With other conditions, with very much smaller or very much larger seeds, we shall observe very different results.  If too small, the germ will perish, gnawed like the rest by the insufficiently provisioned inmate; if too large, the abundance of food will permit of several inmates.  Exploited in the absence of the pea, the cultivated vetch and the broad bean afford us an excellent example; the smaller seed, of which all but the skin is devoured, is left incapable of germination; but the large bean, even though it may have held a number of grubs, is still capable of sprouting.

Knowing that the pod always exhibits a number of eggs greatly in excess of the enclosed peas, and that each pea is the exclusive property of one grub, we naturally ask what becomes of the superfluous grubs.  Do they perish outside when the more precocious have one by one taken their places in their vegetable larder? or do they succumb to the intolerant teeth of the first occupants?  Neither explanation is correct.  Let us relate the facts.

On all old peas—­they are at this stage dry—­from which the adult Bruchus has emerged, leaving a large round hole of exit, the magnifying-glass will show a variable number of fine reddish punctuations, perforated in the centre.  What are these spots, of which I count five, six, and even more on a single pea?  It is impossible to be mistaken:  they are the points of entry of as many grubs.  Several grubs have entered the pea, but of the whole group only one has survived, fattened, and attained the adult age.  And the others?  We shall see.

At the end of May, and in June, the period of egg-laying, let us inspect the still green and tender peas.  Nearly all the peas invaded show us the multiple perforations already observed on the dry peas abandoned by the weevils.  Does this actually mean that there are several grubs in the pea?  Yes.  Skin the peas in question, separate the cotyledons, and break them up as may be necessary.  We shall discover several grubs, extremely youthful, curled up comma-wise, fat and lively, each in a little round niche in the body of the pea.

Peace and welfare seem to reign in the little community.  There is no quarrelling, no jealousy between neighbours.  The feast has commenced; food is abundant, and the feasters are separated one from another by the walls of uneaten substance.  With this isolation in separate cells no conflicts need be feared; no sudden bite of the mandibles, whether intentional or accidental.  All the occupants enjoy the same rights of property, the same appetite, and the same strength.  How does this communal feast terminate?

Having first opened them, I place a number of peas which are found to be well peopled in a glass test-tube.  I open others daily.  In this way I keep myself informed as to the progress of the various larvae.  At first nothing noteworthy is to be seen.  Isolated in its narrow chamber, each grub nibbles the substance around it, peacefully and parsimoniously.  It is still very small; a mere speck of food is a feast; but the contents of one pea will not suffice the whole number to the end.  Famine is ahead, and all but one must perish.