Agnes McClelland Daulton, Wings and Stings, Ill. de l’auteur, Chicago, Rand McNally & Co., 1902, pp. 79-82.

Jolly Little Tars

“Ugh! What a great goggle eyes you have!” piped a tiny voice from the door of the hut. “I should like to know what you are staring at.”
“Well, this is surprising,” gasped the Hyla. “Now, who in the world are you?”
“I am a caddis-worm out for an airing,” said the voice again, as the hut reached the edge of the leaf. “I hope you have no objections.”
“Oh, no; of course not” stammered the astonished Hyla. “Only I should like to know if all caddis-worms carry their houses about with them?”
“This is my overcoat, I’d have you know,” said the caddis, thrusting out his little black head. “My brother wears one of leaves, my sister wears a sand jacket. But mine is a best fit.”
“May I ask who is your tailor?” asked the tree toad. “It is certainly a remarkable coat.”
“I am my own tailor,” replied the worm. “A caddis would scorn to have his clothes made for him; but it is very hard work, I can assure you of that.”
“Would you mind telling me about it?” inquired the Hyla. “Your coat is a perfect fit; there isn’t a wrinkle in it.”
“Thank you,” replied the gratified caddis-worm. “You see,” he went on to explain, “ we always make our coats out of the material at hand. Now when I found these stylish sticks I anchored myself to a stone by a bit of silk which I spun from my mouth, for we caddis-worms furnish our own thread. Then by the aid of the same silk I wove this handsome coat, bit by bit, making one section at a time, and then slipping my head through and wiggling it down into place. See, I can put out my head and my first three pairs of feet, and so creep where I will.”
“Most remarkable, most remarkable,” drawled the toad, who didn’t believe a word of it. “And did you say your sister wears a jacket of sand?|
“Oh, yes, that is common enough,” answered the caddis. “I have heard that my grandfather, who wore an overcoat of shells wove into it some tiny ones, each of which was home of a little living creature, and the poor things had to pick up a living the best way they could. I have also been told that in captivity some of my family have made remarkable coats of gold dust and crushed glass. After a time I shall draw my head back into my overcoat and weave a silk veil, and so shut myself in and go to sleep. When I wake up I shall no longer be a worm, but a beautiful four-winged fly; my gauzy wings will be delicately fringed and there will be slender antennae upon my head, and I shall float in the air. Is not that a beautiful future? But here comes a pond-snail, a most interesting fellow. Shall I introduce you?”