have them, at least you know what you’re working for. That ’s life, that is. Children want to grow, to eat, to laugh, to dance, to play, don’t they? Am I right?
Tramp. Children want a lot.
Ichneumon Fly. Would you believe it, I take her two or three crickets every day. Do you think she eats them all up? No—Only the titbits—A splendid child, eh?
Tramp. I should say so.
Ichneumon Fly. I’m proud of her—real proud. Takes after me—just like her daddy, eh? Ha, ha! And here I stand gossiping, when I ought to be at work. Oh, the fuss and the running about—Up early, home late, but as long as you’re doing it for some one worth doing it for, what does it matter? Am I right?
Tramp. I suppose you are.
Ichneumon Fly. A pity you aren’t edible, isn’t it? It is, really. I must take her something, you know, mustn’t I? You see that yourself, don’t you? (Fingering Chrysalis.)
Chrysalis. I proclaim the re-birth of the world.
Ichneumon Fly. Ah! You aren’t ripe yet—Pity.
Chrysalis. I shall inspire—I shall create.
Ichneumon Fly. It ’s a great responsibility to bring up children—A great worry, isn’t it? Feeding the poor little mites, paying for their education and putting them out into the world. That ’s no trifle, I can tell you. Well, I must be off now—Au revoir—Pleased to have met you—Ta-ta, my chicken—Be good