislike the thought of a silkworm," confessed the boy. "Ever so many times I had to pick leaves when I wanted to go and play. But now, you see, it is different, because they are our own silkworms and of course we want to learn all we can about them. I wish, Josef, you'd please tell us about their new skins."
Josef glanced up good-naturedly.
"If you really want to know of course I'll tell you," he answered. "The new skin looks just about like the old one, except that it is all loose and wrinkled. You know how you look when you are wearing a new suit that your mother has bought for you to grow to, Pierre. Well, that's the way the silkworm's suit looks on him. It is several sizes too big at first. But by the end of five days he has filled it all out until he is as uncomfortablein it as he was in his old one, and is ready for another."
"And he peels this one off just the same way?"
"Just the same—hat, coat, and gloves. This, as I have said, is not at all easy, for you must remember that his skin fits very closely all about his jaws as well as over all his sixteen legs. These are arranged in pairs so when he shifts his skin it is equal to peeling off eight pairs of stockings. How would you like that?"
The boy and girl shook their heads.
"These legs are very nicely planned, too," went on Josef. "There are six in front—three pairs—neatly covered with a thick, shelly coating; these fit under the first three rings of the silkworm's body and can be used as hands when he is spinning. Then come the other ten legs, or holders, which have tiny hooks on them and are the climbing legs."
"But I thought the silkworm scarcely moved," objected Marie.
"Oh, it can move when it wants to. When it gets ready to spin its cocoon it climbs untilit finds a place that suits it. In addition to all these legs it has wonderfully strong jaws. I suppose the good Lord bestowed these upon the silkworm because most of its work in life is done with its jaws—both its eating and spinning. In proportion to its size the silkworm has stronger jaws than any other of the small creatures. Underneath these jaws are two very tiny apertures set close together through which the caterpillar draws and unites into one the two strands of silk. This is sometimes called the spinaret. The silk substance, which is really a yellow gum, passes through the two long glands that run along each side of the silkworm and are fashioned into a single thread in the spinaret."
"And you say the silkworm goes through the process of changing its skin four times, Josef?"
"Yes, four times. You can always tell when it is going to moult, because it raises its head and remains still in that position as if asleep. When it has grown to the full size of its fourth skin it is ready to spin its cocoon. This is all very simple when you understand it; and yet strange andwonderful, too. You'll follow the process more easily when your own silkworms begin to grow and you can watch them go through all these different stages."
"I do hope our silkworms will hatch and develop safely," remarked Pierre anxiously.
"You needn't fear, I guess," was the comforting reply. "I have helped your father hatch out thousands of eggs, and we seldom have had a bit of trouble. I shouldn't worry. By to-morrow or the next day I plan we shall have as fine a crop of silkworms as one could wish to see."
"I hope so—for our sakes and for Father's," said Marie softly.
Chapter Decoration
The Brettons' silkworms hatched as successfully as Josef had foretold they would, and soon Madame Bretton and her boy and girl had all they wished to do. Not that the work was taxing at first. For a while it was a simple matter to gather the fresh young mulberry leaves and keep the juvenile caterpillars amply supplied with food. Even the litter of stems and waste material that had to be cleared away with promptness did not cause much trouble, for most of it fell through the perforations in the tin shelves and could be readily removed. Now and then, of course, some unwary baby silkwormfell through too along with this waste matter and had to be rescued; for the most part, however, the task was simple enough.
"I do not see that it is hard work to raise silkworms," announced Pierre at the end of the first few days. "Why, a six-year-old child could feed them! It is the easiest thing imaginable."
Josef laughed.
"Just you wait, Pierre Bretton!" was his retort. "Some day in the near future I'll remind you of those words. The first three weeks are not arduous, I'll agree. The next twelve or fourteen days are harder, though; there are more things to think of and more food to gather. And as for the last part of the time—it demands all the care and labor that you will wish to expend."
But Pierre only shrugged his shoulders sceptically.
In the meantime the silkworms continued to thrive. The weather was warm and sunny and no irregular conditions broke in upon the work until one afternoon Josef announced in a warning tone:
"There'll be rain to-morrow. You better gatherdouble your supply of mulberry leaves; for if you wait until morning the trees will be dripping wet, so we cannot find food for our caterpillars."
It was a timely forecast, for the old servant's prediction proved a true one, and thanks to his thoughtfulness, the crop of the youthful sericulturists escaped famine. After that the silk-raisers kept their eyes out for the possibility of showers or stormy weather. Never for an hour did they run out of food to supply the busy little creatures that were to earn for the Bretton family a livelihood. Tirelessly they fed the caterpillars; tirelessly cleared away the litter that it might not ferment and cause malady, or bury the worms beneath its weight and render them hot and torpid. For it was by keeping them vigorous and alert, with plenty of fresh food and fresh air that they would develop the heartiest appetite, grow the fastest, and spin the largest cocoons. All these points were too important to be overlooked. Whenever the litter accumulated too fast or failed to drop through the grating of the shelves the caterpillars were gently removed on a cluster of fresh mulberryleaves to another spot, and the place made clean and tidy.
Then came a day when the silkworms began to cease eating and instead paused idly, with heads upraised.
"They are ready for their first moulting!" exclaimed Josef. "They want to peel off their tight clothing. Watch and see if I am not right."
And sure enough! The great transformation took place even as the old servant had said it would. Off came the skins—cap, shoes, and all!
The boy and girl were delighted.
After the poor, fatigued, wrinkled caterpillars had wriggled themselves free from their hampering garments they were sorry looking creatures indeed! But with a little rest they roused themselves and were soon eating voraciously, just as if nothing had happened. Day by day their appetites increased, and to keep pace with them they grew longer and plumper.
Again they shed their skins, and again were back eating as ravenously as before.
"The wrinkles surely do not have a chance tostay long in their coats," remarked Pierre. "Pretty soon they will want still other larger coats, too."
Full-sized leaves with a more solid fibre were now demanded by the maturing silkworms; but Josef cautioned the silk-raisers not to give their little charges old or tough leaves.
"There is a big difference between full grown vegetation, and old passé stuff," he explained. "You know how tired your jaws get chewing tough food. Well, theirs do, too. Remember they chew day in and day out—nights as well as other times. You've got to conserve their strength, for they will need every bit of it before they finish their work. I knew of some silkworms once that died from sheer exhaustion because they were given food that was too tough for them to masticate. It is not an uncommon happening."
As the caterpillars continued to eat without cessation the odd little sound of the cutting of crisp leaves pervaded the silk-house. It was no such easy task to keep them supplied with food now! Day after day it was a race to pick the necessary quantity of leaves and remove the accumulatinglitter. Every one in the house worked, and even a boy or two was hired to help in the gathering.
"It is not so easy now, eh?" suggested Josef to Pierre. "Getting tired?"
"A little," admitted the boy. "It keeps one so on the everlasting jump. Taking away the litter is stupid, tedious work; and then there is the double supply of leaves to last through the night!"
He sighed.
"You're right. It is a hard job," the old servant agreed kindly. "But have courage. When you get your first crop of fine cocoons you will say it was worth it all, and you will forget that you ever were tired."
"I hope so," murmured Pierre wearily. "I get discouraged standing and hearing them gnaw those leaves. I know they are just making more work for us."
"You'd have far more cause to be disheartened if you didn't hear them," chuckled Josef. "That would be something to mourn over. But you shouldn't complain at their good healthy appetites."
Cheered by Josef's jests the work went on.
The endless monotony of feeding and clearing up, feeding and clearing up continued. Sometimes it seemed as if nothing was being accomplished. And yet when the young silk-growers compared the present size of their silkworms with that of the early hatched caterpillars the transformation seemed nothing short of a miracle.
Then came a day when Pierre detected a change in the aspect of his crop. Gradually the worms had turned to a transparent green color and ceasing to eat were moving uneasily about. They seemed also to have shrunk to a smaller size.
In consternation the lad fled to Josef.
"Whatever is the matter with them?" he cried. "Are they ill? Has some epidemic come at this late day to sweep away all that we have done?"
The boy's face was pale with distress.
"They're all right," answered Josef reassuringly. "They are just ready to spin, that's all. I did not expect it quite so soon. We must get the arches up without delay."
Both Pierre and Marie clapped their hands.They knew well what was to happen next for they had often seen their father arrange the little arches of brush on which the silkworms were to climb and spin their cocoons. The placing of these rustic half-hoops was a delicate matter, since it was necessary to arrange them so that plenty of air might circulate through the space they enclosed; otherwise the worms would refuse to spin. Twigs or slender pieces of brush were set along the shelves in such a way that when bent the shelf above held them in place and made of them a series of miniature bridges, or arches. For certain varieties of caterpillars Pierre gathered branches of oak shoots with dried leaves clinging to them because Josef explained that this type of silkworm preferred that sort of twig on which to fashion its cocoon; other brush was stripped of leaves. And throughout the following days the greatest care had to be taken that nothing should interrupt the spinning.
The things most to be dreaded were sudden noises; thunder-storms; and above all a drop in temperature, since chilly surroundings congealedthe fluid silk in the ducts at each side of the silkworm, rendering it too thick for the creature to spin into fibre.
The noise and the temperature could to an extent be controlled. But the thunder-storms! Those were another matter.
Anxiously the Bretton family studied every passing cloud.
"If a severe storm should wreck our crop now—at the very end—it would be cruel!" declared Pierre. "No matter how careful we are we cannot prevent some great black thunder-head from rolling over the mountains and down through the valley."
"It is useless to worry, dear," answered his mother. "If such a storm comes it will be through no fault of ours."
"It would raise havoc in our harvest just the same," cut in Josef. "The vibrations of thunder sound worse among the metal shelves. They catch the jar, and seem to hold and echo it. Your father told me about a man near Tours who had lightning wires along his shelves toprotect his silkworms from electric currents. The wires carried off the worst of the vibration."
"I wish we could afford to equip our silk-house that way," said Marie.
"Just wait until we get rich. Maybe some day we can," answered Pierre gaily.
Fortunately for the Brettons' silkworms, however, no electrical storm came.
The caterpillars climbed serenely into the brush arches above their heads, selected spots that pleased their fancy, and began constructing their cocoons. First came the loose, web-like oval within which the cocoon itself was to be made. This was the work of the first day and its construction was of what is known as floss. Then followed the yellow, compact cocoon requiring three or four days for its spinning. Occasionally two worms would insist upon spinning together, crossing and recrossing their threads; these double cocoons always had to be sorted out from the others, however, as the silk could not be wound off them easily.
The spinning was an interesting sight.
The silkworms poised themselves on the lowerextremity of their bodies and using their front legs to guide the thread, sent it hither and thither from their mouths in wavy, irregular motion until the little egg-shaped ball was finished. The two fibres from the right and left side of the worm were so perfectly united in the spinaret that it was impossible to detect more than one thread. Patiently the tiny spinners toiled, and those worms that failed to spin were put into a room by themselves where the temperature was graded to a higher degree of heat that the warmer atmosphere might stimulate them to work.
When at last the cocoons were done the Brettons surveyed them with satisfaction.
The weeks had been busy, fatiguing ones with hastily snatched meals, and interrupted slumbers.
"One could not keep on like this for a long stretch without more help," declared Madame Bretton. "I am glad the caterpillars have their houses made!"
"They are better houses than you think, too," added Josef. "For each silkworm has coated theinside of his little home with a gum-like substance that makes it waterproof. He has no intention of lying down to sleep in a leaky cottage where the rain may drip through."
"But there is no rain in here," objected Marie.
"Of course not. But the silkworm does not know that. He builds his house just as he would if it was out-of-doors where the good Lord intended it should be. Your caterpillar hasn't the wit to realize that conditions have changed with the years, and that he now lives out his days beneath a roof that does away with the need of water-proofing. It is because the cocoons are thus sealed on the inside that the water does not penetrate them when they are floated. You'll notice that if you ever have a chance to see the silk reeled off. It protects the chrysalis until it pierces its way through its silken house and comes out a moth. But of course we shall not let ours do that."
"Why not?" inquired Marie.
"Why not? Because after you have worked so hard to get your silk you do not want it broken into short bits and spoiled, do you? If we wereto let the moths mature and make holes in the cocoons it would ruin all our silk. No. We must let only a few moths come out and lay their eggs that we may have them to hatch for our next crop of silkworms. We'll select some of the finest cocoons for the purpose—those that are largest and most perfect. Some must be male and some must be female moths."
"But how can we tell? Aren't they all shut up inside the cocoons?" gasped Pierre.
"Oh, it is quite easy," answered Josef. "The female silkworm spins a house which, like an egg, is a little sharper at one end than at the other. We'll choose about the same number of each gender. There is a knack in selecting good cocoons for breeding, and you've got to know lots of things about them. And after we have chosen them there will be the rest of the cocoons to sort. That will require care, too. We cannot do it as experts do, but still we can group them roughly into lots of various kinds. We can get at it to-morrow. I will give you your first lesson. I fancy your mother knows more about it than therest of us for she has always helped your father do this part of the work."
"It will be fun to learn!" cried Marie. "Won't it, Pierre?"
"I don't believe it will be very hard," sniffed Pierre. "There can't be much choice in cocoons. Most of them look alike, except that some are bigger than others."
Josef regarded the boy a moment and then laughed.
"Don't be too cock-sure of that!" he retorted ironically.