the margin
of the area by one of the spokes already placed. She goes along this
margin for some distance from the point at which she landed, fixes her
thread to the frame and returns to the centre by the same road which she
has just taken.

The thread obtained on the way in a broken line, partly on the radius and
partly on the frame, is too long for the exact distance between the
circumference and the central point. On returning to this point, the
Spider adjusts her thread, stretches it to the correct length, fixes it
and collects what remains on the central signpost. In the case of each
radius laid, the surplus is treated in the same fashion, so that the
signpost continues to increase in size. It was first a speck; it is now
a little pellet, or even a small cushion of a certain breadth.

We shall see presently what becomes of this cushion whereon the Spider,
that niggardly housewife, lays her saved-up bits of thread; for the
moment, we will note that the Epeira works it up with her legs after
placing each spoke, teazles it with her claws, mats it into felt with
noteworthy diligence. In so doing, she gives the spokes a solid common
support, something like the hub of our carriage-wheels.

The eventual regularity of the work suggests that the radii are spun in
the same order in which they figure in the web, each following
immediately upon its next neighbour. Matters pass in another manner,
which at first looks like disorder, but which is really a judicious
contrivance. After setting a few spokes in one direction, the Epeira
runs across to the other side to draw some in the opposite direction.
These sudden changes of course are highly logical; they show us how
proficient the Spider is in the mechanics of rope-construction. Were
they to succeed one another regularly, the spokes of one group, having
nothing as yet to counteract them, would distort the work by their
straining, would even destroy it for lack of a stabler support. Before
continuing, it is necessary to lay a converse group which will maintain
the whole by its resistance. Any combination of forces acting in one
direction must be forthwith neutralized by another in the opposite
direction. This is what our statics teach us and what the Spider puts
into practice; she is a past mistress of the secrets of rope-building,
without serving an apprenticeship.

One would think that this interrupted and apparently disordered labour
must result in a confused p