Page:The life of the insects by Čapek brothers.pdf/38

 But that pore ’armless cricket found life sweet,

Same as ’e does.—No | Nature ’as me beat!

Larva. (Crawling out of hole) Daddy! Daddy!

Tramp. So you’re the Larva. Let ’s have a look at you.

Larva. How ugly you are!

Tramp. Am I? Why?

Larva. I don’t know—Oh, how bored I am! I want—I want

Tramp. What yer want?

Larva. I don’t know. Yes I do—To tear up something—Something alive—that wriggles.

Tramp. ’Ere, what ’s come over yer?

Larva. Ugly—ugly—ugly! (Crawls away.)

Mr. Beetle. (Calling) Come along, old girl. I’ve found a hole. Where are you? Where ’s my pile? Where ’s my wife?

Tramp. Your wife? Do you mean that old harridan? That greasy fat bundle of rags?

Mr. Beetle. That ’s her—Where ’s my pile?

Tramp. That old tub in petticoats?

Mr. Beetle. That ’s her—that ’s her—She had my pile—What ’s she done with my pile?

Tramp. Why, your beauty went to look for you.

Mr. Beetle. Did she? Where ’s my pile?

Tramp. That great ball of muck?

Mr. Beetle. Yes, yes. My nest-egg—my savings—my capital. Where ’s my beautiful pile? I left my wife with it.