The Bug Collection

Have you, by any chance, seen my bug collection? asked Pliny the Elder.

No, have you lost it? I asked. What does it look like?

It looks, said Pliny, frowning, like a small bronze bead.

A small bronze bead! That doesn't sound like a bug collection.

It was the first specimen in my new bug collection, said Pliny. And it was, in fact, a most unusual ladybird.

I was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable.

Where was it when you saw it last? I asked.

In the wooden bowl on the window sill in the kitchen with your collection of shells.

Oh dear, I said. I believe I have washed your bug collection down the sink. Why did you put it in there?

I didn't put it there. That was simply where it was.

You mean it fell out of one of the shells?

Well, what did you think when you saw it?

I thought it had fallen out of one of the shells.

And you decided to throw it away?

Yes, after I'd seen it was a ladybird, and not a shell.

That is the difference between you and me, said Pliny. That is the very reason why I wanted to keep it.

That is not the difference between you and me, Pliny, I said. As soon as I'd flushed it down the sink I regretted it. I wished I had kept it for the very reason you wanted to keep it.

Except that I did keep it, said Pliny. At least, for a time.

It didn't have any legs, I said. That was the real reason I washed it away.

Tch! said Pliny.