 CHAPTER 1 OF SEED BABIES. SEED BABIES by Margaret Warner Moorley. BEANS. SECTION 1. Well, I never. Jack said that because all the beans he had planted were on top of the ground. Jack was only six years old, and not very well acquainted with beans. No wonder he was surprised to find them on top of the ground when he had tucked them so snugly out of sight in the brown earth only a few days before. Jack looked at his beans and began to get red in the face. He looked a little as if he were going to cry, when Coe comes, I'll just punch him, he said at last. For who could have uncovered his beans but his brother Coe? For Coe would rather tease than eat his dinner, except when there was chocolate pudding for dessert. Coe's real name was Nicholas, but it took too long to say that, so Jack called him Coe for short. Jack picked up a bean to replant it, and what do you think had happened? Something had, for it did not look as it did when he first put it in the ground. It had turned green to begin with. Jack had planted white beans. He knew they were white all through, for he had bitten a good many in two to see how they looked inside. And now the coat on the outside that had stuck so tightly at first had peeled half off, and the bean was green. Something more had happened. A little white stem had come out of the bean and gone into the ground. Jack was so surprised at all this that he forgot he was angry at Coe, and when his brother came up only told him to look. Coe tried to pick up a bean too, but it was fastened quite firmly to the ground. They're growing, said Coe. Did you pull them up, asked Jack? No indeed, said Coe. They must have pulled themselves up, said Jack. Yes, said Coe, that's it. They grew so fast they pulled themselves right up. Then Jack sprinkled earth over them until he could not see them and went away. In two or three days they were all on top of the ground again. Well, well, well, said Jack. They don't know anything to keep unplanting themselves that way. But now he could not pick up any of the beans without tearing loose the stout little stem with roots at the end that had gone down into the ground. You bean, he said, tapping one on its green head, for they had grown very greener. You bean, I shall plant you deep enough this time. You will die and not grow at all if you don't stay still in the ground. At this the bean smiled. A bean cannot smile, you say? Oh, well, that is what nearly everyone would say, but I can tell you a great many people do not know about beans, and I am sure that bean smiled. If I did stay still in the ground, how could I grow, asked the bean. You think beans cannot talk? Well, as I said before, a great many people do not know about beans, and whether they can talk or not, this bean asked Jack how it could grow if it stayed still in the ground. And what is more, Jack was stumped, as the boys say, by the question and could not answer. Of course, nothing that stayed perfectly still could grow. But why don't you send up a little stem and let the bean that I planted stay planted, asked Jack. Well, I'll tell you, said the bean. And if by this time you do not believe beans can talk, you may as well not read another word of this story. Talking beans are just as true as Cinderella or Hopo My Thumb or Little Red Riding Hood or Jack the Giant Killer and those people. Of course everybody knows how true they are. So Jack's bean said, I will tell you, and then asked, are your hands clean? They're fair to middling, said Jack, looking at his hands, and for the first time in his life wishing he had washed them, oh well, said the bean, if they are not sticky it won't matter. I am going to let you look at me, but I don't want you to pull me apart, either on purpose or by accident. I won't, said Jack. Well then, very gently, open this green part that you planted when it was white and that won't stay under the ground and look, injected so. He found the green part was split in two halves and right between the halves fastened at the end where the root went down, were stowed away to pretty green leaves. My, said Jack, well I guess so, said the bean rather proudly. You see, I have these little leaves packed away even when I am white, but then they are also white and very, very small. You very likely would not even see them at least, not with your own eyes. You would see something if you knew where to look, but you would not see two leaves without the help of a magnifying glass. But I know they are there all the time. Bean section two. Tell me more, said Jack. He thought it the jolliest thing in the world, as it certainly was to have the beans talk to him. The bean was as pleased as he was for it like to talk and it could not always find so good a listener. So it said, I keep my two white little leaves very closely packed away between my two big hard white caudalidans. Your two big hard white what, said Jack? Caudalidans. My, said Jack, yes, caudalidans. You probably did not know there were two. You thought it was just one mass of white stuff. Probably you did not know my caudalidans had a coat either. Yes, said Jack, I knew that. It tears open when you grow. And I knew you split in two. Only I didn't know you called yourself caudalidans. We don't, said the bean, with a funny little laugh. But it is no matter what we call ourselves. Grown up men call our seed leaves caudalidans. I'd rather know what you call them, said Jack. Oh, I can't tell you that. Nobody can. But why don't you ask me what I mean by my seed leaves? I think you mean the two halves that come apart with the two little leaves between them, said Jack. Yes, so I do. But there are more than two leaves between. There is a little end that grows down and makes a root. Yes, said Jack, I know. Hush, said the bean. You don't know anything about it. You mustn't tell me, you know. You must just keep on asking me about myself. You are cross, said Jack. Oh, I'm not, said the bean. I am only right. Well, what should I ask? Demanded Jack. Stupid. If you have nothing to ask, I have nothing to tell you. So goodbye. Oh, don't beg Jack. I will ask and ask and ask, only don't stop telling. Well, ask away, said the bean. What makes you turn green? What makes you so hard before you're planted? How do you know when it's time to wake up? Where to just hear the boy interrupt the bean, asking a dozen questions and not waiting for an answer to any of them? Oh, why don't you stop to take a breath? Why, said Jack, now you can answer a long time. There's something in that, returned the bean, and I will tell you about turning green. You turn green. I don't, said Jack. Don't interrupt. I turn green. Because I cannot digest my food unless I do. And how am I to live without food? Even you could not live if you could not digest your food. I'm glad I don't turn green when I digest my food, said Jack. And then asked, what do you eat? There you go again, another question. And the first set not answered yet. I get my food from the air and the earth. I am fond of gas. And when I turn green, I can digest it. You know the air is nothing but gas. Well, I can eat air. I'm glad I don't have to, said Jack, thinking of chocolate pudding. Oh, of course you prefer much coarser things, but don't interrupt. I am fond of air and the little leaves that I have stowed away need much food. So I just grow up to the top of the ground where there is to be found air and sunlight. And then I let my two little leaves draw all the good out of my cotyledons. They have air too and water and the roots send them food, but they eat all the good out of my cotyledons as well. And that is why they grow so fast. Look there, see that bean plant over there? The cotyledons are all withered and look like dry leaves. That is what they are, just dried leaves. That's the way mine will look someday, but I don't care, for more leaves will grow above the first two. And I shall have plenty of stem and many leaves and after a while, beautiful flowers will come and then lots of new seeds will grow from my flowers. You see how it is, don't you? I am just the bean baby. You are a great talker for a baby, said Jack. Oh yes, you can't understand that of course, but as I said before, some people do not know about beans. You say that pretty often, said Jack, but the bean only laughed and replied, well it's true, whether you like it or not. Beans section three. Can you tell me about peas, Jack asked the bean the next day? I planted some and they stayed in the ground. Perhaps I can't, the bean replied, but they are different from us and I have told you enough. Well, I suppose after what you have told me, I can find out something about peas for myself, said Jack. Oh, of course you can, replied the bean. Some people never know anything because they cannot find out without being told. Goodbye, said Jack politely. I am very much obliged to you, but the bean was not so polite as Jack or it did not answer at all. Perhaps, however, that is the polite way among beans. Jack was still thinking about beans when he went into the house and saw a pan of dried lima beans soaking for dinner. He took one up and slipped it out of its white jacket and it fell apart in his hand so that he saw quite plainly the little plant packed away at one end. It must like water better than I do to swell itself that full, said he to himself, for the soaked beans were about twice as large as the dried ones. Couldn't grow a bit without it, said Jack's bean, in a cross voice popping from between his fingers back into the pan of water. We have begun to grow, we have. In spite of its crossness, Jack felt a little sorry that it was to be eaten for dinner instead of growing in some damp and lovely place. But he thought, and no doubt, he was right, maybe among beans it doesn't matter if they are eaten. I don't know beans, he added, screwing up one eye. Why do we eat beans? He asked his father at dinner, because they are nearly all starch and starch is good food, his father replied. Does the baby bean eat starch? Jack asked. Oh yes, his father said. The baby bean grows on the starch stored up in the bean. The little plant is stowed away in one corner of the bean and lives on the starch of the cotyledons when it first begins to grow. Oh yes, I know that, said Jack. But don't you think it is rather hard on the bean for us to eat it? No, his father replied. There would not be room for all the beans to grow. Some would have to die anyway. And if the bean could understand, I'm sure it would be very glad to give us food. Perhaps it does understand, said Jack thoughtfully. Beans are great thinkers. If that is so, said Papa Smiling, they must be a little proud to know that all the animals depend upon the plant life for food. I don't see how that is, said Co. Well, I will tell you, said his father. Plants can eat gases in other minerals. Yes, I know that, said Jack, remembering what the bean had told him about it. They changed these things into plant material, his father went on. And people who cannot eat earth and air eat the plants. And so all are able to live. But we might live on meat, said Jack. But what makes meat, asked his father. What do the animals we use for meat live on? Plants, Jack replied, nodding his head, to show he understood. Yes, plants. And so, first or last, all the animals depend upon the plants for their lives. If we keep on, we shall know beans, Co. said to Jack, in a very sleepy tone of voice that night. But Jack, tucked up in his crib, was already in the land of nod. And to chapter one. Chapter two of Seababies by Margaret Warner Morley. The sleeper-box recording is in the public domain. Sweet piece. You don't seem to have to come out of the ground to get started, Jack said to his sweet piece one day. Oh no, was the reply. But why? Don't you need air and light? Yes, but we have enough food stored underground to start us and, as a matter of fact, we prefer to lie still and let our clean fresh leaves go out into the world. Do garden peas act the same way as sweet peas? Asked Jack very much awake by this time to what was going on in the garden. Yes, the sweet piece said, in a voice as musical as a summer brook. Yes, the garden peas are our cousins, our country cousins as it were. They grow in the same way we do, and we are very fond of them. Do you have a baby in your seed too? Demanded Jack, sitting down cross-legged on the ground to have a good, comfortable chat with his new friends. My seed is a baby pea, was the reply. Between my two round caudalidons, you can see the rest of the infant tucked away, ready when warmth and moisture come to spring up and grow into a vine. Yes, that's so, Jack said slowly, then added, ain't you afraid to stay out in the garden all night? It had come over him all of a sudden that he would be very much afraid. Do you mean aren't you afraid? Asked the pea politely, but a little severely. Yes, said Jack, half a mind to rebel against having to correct bad grammar out of school, but not wanting to offend the pea either. Aren't you afraid? No, I am not afraid. We plants love the nighttime. We can see as well as in the daytime. Jack wanted to ask if they could see at any time without eyes, but feared it might be considered impolite. The pea replied to his thought, not as you see, but we have a way of knowing about things that you see. I cannot explain how it is for you are not a pea and could not understand. Can you hear, asked Jack, and not as you hear, but we have a way of knowing about things that you hear. I cannot explain how it is for you are not a pea and could not understand. Can you smell or taste or feel, persists to Jack? Not as you smell or taste or feel, but we have a way of knowing about things that you smell and taste and feel. I cannot explain how it is for you are not a pea and could not understand. I don't seem to know peas either, muttered Jack to himself. No, you don't know about peas. If you did, you would know more than the president of the United States and the principal of your school put together. My, said Jack. You never will know all about peas, the pea went on. You can know a good many things about them, as well as about other things that will be good for you if you keep your eyes open and your brain working. How they all like to teach a fellow, thought Jack, as the pea settled down as though through talking. Teach a fellow, said the pea, rousing up, teach a boy, would sound better yet. Teach a boy, corrected Jack meekly, and then walked off and found Coe and told him all the pea had said. You dreamed it, you silly, said Coe, with a very fine air, for he was two years older than Jack and sometimes liked to remind his brother of this fact. You dreamed it. And anyway, taint polite to listen to what people think. No, said Jack politely, but a little severely, just as the pea had said it, to him. It isn't polite, but then that may be polite among peas. You don't know peas, you must remember that. End of chapter two. Chapter three of Seed Babies by Margaret Warner Morley. The sleeper box recording is in the public domain. Peanuts. Tell you what, said Coe, there is a baby in this peanut. Jack looked and sure enough flattened down in one corner of the peanut for safekeeping and looking very much like the bean baby was a young peanut baby. Let's plant it, said Jack. It's been roasted, said Coe. You don't suppose a roasted baby would grow, do you? No, said Jack, I'm afraid it wouldn't. Let's ask Father. Father says to plant it and see, Jack said, running back a few minutes later. He says he'll get us some raw ones in town tomorrow and we can plant both kinds. Of course it would be silly to plant a roasted one, said Coe. Why would it ask the peanut in his hand? Oh, because it would, was the wise reply. You're dead, you know, said Jack, and dead things can't grow. Am I dead? Then how can I talk? It is talking, said Coe, very much surprised as soon as he stopped to think about it. Anything can ask questions, whether it is dead or alive, said Jack, and a very wise speech it was, though you who do not know as much as you will if you live to be wiser may not think so. Why can't I grow? repeated the roasted peanut. Well, can you, asked Coe? No, I can't. Now answer my question, why can't I? I don't know, said Coe Meekly. It's time you found that out, said the peanut snappishly. It is so easy for you to say a thing is so or isn't so, and all the time you don't know anything about it. I hope you're cross enough, said Coe, firing up. But Jack said, never mind Coe, the poor thing has been roasted. If you had been roasted so you couldn't ever grow, you might be cross too. Me roasted, I'm not a peanut, said Coe indignantly. If you knew as much as you never will know, you would understand that there is not such a great difference between us as you think, said the peanut grimly, and as to being roasted, that is by no means the worst thing that could happen in the world. What would be worse, asked Jack curiously. I cannot tell you, you would not understand, said the peanut. They all seem to think alike about our understanding, said Jack. Yes, said Coe, they think they know everything. End of chapter three. Chapter four of Seed Babies by Margaret Warner-Morley. The Sleeper Box recording is in the public domain. Melons and their cousins. Where did you get it? Jack asked as he went into the yard and found Coe with a slice of ripe watermelon in his hand. Mother gave it to me. There's one for you, he said, pointing to another slice on a plate in the grass. Save the seeds, said Coe. Then for a few minutes nothing was to be heard but a funny little juicy sound. And when this ceased, what do you think? There was nothing left of the watermelon but just the rind and some flat black seeds. Coe handed a seed to Jack. What shall I do with it? Asked Jack. Take off its jacket, said Coe, speaking as though he thought Jack a little deaf. So Jack took the melon seed and peeled off its tough black coat. Now take off its shirt, said Coe, and Jack slipped off a delicate, silky covering. Now look inside, ordered Coe. See, said Jack, as he did so. The melon seed had fallen into two parts in his hand, just like the bean. And there in one end was the baby plant lying close to the cotyledons. Do you suppose it would grow? asked Jack. Of course it would, said Coe. How do you know I would? asked the melon seed. Well, wouldn't you? asked Coe. He was used to stopping Jack's questions this way when he could not answer them and had not yet learned the difference between Jack and a logical vegetable. Yes, I would, said the melon. Now answer my question, how do you know I would? Because said Coe confidently, melon seeds generally do. Do they? How many of those you planted came up? Coe blushed. You see, you don't know anything about it. If you cared to be wise, you would find out how I grow. If you could, then you would know why I don't grow and how to help me. That is so, said Coe. And someday when I have plenty of time, I mean to find it out if I can. Let's go to the garden now and see if we can find out anything about it, said Jack. I know where there are some jolly big melons. All right, said Coe, and off they went. But they did not stay long. The melons just lay on the ground and said not a word. Stupid things, come along, said Coe. So they went along and the first thing Jack did was to step on a ripe cucumber. Ouch, he cried and Coe laughed. Then Jack said, let's make boats. Of course I'm not going to tell you what they did then because everybody knows they just took cucumbers and cut them open lengthwise and scraped out the insides and whittled out sticks and stuck them in for masks and pinned on paper sails. They sailed their boats on the duck pond and most of them turned over and some sank. For the wind blew and Coe said there was a gale on. If you think it is easy to make cucumber boats sail in a high wind or in any wind or in no wind, you just try it. Cucumber boats do not like to sail. Jack put a lot of seeds in his pocket. They were rather damp and sticky, but then a boy's pocket expects such things. When the whole fleet had come to grief, the boys sat on the edge of the pond and Jack pulled a handful of seeds out of his pocket. Do you suppose these are seed babies? He asked holding one in his fingers. Easy enough to find out said Coe, splitting one open with his fingernail. Yes, there it is. A cucumber baby tucked up in the corner. Do you suppose all seeds are babies? Asked Jack, following Coe's example and splitting one open. I shouldn't wonder said Coe. Cucumber seeds and melon seeds are just alike. Only the cucumbers are small and white, said Jack. Where cousins piped up the seed. What makes your cousins have black seeds then, demanded Coe. Won't tell, screamed the seed. You've spoiled me and I'm mad. Go ask the pumpkins why they have white seeds. They are cousins too and maybe they will tell you, but I won't. I'm sorry I spoiled you said Coe. Oh, it doesn't really matter, muttered the seed. There are so many of us we can't all live and perhaps I'd rather be spoiled by you than just dry up or rot in the ground. Poor thing said Coe. Then added, but I'll tell you what we'll do, Jack, when the pumpkins get ripe. I know, said Jack. And of course you know, so I won't tell you for anything how they took a pumpkin when it got ripe and cleaned all the insides out and cut a lovely new moon of a mouth in it with scallops for teeth. And I won't tell you how they made round holes for eyes and a wedge-shaped hole for a nose and I never will tell you how they put a lighted candle inside and set it on the gate post one dark night to show their father the way in and how the telegraph boy came instead with a message and was frightened almost out of his senses. He was a city boy and not used to jack-o'-lanterns. Of course Coe and Jack made the acquaintance of the pumpkin seeds and you know as well as I do how they found the pumpkin babies tucked away in one corner so I won't say a word about it. And a chapter four. Chapter five of Seed Babies by Margaret Warner-Morley, the sleeper box recording is in the public domain. Nuts. What did you say about nuts for dinner? Asked Jack one day. I said we were going to have them, replied Coe. It must be almost dinner time, said Jack and sure enough just then the dinner bell rang. There's a baby in this almond I do believe, said Jack, as he cracked his first nut after dinner had been eaten and the nuts passed. It's like a bean, said Coe. Beans are seeds, said Jack. If you plant them, they will grow. So are nuts seeds, added Coe. If you plant them, they'll grow. Then there must be babies in the nuts, said Jack, for it's the little seed babies that grow up and make big plants. Let's look for them in all the nuts, said Coe. Then added, mother can't we take our nuts on the porch and eat them? Of course you may, said mother. So off they went, their nuts in their pockets. Now, said Coe, looking very wise, you see these almonds grow on trees and they have to fall a long way and they might get bruised so their coat is hard like wood. Do you suppose that's the reason they're so hard, asked Jack? It's as good a reason as any, said Coe. Yes, said the almond. That is the way too many people reason without taking the trouble to find out the real truth about things. Well, why are you hard, asked Coe? I won't tell you, said the almond, who though naturally good-natured had been made very cross by Coe's poor reasoning. I won't tell you because then you would never know why I am hard. Wouldn't I know if you told me, asked Coe, opening his eyes in astonishment? No, that's the very reason you would not know. Nobody knows from being told. If you think about it as long as you live and don't ask anybody's opinion, you may find out it's the only way. We'd need more than one brain, wouldn't we, if we learned everything everybody tells us to, asked Jack. No, you wouldn't, said the almond. One brain isn't much to be sure, but if you knew enough to use it instead of holding it open like a big-mouthed meal bag with a hole in the bottom for somebody to pour things into, you would get on very well and be as wise as would be good for you. Let's not eat any more almonds, said Jack. They are so cross to us. Oh no, said Coe, they taste good and if we eat them fast and chew them hard they can't scold at us. Yes, that's the way people do about everything, said the almond, with a sigh as it disappeared in Jack's mouth. Do you think it will keep on talking after I've swallowed it, he asked in alarm? Oh, I guess not, said Coe. Look here, he had cracked a Madeira nut and taken the meat out whole. I don't see any baby there, said Jack. Don't be too sure about that, said Coe, carefully pulling his nut apart. Look there in the corner, isn't that a baby? But it lies in crosswise, not straight like the others. It's so crumpled up, you can't tell much about it, said Jack. That's it, said the nut. I am crumpled. I am not smooth and simple like your bean. But here I am, all folded up, so you have to look at my Caudalidans a long time to find out how I really split open to grow. How do you, asked Coe? Plant me, said the Madeira nut. The boys planted half a dozen in the garden and dug one up every day to see how it was getting on. They gave it plenty of water and one day, what do you think? The shell had split open. Oh Coe, screamed Jack, just look in the crack, how white it has got. They planted it again and in a day or two, out of the crack peeped a little green sprout from the place where the two crumpled Caudalidans were fastened together. The boys were delighted, but as it would say nothing to them, they planted it again and watched the stout root go down into the ground. Why don't the Caudalidans come out of the shell? Asked Jack of Coe one day. The nut answered. What's the use in taking that trouble? My Caudalidans are all folded in the shell so that it would not be easy for them to get out. Besides, I am so very sweet that I might get eaten if I came out. I just stay in the shell and let my leaves and roots out. They are fastened to me, you see, and can draw out all the food they need. You see my Caudalidans are changed. Yes, they are quite soft and greenish-yellow, said Coe, pulling off a piece of the shell. There, there, now let me alone to grow in peace, said the nut, thinking investigations had been carried far enough, but Jack and Coe did not let it alone. They made it tell them a great many things about itself and the great secret of how it was folded, not at all as it looked to be. But if you want to know these things, you must go and plant some Madeira nuts for yourself and keep them moist. If they are fresh, some will be sure to sprout. And if you are as bright as I think you are, they will tell you all that Coe's and Jack's nut told them. End of chapter five. Chapter six of Seed Babies by Margaret Warner Morley. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, more about nuts. Of course, Coe and Jack did not stop there. They asked all sorts of nuts about themselves and came to the conclusion that every nut was a seed baby that only needed a good chance to wake up and grow. Only some things puzzled them a great deal. One was the hazelnut that did not seem to have any place to split open like the rest. And the hazel only laughed at them and would not tell them how it got out of its shell. They thought it must be a baby for when they cracked it, there were the two little leaves and the tiny stump of a root ready to grow just like the other seed babies. And of course, if it were a baby, it would have to get out of its shelly cradle sometime, but it would not tell how. Nor am I going to tell any tales out of school, nor in school either. If you want to know, you will have to do as Jack encoded, plant it and keep it moist. I can tell you this much. Jack and his brother were considerably older, as well as wiser, before they finally discovered the hazelnut's secret. But they did not give up until they had discovered it, which I hope is exactly the way you will behave. Another thing that puzzled the boys was the Brazilnut. They puzzled over that a long time. They couldn't make up their minds that it was a seed baby at all. But, if not, what was it? They planted it, and one day, when they were considerably older and wiser, it began to grow. Of course, then they knew, or thought they knew, it was a seed baby, but never could they find in the Brazilnut any sign of the little plant, as they had found in the other seeds. I think, said Jack one day, that it is not a seed baby at all, for it hasn't told us anything. Huh, said the Brazilnut. You had better keep still, Jack. It will begin to tell you. You don't understand, said co-warningly. Well, said the Brazilnut. I might tell you that and tell the truth, but it would be too much trouble. I prefer to talk about myself. I grow in the forests of Brazil where it is the hottest summer all the year round, and I grow on a very tall and very handsome tree. 20 or 30 of us grow together in a cup that looks something like a coconut. We fill the space so full and are so nicely fitted together that if anyone unpacks us, he can never put us all back again. Some of my cousins have lids to their cups and these lids fall open when the cups get ripe and drop from the tree and let the nuts fall out. These are called monkey cups because the monkeys that live in the forest where we grow like to play with them. My cup has no lid, however, but is apt to break in its fall from the tall tree or else we have to lie and wait and wait for that hard cup to get soft in the wet grounds. We can swell, I tell you. When we get ready to grow, our shell is not so very hard for it has soaked until it is rather soft and we just press against it and burst it open. There, said Co, I believe that is the way the hazelnut does it, hazelnut. I don't know anything about hazelnut, but that is the way we get out of our shell. But where do you keep your baby? Asked Jack. Keep my baby. Why, you goose, I am all baby. I am just a baby, a seed baby and nothing else. But I can't see your two leaves and your little root. Even when I look with Papa's glass, said Co. Oh well, I am not going to tell you all my secrets. I know how it is and if you want to, you will have to find out. How can we find out, asked Jack? That is your look-out, was the reply and not another word could that nut be got to say then or after. End of Chapter 6 Chapter 7 of Sea Babies by Margaret Warner-Morley This LibriBox recording is in the public domain. Cradles. Why do you suppose nuts and things have such dreadful coverings, Jack, asked Co. one day after he had spent half an hour scrubbing his hands with lemon and salt to get the walnut stains off so he could go to town with Mama. The barn floor was covered with butternuts and black walnuts and their shucks, as the boys called the juicy outer covering. They had made themselves each a flail, such as farmers used to use, to thresh out wheat and rye and had been pounding away for a day or two to get the nuts out of their shucks. As threshing is generally done by machinery now, a good many boys and girls have never seen a flail. So I must tell you, it is two strong sticks, the longest one as long as your arm or longer. They are fastened together with a bit of rope or leather. You hold one end and with the other pound the grain or whatever you wish to loosen from its husk. Those who have gathered butternuts and black walnuts know what a thick juicy hull the nuts are covered with and how the juice from these hulls has a very bad taste and stains the fingers a deep rich brown which stays a long time. It is very hard to remove even if one tries. Boys usually do not try. They let it wear off. Jack and Co. generally did not trouble themselves much about it, but this time Jack had an invitation to go to the city with his mother to a birthday dinner with half a dozen cousins about his own age. That is, he could go if he could get his hands clean. He knew there would be fun games and stories and plenty of ice cream, so he was doing his best with a lemon and a saucer of salt and Co. was helping him. I think, said Co, that I know why nuts are covered up this way. Ever since the almonds scolded so when I said it was hard because it had to fall a good way, I've been thinking about it. So you see it sometimes does children good to scold them. Well, out with it, said Jack, who was much more interested just then in getting his hands clean than in hearing about nuts. Don't you remember, said Co, the almonds Uncle John sent us from California? Those fresh ones? They had an outside covering a little like the butternuts, only not so much so. Well, you remember what the Madeira nut said about not coming out of its shell? It was so sweet it might get eaten. Now I believe that's why nuts have such a mean shock. But hickory nuts don't, nor chestnuts, said Jack. You pick them up as clean and shiny as you please. Ow, he roared in the same breath. Don't rub all the skin off my fingers. I guess that hand is about as clean as it can get and leave any skin on. Said Co, surveying the very red little paw which he had been scrubbing. I think brown hands look about as well as red ones but mother doesn't seem to. I should say hickory nuts do have bad tasting shucks until they get ripe and fall out. He went on seizing Jack's other hand and vigorously applying lemon and salt to the finger ends. Sometimes the shucks get dry and let the ripe nuts out and sometimes they stay on the nuts and fall off with them. That's about it, said a walnut that had rolled across the barn floor near where they were sitting. You see our shells are quite soft at first and our seeds though not as sweet as when we are ripe are still pretty good to eat. So we just cover the whole thing over with the bitterest stingiest rind we can manage to make and keep it until we are too hard for birds and most insects. Even then we walnuts keep our hulls but hickory nuts drop out of theirs and so do chestnuts. Chestnut burrs don't need to taste very bad, said Jack laughing. Nothing would want to bite one again after it had once got a few stickers in its mouth. No indeed, said Coe. Come to think of it, all nuts have some sort of hoard outside to them. Remember how sour the hazel bur is? The Madeira nut doesn't, said Jack. You can't say that, said Coe, for you don't know how it grows. I shouldn't wonder if it has, for it is ever so much like a hickory nut. Well, Brazil nuts persisted Jack. Goodness boy, don't you remember what they told you about the hard cup they grow in? That's for the same thing, only it is hard instead of tasting nasty. It's just the way it is, said the walnut from its place in the corner. All of us nuts have to be taken care of while we are growing. Now, when do you keep your babies in? In their mother's arms, said Jack. I mean, when they're asleep, said the nut. Cradles, answered Jack. Well, that's the way with us. These bad tasting or hard husks are just the cradles to keep our babies safe until they are strong enough to help themselves a little. Goodness, said Jack. Yes, said the walnut, that's the way it is. I believe all seeds have cradles. Come to think of it, said Coe, for the beans have their tough pods and the peas too. Even the pigs won't eat bean pods. How about apples, demanded Jack? They taste bad until they're most ripe, said Coe. But then it seems just as if they asked to be eaten. Yes, and cherries and peaches and plums and oh, lots of things, added Jack. I can tell you about that, said the walnut, proud of being able to tell the boys so many things. You see, almonds and plums are very much alike. Only almonds have big, sweet seeds and not very hard shells. Now they have bad tasting husks to keep the seeds from being eaten. Well, plums have bitter seeds and very hard shells, so they have sweet and juicy hulls which birds and people like to eat. But they throw away the seed, which may chance to fall in a place where it can grow. So with apples and pears, the core is tough and keeps the seeds from being eaten. It is a good thing for the seeds to be carried away from the tree where they grow and thrown in a place where there is more room for them to live. There, don't you think that is done? Jack demanded, pulling his hand away from Coe and looking at it. Yes, I guess you'll do now, was the reply. If they ask whether we took you for a lobster and tried to boil you, tell them it's scrubbing and not boiling that's made you so red. Goodbye, Coe, said Jack. I'll eat an extra plate of ice cream for you. But Coe did not look very grateful to Jack's generous offer. I wish they'd invited me too, he said. Oh, it's Tom's birthday soon and he's your size. You know, and it will be your turn to go. Then I'll have to stay home and think about it, said Jack consolingly. And off he went. And the chapter seven. Chapter eight of Seed Babies by Margaret Warner Morley. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Apple Seeds. Give me one, demanded Jack, a few days later as he found his brother disposing of a big apple. This is all I have, but I'll give you a bite, Coe replied. Why can't you give me half? Persisted Jack, who grew hungrier and hungrier for that apple as he saw his chances of having it diminish. Well, piggy-wig, I will. So Coe cut the apple in two and in doing so cut across the core, of course. My, said Jack, who had come to look much more closely at things since the seeds began to talk to him. What a cunning cradle those little black babies have. They are babies, aren't they, Coe? Those apple seeds. Of course, said Coe, with a very superior air. How do you know, rang out the apple seed's voice, like a little silver bell? I don't, exactly, said Coe, good-naturedly. I just guess so, because so many seeds are just the plant's babies. And then the walnut said something about it, though. I don't remember just what. There, there, nevermind looking, peeled out the silver voice again, as Coe took up the seed to examine it. How am I going to find out, demanded Coe? Oh, plant me. I would like that so much better than being pulled to pieces and you would learn just as much and more. All right, and Coe tucked the apple seed under the ground in the corner of the garden. Well, it was a baby. For in the spring, it started to grow and Coe let it alone. And after a few years, what do you think? He picked golden apples from that little black apple seed tree. I say, said Jack, watching Coe planted. What a scheme it would be to plant all the apple seeds and peach seeds and pear seeds and plum seeds and everything. Just plant a seed wherever there's a spot big enough for a tree. I heard about a man who did that, said Coe. He planted something whenever he went for a walk. He put fruit trees in the field and on the edge of the woods. Wherever he went, the fruit trees grew. People found fruit in unexpected places and were glad even when he had been dead a great many years, the people picked his fruit. That is nice, said Jack. I mean to save my seeds. It puzzles me about plums and things, said Coe. Let's ask mother for some plums and peaches and see how they manage about their seeds. I guess the stones are seeds and that they split open to let the baby out. Perhaps you think I'm going to tell you all that Jack and Coe found out about pits of things, but you are very much mistaken. If you want to know these things as far as I'm concerned, you will have to go to work and find them out for yourselves and it isn't a hard matter either. Anybody with a pair of eyes and any sort of mind can do it pretty well. But this I will tell you that Jack and Coe did not stop asking and looking when the next summer came and they could pick the little seeds from the outside of the strawberry and the blackberries and the raspberries and from the inside of the blueberries and the gooseberries and the currants and grapes and found these mites of seeds to be just tiny strawberry and raspberry and blackberry and currant and gooseberry babies. They thought they knew something about seeds. They gathered grain too. That summer heads of wheat and barley and oats and ears of corn and they found them filled with grains and they said these grains were seeds and that each seed was a baby. They ended up saying that every seed even the dandelion and thistle down and the tiniest poppy or turnip seed was a baby and nothing but a baby. And maybe they were right about that but they did more than this. What do you think? They said that everything had to be grown from a seed and that there was no other way to manage it which shows how very, very little they knew after all. For it is one thing to say that a lily can grow from a seed but quite another thing to say it cannot grow except from a seed and right there is where they made the mistake. And chapter eight. Chapter nine of Sea Babies by Margaret Warner Morley. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Sweet Kitty Clover. It was Sweet Kitty Clover who found that lilies and berry bushes and some other things grow by bulbs and buds instead of by seeds. You all know Kitty. At least everybody used to know her for there was a song about her beginning Sweet Kitty Clover. She bothers me so. Well, it was Kitty who showed Jack and Coe the funny little black bulbs in the armpits. No, the leaf pits of the big tiger lily and how the sprouts that made new bushes sometimes come out of the roots of the old bushes instead of out of seeds. But she agreed with the boys that a great many things in the plant world had to start from seeds. She used to gather the flower seeds and soak them until they had become soft. And then with her father's big magnifying glass she would look at the little plants curled up in the seeds, come over here and see something she called to Jack and Coe one morning for they were next door neighbors. Kitty was about half the way between Jack and Coe in age and the three played together a great deal of the time. Of course, the boys had told her all the things the plants had said to them. This had pleased her so much that she too began talking to the flowers and other live things about her. She used to get into mischief very often and bother people and I suppose that is what the song meant. Today she had to stay in the house because she had accidentally on purpose, as the boys said, walked through a puddle of water and got her feet soaking wet. So there she sat wishing for something to do when she caught sight of the morning glory vines and all at once she remembered she had put some seeds to soak the day before. This was just the time to look at them. So she ran and got them. Then she called the boys for she thought she really had something worth showing. Jack and Coe came racing over at Kitty's call glad of an excuse to see her for they always felt badly when she was in disgrace almost as badly as if they had been the cause of it. Sometimes they were the cause of it and helped her get into mischief but they were always sorry when it was too late. It is so very easy to get into mischief. Kitty said she never had to try a bit. She had to try hard to do everything else but that seemed to do itself. The boys were glad to see Kitty and glad to see what she had to show them. Everybody remembers how the morning glory looks when it first comes out of the ground two blunt little leaves appear that do not look at all like the heart-shaped ones that come later. While Kitty slipped off the black skin of the seed and inside she found packed about by some clear jelly-like material these same two little leaves as blunt as you please and all curled up in the seed. That's worth seeing said Coe. It has its food separate from its cotyledons. Is that jelly its food, Demandajak? It must be, said Coe, and Kitty thought so too. After a while the morning glory told them all about it and Coe was quite proud to learn he had guessed right. The jelly is the food, the morning glory said. Then Kitty soaked a lot of four o'clock seeds and in each of them found the tender little plant with no starch to speak of stored in its cotyledons but instead lying embedded in a flowery mass of food. It would take a long time to tell all the queer and lovely seed babies Kitty and the boys saw in the flowers that summer. They looked at wild flowers as well as those in the garden and everywhere the story was the same in the seed was stored away the plant baby. They had a lot of fun doing it and anybody who likes can have just as much fun for the seeds are always ready to show their treasures. End of chapter nine. Chapter 10 of Seed Babies by Margaret Warner-Morley. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. A new kind of seed. One day Kitty came upon something funny enough. She found what she took to be a lot of round white seeds growing on the back of a leaf. I didn't know seeds grew that way, Jack said, shaking his head over them. Let's soak them, said he. So they soaked a few, but when they opened them they could find no seed baby only something soft and without any form at all. How co-laught when he found what they were doing. You precious pair of ninnies, he roared. Well, what ails you, demanded Jack indignantly. Oh, my goodness, soaking eggs to make them grow, gasped co. Eggs nothing of the sort, retorted Jack. But co was right, as time proved, for one day out of these little seeds, as Jack and Kitty persisted in calling them, there came creeping the very funniest and tiniest of caterpillars. I told you so, said co. Seeds and eggs are the same thing anyway, said Jack Cooley. Yes, Katie hastened to add, the very same thing, only little plants hatch out of seeds and little animals out of eggs. There must be something in that, co-admitted. You a seed baby? Jack demanded very gently, poking one of the little caterpillars that had already gone to work to eat the edge off the apple leaf upon which it had been hatched. But if it was a seed baby it did not say so. It just rolled up into a ball and fell off the leaf on the ground. You've lost it, screamed Kitty. It lost itself, protest Jack. And anyway, I guess that kind of seed baby can take care of itself, even if it is lost. They don't seem to have to be very old to do that. The children were so anxious to keep their little caterpillars that Kitty's mother gave them a piece of netting, which they tied over the branch where the caterpillars were, and so all summer the two boys and Kitty watched them grow. Only Kitty's father said they must be sure that none of them escaped, for he didn't want his whole orchard eaten up by them. How they do eat, said Co, as he removed them for the third time to fresh branches, because there were no leaves left on the old ones. Their skins are falling off, Jack exclaimed one day, and sure enough it was true. They crawled out of their skins plumper and bigger than they were before. They got too big for their skins, said Kitty. It's a handy way to grow, Jack said. You just fill up your old skin, then pop it open and creep out with a brand new and bigger one on you. When they had changed their skins a number of times and had grown many times as large as they were at first, all the caterpillars spun soft cocoons and closed the doors behind them. When winter came, Kitty carried those little cocoons into the house, and towards spring out came not the caterpillars, but in their place bright little millers. I must say, Jack remarked, those were queer seeds you found, Kitty. And I must say, added Kitty, that the butterflies take a roundabout way to get here. They're not butterflies, said Jack. They're millers. It's about the same thing, Smarty, Kitty retorted. End of chapter 10. Chapter 11 of Seed Babies by Margaret Warner-Morley. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Bumblebees. If anybody were to suppose that Kitty and Co and Jack were satisfied with caterpillar eggs that summer, Wright dares where he broke his molasses jug as Uncle Rhumus would say, for they took to hunting eggs just as they had been hunting seeds before. And if they didn't find as many eggs as they did seeds, at least they found a good many. And although they could not find the baby caterpillars and ants and flies and bugs in the eggs when they broke them open, if they watched them long enough without breaking, the little creatures were sure to grow and hatch out of them sooner or later. Everything lays eggs, I believe Jack said one day. Do you suppose bumblebees do? asked Kitty. Then added very mysteriously, I know where there's a bumblebee's nest. How do you know it's a nest? demanded Co. Oh, because said Kitty. Huh, said Jack. That's no reason. Well, I know it is. And if you want to get it, I'll show you where to find it, said Kitty. Come along then, said Co. So they went with her to a place in the corner of the orchard where an old plank was lying in the grass. There it's under that, she said, pointing to the plank. The boys looked and presently a big bumblebee came blundering out of a hole at the edge of the plank. Well, I believe it's so, said Co. And then added, now you had better run, Kitty, for I'm going to lift up that plank. You don't dare, said Kitty. You'll see if I don't, he replied proudly. Now run, or you'll get stung. Who's afraid, demanded Kitty, standing her ground. I'm not going to run. You'll get stung, said Jack, warningly. So will you, retorted Kitty. Oh, boys don't mind such things, said Co. With a very fine air. Neither do girls, replied Kitty, obstantly. Well, get stung, if you want to, said Co, suddenly. Seized one end of the plank and raised it a little. It was too heavy for him to move much, but the little he did stir it sent out a swarm of very lively and very angry bumblebees. There's one on your apron, Kitty, yelled Jack, dancing around and fighting a bee that seemed determined to make his acquaintance. I know it, Kitty screamed back, trying hard not to cry and putting her hands behind her while the bee came buzzing up her apron, but for some reason it tumbled off and she was saved. Just then Co. darted past her, making some very queer noises as he went. Boys don't mind such things, not only Kitty called out, running after him, and then Jack passed her, bawling as if he were being killed. Boys don't, Kitty began, but just then something struck her on the cheek and she nearly fell over. It hurt so, and then something equally dreadful happened to the back of her neck and she followed Co and Jack, bawling as loudly as they. Kitty's mother put something on all the stings to take out the pain and then got a book about bees and showed the children pictures of how they make their nests and showed them a picture of the dainty little rooms where the eggs are stored away. It's just a bee cradle, said Jack, studying one carefully. Yes, that's it, said Co. I wish we could have seen them, said Kitty, wistfully. It was mean of the bees not to let us. They were afraid you would spoil their nest and kill their young ones, mother replied. You can hardly blame them for defending themselves. Suppose some great giant came to tear our house down and carry off baby Belle to look at her under a microscope. What would you feel like doing? I'd chop his head off, said Jack promptly. That's the way the bees felt about it, said mother. Only they couldn't chop our heads off, so they stung them off, said Kitty solemnly, caressing the great lump on her cheek. I hope you've got cheek enough, Kitty, said Co. tormentingly. Well, my eye isn't swelled shut anyway, she replied, looking straight at the spot where Co.'s Mary brown eye had gone into eclipse. I know one thing, she added. Boys make as much fuss as girls, after all, and girls hate to get stung as much as boys do, added Jack. I know another thing, put in Co. I think I'm acquainted with a boy who won't look for bumblebee eggs again until he learns a better way to do it. CHAPTER XI. Such lots of queer eggs as Kitty and Co. and Jack found that summer and the next. Eggs started, looking for eggs they found them everywhere. Even in the winter they found spiders' eggs in the cellar, and the boy's father told the children about the grasshopper's eggs lying in the ground, where the mother grasshopper had laid them, all ready to hatch into little grasshoppers once the spring came. We'll be on hand when spring comes, Jack said, and sure enough they were, and about the first thing they found were the frog's eggs in the ponds. These eggs were little round balls about as big as peas, dark-colored on one side, and a dozen or more encased in something that looked like colorless jelly. The children put some of these egg masses in a jar of water and watched them. After a while they hatched into tadpoles, or polywogs, as the children called them. I wonder why things don't hatch right out, instead of hatching into something else first, Kitty said, as she looked at them. I wonder too, said Jack. Butterfly eggs make caterpillars. Fly eggs make maggots. Beetles' eggs make grubs. Frog eggs make polywogs. And after a while the caterpillars turned into butterflies and the maggots into flies and the grubs into beetles and the polywogs into frogs. It's an awfully topsy-turvy sort of way to do. But they all come out right in the end, said Kitty. I'm going to keep my eye on these fellows, said Jack, looking into the jar of polywogs and see them get their legs. There's one already got his hind legs, said Kitty, pointing to a black little polywog. And sure enough, he was the proud possessor of two very tiny legs. He was not long before they all had hind legs. In the right merry time they had swimming about with their stout little tails, with their new legs to help them. I believe their front legs come out of these little pockets where the gills are, Jack said one day. It seems to me I can see them in there. I believe you're right, said Co. And he was for one day out of those very same openings there slipped the little four legs. I tell you, they're getting a new mouth, Kitty declared one day. The boys laughed at this, but they laughed too soon for the polywogs were getting new mouths. Their old mouths, which were just little round openings by means of which they greedily ate the breadcrumbs and bits of meat the children fed them, disappeared and fine wide frog mouths opened in another place. Nose openings appeared too. And finally the tails began to shrink. It was not long after this that the polywogs lost their tails entirely. They just shrink and shrink until no tails were left. And in short the brown polywogs turned into little green frogs. One of them's dead. The biggest one too cried Kitty one morning. Sure enough, the little thing was lying on its back in the water. I think it is drowned said mother coming at Kitty's cries to see what had happened. Drowned exclaimed all three children. For the boys always came over the first thing after breakfast to look at the polys, as they called their pets. Yes, said mother, it seems strange at first, but you must remember that frogs have lungs like ours and breathe air. They go under water and sometimes stay a good while, but after all only as long as they can hold their breath. When they want to breathe, they have to come to the top. Now these little fellows as long as they are polywogs breathe with gills like fishes, but when they turn into frogs they lose their gills and get lungs. This water is very deep for them. And this one which has turned holy into a frog was not able to stay on top long enough to get all the air it needed. You will have to put them in a shallower dish and put in some stones so they can come out when they get ready. Poor little thing, said Kitty, laying the froggy on its back on her hand. I'm going to try monia. That brings people to sometimes and maybe it's only in a faint. So she got the ammonia bottle and held it to the froggy's nose. Well, what do you think happened? Froggy's leg jerked. Kitty was so excited that she spilled a drop of monia on one little foot. This made froggy jump in earnest and pretty soon he was sitting up, winking. His throat, as Jack said, just like any grown-up frog. He soon recovered from his drowning, but the ammonia had hurt the tender little foot so that it never grew quite right. And when he had grown to a big fellow and ate as many flies and other insects as the children could get for him, he always had one game lay. As Co said, in memory of the time when he was nearly drowned. That is a true story, every word of it. And if you want to have some fun, my wise little readers, I advise you to get some frog's eggs next spring for yourself. You can watch the legs come out and the nose and the mouth appear. Only be careful not to drown your froggy's when they get through being tadpoles and be sure to feed them and be very sure to keep them in plenty of fresh water from the start, otherwise they will die. End of Chapter 12 CHAPTER XIII. OF SEED BABYS by Margaret Warner Morley This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. OTHER EGGS When you once begin to look for things, you can always find them. Kitty and the boys saw many eggs that spring besides frog's eggs. They found a lot of turtle eggs, for one thing, and even some snake eggs. And the good old son hatched these eggs with its warm rays, just as well as if he had been their mother. The turtles and snakes did not hatch their own eggs. My no, they left that for the son to do. They did lay them in the warm sand, though, where the son could get to them and there the children found them and left them and went very often to see them. But do you think they saw the little turtles and snakes? Not a bit of it. They forgot all about them, for a few days when they went to look and found it was all over with, and only a lot of empty shells left. They nearly cried. They were so disappointed. Every little turtle and every little snake had gone off about its business and they could not find one, though they searched a long time. They found fishes' eggs, too, under the stones in a little stream that ran through the meadow near their house, and these they really did watch hatch into little fishes, for co-built a wall of stones about the place where the eggs were loose enough to let the water run in and out, but tight enough to prevent the little fishes from getting away. That summer to the boys and their parents went to the seashore to stay three weeks and took kitty with them. There was wading and bathing and swimming and sailing, and in the course of their wading and sailing the children found many curious things. What pleased them as well as anything, they found the eggs of many strange creatures. They found that starfish and sea urchins lay eggs, but would surprise them most of all. They learned that seashells lay eggs, at least the animals that live in the shells do, and such queer cradles as some of these eggs had. Those of the conch shell were long lines of flat cases like pods Jack said, and in these pods were the tiniest little conch shells, so very little that they had to look through the magnifying glass to really see them. And sharks' eggs, safe in their tough black cradles, with long tendrils at the four corners they lay. The tendrils, they were told, fastened the sharks' eggs to the weeds and things at the bottom of the sea, so they wouldn't be dashed about by the waves, and the baby sharks could have a chance to grow in safety. I don't see why such ugly things as sharks that sometimes eat people up need have their eggs so well cared for, Kitty said one day. Everything's eggs are cared for, Jack said, and I believe almost everything lays eggs, too. Everything that's alive has come out of an egg or a seed, I believe, said Co. And he wasn't so very far wrong. End of chapter 13. Chapter 14 of Seed Babies by Margaret Warner Moorley This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Birds' eggs. Of course, with all their egg and seed hunting, the children did not forget the birds. They had chickens and pigeons to watch, and there were all the wild birds to build nests for them. A great many birds built in their yards, because the birds seemed to know they would be safe there. Of course, the children often went and looked into the nests where they were low enough so they could. But they were careful about it and never handled the eggs or the young birds. The old birds seemed to know they had just come to visit and treated them quite politely. The cat bird that had its nest in a lilac bush, though, was sometimes rather cross and would fly at them and scream. I must reason with that cat bird, Kitty said. So she sat down and reasoned with it, and the children thought it behaved rather better after that. For myself, I have no doubt it did. Oh, mummy, mummy, the nest is full of little kitten birds. Baby Belle cried out one day. She was getting to be very much of a talker and was also very much interested in watching the birds and things with the other children. Sister Kitty ran to look and sure enough, there were three little dots of cat birds. The man who took care of the garden had lifted Baby Belle up so she could see them. I wonder what is in it, Jack said, that same day as he held a little box in his hand that the postman had brought. It had his name on it and he felt very proud. I can tell you. Oh, why don't you open it, demanded Co. You go call Kitty, and I will, he said. So Co. got Kitty to come and then Jack opened the box. It was from Uncle John, who was then in Florida. He had heard about the boy's interest in looking for eggs and had sent them, guess what? A long white alligator's egg. Think of an alligator coming out of a little thing like that, said Kitty. No worse than that old rooster coming out of a little hen's egg, said Co., firing a chip at the rooster who merely flapped his wings and crowed in reply. But an alligator is as big as a big man and ever so much bigger, Kitty objected. Not when it is hatched, persisted Co. No, and then it's all so clear about eggs anyway, admitted Kitty. They do hatch out some queer things. I wonder if angle worms come out of eggs too, Jack said, as a robin hopped across the path with a fine fat angle worm in his beak. No doubt of it, said Co., and to be sure there was no doubt of it. He went and asked his father who told him some very interesting things about angle worms' eggs. But I am not going to tell you what it was, for there are a few things I should like to leave for you to find out for yourselves. Only this I will say. If you look in the right place, at the right time, you no doubt will be able to find any quantity of angle worms' eggs and you can watch them hatch out too if you know how to go about it. Perhaps the angle worms will tell you how that is, but I am not going to. I have told you enough, as the beans said to Jack. And like Jack, I hope you will say, well, I guess I can find out some more for myself. For so you can. If you keep your eyes open and look for things, there is no end to what you will find. The more you look, the more you will want to. That's the best of it. Anybody can make beans and other things talk and I think it is rather a shame for people not to know about beans. Don't you? End of chapter 14, End of Sea Babies by Margaret Warner Moorley.