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he cried. “She says they are 'creepy.' She would go into a spasm if she were compelled to touch those caterpillars I saw you handling yesterday.”
“Why would she?” marvelled Elnora. “Haven't you told her that they are perfectly clean, helpless, and harmless as so much animate velvet?”
“No, I have not told her. She wouldn't care enough about caterpillars to listen.”
“In what is she interested?”
“What interests Edith Carr? Let me think! First, I believe she takes pride in being a little handsomer and better dressed than any girl of her set. She is interested in having a beautiful home, fine appointments, in being petted, praised, and the acknowledged leader of society.
“She likes to find new things which amuse her, and to always and in all circumstances have her own way about everything.”
“Good gracious!” cried Elnora, staring at him. “But what does she do? How does she spend her time?”
“Spend her time!” repeated Philip. “Well, she would call that a joke. Her days are never long enough. There is endless shopping, to find the pretty things; regular visits to the dressmakers, calls, parties, theatres, entertainments. She is always rushed. I never am able to be with her half as much as I would like.”
“But I mean work,” persisted Elnora. “In what is she interested that is useful to the world?”
“Me!” cried Philip promptly.
“I can understand that,” laughed Elnora. “What I can't understand is how you can be in——” She stopped in confusion, but she saw that he had finished the sentence as she had intended. “I beg your pardon!” she cried. “I didn't intend to say that. But I cannot understand these people I hear about who live only for their own amusement. Perhaps it is very great; I'll never have a chance to know. To me, it seems the only pleasure in this world worth having is the joy we derive from living for those we love, and those we can help. I hope you are not angry with me.”
Philip sat silently looking far away, with deep thought in his eyes.
“You are angry,” faltered Elnora.
His look came back to her as she knelt before him among the flowers and he gazed at her steadily.
“No doubt I should be,” he said, “but the fact is I am not. I cannot understand a life purely for personal pleasure myself. But she is only a girl, and this is her playtime. When she is a woman in her own home, then she will be different, will she not?”
Elnora never resembled her mother so closely as when she answered that question.
“I would have to be well acquainted with her to know, but I should hope so. To make a real home for a tired business man is a very different kind of work from that required to be a leader of society. It demands different talent and education. Of course, she means to change, or she would not have promised to make a home for you. I suspect our dope is cool now, let's go try for some butterflies.”
As they went along the path together Elnora talked of many things but Philip answered absently. Evidently he was thinking of something else. But the moth bait recalled him and he was ready for work as they made their way back to the woods. He wanted to try the Limberlost, but Elnora was firm about remaining on home ground. She did not tell him that lights hung in the swamp would be a signal to call up a band of men whose presence she dreaded. So they started, Ammon carrying the dope, Elnora the net, Billy and Mrs. Comstock following with cyanide boxes and lanterns.
First they tried for butterflies and captured several fine ones without trouble. They also called swarms of ants, bees, beetles, and flies. When it grew dusk, Mrs. Comstock and Philip went to prepare supper. Elnora and Billy remained until the butterflies disappeared. Then they lighted the lanterns, repainted the trees and followed the home trail.
“Do you 'spec you'll get just a lot of moths?” asked Billy, as he walked beside Elnora.
“I am sure I hardly know,” said the girl. “This is a new way for me. Perhaps they will come to the lights, but few moths eat; and I have some doubt about those which the lights attract settling on the right trees. Maybe the smell of that dope will draw them. Between us, Billy, I think I like my old way best. If I can find a hidden moth, slip up and catch it unawares, or take it in full flight, it's my captive, and I can keep it until it dies naturally. But this way you seem to get it under false pretences, it has no chance, and it will probably ruin its wings struggling for freedom before morning.”
“Well, any moth ought to be proud to be taken anyway, by you,” said Billy. “Just look what you do! You can make everybody love them. People even quit hating caterpillars when they see you handle them and hear you tell all about them. You must have some to show people how they are. It's not like killing things to see if you can, or because you want to eat them, the way most men kill birds. I think it is right for you to take enough for collections, to show city people, and to illustrate the Bird Woman's books. You go on and take them! The moths don't care. They're glad to have you. They like it!”
“Billy, I see your future,” said Elnora. “We will educate you and send you up to Mr. Ammon to make a great lawyer. You'd beat the world as a special pleader. You actually make me feel that I am doing the moths a kindness to take them.”
“And so you are!” cried Billy. “Why, just from what you have taught them Uncle Wesley and Aunt Margaret never think of killing a caterpillar until they look whether it's the beautiful June moth kind, or the horrid tent ones. That's what you can do. You go straight ahead!”
“Billy, you are a jewel!” cried Elnora, throwing her arm across his shoulders as they came down the path.
“My, I was scared!” said Billy with a deep breath.
“Scared?” questioned Elnora.
“Yes sir-ee! Aunt Margaret scared me. May I ask you a question?”
“Of course, you may!”
“Is that man going to be your beau?”
“Billy! No! What made you think such a thing?”
“Aunt Margaret said likely he would fall in love with you, and you wouldn't want me around any more. Oh, but I was scared! It isn't so, is it?”
“Indeed, no!”
“I am your beau, ain't I?”
“Surely you are!” said Elnora, tightening her arm.
“I do hope Aunt Kate has ginger cookies,” said Billy with a little skip of delight.
CHAPTER XV
WHEREIN MRS. COMSTOCK FACES THE ALMIGHTY, AND PHILIP AMMON WRITES A LETTER
Mrs. Comstock and Elnora were finishing breakfast the following morning when they heard a cheery whistle down the road. Elnora with surprised eyes looked at her mother.
“Could that be Mr. Ammon?” she questioned.
“I did not expect him so soon,” commented Mrs. Comstock.
It was sunrise, but the musician was Philip Ammon. He appeared stronger than on yesterday.
“I hope I am not too early,” he said. “I am consumed with anxiety to learn if we have made a catch. If we have, we should beat the birds to it. I promised Uncle Doc to put on my waders and keep dry for a few days yet, when I go to the woods. Let's hurry! I am afraid of crows. There might be a rare moth.”
The sun was topping the Limberlost when they started. As they neared the place Philip stopped.
“Now we must use great caution,” he said. “The lights and the odours always attract numbers that don't settle on the baited trees. Every bush, shrub, and limb may hide a specimen we want.”