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'You mean you didn't know that either?' the Centipede said scornfully.
'You're joking,' James said. 'Nobody could possibly have his ears in his legs.'
'Why not?'
'Because... because it's ridiculous, that's why.'
'You know what I think is ridiculous?' the Centipede said, grinning away as usual. 'I don't mean to be rude, but I think it is ridiculous to have ears on the sides of one's head. It certainly looks ridiculous. You ought to take a peek in the mirror some day and see for yourself.'
'Pest!' cried the Earthworm. 'Why must you always be so rude and rambunctious to everyone? You ought to apologize to James at once.'
Twenty-five
James didn't want the Earthworm and the Centipede to get into another argument, so he said quickly to the Earthworm, 'Tell me, do you play any kind of music?'
'No, but I do other things, some of which are really quite extraordinary' the Earthworm said, brightening.
'Such as what?' asked James.
'Well,' the Earthworm said. 'Next time you stand in a field or in a garden and look around you, then just remember this: that every grain of soil upon the surface of the land, every tiny little bit of soil that you can see has actually passed through the body of an Earthworm during the last few years! Isn't that wonderful?'
'It's not possible!' said James.
'My dear boy, it's a fact.'
'You mean you actually swallow soil?'
'Like mad,' the Earthworm said proudly. 'In one end and out the other.'
'But what's the point?'
'What do you mean, what's the point?'
'Why do you do it?'
'We do it for the farmers. It makes the soil nice and light and crumbly so that things will grow well in it. If you really want to know, the farmers couldn't do without us. We are essential. We are vital. So it is only natural that the farmer should love us. He loves us even more, I believe, than he loves the Ladybird.'
'The Ladybird!' said James, turning to look at her. 'Do they love you, too?'
'I am told that they do,' the Ladybird answered modestly, blushing all over. 'In fact, I understand that in some places the farmers love us so much that they go out and buy live Ladybirds by the sackful and take them home and set them free in their fields. They are very pleased when they have lots of Ladybirds in their fields.'
'But why?' James asked.
'Because we gobble up all the nasty little insects that are gobbling up all the farmer's crops. It helps enormously, and we ourselves don't charge a penny for our services.'
'I think you're wonderful,' James told her. 'Can I ask you one special question?'
'Please do.'
'Well, is it really true that I can tell how old a Ladybird is by counting her spots?'
'Oh no, that's just a children's story,' the Ladybird said. 'We never change our spots. Some of us, of course, are born with more spots than others, but we never change them. The number of spots that a Ladybird has is simply a way of showing which branch of the family she belongs to. I, for example, as you can see for yourself, am a Nine-Spotted Ladybird. I am very lucky. It is a fine thing to be.'
'It is, indeed,' said James, gazing at the beautiful scarlet shell with the nine black spots on it.
'On the other hand,' the Ladybird went on, 'some of my less fortunate relatives have no more than two spots altogether on their shells! Can you imagine that? They are called Two-Spotted Ladybirds, and very common and ill-mannered they are, I regret to say. And then, of course, you have the Five-Spotted Ladybirds as well. They are much nicer than the Two-Spotted ones, although I myself find them a trifle too saucy for my taste.'
'But they are all of them loved?' said James.
