“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 particular 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 butterflies ever know so much? They don’t eat leaves, do they?” asked Neva in a surprised tone.

“No, butterflies eat honey and overripe fruit and such things; it is indeed wonderful that they can select the right plant, but the One who made the butterfly gave it wonderful instinct. Who is He, Neva?”

“Our Father,” answered the little girl. “I know that we sing in school:

but I never thought of His paying much attention to such a little thing as butterflies. 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 journey; 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 caterpillar?” 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 greenish, 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 astonishment.

Aunt Doris smiled as she replied: “Wait until it is ready to become a chrysalis 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 might 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 morning 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 goner.”

“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 the box,” answered Neva in a sorrowful tone.

Aunt Doris gave one look and then she laughed. “Why, Neva, the sandman is still in your eyes, for you are looking at the bottom of the box and here is the caterpillar hung up on the netting by the little hooks in the tail. It is well that you wakened so early, for half an hour later our Danais Archippus would have been a chrysalis and you never could have seen it cast its skin.”

Then putting a soft shawl around the little girl she took her in her lap and let her hold the box.

Very soon the caterpillar commenced rolling off its skin, but although Neva watched every minute and almost held her breath, she could scarcely tell how a little, green case, which looked as though it might be made of wax, was hanging where the caterpillar had hung a few moments before, while the old skin lay shriveled up in the bottom of the box.

“Isn’t it beautiful, auntie?” she said. “How can God make so many beautiful things?”

“Yes, it is very beautiful,” replied her aunt, “but it will be more so after a little; we will set the box up now and look again after you are dressed.”

“You were right, auntie,” Neva called a little later. “The green case is a prettier color now and it has a row of such cute little gold knobs near the top. What do you s’pose they are there for?”

“You notice that they are placed just where the chrysalis bulges; they are put there to protect the little sleeper when the wind blows the case against anything. You know a chrysalis is usually suspended from a leaf out of doors, and so it needs some such protection,” explained Aunt Doris.

“And now how long will this be just a chrysalis and will it just hang and do nothing?” asked the little girl.

“If you are watching it closely you will see that it sometimes swings towards the light and sometimes away from the light just as its needs require. It is a sensitive little mummy. But my little Neva will have to be very patient for it may be twelve or even sixteen days before the butterfly appears.”

“It’s good I’m making you a long visit,” said Neva, “’cause I wouldn’t like to go home before the butterfly came.”

After ten days had passed the chrysalis began to look a little darker and the twelfth day Neva said, “Auntie, I b’lieve I see something that looks like a wing inside of this little case.”

“Sure, enough,” said Aunt Doris. “That means that Danais Archippus will soon come out of the little green house.” Almost before she had finished speaking the case began to move and then the part that was over the butterfly’s back burst and a crumpled little object dropped to the bottom of the box.

“Oh, what mussed up wings!” exclaimed Neva in an excited whisper, but already the butterfly had commenced distending them and soon they looked three times the size and were all smoothed out.

“Now will he fly?” asked Neva.

“No, the wings are still drooping a little because they are moist; he will move them back and forth after a little, but will not fly until they are perfectly dry.”

“Isn’t he just a beauty! How I wish mamma could see how he looks,” said the little girl in a longing tone.

“How would you like to have auntie paint his picture before he is ready to fly away?” asked her aunt.

Neva’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, will you?” she exclaimed. “I’ll run and get your paints.”

A few minutes later the Danais was taken from the box and placed on the tablespread and Aunt Doris’ brush was doing rapid work.

Neva was fascinated as her eyes traveled from her live butterfly to the beautiful deep orange wings trimmed with black and white which her aunt was painting.

“Why Aunt Doris,” she said, “It’s a zact match, it’s ’most a reg’lar twin. How large it is!”

“Yes, it is four and a half inches across the wings. It is the largest kind of an American butterfly.”

By the time the painting was finished the butterfly commenced flitting about the room. It soon found its way to the screen door and Neva said, “It looks just as if it was coaxing to go out.”

“Yes, butterflies don’t like to be shut up in the house,” said Aunt Doris, “and I think a certain little girl must want to play out too by this time, so I’ll open the door and watch you both fly.”

A few minutes later a happy little voice called from the lawn, “Oh, just look, auntie, Danais Archippus seems to be kissing all the flowers, he’s so glad to see them.”

When Neva went back to the city she took the picture of the Danais which her aunt had framed in a pretty gold frame, and also a great bunch of milkweed pods. She looked at them very proudly as her aunt put them in her trunk and said, “They will be such beautiful reminderments of my precious Danais Archippus, though of course I would remember him forever even if I didn’t have them, wouldn’t I, auntie?” and Aunt Doris looked into the earnest little face and smiled and felt sure that she would.

Grace T. Thompson.