The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Girl of the Limberlost, by Gene Stratton

Published：2026-07-31 18:23:31 Source: toy trucks for 12 year olds under 10 dollars Author: Literacy Night

A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST

By Gene Stratton-Porter

To All Girls Of The carnival toys for 3 year olds under 30 dollarsLimberlost
In General
And One
Jeanette Helen Porter
In Particular

CHARACTERS:

ELNORA, who collects moths to pay for her education, and lives the Golden Rule.
PHILIP AMMON, who assists in moth hunting, and gains a new conception of love.
MRS. COMSTOCK, who lost a delusion and found a treasure.
WESLEY SINTON, who always did his best.
MARGARET SINTON, who “mothers” Elnora.
BILLY, a boy from real life.
EDITH CARR, who discovers herself.
HART HENDERSON, to whom love means all things.
POLLY AMMON, who pays an old score.
TOM LEVERING, engaged to Polly.
TERENCE O’MORE, Freckles grown tall.
MRS. O’MORE, who remained the Angel.
TERENCE, ALICE and LITTLE BROTHER, the O’MORE children.

CONTENTS

A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST

CHAPTER I

WHEREIN ELNORA GOES TO HIGH SCHOOL AND LEARNS MANY LESSONS NOT FOUND IN HERBOOKS

“Elnora Comstock, have you lost your senses?” demanded the angry voice ofKatharine Comstock while she glared at her daughter.

“Why mother!” faltered the girl.

“Don’t you ‘why mother’ me!” cried Mrs. Comstock. “You know very well what Imean. You’ve given me no peace until you’ve had your way about this going toschool business; I’ve fixed you good enough, and you’re ready to start. But nochild of mine walks the streets of Onabasha looking like a play-actress woman.You wet your hair and comb it down modest and decent and then be off, or you’llhave no time to find where you belong.”

Elnora gave one despairing glance at the white face, framed in a most becomingriot of reddish-brown hair, which she saw in the little kitchen mirror. Thenshe untied the narrow black ribbon, wet the comb and plastered the waving curlsclose to her head, bound them fast, pinned on the skimpy black hat and openedthe back door.

“You’ve gone so plumb daffy you are forgetting your dinner,” jeered her mother.

“I don’t want anything to eat,” replied Elnora.

“You’ll take your dinner or you’ll not go one step. Are you crazy? Walk almostthree miles and no food from six in the morning until six at night. A prettyfigure you’d cut if you had your way! And after I’ve gone and bought you thisnice new pail and filled it especial to start on!”

Elnora came back with a face still whiter and picked up the lunch. “Thank you,mother! Good-bye!” she said. Mrs. Comstock did not reply. She watched the girlfollow the long walk to the gate and go from sight on the road, in the brightsunshine of the first Monday of September.

“I bet a dollar she gets enough of it by night!” commented Mrs. Comstock.

Elnora walked by instinct, for her eyes were blinded with tears. She left theroad where it turned south, at the corner of the Limberlost, climbed a snakefence and entered a path worn by her own feet. Dodging under willow and scruboak branches she came at last to the faint outline of an old trail made in thedays when the precious timber of the swamp was guarded by armed men. This pathshe followed until she reached a thick clump of bushes. From the debris in theend of a hollow log she took a key that unlocked the padlock of a largeweatherbeaten old box, inside of which lay several books, a butterflyapparatus, and a small cracked mirror. The walls were lined thickly with gaudybutterflies, dragonflies, and moths. She set up the mirror and once morepulling the ribbon from her hair, she shook the bright mass over her shoulders,tossing it dry in the sunshine. Then she straightened it, bound it loosely, andreplaced her hat. She tugged vainly at the low brown calico collar and gazeddespairingly at the generous length of the narrow skirt. She lifted it as shewould have cut it if possible. That disclosed the heavy high leather shoes, atsight of which she seemed positively ill, and hastily dropped the skirt. Sheopened the pail, removed the lunch, wrapped it in the napkin, and placed it ina small pasteboard box. Locking the case again she hid the key and hurried downthe trail.

She followed it around the north end of the swamp and then entered a footpathcrossing a farm leading in the direction of the spires of the city to thenortheast. Again she climbed a fence and was on the open road. For an instantshe leaned against the fence staring before her, then turned and looked back.Behind her lay the land on which she had been born to drudgery and a mother whomade no pretence of loving her; before her lay the city through whose schoolsshe hoped to find means of escape and the way to reach the things for which shecared. When she thought of how she appeared she leaned more heavily against thefence and groaned; when she thought of turning back and wearing such clothingin ignorance all the days of her life she set her teeth firmly and went hastilytoward Onabasha.

On the bridge crossing a deep culvert at the suburbs she glanced around, andthen kneeling she thrust the lunch box between the foundation and the flooring.This left her empty-handed as she approached the big stone high schoolbuilding. She entered bravely and inquired her way to the office of thesuperintendent. There she learned that she should have come the previous weekand arranged about her classes. There were many things incident to the openingof school, and one man unable to cope with all of them.

“Where have you been attending school?” he asked, while he advised the teacherof Domestic Science not to telephone for groceries until she knew how many shewould have in her classes; wrote an order for chemicals for the students ofscience; and advised the leader of the orchestra to hire a professional to takethe place of the bass violist, reported suddenly ill.

“I finished last spring at Brushwood school, district number nine,” saidElnora. “I have been studying all summer. I am quite sure I can do the firstyear work, if I have a few days to get started.”

“Of course, of course,” assented the superintendent. “Almost invariably countrypupils do good work. You may enter first year, and if it is too difficult, wewill find it out speedily. Your teachers will tell you the list of books youmust have, and if you will come with me I will show you the way to theauditorium. It is now time for opening exercises. Take any seat you findvacant.”

Elnora stood before the entrance and stared into the largest room she ever hadseen. The floor sloped to a yawning stage on which a band of musicians, groupedaround a grand piano, were tuning their instruments. She had two fleetingimpressions. That it was all a mistake; this was no school, but a grand displayof enormous ribbon bows; and the second, that she was sinking, and hadforgotten how to walk. Then a burst from the orchestra nerved her while a bevyof daintily clad, sweet-smelling things that might have been birds, or flowers,or possibly gaily dressed, happy young girls, pushed her forward. She foundherself plodding across the back of the auditorium, praying for guidance, to anempty seat.

As the girls passed her, vacancies seemed to open to meet them. Their friendswere moving over, beckoning and whispering invitations. Every one else wasseated, but no one paid any attention to the white-faced girl stumblinghalf-blindly down the aisle next the farthest wall. So she went on to the veryend facing the stage. No one moved, and she could not summon courage to crowdpast others to several empty seats she saw. At the end of the aisle she pausedin desperation, while she stared back at the whole forest of faces most ofwhich were now turned upon her.

In a flash came the full realization of her scanty dress, her pitiful littlehat and ribbon, her big, heavy shoes, her ignorance of where to go or what todo; and from a sickening wave which crept over her, she felt she was going tobecome very ill. Then out of the mass she saw a pair of big, brown boy eyes,three seats from her, and there was a message in them. Without moving his bodyhe reached forward and with a pencil touched the back of the seat before him.Instantly Elnora took another step which brought her to a row of vacant frontseats.

She heard laughter behind her; the knowledge that she wore the only hat in theroom burned her; every matter of moment, and some of none at all, cut andstung. She had no books. Where should she go when this was over? What would shegive to be on the trail going home! She was shaking with a nervous chill whenthe music ceased, and the superintendent arose, and coming down to the front ofthe flower-decked platform, opened a Bible and began to read. Elnora did notknow what he was reading, and she felt that she did not care. Wildly she wasracking her brain to decide whether she should sit still when the others leftthe room or follow, and ask some one where the Freshmen went first.

In the midst of the struggle one sentence fell on her ear. “Hide me under theshadow of Thy wings.”

Elnora began to pray frantically. “Hide me, O God, hide me, under the shadow ofThy wings.”

Again and again she implored that prayer, and before she realized what wascoming, every one had arisen and the room was emptying rapidly. Elnora hurriedafter the nearest girl and in the press at the door touched her sleeve timidly.

“Will you please tell me where the Freshmen go?” she asked huskily.

The girl gave her one surprised glance, and drew away.

“Same place as the fresh women,” she answered, and those nearest her laughed.

Elnora stopped praying suddenly and the colour crept into her face. “I’ll wageryou are the first person I meet when I find it,” she said and stopped short.“Not that! Oh, I must not do that!” she thought in dismay. “Make an enemy thefirst thing I do. Oh, not that!”

She followed with her eyes as the young people separated in the hall, someclimbing stairs, some disappearing down side halls, some entering adjoiningdoors. She saw the girl overtake the brown-eyed boy and speak to him. Heglanced back at Elnora with a scowl on his face. Then she stood alone in thehall.

Presently a door opened and a young woman came out and entered another room.Elnora waited until she returned, and hurried to her. “Would you tell me wherethe Freshmen are?” she panted.

“Straight down the hall, three doors to your left,” was the answer, as the girlpassed.

“One minute please, oh please,” begged Elnora: “Should I knock or just open thedoor?”

“Go in and take a seat,” replied the teacher.

“What if there aren’t any seats?” gasped Elnora.

“Classrooms are never half-filled, there will be plenty,” was the answer.

Elnora removed her hat. There was no place to put it, so she carried it in herhand. She looked infinitely better without it. After several efforts she atlast opened the door and stepping inside faced a smaller and more concentratedbattery of eyes.

“The superintendent sent me. He thinks I belong here,” she said to theprofessor in charge of the class, but she never before heard the voice withwhich she spoke. As she stood waiting, the girl of the hall passed on her wayto the blackboard, and suppressed laughter told Elnora that her thrust had beenrepeated.

“Be seated,” said the professor, and then because he saw Elnora was desperatelyembarrassed he proceeded to lend her a book and to ask her if she had studiedalgebra. She said she had a little, but not the same book they were using. Heasked her if she felt that she could do the work they were beginning, and shesaid she did.

That was how it happened, that three minutes after entering the room she wastold to take her place beside the girl who had gone last to the board, andwhose flushed face and angry eyes avoided meeting Elnora’s. Being compelled toconcentrate on her proposition she forgot herself. When the professor askedthat all pupils sign their work she firmly wrote “Elnora Comstock” under herdemonstration. Then she took her seat and waited with white lips and tremblinglimbs, as one after another professor called the names on the board, whiletheir owners arose and explained their propositions, or “flunked” if they hadnot found a correct solution. She was so eager to catch their forms ofexpression and prepare herself for her recitation, that she never looked fromthe work on the board, until clearly and distinctly, “Elnora Cornstock,” calledthe professor.

The dazed girl stared at the board. One tiny curl added to the top of the firstcurve of the m in her name, had transformed it from a good old Englishpatronymic that any girl might bear proudly, to Cornstock. Elnora satspeechless. When and how did it happen? She could feel the wave of smotheredlaughter in the air around her. A rush of anger turned her face scarlet and hersoul sick. The voice of the professor addressed her directly.

“This proposition seems to be beautifully demonstrated, Miss Cornstalk,” hesaid. “Surely, you can tell us how you did it.”

That word of praise saved her. She could do good work. They might wear theirpretty clothes, have their friends and make life a greater misery than it everbefore had been for her, but not one of them should do better work or be morewomanly. That lay with her. She was tall, straight, and handsome as she arose.

“Of course I can explain my work,” she said in natural tones. “What I can’texplain is how I happened to be so stupid as to make a mistake in writing myown name. I must have been a little nervous. Please excuse me.”

She went to the board, swept off the signature with one stroke, then rewrote itplainly. “My name is Comstock,” she said distinctly. She returned to her seatand following the formula used by the others made her first high schoolrecitation.

As Elnora resumed her seat Professor Henley looked at her steadily. “It puzzlesme,” he said deliberately, “how you can write as beautiful a demonstration, andexplain it as clearly as ever has been done in any of my classes and still beso disturbed as to make a mistake in your own name. Are you very sure you didthat yourself, Miss Comstock?”

“It is impossible that any one else should have done it,” answered Elnora.

“I am very glad you think so,” said the professor. “Being Freshmen, all of youare strangers to me. I should dislike to begin the year with you feeling therewas one among you small enough to do a trick like that. The next proposition,please.”

When the hour had gone the class filed back to the study room and Elnorafollowed in desperation, because she did not know where else to go. She couldnot study as she had no books, and when the class again left the room to go toanother professor for the next recitation, she went also. At least they couldput her out if she did not belong there. Noon came at last, and she kept withthe others until they dispersed on the sidewalk. She was so abnormallyself-conscious she fancied all the hundreds of that laughing, throng saw andjested at her. When she passed the brown-eyed boy walking with the girl of herencounter, she knew, for she heard him say: “Did you really let that gawkypiece of calico get ahead of you?” The answer was indistinct.

Elnora hurried from the city. She intended to get her lunch, eat it in theshade of the first tree, and then decide whether she would go back or go home.She knelt on the bridge and reached for her box, but it was so very light thatshe was prepared for the fact that it was empty, before opening it. There wasone thing for which to be thankful. The boy or tramp who had seen her hide it,had left the napkin. She would not have to face her mother and account for itsloss. She put it in her pocket, and threw the box into the ditch. Then she saton the bridge and tried to think, but her brain was confused.

“Perhaps the worst is over,” she said at last. “I will go back. What wouldmother say to me if I came home now?”

So she returned to the high school, followed some other pupils to the coatroom, hung her hat, and found her way to the study where she had been in themorning. Twice that afternoon, with aching head and empty stomach, she facedstrange professors, in different branches. Once she escaped notice; the secondtime the worst happened. She was asked a question she could not answer.

“Have you not decided on your course, and secured your books?” inquired theprofessor.

“I have decided on my course,” replied Elnora, “I do not know where to ask formy books.”

“Ask?” the professor was bewildered.

“I understood the books were furnished,” faltered Elnora.

“Only to those bringing an order from the township trustee,” replied theProfessor.

“No! Oh no!” cried Elnora. “I will have them to-morrow,” and gripped her deskfor support for she knew that was not true. Four books, ranging perhaps at adollar and a half apiece; would her mother buy them? Of course she wouldnot—could not.

Did not Elnora know the story of old. There was enough land, but no one to doclearing and farm. Tax on all those acres, recently the new gravel road taxadded, the expense of living and only the work of two women to meet all of it.She was insane to think she could come to the city to school. Her mother hadbeen right. The girl decided that if only she lived to reach home, she wouldstay there and lead any sort of life to avoid more of this torture. Bad as whatshe wished to escape had been, it was nothing like this. She never could livedown the movement that went through the class when she inadvertently revealedthe fact that she had expected books to be furnished. Her mother would notsecure them; that settled the question.

But the end of misery is never in a hurry to come; before the day was over thesuperintendent entered the room and explained that pupils from the country werecharged a tuition of twenty dollars a year. That really was the end. PreviouslyElnora had canvassed a dozen methods for securing the money for books, rangingall the way from offering to wash the superintendent’s dishes to breaking intothe bank. This additional expense made her plans so wildly impossible, therewas nothing to do but hold up her head until she was from sight.

Down the long corridor alone among hundreds, down the long street alone amongthousands, out into the country she came at last. Across the fence and field,along the old trail once trodden by a boy’s bitter agony, now stumbled awhite-faced girl, sick at heart. She sat on a log and began to sob in spite ofher efforts at self-control. At first it was physical breakdown, later, thoughtcame crowding.

Oh the shame, the mortification! Why had she not known of the tuition? How didshe happen to think that in the city books were furnished? Perhaps it wasbecause she had read they were in several states. But why did she not know? Whydid not her mother go with her? Other mothers—but when had her motherever been or done anything at all like other mothers? Because she never hadbeen it was useless to blame her now. Elnora realized she should have gone totown the week before, called on some one and learned all these things herself.She should have remembered how her clothing would look, before she wore it inpublic places. Now she knew, and her dreams were over. She must go home to feedchickens, calves, and pigs, wear calico and coarse shoes, and with avertedhead, pass a library all her life. She sobbed again.

“For pity’s sake, honey, what’s the matter?” asked the voice of the nearestneighbour, Wesley Sinton, as he seated himself beside Elnora. “There, there,”he continued, smearing tears all over her face in an effort to dry them. “Wasit as bad as that, now? Maggie has been just wild over you all day. She’s gotnervouser every minute. She said we were foolish to let you go. She said yourclothes were not right, you ought not to carry that tin pail, and that theywould laugh at you. By gum, I see they did!”

“Oh, Uncle Wesley,” sobbed the girl, “why didn’t she tell me?”

“Well, you see, Elnora, she didn’t like to. You got such a way of holding upyour head, and going through with things. She thought some way that you’d makeit, till you got started, and then she begun to see a hundred things we shouldhave done. I reckon you hadn’t reached that building before she remembered thatyour skirt should have been pleated instead of gathered, your shoes been low,and lighter for hot September weather, and a new hat. Were your clothes right,Elnora?”

The girl broke into hysterical laughter. “Right!” she cried. “Right! UncleWesley, you should have seen me among them! I was a picture! They’ll neverforget me. No, they won’t get the chance, for they’ll see me again to-morrow!

“Now that is what I call spunk, Elnora! Downright grit,” said Wesley Sinton.“Don’t you let them laugh you out. You’ve helped Margaret and me for years atharvest and busy times, what you’ve earned must amount to quite a sum. You canget yourself a good many clothes with it.”

“Don’t mention clothes, Uncle Wesley,” sobbed Elnora, “I don’t care now how Ilook. If I don’t go back all of them will know it’s because I am so poor Ican’t buy my books.”

“Oh, I don’t know as you are so dratted poor,” said Sinton meditatively. “Thereare three hundred acres of good land, with fine timber as ever grew on it.”

“It takes all we can earn to pay the tax, and mother wouldn’t cut a tree forher life.”

“Well then, maybe, I’ll be compelled to cut one for her,” suggested Sinton.“Anyway, stop tearing yourself to pieces and tell me. If it isn’t clothes, whatis it?”

“It’s books and tuition. Over twenty dollars in all.”

“Humph! First time I ever knew you to be stumped by twenty dollars, Elnora,”said Sinton, patting her hand.

“It’s the first time you ever knew me to want money,” answered Elnora. “This isdifferent from anything that ever happened to me. Oh, how can I get it, UncleWesley?”

“Drive to town with me in the morning and I’ll draw it from the bank for you. Iowe you every cent of it.”

“You know you don’t owe me a penny, and I wouldn’t touch one from you, unless Ireally could earn it. For anything that’s past I owe you and Aunt Margaret forall the home life and love I’ve ever known. I know how you work, and I’ll nottake your money.”

“Just a loan, Elnora, just a loan for a little while until you can earn it. Youcan be proud with all the rest of the world, but there are no secrets betweenus, are there, Elnora?”

“No,” said Elnora, “there are none. You and Aunt Margaret have given me all thelove there has been in my life. That is the one reason above all others why youshall not give me charity. Hand me money because you find me crying for it!This isn’t the first time this old trail has known tears and heartache. All ofus know that story. Freckles stuck to what he undertook and won out. I stick,too. When Duncan moved away he gave me all Freckles left in the swamp, and as Ihave inherited his property maybe his luck will come with it. I won’t touchyour money, but I’ll win some way. First, I’m going home and try mother. It’sjust possible I could find second-hand books, and perhaps all the tuition neednot be paid at once. Maybe they would accept it quarterly. But oh, UncleWesley, you and Aunt Margaret keep on loving me! I’m so lonely, and no one elsecares!”

Wesley Sinton’s jaws met with a click. He swallowed hard on bitter words andchanged what he would have liked to say three times before it becamearticulate.

“Elnora,” he said at last, “if it hadn’t been for one thing I’d have tried totake legal steps to make you ours when you were three years old. Maggie saidthen it wasn’t any use, but I’ve always held on. You see, I was the first manthere, honey, and there are things you see, that you can’t ever make anybodyelse understand. She loved him Elnora, she just made an idol of him. There wasthat oozy green hole, with the thick scum broke, and two or three big bubblesslowly rising that were the breath of his body. There she was in spasms ofagony, and beside her the great heavy log she’d tried to throw him. I can’tever forgive her for turning against you, and spoiling your childhood as shehas, but I couldn’t forgive anybody else for abusing her. Maggie has got nomercy on her, but Maggie didn’t see what I did, and I’ve never tried to make itvery clear to her. It’s been a little too plain for me ever since. Whenever Ilook at your mother’s face, I see what she saw, so I hold my tongue and say, inmy heart, ‘Give her a mite more time.’ Some day it will come. She does loveyou, Elnora. Everybody does, honey. It’s just that she’s feeling so much, shecan’t express herself. You be a patient girl and wait a little longer. Afterall, she’s your mother, and you’re all she’s got, but a memory, and it might doher good to let her know that she was fooled in that.”

“It would kill her!” cried the girl swiftly. “Uncle Wesley, it would kill her!What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” said Wesley Sinton soothingly. “Nothing, honey. That was just one ofthem fool things a man says, when he is trying his best to be wise. You see,she loved him mightily, and they’d been married only a year, and what she wasloving was what she thought he was. She hadn’t really got acquainted with theman yet. If it had been even one more year, she could have borne it, and you’dhave got justice. Having been a teacher she was better educated and smarterthan the rest of us, and so she was more sensitive like. She can’t understandshe was loving a dream. So I say it might do her good if somebody that knew,could tell her, but I swear to gracious, I never could. I’ve heard her out atthe edge of that quagmire calling in them wild spells of hers off and on forthe last sixteen years, and imploring the swamp to give him back to her, andI’ve got out of bed when I was pretty tired, and come down to see she didn’t goin herself, or harm you. What she feels is too deep for me. I’ve got torespectin’ her grief, and I can’t get over it. Go home and tell your ma, honey,and ask her nice and kind to help you. If she won’t, then you got to swallowthat little lump of pride in your neck, and come to Aunt Maggie, like you beena-coming all your life.”

“I’ll ask mother, but I can’t take your money, Uncle Wesley, indeed I can’t.I’ll wait a year, and earn some, and enter next year.”

“There’s one thing you don’t consider, Elnora,” said the man earnestly. “Andthat’s what you are to Maggie. She’s a little like your ma. She hasn’t given upto it, and she’s struggling on brave, but when we buried our second little girlthe light went out of Maggie’s eyes, and it’s not come back. The only time Iever see a hint of it is when she thinks she’s done something that makes youhappy, Elnora. Now, you go easy about refusing her anything she wants to do foryou. There’s times in this world when it’s our bounden duty to forgetourselves, and think what will help other people. Young woman, you owe me andMaggie all the comfort we can get out of you. There’s the two of our own wecan’t ever do anything for. Don’t you get the idea into your head that a foolthing you call pride is going to cut us out of all the pleasure we have in lifebeside ourselves.”

“Uncle Wesley, you are a dear,” said Elnora. “Just a dear! If I can’t possiblyget that money any way else on earth, I’ll come and borrow it of you, and thenI’ll pay it back if I must dig ferns from the swamp and sell them from door todoor in the city. I’ll even plant them, so that they will be sure to come up inthe spring. I have been sort of panic stricken all day and couldn’t think. Ican gather nuts and sell them. Freckles sold moths and butterflies, and I’ve alot collected. Of course, I am going back to-morrow! I can find a way to getthe books. Don’t you worry about me. I am all right!

“Now, what do you think of that?” inquired Wesley Sinton of the swamp ingeneral. “Here’s our Elnora come back to stay. Head high and right as a trivet!You’ve named three ways in three minutes that you could earn ten dollars, whichI figure would be enough, to start you. Let’s go to supper and stop worrying!”

Elnora unlocked the case, took out the pail, put the napkin in it, pulled theribbon from her hair, binding it down tightly again and followed to the road.From afar she could see her mother in the doorway. She blinked her eyes, andtried to smile as she answered Wesley Sinton, and indeed she did feel better.She knew now what she had to expect, where to go, and what to do. Get the booksshe must; when she had them, she would show those city girls and boys how toprepare and recite lessons, how to walk with a brave heart; and they could showher how to wear pretty clothes and have good times.

As she neared the door her mother reached for the pail. “I forgot to tell youto bring home your scraps for the chickens,” she said.

Elnora entered. “There weren’t any scraps, and I’m hungry again as I ever wasin my life.”

“I thought likely you would be,” said Mrs. Comstock, “and so I got supperready. We can eat first, and do the work afterward. What kept you so? Iexpected you an hour ago.”

Elnora looked into her mother’s face and smiled. It was a queer sort of alittle smile, and would have reached the depths with any normal mother.

“I see you’ve been bawling,” said Mrs. Comstock. “I thought you’d get your fillin a hurry. That’s why I wouldn’t go to any expense. If we keep out of thepoor-house we have to cut the corners close. It’s likely this Brushwood roadtax will eat up all we’ve saved in years. Where the land tax is to come from Idon’t know. It gets bigger every year. If they are going to dredge the swampditch again they’ll just have to take the land to pay for it. I can’t, that’sall! We’ll get up early in the morning and gather and hull the beans forwinter, and put in the rest of the day hoeing the turnips.”

Elnora again smiled that pitiful smile.

“Do you think I didn’t know that I was funny and would be laughed at?” sheasked.

“Funny?” cried Mrs. Comstock hotly.

“Yes, funny! A regular caricature,” answered Elnora. “No one else wore calico,not even one other. No one else wore high heavy shoes, not even one. No oneelse had such a funny little old hat; my hair was not right, my ribboninvisible compared with the others, I did not know where to go, or what to do,and I had no books. What a spectacle I made for them!” Elnora laughed nervouslyat her own picture. “But there are always two sides! The professor said in thealgebra class that he never had a better solution and explanation than mine ofthe proposition he gave me, which scored one for me in spite of my clothes.”

“Well, I wouldn’t brag on myself!”

“That was poor taste,” admitted Elnora. “But, you see, it is a case ofwhistling to keep up my courage. I honestly could see that I would have lookedjust as well as the rest of them if I had been dressed as they were. We can’tafford that, so I have to find something else to brace me. It was rather bad,mother!”

“Well, I’m glad you got enough of it!”

“Oh, but I haven’t,” hurried in Elnora. “I just got a start. The hardest isover. To-morrow they won’t be surprised. They will know what to expect. I amsorry to hear about the dredge. Is it really going through?”

“Yes. I got my notification today. The tax will be something enormous. I don’tknow as I can spare you, even if you are willing to be a laughing-stock for thetown.”

With every bite Elnora’s courage returned, for she was a healthy young thing.

“You’ve heard about doing evil that good might come from it,” she said. “Well,mother mine, it’s something like that with me. I’m willing to bear the hardpart to pay for what I’ll learn. Already I have selected the ward building inwhich I shall teach in about four years. I am going to ask for a room with asouth exposure so that the flowers and moths I take in from the swamp to showthe children will do well.”

“You little idiot!” said Mrs. Comstock. “How are you going to pay yourexpenses?”

“Now that is just what I was going to ask you!” said Elnora. “You see, I havehad two startling pieces of news to-day. I did not know I would need any money.I thought the city furnished the books, and there is an out-of-town tuition,also. I need ten dollars in the morning. Will you please let me have it?”

“Ten dollars!” cried Mrs. Comstock. “Ten dollars! Why don’t you say a hundredand be done with it! I could get one as easy as the other. I told you! I toldyou I couldn’t raise a cent. Every year expenses grow bigger and bigger. I toldyou not to ask for money!”

“I never meant to,” replied Elnora. “I thought clothes were all I needed and Icould bear them. I never knew about buying books and tuition.”

“Well, I did!” said Mrs. Comstock. “I knew what you would run into! But you areso bull-dog stubborn, and so set in your way, I thought I would just let youtry the world a little and see how you liked it!”

Elnora pushed back her chair and looked at her mother.

“Do you mean to say,” she demanded, “that you knew, when you let me go into acity classroom and reveal the fact before all of them that I expected to havemy books handed out to me; do you mean to say that you knew I had to pay forthem?”

Mrs. Comstock evaded the direct question.

“Anybody but an idiot mooning over a book or wasting time prowling the woodswould have known you had to pay. Everybody has to pay for everything. Life ismade up of pay, pay, pay! It’s always and forever pay! If you don’t pay one wayyou do another! Of course, I knew you had to pay. Of course, I knew you wouldcome home blubbering! But you don’t get a penny! I haven’t one cent, and can’tget one! Have your way if you are determined, but I think you will find theroad somewhat rocky.”

“Swampy, you mean, mother,” corrected Elnora. She arose white and trembling.“Perhaps some day God will teach me how to understand you. He knows I do notnow. You can’t possibly realize just what you let me go through to-day, or howyou let me go, but I’ll tell you this: You understand enough that if you hadthe money, and would offer it to me, I wouldn’t touch it now. And I’ll tell youthis much more. I’ll get it myself. I’ll raise it, and do it some honest way. Iam going back to-morrow, the next day, and the next. You need not come out,I’ll do the night work, and hoe the turnips.”

It was ten o’clock when the chickens, pigs, and cattle were fed, the turnipshoed, and a heap of bean vines was stacked beside the back door.

CHAPTER II

WHEREIN WESLEY AND MARGARET GO SHOPPING, AND ELNORA’S WARDROBE ISREPLENISHED

Wesley Sinton walked down the road half a mile and turned at the lane leadingto his home. His heart was hot and filled with indignation. He had told Elnorahe did not blame her mother, but he did. His wife met him at the door.

“Did you see anything of Elnora?” she questioned.

“Most too much, Maggie,” he answered. “What do you say to going to town?There’s a few things has to be got right away.”

“Where did you see her, Wesley?”

“Along the old Limberlost trail, my girl, torn to pieces sobbing. Her couragealways has been fine, but the thing she met to-day was too much for her. Weought to have known better than to let her go that way. It wasn’t only clothes;there were books, and entrance fees for out-of-town people, that she didn’tknow about; while there must have been jeers, whispers, and laughing. Maggie, Ifeel as if I’d been a traitor to those girls of ours. I ought to have gone inand seen about this school business. Don’t cry, Maggie. Get me some supper, andI’ll hitch up and see what we can do now.”

“What can we do, Wesley?

“I don’t just know. But we’ve got to do something. Kate Comstock will be ahandful, while Elnora will be two, but between us we must see that the girl isnot too hard pressed about money, and that she is dressed so she is notridiculous. She’s saved us the wages of a woman many a day, can’t you make hersome decent dresses?”

“Well, I’m not just what you call expert, but I could beat Kate Comstock all topieces. I know that skirts should be pleated to the band instead of gathered,and full enough to sit in, and short enough to walk in. I could try. There arepatterns for sale. Let’s go right away, Wesley.”

“Set me a bit of supper, while I hitch up.”

Margaret built a fire, made coffee, and fried ham and eggs. She set out pie andcake and had enough for a hungry man by the time the carriage was at the door,but she had no appetite. She dressed while Wesley ate, put away the food whilehe dressed, and then they drove toward the city through the beautiful Septemberevening, and as they went they planned for Elnora. The trouble was, not whetherthey were generous enough to buy what she needed, but whether she would accepttheir purchases, and what her mother would say.

They went to a drygoods store and when a clerk asked what they wanted to seeneither of them knew, so they stepped aside and held a whispered consultation.

“What had we better get, Wesley?”

“Dresses,” said Wesley promptly,

“But how many dresses, and what kind?”

“Blest if I know!” exclaimed Wesley. “I thought you would manage that. I knowabout some things I’m going to get.”

At that instant several high school girls came into the store and approachedthem.

“There!” exclaimed Wesley breathlessly. “There, Maggie! Like them! That’s whatshe needs! Buy like they have!”

Margaret stared. What did they wear? They were rapidly passing; they seemed tohave so much, and she could not decide so quickly. Before she knew it she wasamong them.

“I beg your pardon, but won’t you wait one minute?” she asked.

The girls stopped with wondering faces.

“It’s your clothes,” explained Mrs. Sinton. “You look just beautiful to me. Youlook exactly as I should have wanted to see my girls. They both died ofdiphtheria when they were little, but they had yellow hair, dark eyes and pinkcheeks, and everybody thought they were lovely. If they had lived, they’d beennear your age now, and I’d want them to look like you.”

There was sympathy on every girl face.

“Why thank you!” said one of them. “We are very sorry for you.”

“Of course you are,” said Margaret. “Everybody always has been. And because Ican’t ever have the joy of a mother in thinking for my girls and buying prettythings for them, there is nothing left for me, but to do what I can for someone who has no mother to care for her. I know a girl, who would be just aspretty as any of you, if she had the clothes, but her mother does not thinkabout her, so I mother her some myself.”

“She must be a lucky girl,” said another.

“Oh, she loves me,” said Margaret, “and I love her. I want her to look justlike you do. Please tell me about your clothes. Are these the dresses and hatsyou wear to school? What kind of goods are they, and where do you buy them?”

The girls began to laugh and cluster around Margaret. Wesley strode down thestore with his head high through pride in her, but his heart was sore over thememory of two little faces under Brushwood sod. He inquired his way to the shoedepartment.

“Why, every one of us have on gingham or linen dresses,” they said, “and theyare our school clothes.”

For a few moments there was a babel of laughing voices explaining to thedelighted Margaret that school dresses should be bright and pretty, but simpleand plain, and until cold weather they should wash.

“I’ll tell you,” said Ellen Brownlee, “my father owns this store, I know allthe clerks. I’ll take you to Miss Hartley. You tell her just how much you wantto spend, and what you want to buy, and she will know how to get the most foryour money. I’ve heard papa say she was the best clerk in the store for peoplewho didn’t know precisely what they wanted.”

“That’s the very thing,” agreed Margaret. “But before you go, tell me aboutyour hair. Elnora’s hair is bright and wavy, but yours is silky as hackledflax. How do you do it?”

“Elnora?” asked four girls in concert.

“Yes, Elnora is the name of the girl I want these things for.”

“Did she come to the high school to-day?” questioned one of them.

“Was she in your classes?” demanded Margaret without reply.

Four girls stood silent and thought fast. Had there been a strange girl amongthem, and had she been overlooked and passed by with indifference, because shewas so very shabby? If she had appeared as much better than they, as she hadlooked worse, would her reception have been the same?

“There was a strange girl from the country in the Freshman class to-day,” saidEllen Brownlee, “and her name was Elnora.”

“That was the girl,” said Margaret.

“Are her people so very poor?” questioned Ellen.

“No, not poor at all, come to think of it,” answered Margaret. “It’s a peculiarcase. Mrs. Comstock had a great trouble and she let it change her whole lifeand make a different woman of her. She used to be lovely; now she is foreversaving and scared to death for fear they will go to the poorhouse; but there isa big farm, covered with lots of good timber. The taxes are high for women whocan’t manage to clear and work the land. There ought to be enough to keep twoof them in good shape all their lives, if they only knew how to do it. But noone ever told Kate Comstock anything, and never will, for she won’t listen. Allshe does is droop all day, and walk the edge of the swamp half the night, andneglect Elnora. If you girls would make life just a little easier for her itwould be the finest thing you ever did.”

All of them promised they would.

“Now tell me about your hair,” persisted Margaret Sinton.

So they took her to a toilet counter, and she bought the proper hair soap, alsoa nail file, and cold cream, for use after windy days. Then they left her withthe experienced clerk, and when at last Wesley found her she was loaded withbundles and the light of other days was in her beautiful eyes. Wesley alsocarried some packages.

“Did you get any stockings?” he whispered.

“No, I didn’t,” she said. “I was so interested in dresses and hair ribbons anda—a hat——” she hesitated and glanced at Wesley. “Of course, ahat!” prompted Wesley. “That I forgot all about those horrible shoes. She’s gotto have decent shoes, Wesley.”

“Sure!” said Wesley. “She’s got decent shoes. But the man said some brownstockings ought to go with them. Take a peep, will you!”

Wesley opened a box and displayed a pair of thick-soled, beautifully shapedbrown walking shoes of low cut. Margaret cried out with pleasure.

“But do you suppose they are the right size, Wesley? What did you get?”

“I just said for a girl of sixteen with a slender foot.”

“Well, that’s about as near as I could come. If they don’t fit when she triesthem, we will drive straight in and change them. Come on now, let’s get home.”

All the way they discussed how they should give Elnora their purchases and whatMrs. Comstock would say.

“I am afraid she will be awful mad,” said Margaret.

“She’ll just rip!” replied Wesley graphically. “But if she wants to leave theraising of her girl to the neighbours, she needn’t get fractious if they takesome pride in doing a good job. From now on I calculate Elnora shall go toschool; and she shall have all the clothes and books she needs, if I go aroundon the back of Kate Comstock’s land and cut a tree, or drive off a calf to payfor them. Why I know one tree she owns that would put Elnora in heaven for ayear. Just think of it, Margaret! It’s not fair. One-third of what is therebelongs to Elnora by law, and if Kate Comstock raises a row I’ll tell her so,and see that the girl gets it. You go to see Kate in the morning, and I’ll gowith you. Tell her you want Elnora’s pattern, that you are going to make her adress, for helping us. And sort of hint at a few more things. If Kate balks,I’ll take a hand and settle her. I’ll go to law for Elnora’s share of that landand sell enough to educate her.”

“Why, Wesley Sinton, you’re perfectly wild.”

“I’m not! Did you ever stop to think that such cases are so frequent there havebeen laws made to provide for them? I can bring it up in court and force Kateto educate Elnora, and board and clothe her till she’s of age, and then she cantake her share.”

“Wesley, Kate would go crazy!”

“She’s crazy now. The idea of any mother living with as sweet a girl as Elnoraand letting her suffer till I find her crying like a funeral. It makes mefighting mad. All uncalled for. Not a grain of sense in it. I’ve offered andoffered to oversee clearing her land and working her fields. Let her sell agood tree, or a few acres. Something is going to be done, right now. Elnora’sbeen fairly happy up to this, but to spoil the school life she’s planned, is toruin all her life. I won’t have it! If Elnora won’t take these things, so helpme, I’ll tell her what she is worth, and loan her the money and she can pay meback when she comes of age. I am going to have it out with Kate Comstock in themorning. Here we are! You open up what you got while I put away the horses, andthen I’ll show you.”

When Wesley came from the barn Margaret had four pieces of crisp gingham, apale blue, a pink, a gray with green stripes and a rich brown and blue plaid.On each of them lay a yard and a half of wide ribbon to match. There werehandkerchiefs and a brown leather belt. In her hands she held a wide-brimmedtan straw hat, having a high crown banded with velvet strips each of whichfastened with a tiny gold buckle.

“It looks kind of bare now,” she explained. “It had three quills on it here.”

“Did you have them taken off?” asked Wesley.

“Yes, I did. The price was two and a half for the hat, and those things were adollar and a half apiece. I couldn’t pay that.”

“It does seem considerable,” admitted Wesley, “but will it look right withoutthem?”

“No, it won’t!” said Margaret. “It’s going to have quills on it. Do youremember those beautiful peacock wing feathers that Phoebe Simms gave me? Threeof them go on just where those came off, and nobody will ever know thedifference. They match the hat to a moral, and they are just a little longerand richer than the ones that I had taken off. I was wondering whether I bettersew them on to-night while I remember how they set, or wait till morning.”

“Don’t risk it!” exclaimed Wesley anxiously. “Don’t you risk it! Sew them onright now!”

“Open your bundles, while I get the thread,” said Margaret.

Wesley unwrapped the shoes. Margaret took them up and pinched the leather andstroked them.

“My, but they are fine!” she cried.

Wesley picked up one and slowly turned it in his big hands. He glanced at hisfoot and back to the shoe.

“It’s a little bit of a thing, Margaret,” he said softly. “Like as not I’llhave to take it back. It seems as if it couldn’t fit.”

“It seems as if it didn’t dare do anything else,” said Margaret. “That’s ahappy little shoe to get the chance to carry as fine a girl as Elnora to highschool. Now what’s in the other box?”

Wesley looked at Margaret doubtfully.

“Why,” he said, “you know there’s going to be rainy days, and those things shehas now ain’t fit for anything but to drive up the cows——”

“Wesley, did you get high shoes, too?”

“Well, she ought to have them! The man said he would make them cheaper if Itook both pairs at once.”

Margaret laughed aloud. “Those will do her past Christmas,” she exulted. “Whatelse did you buy?”

“Well sir,” said Wesley, “I saw something to-day. You told me about Kategetting that tin pail for Elnora to carry to high school and you said you toldher it was a shame. I guess Elnora was ashamed all right, for to-night shestopped at the old case Duncan gave her, and took out that pail, where it hadbeen all day, and put a napkin inside it. Coming home she confessed she washalf starved because she hid her dinner under a culvert, and a tramp took it.She hadn’t had a bite to eat the whole day. But she never complained at all,she was pleased that she hadn’t lost the napkin. So I just inquired around tillI found this, and I think it’s about the ticket.”

Wesley opened the package and laid a brown leather lunch box on the table.“Might be a couple of books, or drawing tools or most anything that’s neat andgenteel. You see, it opens this way.”

It did open, and inside was a space for sandwiches, a little porcelain box forcold meat or fried chicken, another for salad, a glass with a lid which screwedon, held by a ring in a corner, for custard or jelly, a flask for tea or milk,a beautiful little knife, fork, and spoon fastened in holders, and a place fora napkin.

Margaret was almost crying over it.

“How I’d love to fill it!” she exclaimed.

“Do it the first time, just to show Kate Comstock what love is!” said Wesley.“Get up early in the morning and make one of those dresses to-morrow. Can’t youmake a plain gingham dress in a day? I’ll pick a chicken, and you fry it andfix a little custard for the cup, and do it up brown. Go on, Maggie, you doit!”

“I never can,” said Margaret. “I am slow as the itch about sewing, and theseare not going to be plain dresses when it comes to making them. There are goingto be edgings of plain green, pink, and brown to the bias strips, and tucks andpleats around the hips, fancy belts and collars, and all of it takes time.”

“Then Kate Comstock’s got to help,” said Wesley. “Can the two of you make one,and get that lunch to-morrow?”

“Easy, but she’ll never do it!”

“You see if she doesn’t!” said Wesley. “You get up and cut it out, and soon asElnora is gone I’ll go after Kate myself. She’ll take what I’ll say betteralone. But she’ll come, and she’ll help make the dress. These other things areour Christmas gifts to Elnora. She’ll no doubt need them more now than she willthen, and we can give them just as well. That’s yours, and this is mine, orwhichever way you choose.”

Wesley untied a good brown umbrella and shook out the folds of a long, brownraincoat. Margaret dropped the hat, arose and took the coat. She tried it on,felt it, cooed over it and matched it with the umbrella.

“Did it look anything like rain to-night?” she inquired so anxiously thatWesley laughed.

“And this last bundle?” she said, dropping back in her chair, the coat stillover her shoulders.

“I couldn’t buy this much stuff for any other woman and nothing for my own,”said Wesley. “It’s Christmas for you, too, Margaret!” He shook out fold afterfold of soft gray satiny goods that would look lovely against Margaret’s pinkcheeks and whitening hair.

“Oh, you old darling!” she exclaimed, and fled sobbing into his arms.

But she soon dried her eyes, raked together the coals in the cooking stove andboiled one of the dress patterns in salt water for half an hour. Wesley heldthe lamp while she hung the goods on the line to dry. Then she set the irons onthe stove so they would be hot the first thing in the morning.

CHAPTER III

WHEREIN ELNORA VISITS THE BIRD WOMAN, AND OPENS A BANK ACCOUNT

Four o’clock the following morning Elnora was shelling beans. At six she fedthe chickens and pigs, swept two of the rooms of the cabin, built a fire, andput on the kettle for breakfast. Then she climbed the narrow stairs to theattic she had occupied since a very small child, and dressed in the hated shoesand brown calico, plastered down her crisp curls, ate what breakfast she could,and pinning on her hat started for town.

“There is no sense in your going for an hour yet,” said her mother.

“I must try to discover some way to earn those books,” replied Elnora. “I amperfectly positive I shall not find them lying beside the road wrapped intissue paper, and tagged with my name.”

She went toward the city as on yesterday. Her perplexity as to where tuitionand books were to come from was worse but she did not feel quite so badly. Shenever again would have to face all of it for the first time. There had beentimes yesterday when she had prayed to be hidden, or to drop dead, and neitherhad happened. “I believe the best way to get an answer to prayer is to work forit,” muttered Elnora grimly.

Again she followed the trail to the swamp, rearranged her hair and left the tinpail. This time she folded a couple of sandwiches in the napkin, and tied themin a neat light paper parcel which she carried in her hand. Then she hurriedalong the road to Onabasha and found a book-store. There she asked the pricesof the list of books that she needed, and learned that six dollars would notquite supply them. She anxiously inquired for second-hand books, but was toldthat the only way to secure them was from the last year’s Freshmen. Just thenElnora felt that she positively could not approach any of those she supposed tobe Sophomores and ask to buy their old books. The only balm the girl could seefor the humiliation of yesterday was to appear that day with a set of newbooks.

“Do you wish these?” asked the clerk hurriedly, for the store was rapidlyfilling with school children wanting anything from a dictionary to a pen.

“Yes,” gasped Elnora, “Oh, yes! But I cannot pay for them just now. Please letme take them, and I will pay for them on Friday, or return them as perfect asthey are. Please trust me for them a few days.”

“I’ll ask the proprietor,” he said. When he came back Elnora knew the answerbefore he spoke.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “but Mr. Hann doesn’t recognize your name. You are not acustomer of ours, and he feels that he can’t take the risk.”

Elnora clumped out of the store, the thump of her heavy shoes beating as ahammer on her brain. She tried two other dealers with the same result, and thenin sick despair came into the street. What could she do? She was too frightenedto think. Should she stay from school that day and canvass the homes appearingto belong to the wealthy, and try to sell beds of wild ferns, as she hadsuggested to Wesley Sinton? What would she dare ask for bringing in andplanting a clump of ferns? How could she carry them? Would people buy them? Sheslowly moved past the hotel and then glanced around to see if there were aclock anywhere, for she felt sure the young people passing her constantly wereon their way to school.

There it stood in a bank window in big black letters staring straight at her:

WANTED: CATERPILLARS, COCOONS, CHRYSALIDES, PUPAE CASES, BUTTERFLIES, MOTHS,INDIAN RELICS OF ALL KINDS. HIGHEST SCALE OF PRICES PAID IN CASH

Elnora caught the wicket at the cashier’s desk with both hands to brace herselfagainst disappointment.

“Who is it wants to buy cocoons, butterflies, and moths?” she panted.

“The Bird Woman,” answered the cashier. “Have you some for sale?”

“I have some, I do not know if they are what she would want.”

“Well, you had better see her,” said the cashier. “Do you know where shelives?”

“Yes,” said Elnora. “Would you tell me the time?”

“Twenty-one after eight,” was the answer.

She had nine minutes to reach the auditorium or be late. Should she go toschool, or to the Bird Woman? Several girls passed her walking swiftly and sheremembered their faces. They were hurrying to school. Elnora caught theinfection. She would see the Bird Woman at noon. Algebra came first, and thatprofessor was kind. Perhaps she could slip to the superintendent and ask himfor a book for the next lesson, and at noon—“Oh, dear Lord make it cometrue,” prayed Elnora, at noon possibly she could sell some of those wonderfulshining-winged things she had been collecting all her life around the outskirtsof the Limberlost.

As she went down the long hall she noticed the professor of mathematicsstanding in the door of his recitation room. When she passed him he smiled andspoke to her.

“I have been watching for you,” he said, and Elnora stopped bewildered.

“For me?” she questioned.

“Yes,” said Professor Henley. “Step inside.”

Elnora followed him into the room and closed the door behind them.

“At teachers’ meeting last evening, one of the professors mentioned that apupil had betrayed in class that she had expected her books to be furnished bythe city. I thought possibly it was you. Was it?”

“Yes,” breathed Elnora.

“That being the case,” said Professor Henley, “it just occurred to me as youhad expected that, you might require a little time to secure them, and you aretoo fine a mathematician to fall behind for want of supplies. So I telephonedone of our Sophomores to bring her last year’s books this morning. I am sorryto say they are somewhat abused, but the text is all here. You can have themfor two dollars, and pay when you are ready. Would you care to take them?”

Elnora sat suddenly, because she could not stand another instant. She reachedboth hands for the books, and said never a word. The professor was silent also.

At last Elnora arose, hugging those books to her heart as a mother clasps ababy.

“One thing more,” said the professor. “You may pay your tuition quarterly. Youneed not bother about the first instalment this month. Any time in October willdo.”

It seemed as if Elnora’s gasp of relief must have reached the soles of herbrogans.

“Did any one ever tell you how beautiful you are!” she cried.

As the professor was lank, tow-haired and so near-sighted, that he peered athis pupils through spectacles, no one ever had.

“No,” said Professor Henley, “I’ve waited some time for that; for which reasonI shall appreciate it all the more. Come now, or we shall be late for openingexercises.”

So Elnora entered the auditorium a second time. Her face was like the brightestdawn that ever broke over the Limberlost. No matter about the lumbering shoesand skimpy dress. No matter about anything, she had the books. She could takethem home. In her garret she could commit them to memory, if need be. She couldprove that clothes were not all. If the Bird Woman did not want any of the manydifferent kinds of specimens she had collected, she was quite sure now shecould sell ferns, nuts, and a great many things. Then, too, a girl made a placefor her that morning, and several smiled and bowed. Elnora forgot everythingsave her books, and that she was where she could use themintelligently—everything except one little thing away back in her head.Her mother had known about the books and the tuition, and had not told her whenshe agreed to her coming.

At noon Elnora took her little parcel of lunch and started to the home of theBird Woman. She must know about the specimens first and then she would walk tothe suburbs somewhere and eat a few bites. She dropped the heavy iron knockeron the door of a big red log cabin, and her heart thumped at the resoundingstroke.

“Is the Bird Woman at home?” she asked of the maid.

“She is at lunch,” was the answer.

“Please ask her if she will see a girl from the Limberlost about some moths?”inquired Elnora.

“I never need ask, if it’s moths,” laughed the girl. “Orders are to bring anyone with specimens right in. Come this way.”

Elnora followed down the hall and entered a long room with high panelledwainscoting, old English fireplace with an overmantel and closets of peculiarchina filling the corners. At a bare table of oak, yellow as gold, sat a womanElnora often had watched and followed covertly around the Limberlost. The BirdWoman was holding out a hand of welcome.

“I heard!” she laughed. “A little pasteboard box, or just the mere word‘specimen,’ passes you at my door. If it is moths I hope you have hundreds.I’ve been very busy all summer and unable to collect, and I need so many. Sitdown and lunch with me, while we talk it over. From the Limberlost, did yousay?”

“I live near the swamp,” replied Elnora. “Since it’s so cleared I dare goaround the edge in daytime, though we are all afraid at night.”

“What have you collected?” asked the Bird Woman, as she helped Elnora tosandwiches unlike any she ever before had tasted, salad that seemed to be madeof many familiar things, and a cup of hot chocolate that would have delightedany hungry schoolgirl.

“I am afraid I am bothering you for nothing, and imposing on you,” she said.“That ‘collected’ frightens me. I’ve only gathered. I always loved everythingoutdoors, so I made friends and playmates of them. When I learned that themoths die so soon, I saved them especially, because there seemed no wickednessin it.”

“I have thought the same thing,” said the Bird Woman encouragingly. Thenbecause the girl could not eat until she learned about the moths, the BirdWoman asked Elnora if she knew what kinds she had.

“Not all of them,” answered Elnora. “Before Mr. Duncan moved away he often sawme near the edge of the swamp and he showed me the box he had fixed forFreckles, and gave me the key. There were some books and things, so from thattime on I studied and tried to take moths right, but I am afraid they are notwhat you want.”

“Are they the big ones that fly mostly in June nights?” asked the Bird Woman.

“Yes,” said Elnora. “Big gray ones with reddish markings, pale blue-green,yellow with lavender, and red and yellow.”

“What do you mean by ‘red and yellow?’” asked the Bird Woman so quickly thatthe girl almost jumped.

“Not exactly red,” explained Elnora, with tremulous voice. “A reddish,yellowish brown, with canary-coloured spots and gray lines on their wings.”

“How many of them?” It was the same quick question.

“I had over two hundred eggs,” said Elnora, “but some of them didn’t hatch, andsome of the caterpillars died, but there must be at least a hundred perfectones.”

“Perfect! How perfect?” cried the Bird Woman.

“I mean whole wings, no down gone, and all their legs and antennae,” falteredElnora.

“Young woman, that’s the rarest moth in America,” said the Bird Woman solemnly.“If you have a hundred of them, they are worth a hundred dollars according tomy list. I can use all that are not damaged.”

“What if they are not pinned right,” quavered Elnora.

“If they are perfect, that does not make the slightest difference. I know howto soften them so that I can put them into any shape I choose. Where are they?When may I see them?”

“They are in Freckles’s old case in the Limberlost,” said Elnora. “I couldn’tcarry many for fear of breaking them, but I could bring a few after school.”

“You come here at four,” said the Bird Woman, “and we will drive out with somespecimen boxes, and a price list, and see what you have to sell. Are they yourvery own? Are you free to part with them?”

“They are mine,” said Elnora. “No one but God knows I have them. Mr. Duncangave me the books and the box. He told Freckles about me, and Freckles told himto give me all he left. He said for me to stick to the swamp and be brave, andmy hour would come, and it has! I know most of them are all right, and oh, I doneed the money!”

“Could you tell me?” asked the Bird Woman softly.

“You see the swamp and all the fields around it are so full,” explained Elnora.“Every day I felt smaller and smaller, and I wanted to know more and more, andpretty soon I grew desperate, just as Freckles did. But I am better off than hewas, for I have his books, and I have a mother; even if she doesn’t care for meas other girls’ mothers do for them, it’s better than no one.”

The Bird Woman’s glance fell, for the girl was not conscious of how much shewas revealing. Her eyes were fixed on a black pitcher filled with goldenrod inthe centre of the table and she was saying what she thought.

“As long as I could go to the Brushwood school I was happy, but I couldn’t gofurther just when things were the most interesting, so I was determined I’dcome to high school and mother wouldn’t consent. You see there’s plenty ofland, but father was drowned when I was a baby, and mother and I can’t makemoney as men do. The taxes are higher every year, and she said it was tooexpensive. I wouldn’t give her any rest, until at last she bought me thisdress, and these shoes and I came. It was awful!”

“Do you live in that beautiful cabin at the northwest end of the swamp?” askedthe Bird Woman.

“Yes,” said Elnora.

“I remember the place and a story about it, now. You entered the high schoolyesterday?”

“Yes.”

“It was rather bad?”

“Rather bad!” echoed Elnora.

The Bird Woman laughed.

“You can’t tell me anything about that,” she said. “I once entered a cityschool straight from the country. My dress was brown calico, and my shoes wereheavy.”

The tears began to roll down Elnora’s cheeks.

“Did they——?” she faltered.

“They did!” said the Bird Woman. “All of it. I am sure they did not miss oneleast little thing.”

Then she wiped away some tears that began coursing her cheeks, and laughed atthe same time.

“Where are they now?” asked Elnora suddenly.

“They are widely scattered, but none of them have attained heights out ofrange. Some of the rich are poor, and some of the poor are rich. Some of thebrightest died insane, and some of the dullest worked out high positions; someof the very worst to bear have gone out, and I frequently hear from others. NowI am here, able to remember it, and mingle laughter with what used to be alltears; for every day I have my beautiful work, and almost every day God sendssome one like you to help me. What is your name, my girl?”

“Elnora Comstock,” answered Elnora. “Yesterday on the board it changed toCornstock, and for a minute I thought I’d die, but I can laugh over thatalready.”

The Bird Woman arose and kissed her. “Finish your lunch,” she said, “and I willbring my price lists, and make a memorandum of what you think you have, so Iwill know how many boxes to prepare. And remember this: What you are lies withyou. If you are lazy, and accept your lot, you may live in it. If you arewilling to work, you can write your name anywhere you choose, among the onlyones who live beyond the grave in this world, the people who write books thathelp, make exquisite music, carve statues, paint pictures, and work for others.Never mind the calico dress, and the coarse shoes. Work at your books, andbefore long you will hear yesterday’s tormentors boasting that they were onceclassmates of yours. ‘I could a tale unfold’——!”

She laughingly left the room and Elnora sat thinking, until she remembered howhungry she was, so she ate the food, drank the hot chocolate and began to feelbetter.

Then the Bird Woman came back and showed Elnora a long printed slip giving alist of graduated prices for moths, butterflies, and dragonflies.

“Oh, do you want them!” exulted Elnora. “I have a few and I can get more by thethousand, with every colour in the world on their wings.”

“Yes,” said the Bird Woman, “I will buy them, also the big moth caterpillarsthat are creeping everywhere now, and the cocoons that they will spin justabout this time. I have a sneaking impression that the mystery, wonder, and theurge of their pure beauty, are going to force me to picture and paint our mothsand put them into a book for all the world to see and know. We Limberlostpeople must not be selfish with the wonders God has given to us. We must sharewith those poor cooped-up city people the best we can. To send them a beautifulbook, that is the way, is it not, little new friend of mine?”

“Yes, oh yes!” cried Elnora. “And please God they find a way to earn the moneyto buy the books, as I have those I need so badly.”

“I will pay good prices for all the moths you can find,” said the Bird Woman,“because you see I exchange them with foreign collectors. I want a completeseries of the moths of America to trade with a German scientist, another with aman in India, and another in Brazil. Others I can exchange with home collectorsfor those of California and Canada, so you see I can use all you can raise, orfind. The banker will buy stone axes, arrow points, and Indian pipes. There wasa teacher from the city grade schools here to-day for specimens. There is afund to supply the ward buildings. I’ll help you get in touch with that. Theywant leaves of different trees, flowers, grasses, moths, insects, birds’ nestsand anything about birds.”

Elnora’s eyes were blazing. “Had I better go back to school or open a bankaccount and begin being a millionaire? Uncle Wesley and I have a bushel ofarrow points gathered, a stack of axes, pipes, skin-dressing tools, tubes andmortars. I don’t know how I ever shall wait three hours.”

“You must go, or you will be late,” said the Bird Woman. “I will be ready atfour.”

After school closed Elnora, seated beside the Bird Woman, drove to Freckles’sroom in the Limberlost. One at a time the beautiful big moths were taken fromthe interior of the old black case. Not a fourth of them could be moved thatnight and it was almost dark when the last box was closed, the list figured,and into Elnora’s trembling fingers were paid fifty-nine dollars and sixteencents. Elnora clasped the money closely.

“Oh you beautiful stuff!” she cried. “You are going to buy the books, pay thetuition, and take me to high school.”

Then because she was a woman, she sat on a log and looked at her shoes. Longafter the Bird Woman drove away Elnora remained. She had her problem, and itwas a big one. If she told her mother, would she take the money to pay thetaxes? If she did not tell her, how could she account for the books, and thingsfor which she would spend it. At last she counted out what she needed for thenext day, placed the remainder in the farthest corner of the case, and lockedthe door. She then filled the front of her skirt from a heap of arrow pointsbeneath the case and started home.

CHAPTER IV

WHEREIN THE SINTONS ARE DISAPPOINTED, AND MRS. COMSTOCK LEARNS THAT SHE CANLAUGH

With the first streak of red above the Limberlost Margaret Sinton was busy withthe gingham and the intricate paper pattern she had purchased. Wesley cookedthe breakfast and worked until he thought Elnora would be gone, then he startedto bring her mother.

“Now you be mighty careful,” cautioned Margaret. “I don’t know how she willtake it.”

“I don’t either,” said Wesley philosophically, “but she’s got to take it someway. That dress has to be finished by school time in the morning.”

Wesley had not slept well that night. He had been so busy framing diplomaticspeeches to make to Mrs. Comstock that sleep had little chance with him. Everystep nearer to her he approached his position seemed less enviable. By the timehe reached the front gate and started down the walk between the rows of astersand lady slippers he was perspiring, and every plausible and convincing speechhad fled his brain. Mrs. Comstock helped him. She met him at the door.

“Good morning,” she said. “Did Margaret send you for something?”

“Yes,” said Wesley. “She’s got a job that’s too big for her, and she wants youto help.”

“Of course I will,” said Mrs. Comstock. It was no one’s affair how lonely theprevious day had been, or how the endless hours of the present would drag.“What is she doing in such a rush?”

Now was his chance.

“She’s making a dress for Elnora,” answered, Wesley. He saw Mrs. Comstock’sform straighten, and her face harden, so he continued hastily. “You see Elnorahas been helping us at harvest time, butchering, and with unexpected visitorsfor years. We’ve made out that she’s saved us a considerable sum, and as shewouldn’t ever touch any pay for anything, we just went to town and got a fewclothes we thought would fix her up a little for the high school. We want toget a dress done to-day mighty bad, but Margaret is slow about sewing, and shenever can finish alone, so I came after you.”

“And it’s such a simple little matter, so dead easy; and all so between oldfriends like, that you can’t look above your boots while you explain it,”sneered Mrs. Comstock. “Wesley Sinton, what put the idea into your head thatElnora would take things bought with money, when she wouldn’t take the money?”

Then Sinton’s eyes came up straightly.

“Finding her on the trail last night sobbing as hard as I ever saw any one at afuneral. She wasn’t complaining at all, but she’s come to me all her life withher little hurts, and she couldn’t hide how she’d been laughed at, twitted, andrun face to face against the fact that there were books and tuition,unexpected, and nothing will ever make me believe you didn’t know that, KateComstock.”

“If any doubts are troubling you on that subject, sure I knew it! She was soanxious to try the world, I thought I’d just let her take a few knocks and seehow she liked them.”

“As if she’d ever taken anything but knocks all her life!” cried Wesley Sinton.“Kate Comstock, you are a heartless, selfish woman. You’ve never shown Elnoraany real love in her life. If ever she finds out that thing you’ll lose her,and it will serve you right.”

“She knows it now,” said Mrs. Comstock icily, “and she’ll be home to-night justas usual.”

“Well, you are a brave woman if you dared put a girl of Elnora’s make throughwhat she suffered yesterday, and will suffer again to-day, and let her know youdid it on purpose. I admire your nerve. But I’ve watched this since Elnora wasborn, and I got enough. Things have come to a pass where they go better forher, or I interfere.”

“As if you’d ever done anything but interfere all her life! Think I haven’twatched you? Think I, with my heart raw in my breast, and too numb to resent itopenly, haven’t seen you and Mag Sinton trying to turn Elnora against me dayafter day? When did you ever tell her what her father meant to me? When did youever try to make her see the wreck of my life, and what I’ve suffered? Noindeed! Always it’s been poor little abused Elnora, and cakes, kissing, extraclothes, and encouraging her to run to you with a pitiful mouth every time Itried to make a woman of her.”

“Kate Comstock, that’s unjust,” cried Sinton. “Only last night I tried to showher the picture I saw the day she was born. I begged her to come to you andtell you pleasant what she needed, and ask you for what I happen to know youcan well afford to give her.”

“I can’t!” cried Mrs. Comstock. “You know I can’t!”

“Then get so you can!” said Wesley Sinton. “Any day you say the word you cansell six thousand worth of rare timber off this place easy. I’ll see toclearing and working the fields cheap as dirt, for Elnora’s sake. I’ll buy youmore cattle to fatten. All you’ve got to do is sign a lease, to pull thousandsfrom the ground in oil, as the rest of us are doing all around you!”

“Cut down Robert’s trees!” shrieked Mrs. Comstock. “Tear up his land! Covereverything with horrid, greasy oil! I’ll die first.”

“You mean you’ll let Elnora go like a beggar, and hurt and mortify her pastbearing. I’ve got to the place where I tell you plain what I am going to do.Maggie and I went to town last night, and we bought what things Elnora needsmost urgent to make her look a little like the rest of the high school girls.Now here it is in plain English. You can help get these things ready, and letus give them to her as we want——”

“She won’t touch them!” cried Mrs. Comstock.

“Then you can pay us, and she can take them as her right——”

“I won’t!”

“Then I will tell Elnora just what you are worth, what you can afford, and howmuch of this she owns. I’ll loan her the money to buy books and decent clothes,and when she is of age she can sell her share and pay me.”

Mrs. Comstock gripped a chair-back and opened her lips, but no words came.

“And,” Sinton continued, “if she is so much like you that she won’t do that,I’ll go to the county seat and lay complaint against you as her guardian beforethe judge. I’ll swear to what you are worth, and how you are raising her, andhave you discharged, or have the judge appoint some man who will see that sheis comfortable, educated, and decent looking!”

“You—you wouldn’t!” gasped Kate Comstock.

“I won’t need to, Kate!” said Sinton, his heart softening the instant the hardwords were said. “You won’t show it, but you do love Elnora! You can’t help it!You must see how she needs things; come help us fix them, and be friends.Maggie and I couldn’t live without her, and you couldn’t either. You’ve got tolove such a fine girl as she is; let it show a little!”

“You can hardly expect me to love her,” said Mrs. Comstock coldly. “But for hera man would stand back of me now, who would beat the breath out of yoursneaking body for the cowardly thing with which you threaten me. After all I’vesuffered you’d drag me to court and compel me to tear up Robert’s property. IfI ever go they carry me. If they touch one tree, or put down one greasy old oilwell, it will be over all I can shoot, before they begin. Now, see how quickyou can clear out of here!”

“You won’t come and help Maggie with the dress?”

For answer Mrs. Comstock looked around swiftly for some object on which to layher hands. Knowing her temper, Wesley Sinton left with all the haste consistentwith dignity. But he did not go home. He crossed a field, and in an hourbrought another neighbour who was skilful with her needle. With sinking heartMargaret saw them coming.

“Kate is too busy to help to-day, she can’t sew before to-morrow,” said Wesleycheerfully as they entered.

That quieted Margaret’s apprehension a little, though she had some doubts.Wesley prepared the lunch, and by four o’clock the dress was finished as far asit possibly could be until it was fitted on Elnora. If that did not entail toomuch work, it could be completed in two hours.

Then Margaret packed their purchases into the big market basket. Wesley tookthe hat, umbrella, and raincoat, and they went to Mrs. Comstock’s. As theyreached the step, Margaret spoke pleasantly to Mrs. Comstock, who sat readingjust inside the door, but she did not answer and deliberately turned a leafwithout looking up.

Wesley Sinton opened the door and went in followed by Margaret.

“Kate,” he said, “you needn’t take out your mad over our little racket onMaggie. I ain’t told her a word I said to you, or you said to me. She’s not sovery strong, and she’s sewed since four o’clock this morning to get this dressready for to-morrow. It’s done and we came down to try it on Elnora.”

“Is that the truth, Mag Sinton?” demanded Mrs. Comstock.

“You heard Wesley say so,” proudly affirmed Mrs. Sinton.

“I want to make you a proposition,” said Wesley. “Wait till Elnora comes. Thenwe’ll show her the things and see what she says.”

“How would it do to see what she says without bribing her,” sneered Mrs.Comstock.

“If she can stand what she did yesterday, and will to-day, she can bear ’mostanything,” said Wesley. “Put away the clothes if you want to, till we tellher.”

“Well, you don’t take this waist I’m working on,” said Margaret, “for I have tobaste in the sleeves and set the collar. Put the rest out of sight if youlike.”

Mrs. Comstock picked up the basket and bundles, placed them inside her room andclosed the door.

Margaret threaded her needle and began to sew. Mrs. Comstock returned to herbook, while Wesley fidgeted and raged inwardly. He could see that Margaret wasnervous and almost in tears, but the lines in Mrs. Comstock’s impassive facewere set and cold. So they sat while the clock ticked off the time—onehour, two, dusk, and no Elnora. Just when Margaret and Wesley were discussingwhether he had not better go to town to meet Elnora, they heard her coming upthe walk. Wesley dropped his tilted chair and squared himself. Margaret grippedher sewing, and turned pleading eyes toward the door. Mrs. Comstock closed herbook and grimly smiled.

“Mother, please open the door,” called Elnora.

Mrs. Comstock arose, and swung back the screen. Elnora stepped in beside her,bent half double, the whole front of her dress gathered into a sort of bagfilled with a heavy load, and one arm stacked high with books. In the dim lightshe did not see the Sintons.

“Please hand me the empty bucket in the kitchen, mother,” she said. “I just hadto bring these arrow points home, but I’m scared for fear I’ve spoiled my dressand will have to wash it. I’m to clean them, and take them to the banker in themorning, and oh, mother, I’ve sold enough stuff to pay for my books, mytuition, and maybe a dress and some lighter shoes besides. Oh, mother I’m sohappy! Take the books and bring the bucket!”

Then she saw Margaret and Wesley. “Oh, glory!” she exulted. “I was justwondering how I’d ever wait to tell you, and here you are! It’s too perfectlysplendid to be true!”

“Tell us, Elnora,” said Sinton.

“Well sir,” said Elnora, doubling down on the floor and spreading out herskirt, “set the bucket here, mother. These points are brittle, and should beput in one at a time. If they are chipped I can’t sell them. Well sir! I’ve hada time! You know I just had to have books. I tried three stores, and theywouldn’t trust me, not even three days, I didn’t know what in this world Icould do quickly enough. Just when I was almost frantic I saw a sign in a bankwindow asking for caterpillars, cocoons, butterflies, arrow points, andeverything. I went in, and it was this Bird Woman who wants the insects, andthe banker wants the stones. I had to go to school then, but, if you’ll believeit”—Elnora beamed on all of them in turn as she talked and slipped thearrow points from her dress to the pail—“if you’ll believe it—butyou won’t, hardly, until you look at the books—there was the mathematicsteacher, waiting at his door, and he had a set of books for me that he hadtelephoned a Sophomore to bring.”

“How did he happen to do that, Elnora?” interrupted Sinton.

Elnora blushed.

“It was a fool mistake I made yesterday in thinking books were just handed outto one. There was a teachers’ meeting last night and the history teacher toldabout that. Professor Henley thought of me. You know I told you what he saidabout my algebra, mother. Ain’t I glad I studied out some of it myself thissummer! So he telephoned and a girl brought the books. Because they are markedand abused some I get the whole outfit for two dollars. I can erase most of themarks, paste down the covers, and fix them so they look better. But I musthurry to the joy part. I didn’t stop to eat, at noon, I just ran to the BirdWoman’s, and I had lunch with her. It was salad, hot chocolate, and lovelythings, and she wants to buy most every old scrap I ever gathered. She wantsdragonflies, moths, butterflies, and he—the banker, I mean—wantseverything Indian. This very night she came to the swamp with me and took awayenough stuff to pay for the books and tuition, and to-morrow she is going tobuy some more.”

Elnora laid the last arrow point in the pail and arose, shaking leaves and bitsof baked earth from her dress. She reached into her pocket, produced her moneyand waved it before their wondering eyes.

“And that’s the joy part!” she exulted. “Put it up in the clock till morning,mother. That pays for the books and tuition and—” Elnora hesitated, forshe saw the nervous grasp with which her mother’s fingers closed on the bills.Then she continued, but more slowly and thinking before she spoke.

“What I get to-morrow pays for more books and tuition, and maybe a few, just afew, things to wear. These shoes are so dreadfully heavy and hot, and they makesuch a noise on the floor. There isn’t another calico dress in the wholebuilding, not among hundreds of us. Why, what is that? Aunt Margaret, what areyou hiding in your lap?”

She snatched the waist and shook it out, and her face was beaming. “Have youtaken to waists all fancy and buttoned in the back? I bet you this is mine!”

“I bet you so too,” said Margaret Sinton. “You undress right away and try iton, and if it fits, it will be done for morning. There are some low shoes,too!”

Elnora began to dance. “Oh, you dear people!” she cried. “I can pay for themto-morrow night! Isn’t it too splendid! I was just thinking on the way homethat I certainly would be compelled to have cooler shoes until later, and I waswondering what I’d do when the fall rains begin.”

“I meant to get you some heavy dress skirts and a coat then,” said Mrs.Comstock.

“I know you said so!” cried Elnora. “But you needn’t, now! I can buy everysingle stitch I need myself. Next summer I can gather up a lot more stuff, andall winter on the way to school. I am sure I can sell ferns, I know I can nuts,and the Bird Woman says the grade rooms want leaves, grasses, birds’ nests, andcocoons. Oh, isn’t this world lovely! I’ll be helping with the tax, next,mother!”

Elnora waved the waist and started for the bedroom. When she opened the doorshe gave a little cry.

“What have you people been doing?” she demanded. “I never saw so manyinteresting bundles in all my life. I’m ‘skeered’ to death for fear I can’t payfor them, and will have to give up something.”

“Wouldn’t you take them, if you could not pay for them, Elnora?” asked hermother instantly.

“Why, not unless you did,” answered Elnora. “People have no right to wearthings they can’t afford, have they?”

“But from such old friends as Maggie and Wesley!” Mrs. Comstock’s voice wasoily with triumph.

“From them least of all,” cried Elnora stoutly. “From a stranger sooner thanfrom them, to whom I owe so much more than I ever can pay now.”

“Well, you don’t have to,” said Mrs. Comstock. “Maggie just selected thesethings, because she is more in touch with the world, and has got such goodtaste. You can pay as long as your money holds out, and if there’s morenecessary, maybe I can sell the butcher a calf, or if things are too costly forus, of course, they can take them back. Put on the waist now, and then you canlook over the rest and see if they are suitable, and what you want.”

Elnora stepped into the adjoining room and closed the door. Mrs. Comstockpicked up the bucket and started for the well with it. At the bedroom shepaused.

“Elnora, were you going to wash these arrow points?”

“Yes. The Bird Woman says they sell better if they are clean, so it can be seenthat there are no defects in them.”

“Of course,” said Mrs. Comstock. “Some of them seem quite baked. Shall I putthem to soak? Do you want to take them in the morning?”

“Yes, I do,” answered Elnora. “If you would just fill the pail with water.”

Mrs. Comstock left the room. Wesley Sinton sat with his back to the window inthe west end of the cabin which overlooked the well. A suppressed sound behindhim caused him to turn quickly. Then he arose and leaned over Margaret.

“She’s out there laughing like a blamed monkey!” he whispered indignantly.

“Well, she can’t help it!” exclaimed Margaret.

“I’m going home!” said Wesley.

“Oh no, you are not!” retorted Margaret. “You are missing the point. The pointis not how you look, or feel. It is to get these things in Elnora’s possessionpast dispute. You go now, and to-morrow Elnora will wear calico, and KateComstock will return these goods. Right here I stay until everything we boughtis Elnora’s.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Wesley.

“I don’t know yet, myself,” said Margaret.

Then she arose and peered from the window. At the well curb stood KatharineComstock. The strain of the day was finding reaction. Her chin was in the air,she was heaving, shaking and strangling to suppress any sound. The word thatslipped between Margaret Sinton’s lips shocked Wesley until he dropped on hischair, and recalled her to her senses. She was fairly composed as she turned toElnora, and began the fitting. When she had pinched, pulled, and patted shecalled, “Come see if you think this fits, Kate.”

Mrs. Comstock had gone around to the back door and answered from the kitchen.“You know more about it than I do. Go ahead! I’m getting supper. Don’t forgetto allow for what it will shrink in washing!”

“I set the colours and washed the goods last night; it can be made to fit rightnow,” answered Margaret.

When she could find nothing more to alter she told Elnora to heat some water.After she had done that the girl began opening packages.

The hat came first.

“Mother!” cried Elnora. “Mother, of course, you have seen this, but you haven’tseen it on me. I must try it on.”

“Don’t you dare put that on your head until your hair is washed and properlycombed,” said Margaret.

“Oh!” cried Elnora. “Is that water to wash my hair? I thought it was to set thecolour in another dress.”

“Well, you thought wrong,” said Margaret simply. “Your hair is going to bewashed and brushed until it shines like copper. While it dries you can eat yoursupper, and this dress will be finished. Then you can put on your new ribbon,and your hat. You can try your shoes now, and if they don’t fit, you and Wesleycan drive to town and change them. That little round bundle on the top of thebasket is your stockings.”

Margaret sat down and began sewing swiftly, and a little later opened themachine, and ran several long seams.

Elnora returned in a few minutes holding up her skirts and stepping daintily inthe new shoes.

“Don’t soil them, honey, else you’re sure they fit,” cautioned Wesley.

“They seem just a trifle large, maybe,” said Elnora dubiously, and Wesley kneltto feel. He and Margaret thought them a fit, and then Elnora appealed to hermother. Mrs. Comstock appeared wiping her hands on her apron. She examined theshoes critically.

“They seem to fit,” she said, “but they are away too fine to walk countryroads.”

“I think so, too,” said Elnora instantly. “We had better take these back andget a cheaper pair.”

“Oh, let them go for this time,” said Mrs. Comstock. “They are so pretty, Ihate to part with them. You can get cheaper ones after this.”

Wesley and Margaret scarcely breathed for a long time.

When Wesley went to do the feeding. Elnora set the table. When the water washot, Margaret pinned a big towel around Elnora’s shoulders and washed and driedthe lovely hair according to the instructions she had been given the previousnight. As the hair began to dry it billowed out in a sparkling sheen thatcaught the light and gleamed and flashed.

“Now, the idea is to let it stand naturally, just as the curl will make it.Don’t you do any of that nasty, untidy snarling, Elnora,” cautioned Margaret.“Wash it this way every two weeks while you are in school, shake it out, anddry it. Then part it in the middle and turn a front quarter on each side fromyour face. You tie the back at your neck with a string—so, and the ribbongoes in a big, loose bow. I’ll show you.” One after another Margaret Sintontied the ribbons, creasing each of them so they could not be returned, as sheexplained that she was trying to find the colour most becoming. Then sheproduced the raincoat which carried Elnora into transports.

Mrs. Comstock objected. “That won’t be warm enough for cold weather, and youcan’t afford it and a coat, too.”

“I’ll tell you what I thought,” said Elnora. “I was planning on the way home.These coats are fine because they keep you dry. I thought I would get one, anda warm sweater to wear under it cold days. Then I always would be dry, andwarm. The sweater only costs three dollars, so I could get it and the raincoatboth for half the price of a heavy cloth coat.”

“You are right about that,” said Mrs. Comstock. “You can change more with theweather, too. Keep the raincoat, Elnora.”

“Wear it until you try the hat,” said Margaret. “It will have to do until thedress is finished.”

Elnora picked up the hat dubiously. “Mother, may I wear my hair as it is now?”she asked.

“Let me take a good look,” said Katharine Comstock.

Heaven only knows what she saw. To Wesley and to Margaret the bright young faceof Elnora, with its pink tints, its heavy dark brows, its bright blue-grayeyes, and its frame of curling reddish-brown hair was the sweetest sight onearth, and at that instant Elnora was radiant.

“So long as it’s your own hair, and combed back as plain as it will go, I don’tsuppose it cuts much ice whether it’s tied a little tighter or looser,”conceded Mrs. Comstock. “If you stop right there, you may let it go at that.”

Elnora set the hat on her head. It was only a wide tan straw with threeexquisite peacock quills at one side. Margaret Sinton cried out, Wesley slappedhis knee and sighed deeply while Mrs. Comstock stood speechless for a second.

“I wish you had asked the price before you put that on,” she said impatiently.“We never can afford it.”

“It’s not so much as you think,” said Margaret. “Don’t you see what I did? Ihad them take off the quills, and put on some of those Phoebe Simms gave mefrom her peacocks. The hat will only cost you a dollar and a half.”

She avoided Wesley’s eyes, and looked straight at Mrs. Comstock. Elnora removedthe hat to examine it.

“Why, they are those reddish-tan quills of yours!” she cried. “Mother, look howbeautifully they are set on! I’d much rather have them than those from thestore.”

“So would I,” said Mrs. Comstock. “If Margaret wants to spare them, that willmake you a beautiful hat; dirt cheap, too! You must go past Mrs. Simms and showher. She would be pleased to see them.”

Elnora sank into a chair and contemplated her toe. “Landy, ain’t I a queen?”she murmured. “What else have I got?”

“Just a belt, some handkerchiefs, and a pair of top shoes for rainy days andcolder weather,” said Margaret.

“About those high shoes, that was my idea,” said Wesley. “Soon as it rains, lowshoes won’t do, and by taking two pairs at once I could get them some cheaper.The low ones are two and the high ones two fifty, together three seventy-five.Ain’t that cheap?”

“That’s a real bargain,” said Mrs. Comstock, “if they are good shoes, and theylook it.”

“This,” said Wesley, producing the last package, “is your Christmas presentfrom your Aunt Maggie. I got mine, too, but it’s at the house. I’ll bring it upin the morning.”

He handed Margaret the umbrella, and she passed it over to Elnora who opened itand sat laughing under its shelter. Then she kissed both of them. She brought apencil and a slip of paper to set down the prices they gave her of everythingthey had brought except the umbrella, added the sum, and said laughingly: “Willyou please wait till to-morrow for the money? I will have it then, sure.”

“Elnora,” said Wesley Sinton. “Wouldn’t you——”

“Elnora, hustle here a minute!” called Mrs. Comstock from the kitchen. “I needyou!”

“One second, mother,” answered Elnora, throwing off the coat and hat, andclosing the umbrella as she ran. There were several errands to do in a hurry,and then supper. Elnora chattered incessantly, Wesley and Margaret talked allthey could, while Mrs. Comstock said a word now and then, which was all sheever did. But Wesley Sinton was watching her, and time and again he saw apeculiar little twist around her mouth. He knew that for the first time insixteen years she really was laughing over something. She had all she could doto preserve her usually sober face. Wesley knew what she was thinking.

After supper the dress was finished, the pattern for the next one discussed,and then the Sintons went home. Elnora gathered her treasures. When she startedupstairs she stopped. “May I kiss you good-night, mother?” she asked lightly.

“Never mind any slobbering,” said Mrs. Comstock. “I should think you’d livedwith me long enough to know that I don’t care for it.”

“Well, I’d love to show you in some way how happy I am, and how I thank you.”

“I wonder what for?” said Mrs. Comstock. “Mag Sinton chose that stuff andbrought it here and you pay for it.”

“Yes, but you seemed willing for me to have it, and you said you would help meif I couldn’t pay all.”

“Maybe I did,” said Mrs. Comstock. “Maybe I did. I meant to get you some heavydress skirts about Thanksgiving, and I still can get them. Go to bed, and forany sake don’t begin mooning before a mirror, and make a dunce of yourself.”

Mrs. Comstock picked up several papers and blew out the kitchen light. Shestood in the middle of the sitting-room floor for a time and then went into herroom and closed the door. Sitting on the edge of the bed she thought for a fewminutes and then suddenly buried her face in the pillow and again heaved withlaughter.

Down the road plodded Margaret and Wesley Sinton. Neither of them had words toutter their united thought.

“Done!” hissed Wesley at last. “Done brown! Did you ever feel like a bloomin’,confounded donkey? How did the woman do it?”

“She didn’t do it!” gulped Margaret through her tears. “She didn’t do anything.She trusted to Elnora’s great big soul to bring her out right, and really shewas right, and so it had to bring her. She’s a darling, Wesley! But she’s got atime before her. Did you see Kate Comstock grab that money? Before six monthsshe’ll be out combing the Limberlost for bugs and arrow points to help pay thetax. I know her.”

“Well, I don’t!” exclaimed Sinton, “she’s too many for me. But there is a laughleft in her yet! I didn’t s’pose there was. Bet you a dollar, if we could seeher this minute, she’d be chuckling over the way we got left.”

Both of them stopped in the road and looked back.

“There’s Elnora’s light in her room,” said Margaret. “The poor child will feelthose clothes, and pore over her books till morning, but she’ll look decent togo to school, anyway. Nothing is too big a price to pay for that.”

“Yes, if Kate lets her wear them. Ten to one, she makes her finish the weekwith that old stuff!”

“No, she won’t,” said Margaret. “She’ll hardly dare. Kate made someconcessions, all right; big ones for her—if she did get her way in themain. She bent some, and if Elnora proves that she can walk out barehanded inthe morning and come back with that much money in her pocket, an armful ofbooks, and buy a turnout like that, she proves that she is of someconsideration, and Kate’s smart enough. She’ll think twice before she’ll dothat. Elnora won’t wear a calico dress to high school again. You watch and seeif she does. She may have the best clothes she’ll get for a time, for the leastmoney, but she won’t know it until she tries to buy goods herself at the samerates. Wesley, what about those prices? Didn’t they shrink considerable?”

“You began it,” said Wesley. “Those prices were all right. We didn’t say whatthe goods cost us, we said what they would cost her. Surely, she’s mistakenabout being able to pay all that. Can she pick up stuff of that value aroundthe Limberlost? Didn’t the Bird Woman see her trouble, and just give her themoney?”

“I don’t think so,” said Margaret. “Seems to me I’ve heard of her paying, oroffering to pay those who would take the money, for bugs and butterflies, andI’ve known people who sold that banker Indian stuff. Once I heard that his pipecollection beat that of the Government at the Philadelphia Centennial. Thosethings have come to have a value.”

“Well, there’s about a bushel of that kind of valuables piled up in thewoodshed, that belongs to Elnora. At least, I picked them up because she saidshe wanted them. Ain’t it queer that she’d take to stones, bugs, andbutterflies, and save them. Now they are going to bring her the very thing shewants the worst. Lord, but this is a funny world when you get to studying!Looks like things didn’t all come by accident. Looks as if there was a planback of it, and somebody driving that knows the road, and how to handle thelines. Anyhow, Elnora’s in the wagon, and when I get out in the night and thedark closes around me, and I see the stars, I don’t feel so cheap. Maggie, howthe nation did Kate Comstock do that?”

“You will keep on harping, Wesley. I told you she didn’t do it. Elnora did it!She walked in and took things right out of our hands. All Kate had to do was toenjoy having it go her way, and she was cute enough to put in a few questionsthat sort of guided Elnora. But I don’t know, Wesley. This thing makes methink, too. S’pose we’d taken Elnora when she was a baby, and we’d heaped onher all the love we can’t on our own, and we’d coddled, petted, and shieldedher, would she have made the woman that living alone, learning to think forherself, and taking all the knocks Kate Comstock could give, have made of her?”

“You bet your life!” cried Wesley, warmly. “Loving anybody don’t hurt them. Wewouldn’t have done anything but love her. You can’t hurt a child loving it.She’d have learned to work, to study, and grown into a woman with us, withoutsuffering like a poor homeless dog.”

“But you don’t see the point, Wesley. She would have grown into a fine womanwith us; but as we would have raised her, would her heart ever have known theworld as it does now? Where’s the anguish, Wesley, that child can’t comprehend?Seeing what she’s seen of her mother hasn’t hardened her. She can understandany mother’s sorrow. Living life from the rough side has only broadened her.Where’s the girl or boy burning with shame, or struggling to find a way, thatwill cross Elnora’s path and not get a lift from her? She’s had the knocks, butthere’ll never be any of the thing you call ‘false pride’ in her. I guess webetter keep out. Maybe Kate Comstock knows what she’s doing. Sure as you live,Elnora has grown bigger on knocks than she would on love.”

“I don’t s’pose there ever was a very fine point to anything but I missed it,”said Wesley, “because I am blunt, rough, and have no book learning to speak of.Since you put it into words I see what you mean, but it’s dinged hard onElnora, just the same. And I don’t keep out. I keep watching closer than ever.I got my slap in the face, but if I don’t miss my guess, Kate Comstock learnedher lesson, same as I did. She learned that I was in earnest, that I would haulher to court if she didn’t loosen up a bit, and she’ll loosen. You see if shedoesn’t. It may come hard, and the hinges creak, but she’ll fix Elnora decentafter this, if Elnora doesn’t prove that she can fix herself. As for me, Ifound out that what I was doing was as much for myself as for Elnora. I wantedher to take those things from us, and love us for giving them. It didn’t work,and but for you, I’d messed the whole thing and stuck like a pig in crossing abridge. But you helped me out; Elnora’s got the clothes, and by morning, maybeI won’t grudge Kate the only laugh she’s had in sixteen years. You been showingme the way quite a spell now, ain’t you, Maggie?”

In her attic Elnora lighted two candles, set them on her little table, stackedthe books, and put away the precious clothes. How lovingly she hung the hat andumbrella, folded the raincoat, and spread the new dress over a chair. Shefingered the ribbons, and tried to smooth the creases from them. She put awaythe hose neatly folded, touched the handkerchiefs, and tried the belt. Then sheslipped into her white nightdress, shook down her hair that it might becomethoroughly dry, set a chair before the table, and reverently opened one of thebooks. A stiff draught swept the attic, for it stretched the length of thecabin, and had a window in each end. Elnora arose and going to the east windowclosed it. She stood for a minute looking at the stars, the sky, and the darkoutline of the straggling trees of the rapidly dismantling Limberlost. In theregion of her case a tiny point of light flashed and disappeared. Elnorastraightened and wondered. Was it wise to leave her precious money there? Thelight flashed once more, wavered a few seconds, and died out. The girl waited.She did not see it again, so she turned to her books.

In the Limberlost the hulking figure of a man sneaked down the trail.

“The Bird Woman was at Freckles’s room this evening,” he muttered. “Wonder whatfor?”

He left the trail, entered the enclosure still distinctly outlined, andapproached the case. The first point of light flashed from the tiny electriclamp on his vest. He took a duplicate key from his pocket, felt for the padlockand opened it. The door swung wide. The light flashed the second time. Swiftlyhis glance swept the interior.

“’Bout a fourth of her moths gone. Elnora must have been with the Bird Womanand given them to her.” Then he stood tense. His keen eyes discovered the rollof bills hastily thrust back in the bottom of the case. He snatched them up,shut off the light, relocked the case by touch, and swiftly went down thetrail. Every few seconds he paused and listened intently. Just as he reachedthe road, a second figure approached him.

“Is it you, Pete?” came the whispered question.

“Yes,” said the first man.

“I was coming down to take a peep, when I saw your flash,” he said. “I heardthe Bird Woman had been at the case to-day. Anything doing?”

“Not a thing,” said Pete. “She just took away about a fourth of the moths.Probably had the Comstock girl getting them for her. Heard they were together.Likely she’ll get the rest to-morrow. Ain’t picking gettin’ bare these days?”

“Well, I should say so,” said the second man, turning back in disgust. “Cominghome, now?”

“No, I am going down this way,” answered Pete, for his eyes caught the gleamfrom the window of the Comstock cabin, and he had a desire to learn whyElnora’s attic was lighted at that hour.

He slouched down the road, occasionally feeling the size of the roll he had nottaken time to count.

The attic was too long, the light too near the other end, and the cabin stoodmuch too far back from the road. He could see nothing although he climbed thefence and walked back opposite the window. He knew Mrs. Comstock was probablyawake, and that she sometimes went to the swamp behind her home at night. Attimes a cry went up from that locality that paralyzed any one near, or sentthem fleeing as if for life. He did not care to cross behind the cabin. Hereturned to the road, passed, and again climbed the fence. Opposite the westwindow he could see Elnora. She sat before a small table reading from a bookbetween two candles. Her hair fell in a bright sheen around her, and with onehand she lightly shook, and tossed it as she studied. The man stood out in thenight and watched.

For a long time a leaf turned at intervals and the hair-drying went on. The mandrew nearer. The picture grew more beautiful as he approached. He could not seeso well as he desired, for the screen was of white mosquito netting, and itangered him. He cautiously crept closer. The elevation shut off his view. Thenhe remembered the large willow tree shading the well and branching across thewindow fit the west end of the cabin. From childhood Elnora had stepped fromthe sill to a limb and slid down the slanting trunk of the tree. He reached itand noiselessly swung himself up. Three steps out on the big limb the manshuddered. He was within a few feet of the girl.

He could see the throb of her breast under its thin covering and smell thefragrance of the tossing hair. He could see the narrow bed with its piecedcalico cover, the whitewashed walls with gay lithographs, and every crevicestuck full of twigs with dangling cocoons. There were pegs for the few clothes,the old chest, the little table, the two chairs, the uneven floor covered withrag rugs and braided corn husk. But nothing was worth a glance except theperfect face and form within reach by one spring through the rotten mosquitobar. He gripped the limb above that on which he stood, licked his lips, andbreathed through his throat to be sure he was making no sound. Elnora closedthe book and laid it aside. She picked up a towel, and turning the gatheredends of her hair rubbed them across it, and dropping the towel on her lap,tossed the hair again. Then she sat in deep thought. By and by words began tocome softly. Near as he was the man could not hear at first. He bent closer andlistened intently.

“—ever could be so happy,” murmured the soft voice. “The dress is sopretty, such shoes, the coat, and everything. I won’t have to be ashamed again,not ever again, for the Limberlost is full of precious moths, and I always cancollect them. The Bird Woman will buy more to-morrow, and the next day, and thenext. When they are all gone, I can spend every minute gathering cocoons, andhunting other things I can sell. Oh, thank God, for my precious, preciousmoney. Why, I didn’t pray in vain after all! I thought when I asked the Lord tohide me, there in that big hall, that He wasn’t doing it, because I wasn’tcovered from sight that instant. But I’m hidden now, I feel that.” Elnoralifted her eyes to the beams above her. “I don’t know much about prayingproperly,” she muttered, “but I do thank you, Lord, for hiding me in your owntime and way.”

Her face was so bright that it shone with a white radiance. Two big tearswelled from her eyes, and rolled down her smiling cheeks. “Oh, I do feel thatyou have hidden me,” she breathed. Then she blew out the lights, and the littlewooden bed creaked under her weight.

Pete Corson dropped from the limb and found his way to the road. He stood stilla long time, then started back to the Limberlost. A tiny point of light flashedin the region of the case. He stopped with an oath.

“Another hound trying to steal from a girl,” he exclaimed. “But it’s likely hethinks if he gets anything it will be from a woman who can afford it, as Idid.”

He went on, but beside the fences, and very cautiously.

“Swamp seems to be alive to-night,” he muttered. “That’s three of us out.”

He entered a deep place at the northwest corner, sat on the ground and taking apencil from his pocket, he tore a leaf from a little notebook, and laboriouslywrote a few lines by the light he carried. Then he went back to the region ofthe case and waited. Before his eyes swept the vision of the slender whitecreature with tossing hair. He smiled, and worshipped it, until a distantrooster faintly announced dawn.

Then he unlocked the case again, and replaced the money, laid the note upon it,and went back to concealment, where he remained until Elnora came down thetrail in the morning, appearing very lovely in her new dress and hat.

CHAPTER V

WHEREIN ELNORA RECEIVES A WARNING, AND BILLY APPEARS ON THE SCENE

It would be difficult to describe how happy Elnora was that morning as shehurried through her work, bathed and put on the neat, dainty gingham dress, andthe tan shoes. She had a struggle with her hair. It crinkled, billowed, andshone, and she could not avoid seeing the becoming frame it made around herface. But in deference to her mother’s feelings the girl set her teeth, andbound her hair closely to her head with a shoe-string. “Not to be changed atthe case,” she told herself.

That her mother was watching she was unaware. Just as she picked up thebeautiful brown ribbon Mrs. Comstock spoke.

“You had better let me tie that. You can’t reach behind yourself and do itright.”

Elnora gave a little gasp. Her mother never before had proposed to do anythingfor the girl that by any possibility she could do herself. Her heart quaked atthe thought of how her mother would arrange that bow, but Elnora dared notrefuse. The offer was too precious. It might never be made again.

“Oh thank you!” said the girl, and sitting down she held out the ribbon.

Her mother stood back and looked at her critically.

“You haven’t got that like Mag Sinton had it last night,” she announced. “Youlittle idiot! You’ve tried to plaster it down to suit me, and you missed it. Iliked it away better as Mag fixed it, after I saw it. You didn’t look sopeeled.”

“Oh mother, mother!” laughed Elnora, with a half sob in her voice.

“Hold still, will you?” cried Mrs. Comstock. “You’ll be late, and I haven’tpacked your dinner yet.”

She untied the string and shook out the hair. It rose with electricity andclung to her fingers and hands. Mrs. Comstock jumped back as if bitten. Sheknew that touch. Her face grew white, and her eyes angry.

“Tie it yourself,” she said shortly, “and then I’ll put on the ribbon. But rollit back loose like Mag did. It looked so pretty that way.”

Almost fainting Elnora stood before the glass, divided off the front parts ofher hair, and rolled them as Mrs. Sinton had done; tied it at the nape of herneck, then sat while her mother arranged the ribbon.

“If I pull it down till it comes tight in these creases where she had it, itwill be just right, won’t it?” queried Mrs. Comstock, and the amazed Elnorastammered,

“Yes.”

When she looked in the glass the bow was perfectly tied, and how the gold toneof the brown did match the lustre of the shining hair! “That’s pretty,”commented Mrs. Comstock’s soul, but her stiff lips had said all that could beforced from them for once. Just then Wesley Sinton came to the door.

“Good morning,” he cried heartily. “Elnora, you look a picture! My, but you’resweet! If any of the city boys get sassy you tell your Uncle Wesley, and he’llhorsewhip them. Here’s your Christmas present from me.” He handed Elnora theleather lunch box, with her name carved across the strap in artistic lettering.

“Oh Uncle Wesley!” was all Elnora could say.

“Your Aunt Maggie filled it for me for a starter,” he said. “Now, if you areready, I’m going to drive past your way and you can ride almost to Onabashawith me, and save the new shoes that much.”

Elnora was staring at the box. “Oh I hope it isn’t impolite to open it beforeyou,” she said. “I just feel as if I must see inside.”

“Don’t you stand on formality with the neighbours,” laughed Sinton. “Look inyour box if you want to!”

Elnora slipped the strap and turned back the lid.

This disclosed the knife, fork, napkin, and spoon, the milk flask, and theinterior packed with dainty sandwiches wrapped in tissue paper, and the littlecompartments for meat, salad, and the custard cup.

“Oh mother!” cried Elnora. “Oh mother, isn’t it fine? What made you think ofit, Uncle Wesley? How will I ever thank you? No one will have a finer lunch boxthan I. Oh I do thank you! That’s the nicest gift I ever had. How I loveChristmas in September!”

“It’s a mighty handy thing,” assented Mrs. Comstock, taking in every detailwith sharp eyes. “I guess you are glad now you went and helped Mag and Wesleywhen you could, Elnora?”

“Deedy, yes,” laughed Elnora, “and I’m going again first time they have a bigday if I stay from school to do it.”

“You’ll do no such thing!” said the delighted Sinton. “Come now, if you’regoing!”

“If I ride, can you spare me time to run into the swamp to my box a minute?”asked Elnora.

The light she had seen the previous night troubled her.

“Sure,” said Wesley largely. So they drove away and left a white-faced womanwatching them from the door, her heart a little sorer than usual.

“I’d give a pretty to hear what he’ll say to her!” she commented bitterly.“Always sticking in, always doing things I can’t ever afford. Where on earthdid he get that thing and what did it cost?”

Then she entered the cabin and began the day’s work, but mingled with thebrooding bitterness of her soul was the vision of a sweet young face, glad witha gladness never before seen on it, and over and over she repeated: “I wonderwhat he’ll say to her!”

What he said was that she looked as fresh and sweet as a posy, and to becareful not to step in the mud or scratch her shoes when she went to the case.

Elnora found her key and opened the door. Not where she had placed it, butconspicuously in front lay her little heap of bills, and a crude scrawl ofwriting beside it. Elnora picked up the note in astonishment.

DERE ELNORY,

the lord amighty is hiding you all right done you ever dout it this money ofyourn was took for some time las nite but it is returned with intres for godsake done ever come to the swamp at nite or late evnin or mornin or far in anytime sompin worse an you know could git you

A FREND.

Elnora began to tremble. She hastily glanced around. The damp earth before thecase had been trodden by large, roughly shod feet. She caught up the money andthe note, thrust them into her guimpe, locked the case, and ran to the road.

She was so breathless and her face so white Sinton noticed it.

“What in the world’s the matter, Elnora?” he asked.

“I am half afraid!” she panted.

“Tut, tut, child!” said Wesley Sinton. “Nothing in the world to be afraid of.What happened?”

“Uncle Wesley,” said Elnora, “I had more money than I brought home last night,and I put it in my case. Some one has been there. The ground is all trampled,and they left this note.”

“And took your money, I’ll wager,” said Sinton angrily.

“No,” answered Elnora. “Read the note, and oh Uncle Wesley, tell me what itmeans!”

Sinton’s face was a study. “I don’t know what it means,” he said. “Only onething is clear. It means some beast who doesn’t really want to harm you has gothis eye on you, and he is telling you plain as he can, not to give him achance. You got to keep along the roads, in the open, and not let the biggestmoth that ever flew toll you out of hearing of us, or your mother. It meansthat, plain and distinct.”

“Just when I can sell them! Just when everything is so lovely on account ofthem! I can’t! I can’t stay away from the swamp. The Limberlost is going to buythe books, the clothes, pay the tuition, and even start a college fund. I justcan’t!”

“You’ve got to,” said Sinton. “This is plain enough. You go far in the swamp atyour own risk, even in daytime.”

“Uncle Wesley,” said the girl, “last night before I went to bed, I was so happyI tried to pray, and I thanked God for hiding me ‘under the shadow of Hiswing.’ But how in the world could any one know it?”

Wesley Sinton’s heart leaped in his breast. His face was whiter than the girl’snow.

“Were you praying out loud, honey?” he almost whispered.

“I might have said words,” answered Elnora. “I know I do sometimes. I’ve neverhad any one to talk with, and I’ve played with and talked to myself all mylife. You’ve caught me at it often, but it always makes mother angry when shedoes. She says it’s silly. I forget and do it, when I’m alone. But UncleWesley, if I said anything last night, you know it was the merest whisper,because I’d have been so afraid of waking mother. Don’t you see? I sat up late,and studied two lessons.”

Sinton was steadying himself “I’ll stop and examine the case as I come back,”he said. “Maybe I can find some clue. That other—that was justaccidental. It’s a common expression. All the preachers use it. If I tried topray, that would be the very first thing I’d say.”

The colour returned to Elnora’s face.

“Did you tell your mother about this money, Elnora?” he asked.

“No, I didn’t,” said Elnora. “It’s dreadful not to, but I was afraid. You seethey are clearing the swamp so fast. Every year it grows more difficult to findthings, and Indian stuff becomes scarcer. I want to graduate, and that’s fouryears unless I can double on the course. That means twenty dollars tuition eachyear, and new books, and clothes. There won’t ever be so much at one timeagain, that I know. I just got to hang to my money. I was afraid to tell her,for fear she would want it for taxes, and she really must sell a tree or somecattle for that, mustn’t she, Uncle Wesley?”

“On your life, she must!” said Wesley. “You put your little wad in the bank allsafe, and never mention it to a living soul. It doesn’t seem right, but yourcase is peculiar. Every word you say is a true word. Each year you will findless in the swamp, and things everywhere will be scarcer. If you ever get a fewdollars ahead, that can start your college fund. You know you are going tocollege, Elnora!”

“Of course I am,” said Elnora. “I settled that as soon as I knew what a collegewas. I will put all my money in the bank, except what I owe you. I’ll pay thatnow.”

“If your arrows are heavy,” said Wesley, “I’ll drive on to Onabasha with you.”

“But they are not. Half of them were nicked, and this little box held all thegood ones. It’s so surprising how many are spoiled when you wash them.”

“What does he pay?”

“Ten cents for any common perfect one, fifty for revolvers, a dollar forobsidian, and whatever is right for enormous big ones.”

“Well, that sounds fair,” said Sinton. “You can come down Saturday and wash thestuff at our house, and I’ll take it in when we go marketing in the afternoon.”

Elnora jumped from the carriage. She soon found that with her books, her lunchbox, and the points she had a heavy load. She had almost reached the bridgecrossing the culvert when she heard distressed screams of a child. Across anorchard of the suburbs came a small boy, after him a big dog, urged by a man inthe background. Elnora’s heart was with the small fleeing figure in any eventwhatever. She dropped her load on the bridge, and with practised hand flung astone at the dog. The beast curled double with a howl. The boy reached thefence, and Elnora was there to help him over. As he touched the top she swunghim to the ground, but he clung to her, clasping her tightly, sobbing withfear. Elnora helped him to the bridge, and sat with him in her arms. For a timehis replies to her questions were indistinct, but at last he became quieter andshe could understand.

He was a mite of a boy, nothing but skin-covered bones, his burned, freckledface in a mortar of tears and dust, his clothing unspeakably dirty, one greattoe in a festering mass from a broken nail, and sores all over the visibleportions of the small body.

“You won’t let the mean old thing make his dog get me!” he wailed.

“Indeed no,” said Elnora, holding him closely.

“You wouldn’t set a dog on a boy for just taking a few old apples when you fed’em to pigs with a shovel every day, would you?”

“No, I would not,” said Elnora hotly.

“You’d give a boy all the apples he wanted, if he hadn’t any breakfast, and wasso hungry he was all twisty inside, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, I would,” said Elnora.

“If you had anything to eat you would give me something right now, wouldn’tyou?”

“Yes,” said Elnora. “There’s nothing but just stones in the package. But mydinner is in that case. I’ll gladly divide.”

She opened the box. The famished child gave a little cry and reached bothhands. Elnora caught them back.

“Did you have any supper?”

“No.”

“Any dinner yesterday?”

“An apple and some grapes I stole.”

“Whose boy are you?”

“Old Tom Billings’s.”

“Why doesn’t your father get you something to eat?”

“He does most days, but he’s drunk now.”

“Hush, you must not!” said Elnora. “He’s your father!”

“He’s spent all the money to get drunk, too,” said the boy, “and Jimmy andBelle are both crying for breakfast. I’d a got out all right with an apple formyself, but I tried to get some for them and the dog got too close. Say, youcan throw, can’t you?”

“Yes,” admitted Elnora. She poured half the milk into the cup. “Drink this,”she said, holding it to him.

The boy gulped the milk and swore joyously, gripping the cup with shakingfingers.

“Hush!” cried Elnora. “That’s dreadful!”

“What’s dreadful?”

“To say such awful words.”

“Huh! pa says worser ’an that every breath he draws.”

Elnora saw that the child was older than she had thought. He might have beenforty judging by his hard, unchildish expression.

“Do you want to be like your father?”

“No, I want to be like you. Couldn’t a angel be prettier ’an you. Can I havemore milk?”

Elnora emptied the flask. The boy drained the cup. He drew a breath ofsatisfaction as he gazed into her face.

“You wouldn’t go off and leave your little boy, would you?” he asked.

“Did some one go away and leave you?”

“Yes, my mother went off and left me, and left Jimmy and Belle, too,” said theboy. “You wouldn’t leave your little boy, would you?”

“No.”

The boy looked eagerly at the box. Elnora lifted a sandwich and uncovered thefried chicken. The boy gasped with delight.

“Say, I could eat the stuff in the glass and the other box and carry the breadand the chicken to Jimmy and Belle,” he offered.

Elnora silently uncovered the custard with preserved cherries on top and handedit and the spoon to the child. Never did food disappear faster. The salad wentnext, and a sandwich and half a chicken breast followed.

“I better leave the rest for Jimmy and Belle,” he said, “they’re ’ist fightin’hungry.”

Elnora gave him the remainder of the carefully prepared lunch. The boy clutchedit and ran with a sidewise hop like a wild thing. She covered the dishes andcup, polished the spoon, replaced it, and closed the case. She caught herbreath in a tremulous laugh.

“If Aunt Margaret knew that, she’d never forgive me,” she said. “It seems as ifsecrecy is literally forced upon me, and I hate it. What shall I do for lunch?I’ll have to sell my arrows and keep enough money for a restaurant sandwich.”

So she walked hurriedly into town, sold her points at a good price, depositedher funds, and went away with a neat little bank book and the note from theLimberlost carefully folded inside. Elnora passed down the hall that morning,and no one paid the slightest attention to her. The truth was she looked solike every one else that she was perfectly inconspicuous. But in the coat roomthere were members of her class. Surely no one intended it, but the whisper wastoo loud.

“Look at the girl from the Limberlost in the clothes that woman gave her!”

Elnora turned on them. “I beg your pardon,” she said unsteadily, “I couldn’thelp hearing that! No one gave me these clothes. I paid for them myself.”

Some one muttered, “Pardon me,” but incredulous faces greeted her.

Elnora felt driven. “Aunt Margaret selected them, and she meant to give them tome,” she explained, “but I wouldn’t take them. I paid for them myself.” Therewas silence.

“Don’t you believe me?” panted Elnora.

“Really, it is none of our affair,” said another girl. “Come on, let’s go.”

Elnora stepped before the girl who had spoken. “You have made this youraffair,” she said, “because you told a thing which was not true. No one gave mewhat I am wearing. I paid for my clothes myself with money I earned sellingmoths to the Bird Woman. I just came from the bank where I deposited what I didnot use. Here is my credit.” Elnora drew out and offered the little red book.“Surely you will believe that,” she said.

“Why of course,” said the girl who first had spoken. “We met such a lovelywoman in Brownlee’s store, and she said she wanted our help to buy some thingsfor a girl, and that’s how we came to know.”

“Dear Aunt Margaret,” said Elnora, “it was like her to ask you. Isn’t shesplendid?”

“She is indeed,” chorused the girls. Elnora set down her lunch box and books,unpinned her hat, hanging it beside the others, and taking up the books shereached to set the box in its place and dropped it. With a little cry shesnatched at it and caught the strap on top. That pulled from the fastening, thecover unrolled, the box fell away as far as it could, two porcelain lidsrattled on the floor, and the one sandwich rolled like a cartwheel across theroom. Elnora lifted a ghastly face. For once no one laughed. She stood aninstant staring.

“It seems to be my luck to be crucified at every point of the compass,” shesaid at last. “First two days you thought I was a pauper, now you will thinkI’m a fraud. All of you will believe I bought an expensive box, and then wastoo poor to put anything but a restaurant sandwich in it. You must stop till Iprove to you that I’m not.”

Elnora gathered up the lids, and kicked the sandwich into a corner.

“I had milk in that bottle, see! And custard in the cup. There was salad in thelittle box, fried chicken in the large one, and nut sandwiches in the tray. Youcan see the crumbs of all of them. A man set a dog on a child who was sostarved he was stealing apples. I talked with him, and I thought I could bearhunger better, he was such a little boy, so I gave him my lunch, and got thesandwich at the restaurant.”

Elnora held out the box. The girls were laughing by that time. “You goose,”said one, “why didn’t you give him the money, and save your lunch?”

“He was such a little fellow, and he really was hungry,” said Elnora. “I oftengo without anything to eat at noon in the fields and woods, and never think ofit.”

She closed the box and set it beside the lunches of other country pupils. Whileher back was turned, into the room came the girl of her encounter on the firstday, walked to the rack, and with an exclamation of approval took down Elnora’shat.

“Just the thing I have been wanting!” she said. “I never saw such beautifulquills in all my life. They match my new broadcloth to perfection. I’ve got tohave that kind of quills for my hat. I never saw the like! Whose is it, andwhere did it come from?”

No one said a word, for Elnora’s question, the reply, and her answer, had beenrepeated. Every one knew that the Limberlost girl had come out ahead and SadieReed had not been amiable, when the little flourish had been added to Elnora’sname in the algebra class. Elnora’s swift glance was pathetic, but no onehelped her. Sadie Reed glanced from the hat to the faces around her andwondered.

“Why, this is the Freshman section, whose hat is it?” she asked again, thistime impatiently.

“That’s the tassel of the cornstock,” said Elnora with a forced laugh.

The response was genuine. Every one shouted. Sadie Reed blushed, but shelaughed also.

“Well, it’s beautiful,” she said, “especially the quills. They are exactly whatI want. I know I don’t deserve any kindness from you, but I do wish you wouldtell me at whose store you found those quills.”

“Gladly!” said Elnora. “You can’t buy quills like those at a store. They arefrom a living bird. Phoebe Simms gathers them in her orchard as her peacocksshed them. They are wing quills from the males.”

Then there was perfect silence. How was Elnora to know that not a girl therewould have told that?

“I haven’t a doubt but I can get you some,” she offered. “She gave AuntMargaret a large bunch, and those are part of them. I am quite sure she hasmore, and would spare some.”

Sadie Reed laughed shortly. “You needn’t trouble,” she said, “I was fooled. Ithought they were expensive quills. I wanted them for a twenty-dollar velvettoque to match my new suit. If they are gathered from the ground, really, Icouldn’t use them.”

“Only in spots!” said Elnora. “They don’t just cover the earth. Phoebe Simms’speacocks are the only ones within miles of Onabasha, and they moult but once ayear. If your hat cost only twenty dollars, it’s scarcely good enough for thosequills. You see, the Almighty made and coloured those Himself; and He puts thesame kind on Phoebe Simms’s peacocks that He put on the head of the family inthe forests of Ceylon, away back in the beginning. Any old manufactured quillfrom New York or Chicago will do for your little twenty-dollar hat. You shouldhave something infinitely better than that to be worthy of quills that are madeby the Creator.”

How those girls did laugh! One of them walked with Elnora to the auditorium,sat beside her during exercises, and tried to talk whenever she dared, to keepElnora from seeing the curious and admiring looks bent upon her.

For the brown-eyed boy whistled, and there was pantomime of all sorts going onbehind Elnora’s back that day. Happy with her books, no one knew how much shesaw, and from her absorption in her studies it was evident she cared too littleto notice.

After school she went again to the home of the Bird Woman, and together theyvisited the swamp and carried away more specimens. This time Elnora asked theBird Woman to keep the money until noon of the next day, when she would callfor it and have it added to her bank account. She slowly walked home, for thevisit to the swamp had brought back full force the experience of the morning.Again and again she examined the crude little note, for she did not know whatit meant, yet it bred vague fear. The only thing of which Elnora knew herselfafraid was her mother; when with wild eyes and ears deaf to childish pleading,she sometimes lost control of herself in the night and visited the pool whereher husband had sunk before her, calling his name in unearthly tones andbegging of the swamp to give back its dead.

CHAPTER VI

WHEREIN MRS. COMSTOCK INDULGES IN “FRILLS,” AND BILLY REAPPEARS

It was Wesley Sinton who really wrestled with Elnora’s problem while he droveabout his business. He was not forced to ask himself what it meant; he knew.The old Corson gang was still holding together. Elder members who had escapedthe law had been joined by a younger brother of Jack’s, and they met in thethickest of the few remaining fast places of the swamp to drink, gamble, andloaf. Then suddenly, there would be a robbery in some country house where afarmer that day had sold his wheat or corn and not paid a visit to the bank; orin some neighbouring village.

The home of Mrs. Comstock and Elnora adjoined the swamp. Sinton’s land laynext, and not another residence or man easy to reach in case of trouble.Whoever wrote that note had some human kindness in his breast, but the factstood revealed that he feared his strength if Elnora were delivered into hishands. Where had he been the previous night when he heard that prayer? Was thatthe first time he had been in such proximity? Sinton drove fast, for he wishedto reach the swamp before Elnora and the Bird Woman would go there.

At almost four he came to the case, and dropping on his knees studied theground, every sense alert. He found two or three little heel prints. Those weremade by Elnora or the Bird Woman. What Sinton wanted to learn was whether allthe remainder were the footprints of one man. It was easily seen, they werenot. There were deep, even tracks made by fairly new shoes, and others where awell-worn heel cut deeper on the inside of the print than at the outer edge.Undoubtedly some of Corson’s old gang were watching the case, and the visits ofthe women to it. There was no danger that any one would attack the Bird Woman.She never went to the swamp at night, and on her trips in the daytime, everyone knew that she carried a revolver, understood how to use it, and pursued herwork in a fearless manner.

Elnora, prowling around the swamp and lured into the interior by the flight ofmoths and butterflies; Elnora, without father, money, or friends save himself,to defend her—Elnora was a different proposition. For this to happen justwhen the Limberlost was bringing the very desire of her heart to the girl, itwas too bad.

Sinton was afraid for her, yet he did not want to add the burden of fear toKatharine Comstock’s trouble, or to disturb the joy of Elnora in her work. Hestopped at the cabin and slowly went up the walk. Mrs. Comstock was sitting onthe front steps with some sewing. The work seemed to Sinton as if she might beengaged in putting a tuck in a petticoat. He thought of how Margaret hadshortened Elnora’s dress to the accepted length for girls of her age, and madea mental note of Mrs. Comstock’s occupation.

She dropped her work on her lap, laid her hands on it and looked into his facewith a sneer.

“You didn’t let any grass grow under your feet,” she said.

Sinton saw her white, drawn face and comprehended.

“I went to pay a debt and see about this opening of the ditch, Kate.”

“You said you were going to prosecute me.”

“Good gracious, Kate!” cried Sinton. “Is that what you have been thinking allday? I told you before I left yesterday that I would not need do that. And Iwon’t! We can’t afford to quarrel over Elnora. She’s all we’ve got. Now thatshe has proved that if you don’t do just what I think you ought by way ofclothes and schooling, she can take care of herself, I put that out of my head.What I came to see you about is a kind of scare I’ve had to-day. I want to askyou if you ever see anything about the swamp that makes you think the oldCorson gang is still at work?”

“Can’t say that I do,” said Mrs. Comstock. “There’s kind of dancing lightsthere sometimes, but I supposed it was just people passing along the road withlanterns. Folks hereabout are none too fond of the swamp. I hate it like death.I’ve never stayed here a night in my life without Robert’s revolver, clean andloaded, under my pillow, and the shotgun, same condition, by the bed. I can’tsay that I’m afraid here at home. I’m not. I can take care of myself. But noneof the swamp for me!”

“Well, I’m glad you are not afraid, Kate, because I must tell you something.Elnora stopped at the case this morning, and somebody had been into it in thenight.”

“Broke the lock?”

“No. Used a duplicate key. To-day I heard there was a man here last night. Iwant to nose around a little.”

Sinton went to the east end of the cabin and looked up at the window. There wasno way any one could have reached it without a ladder, for the logs were hewedand mortar filled the cracks even. Then he went to the west end, the willowfaced him as he turned the corner. He examined the trunk carefully. There wasno mistake about small particles of black swamp muck adhering to the sides ofthe tree. He reached the low branches and climbed the willow. There was earthon the large limb crossing Elnora’s window. He stood on it, holding the branchas had been done the night before, and looked into the room. He could see verylittle, but he knew that if it had been dark outside and sufficiently light forElnora to study inside he could have seen vividly. He brought his face close tothe netting, and he could see the bed with its head to the east, at its footthe table with the candles and the chair before it, and then he knew where theman had been who had heard Elnora’s prayer.

Mrs. Comstock had followed around the corner and stood watching him. “Do youthink some slinking hulk was up there peekin’ in at Elnora?” she demandedindignantly.

“There is muck on the trunk, and plenty on the limb,” said Sinton. “Hadn’t youbetter get a saw and let me take this branch off?”

“No, I hadn’t,” said Mrs. Comstock. “First place, Elnora’s climbed from thatwindow on that limb all her life, and it’s hers. Second place, no one getsahead of me after I’ve had warning. Any crow that perches on that roost againwill get its feathers somewhat scattered. Look along the fence, there, and seeif you can find where he came in.”

The place was easy to find as was a trail leading for some distance west of thecabin.

“You just go home, and don’t fret yourself,” said Mrs. Comstock. “I’ll takecare of this. If you should hear the dinner bell at any time in the night youcome down. But I wouldn’t say anything to Elnora. She better keep her mind onher studies, if she’s going to school.”

When the work was finished that night Elnora took her books and went to herroom to prepare some lessons, but every few minutes she looked toward the swampto see if there were lights near the case. Mrs. Comstock raked together thecoals in the cooking stove, got out the lunch box, and sitting down she studiedit grimly. At last she arose.

“Wonder how it would do to show Mag Sinton a frill or two,” she murmured.

She went to her room, knelt before a big black-walnut chest and hunted throughits contents until she found an old-fashioned cook book. She tended the fire asshe read and presently was in action. She first sawed an end from a fragrant,juicy, sugar-cured ham and put it to cook. Then she set a couple of eggsboiling, and after long hesitation began creaming butter and sugar in a crock.An hour later the odour of the ham, mingled with some of the richest spices of“happy Araby,” in a combination that could mean nothing save spice cake, creptup to Elnora so strongly that she lifted her head and sniffed amazedly. Shewould have given all her precious money to have gone down and thrown her armsaround her mother’s neck, but she did not dare move.

Mrs. Comstock was up early, and without a word handed Elnora the case as sheleft the next morning.

“Thank you, mother,” said Elnora, and went on her way.

She walked down the road looking straight ahead until she came to the corner,where she usually entered the swamp. She paused, glanced that way and smiled.Then she turned and looked back. There was no one coming in any direction. Shefollowed the road until well around the corner, then she stopped and sat on agrassy spot, laid her books beside her and opened the lunch box. Last night’sodours had in a measure prepared her for what she would see, but not quite. Shescarcely could believe her senses. Half the bread compartment was filled withdainty sandwiches of bread and butter sprinkled with the yolk of egg and theremainder with three large slices of the most fragrant spice cake imaginable.The meat dish contained shaved cold ham, of which she knew the quality, thesalad was tomatoes and celery, and the cup held preserved pear, clear as amber.There was milk in the bottle, two tissue-wrapped cucumber pickles in thefolding drinking-cup, and a fresh napkin in the ring. No lunch was everdaintier or more palatable; of that Elnora was perfectly sure. And her motherhad prepared it for her! “She does love me!” cried the happy girl. “Sure asyou’re born she loves me; only she hasn’t found it out yet!”

She touched the papers daintily, and smiled at the box as if it were a livingthing. As she began closing it a breath of air swept by, lifting the coveringof the cake. It was like an invitation, and breakfast was several hours away.Elnora picked up a piece and ate it. That cake tasted even better than itlooked. Then she tried a sandwich. How did her mother come to think of makingthem that way. They never had any at home. She slipped out the fork, sampledthe salad, and one-quarter of pear. Then she closed the box and started downthe road nibbling one of the pickles and trying to decide exactly how happy shewas, but she could find no standard high enough for a measure.

She was to go to the Bird Woman’s after school for the last load from the case.Saturday she would take the arrow points and specimens to the bank. That wouldexhaust her present supplies and give her enough money ahead to pay for books,tuition, and clothes for at least two years. She would work early and lategathering nuts. In October she would sell all the ferns she could find. Shemust collect specimens of all tree leaves before they fell, gather nests andcocoons later, and keep her eyes wide open for anything the grades could use.She would see the superintendent that night about selling specimens to the wardbuildings. She must be ahead of any one else if she wanted to furnish thesethings. So she approached the bridge.

That it was occupied could be seen from a distance. As she came up she foundthe small boy of yesterday awaiting her with a confident smile.

“We brought you something!” he announced without greeting. “This is Jimmy andBelle—and we brought you a present.”

He offered a parcel wrapped in brown paper.

“Why, how lovely of you!” said Elnora. “I supposed you had forgotten me whenyou ran away so fast yesterday.”

“Naw, I didn’t forget you,” said the boy. “I wouldn’t forget you, not ever!Why, I was ist a-hurrying to take them things to Jimmy and Belle. My they wasglad!”

Elnora glanced at the children. They sat on the edge of the bridge, obviouslyclad in a garment each, very dirty and unkept, a little boy and a girl of aboutseven and nine. Elnora’s heart began to ache.

“Say,” said the boy. “Ain’t you going to look what we have gave you?”

“I thought it wasn’t polite to look before people,” answered Elnora. “Ofcourse, I will, if you would like to have me.”

Elnora opened the package. She had been presented with a quarter of a staleloaf of baker’s bread, and a big piece of ancient bologna.

“But don’t you want this yourselves?” she asked in surprise.

“Gosh, no! I mean ist no,” said the boy. “We always have it. We got stacks thismorning. Pa’s come out of it now, and he’s so sorry he got more ’an ever we caneat. Have you had any before?”

“No,” said Elnora, “I never did!”

The boy’s eyes brightened and the girl moved restlessly.

“We thought maybe you hadn’t,” said the boy. “First you ever have, you like itreal well; but when you don’t have anything else for a long time, years an’years, you git so tired.” He hitched at the string which held his trousers andwatched Elnora speculatively.

“I don’t s’pose you’d trade what you got in that box for ist old bread andbologna now, would you? Mebby you’d like it! And I know, I ist know, what yougot would taste like heaven to Jimmy and Belle. They never had nothing likethat! Not even Belle, and she’s most ten! No, sir-ee, they never tasted thingslike you got!”

It was in Elnora’s heart to be thankful for even a taste in time, as she knelton the bridge, opened the box and divided her lunch into three equal parts, thesmaller boy getting most of the milk. Then she told them it was school time andshe must go.

“Why don’t you put your bread and bologna in the nice box?” asked the boy.

“Of course,” said Elnora. “I didn’t think.”

When the box was arranged to the children’s satisfaction all of themaccompanied Elnora to the corner where she turned toward the high school.

“Billy,” said Elnora, “I would like you much better if you were cleaner.Surely, you have water! Can’t you children get some soap and wash yourselves?Gentlemen are never dirty. You want to be a gentleman, don’t you?”

“Is being clean all you have to do to be a gentleman?”

“No,” said Elnora. “You must not say bad words, and you must be kind and politeto your sister.”

“Must Belle be kind and polite to me, else she ain’t a lady?”

“Yes.”

“Then Belle’s no lady!” said Billy succinctly.

Elnora could say nothing more just then, and she bade them good-bye and startedthem home.

“The poor little souls!” she mused. “I think the Almighty put them in my way toshow me real trouble. I won’t be likely to spend much time pitying myself whileI can see them.” She glanced at the lunchbox. “What on earth do I carry thisfor? I never had anything that was so strictly ornamental! One sure thing! Ican’t take this stuff to the high school. You never seem to know exactly whatis going to happen to you while you are there.”

As if to provide a way out of her difficulty a big dog arose from a lawn, andcame toward the gate wagging his tail. “If those children ate the stuff, itcan’t possibly kill him!” thought Elnora, so she offered the bologna. The dogaccepted it graciously, and being a beast of pedigree he trotted around to aside porch and laid the bologna before his mistress. The woman snatched it,screaming: “Come, quick! Some one is trying to poison Pedro!” Her daughter camerunning from the house. “Go see who is on the street. Hurry!” cried the excitedmother.

Ellen Brownlee ran and looked. Elnora was half a block away, and no one nearer.Ellen called loudly, and Elnora stopped. Ellen came running toward her.

“Did you see any one give our dog something?” she cried as she approached.

Elnora saw no escape.

“I gave it a piece of bologna myself,” she said. “It was fit to eat. Itwouldn’t hurt the dog.”

Ellen stood and looked at her. “Of course, I didn’t know it was your dog,”explained Elnora. “I had something I wanted to throw to some dog, and that onelooked big enough to manage it.”

Ellen had arrived at her conclusions. “Pass over that lunch box,” she demanded.

“I will not!” said Elnora.

“Then I will have you arrested for trying to poison our dog,” laughed the girlas she took the box.

“One chunk of stale bread, one half mile of antique bologna contributed for dogfeed; the remains of cake, salad and preserves in an otherwise empty lunch box.One ham sandwich yesterday. I think it’s lovely you have the box. Who ate yourlunch to-day?”

“Same,” confessed Elnora, “but there were three of them this time.”

“Wait, until I run back and tell mother about the dog, and get my books.”

Elnora waited. That morning she walked down the hall and into the auditoriumbeside one of the very nicest girls in Onabasha, and it was the fourth day. Butthe surprise came at noon when Ellen insisted upon Elnora lunching at theBrownlee home, and convulsed her parents and family, and overwhelmed Elnorawith a greatly magnified, but moderately accurate history of her lunch box.

“Gee! but it’s a box, daddy!” cried the laughing girl. “It’s carved leather andfastens with a strap that has her name on it. Inside are trays for things allcomplete, and it bears evidence of having enclosed delicious food, but Elnoranever gets any. She’s carried it two days now, and both times it has been emptybefore she reached school. Isn’t that killing?”

“It is, Ellen, in more ways than one. No girl is going to eat breakfast at sixo’clock, walk three miles, and do good work without her lunch. You can’t tellme anything about that box. I sold it last Monday night to Wesley Sinton, oneof my good country customers. He told me it was a present for a girl who wasworthy of it, and I see he was right.”

“He’s so good to me,” said Elnora. “Sometimes I look at him and wonder if aneighbour can be so kind to one, what a real father would be like. I envy agirl with a father unspeakably.”

“You have cause,” said Ellen Brownlee. “A father is the very dearest person inthe whole round world, except a mother, who is just a dear.” The girl, startingto pay tribute to her father, saw that she must include her mother, and saidthe thing before she remembered what Mrs. Sinton had told the girls in thestore. She stopped in dismay. Elnora’s face paled a trifle, but she smiledbravely.

“Then I’m fortunate in having a mother,” she said.

Mr. Brownlee lingered at the table after the girls had excused themselves andreturned to school.

“There’s a girl Ellen can’t see too much of, in my opinion,” he said. “She isevery inch a lady, and not a foolish notion or action about her. I can’tunderstand just what combination of circumstances produced her in this day.”

“It has been an unusual case of repression, for one thing. She waits on herelders and thinks before she speaks,” said Mrs. Brownlee.

“She’s mighty pretty. She looks so sound and wholesome, and she’s neatlydressed.”

“Ellen says she was a fright the first two days. Long brown calico dress almosttouching the floor, and big, lumbering shoes. Those Sinton people bought herclothes. Ellen was in the store, and the woman stopped her crowd and asked themabout their dresses. She said the girl was not poor, but her mother was selfishand didn’t care for her. But Elnora showed a bank book the next day, anddeclared that she paid for the things herself, so the Sinton people must justhave selected them. There’s something peculiar about it, but nothing wrong I amsure. I’ll encourage Ellen to ask her again.”

“I should say so, especially if she is going to keep on giving away her lunch.”

“She lunched with the Bird Woman one day this week.”

“She did!”

“Yes, she lives out by the Limberlost. You know the Bird Woman works there agreat deal, and probably knows her that way. I think the girl gathers specimensfor her. Ellen says she knows more than the teachers about any nature questionthat comes up, and she is going to lead all of them in mathematics, and makethem work in any branch.”

When Elnora entered the coat room after having had luncheon with Ellen Brownleethere was such a difference in the atmosphere that she could feel it.

“I am almost sorry I have these clothes,” she said to Ellen.

“In the name of sense, why?” cried the astonished girl.

“Every one is so nice to me in them, it sets me to wondering if in time I couldhave made them be equally friendly in the others.”

Ellen looked at her introspectively. “I believe you could,” she announced atlast. “But it would have taken time and heartache, and your mind would havebeen less free to work on your studies. No one is happy without friends, and Ijust simply can’t study when I am unhappy.”

That night the Bird Woman made the last trip to the swamp. Every specimen shepossibly could use had been purchased at a fair price, and three additions hadbeen made to the bank book, carrying the total a little past two hundreddollars. There remained the Indian relics to sell on Saturday, and Elnora hadsecured the order to furnish material for nature work for the grades. Lifesuddenly grew very full. There was the most excitingly interesting work forevery hour, and that work was to pay high school expenses and start the collegefund. There was one little rift in her joy. All of it would have been so muchbetter if she could have told her mother, and given the money into her keeping;but the struggle to get a start had been so terrible, Elnora was afraid to takethe risk. When she reached home, she only told her mother that the last of thethings had been sold that evening.

“I think,” said Mrs. Comstock, “that we will ask Wesley to move that box overhere back of the garden for you. There you are apt to get tolled farther intothe swamp than you intend to go, and you might mire or something. There oughtto be just the same things in our woods, and along our swampy places, as thereare in the Limberlost. Can’t you hunt your stuff here?”

“I can try,” said Elnora. “I don’t know what I can find until I do. Our woodsare undisturbed, and there is a possibility they might be even better huntingthan the swamp. But I wouldn’t have Freckles’s case moved for the world. Hemight come back some day, and not like it. I’ve tried to keep his room the bestI could, and taking out the box would make a big hole in one side of it. Storeboxes don’t cost much. I will have Uncle Wesley buy me one, and set it upwherever hunting looks the best, early in the spring. I would feel safer athome.”

“Shall we do the work or have supper first?”

“Let’s do the work,” said Elnora. “I can’t say that I’m hungry now. Doesn’tseem as if I ever could be hungry again with such a lunch. I am quite sure noone carried more delicious things to eat than I.”

Mrs. Comstock was pleased. “I put in a pretty good hunk of cake. Did you divideit with any one?”

“Why, yes, I did,” admitted Elnora.

“Who?”

This was becoming uncomfortable. “I ate the biggest piece myself,” said Elnora,“and gave the rest to a couple of boys named Jimmy and Billy and a girl namedBelle. They said it was the very best cake they ever tasted in all theirlives.”

Mrs. Comstock sat straight. “I used to be a master hand at spice cake,” sheboasted. “But I’m a little out of practice. I must get to work again. With thevery weeds growing higher than our heads, we should raise plenty of good stuffto eat on this land, if we can’t afford anything else but taxes.”

Elnora laughed and hurried up stairs to change her dress. Margaret Sinton camethat night bringing a beautiful blue one in its place, and carried away theother to launder.

“Do you mean to say those dresses are to be washed every two days?” questionedMrs. Comstock.

“They have to be, to look fresh,” replied Margaret. “We want our girl sweet asa rose.”

“Well, of all things!” cried Mrs. Comstock. “Every two days! Any girl who can’tkeep a dress clean longer than that is a dirty girl. You’ll wear the goods outand fade the colours with so much washing.”

“We’ll have a clean girl, anyway.”

“Well, if you like the job you can have it,” said Mrs. Comstock. “I don’t mindthe washing, but I’m so inconvenient with an iron.”

Elnora sat late that night working over her lessons. The next morning she puton her blue dress and ribbon and in those she was a picture. Mrs. Comstockcaught her breath with a queer stirring around her heart, and looked twice tobe sure of what she saw. As Elnora gathered her books her mother silently gaveher the lunch box.

“Feels heavy,” said Elnora gaily. “And smelly! Like as not I’ll be called uponto divide again.”

“Then you divide!” said Mrs. Comstock. “Eating is the one thing we don’t haveto economize on, Elnora. Spite of all I can do food goes to waste in this soilevery day. If you can give some of those city children a taste of the realthing, why, don’t be selfish.”

Elnora went down the road thinking of the city children with whom she probablywould divide. Of course, the bridge would be occupied again. So she stopped andopened the box.

“I don’t want to be selfish,” murmured Elnora, “but it really seems as if Ican’t give away this lunch. If mother did not put love into it, she’ssubstituted something that’s likely to fool me.”

She almost felt her steps lagging as she approached the bridge. A very hungrydog had been added to the trio of children. Elnora loved all dogs, and asusual, this one came to her in friendliness. The children said “Good morning!”with alacrity, and another paper parcel lay conspicuous.

“How are you this morning?” inquired Elnora.

“All right!” cried the three, while the dog sniffed ravenously at the lunchbox, and beat a perfect tattoo with his tail.

“How did you like the bologna?” questioned Billy eagerly.

“One of the girls took me to lunch at her home yesterday,” answered Elnora.

Dawn broke beautifully over Billy’s streaked face. He caught the package andthrust it toward Elnora.

“Then maybe you’d like to try the bologna to-day!”

The dog leaped in glad apprehension of something, and Belle scrambled to herfeet and took a step forward. The look of famished greed in her eyes was morethan Elnora could endure. It was not that she cared for the food so much. Goodthings to eat had been in abundance all her life. She wanted with this lunch totry to absorb what she felt must be an expression of some sort from her mother,and if it were not a manifestation of love, she did not know what to think it.But it was her mother who had said “be generous.” She knelt on the bridge.“Keep back the dog!” she warned the elder boy.

She opened the box and divided the milk between Billy and the girl. She gaveeach a piece of cake leaving one and a sandwich. Billy pressed forward eagerly,bitter disappointment on his face, and the elder boy forgot his charge.

“Aw, I thought they’d be meat!” lamented Billy.

Elnora could not endure that.

“There is!” she said gladly. “There is a little pigeon bird. I want a teenypiece of the breast, for a sort of keepsake, just one bite, and you can havethe rest among you.”

Elnora drew the knife from its holder and cut off the wishbone. Then she heldthe bird toward the girl.

“You can divide it,” she said. The dog made a bound and seizing the squabsprang from the bridge and ran for life. The girl and boy hurried after him.With awful eyes Billy stared and swore tempestuously. Elnora caught him andclapped her hand over the little mouth. A delivery wagon came tearing down thestreet, the horse running full speed, passed the fleeing dog with the girl andboy in pursuit, and stopped at the bridge. High school girls began to roll fromall sides of it.

“A rescue! A rescue!” they shouted.

It was Ellen Brownlee and her crowd, and every girl of them carried a bigparcel. They took in the scene as they approached. The fleeing dog withsomething in its mouth, the half-naked girl and boy chasing it told the story.Those girls screamed with laughter as they watched the pursuit.

“Thank goodness, I saved the wishbone!” said Elnora. “As usual, I can provethat there was a bird.” She turned toward the box. Billy had improved the time.He had the last piece of cake in one hand, and the last bite of saladdisappeared in one great gulp. Then the girls shouted again.

“Let’s have a sample ourselves,” suggested one. She caught up the box andhanded out the remaining sandwich. Another girl divided it into bites eachlittle over an inch square, and then she lifted the cup lid and deposited apreserved strawberry on each bite. “One, two, three, altogether now!” shecried.

“You old mean things!” screamed Billy.

In an instant he was down in the road and handfuls of dust began to fly amongthem. The girls scattered before him.

“Billy!” cried Elnora. “Billy! I’ll never give you another bite, if you throwdust on any one!”

Then Billy dropped the dust, bored both fists into his eyes, and fled sobbinginto Elnora’s new blue skirt. She stooped to meet him and consolation began.Those girls laughed on. They screamed and shouted until the little bridgeshook.

“To-morrow might as well be a clear day,” said Ellen, passing around andfeeding the remaining berries to the girls as they could compose themselvesenough to take them. “Billy, I admire your taste more than your temper.”

Elnora looked up. “The little soul is nothing but skin and bones,” she said. “Inever was really hungry myself; were any of you?”

“Well, I should say so,” cried a plump, rosy girl. “I’m famished right now.Let’s have breakfast immediate!”

“We got to refill this box first!” said Ellen Brownlee. “Who’s got the butter?”A girl advanced with a wooden tray.

“Put it in the preserve cup, a little strawberry flavour won’t hurt it. Next!”called Ellen.

A loaf of bread was produced and Ellen cut off a piece which filled thesandwich box.

“Next!” A bottle of olives was unwrapped. The grocer’s boy who was waitingopened that, and Ellen filled the salad dish.

“Next!”

A bag of macaroons was produced and the cake compartment filled.

“Next!”

“I don’t suppose this will make quite as good dog feed as a bird,” laughed agirl holding open a bag of sliced ham while Ellen filled the meat dish.

“Next!”

A box of candy was handed her and she stuffed every corner of the lunch boxwith chocolates and nougat. Then it was closed and formally presented toElnora. The girls each helped themselves to candy and olives, and gave Billythe remainder of the food. Billy took one bite of ham, and approved. Belle andJimmy had given up chasing the dog, and angry and ashamed, stood waiting half ablock away.

“Come back!” cried Billy. “You great big dunces, come back! They’s a new kindof meat, and cake and candy.”

The boy delayed, but the girl joined Billy. Ellen wiped her fingers, stepped tothe cement abutment and began reciting “Horatio at the Bridge!” substitutingElnora wherever the hero appeared in the lines.

Elnora gathered up the sacks, and gave them to Belle, telling her to take thefood home, cut and spread the bread, set things on the table, and eat nicely.

Then Elnora was taken into the wagon with the girls, and driven on the run tothe high school. They sang a song beginning—

“Elnora, please give me a sandwich.
I’m ashamed to ask for cake!”

as they went. Elnora did not know it, but that was her initiation. She belongedto “the crowd.” She only knew that she was happy, and vaguely wondered what hermother and Aunt Margaret would have said about the proceedings.

CHAPTER VII

WHEREIN MRS. COMSTOCK MANIPULATES MARGARET AND BILLY ACQUIRES ARESIDENCE

Saturday morning Elnora helped her mother with the work. When she had finishedMrs. Comstock told her to go to Sintons’ and wash her Indian relics, so thatshe would be ready to accompany Wesley to town in the afternoon. Elnora hurrieddown the road and was soon at the cistern with a tub busily washing arrowpoints, stone axes, tubes, pipes, and skin-cleaning implements.

Then she went home, dressed and was waiting when the carriage reached the gate.She stopped at the bank with the box, and Sinton went to do his marketing andsome shopping for his wife.

At the dry goods store Mr. Brownlee called to him, “Hello, Sinton! How do youlike the fate of your lunch box?” Then he began to laugh—

“I always hate to see a man laughing alone,” said Sinton. “It looks so selfish!Tell me the fun, and let me help you.”

Mr. Brownlee wiped his eyes.

“I supposed you knew, but I see she hasn’t told.”

Then the three days’ history of the lunch box was repeated with particularswhich included the dog.

“Now laugh!” concluded Mr. Brownlee.

“Blest if I see anything funny!” replied Wesley Sinton. “And if you had boughtthat box and furnished one of those lunches yourself, you wouldn’t either. Icall such a work a shame! I’ll have it stopped.”

“Some one must see to that, all right. They are little leeches. Their fatherearns enough to support them, but they have no mother, and they run wild. Isuppose they are crazy for cooked food. But it is funny, and when you think itover you will see it, if you don’t now.”

“About where would a body find that father?” inquired Wesley Sinton grimly. Mr.Brownlee told him and he started, locating the house with little difficulty.House was the proper word, for of home there was no sign. Just a small emptyhouse with three unkept little children racing through and around it. The girland the elder boy hung back, but dirty little Billy greeted Sinton with: “Whatyou want here?”

“I want to see your father,” said Sinton.

“Well, he’s asleep,” said Billy.

“Where?” asked Sinton.

“In the house,” answered Billy, “and you can’t wake him.”

“Well, I’ll try,” said Wesley.

Billy led the way. “There he is!” he said. “He is drunk again.”

On a dirty mattress in a corner lay a man who appeared to be strong and well.Billy was right. You could not awake him. He had gone the limit, and a littlebeyond.

He was now facing eternity. Sinton went out and closed the door.

“Your father is sick and needs help,” he said. “You stay here, and I will senda man to see him.”

“If you just let him ’lone, he’ll sleep it off,” volunteered Billy. “He’s thatway all the time, but he wakes up and gets us something to eat after awhile.Only waitin’ twists you up inside pretty bad.”

The boy wore no air of complaint. He was merely stating facts.

Wesley Sinton looked intently at Billy. “Are you twisted up inside now?” heasked.

Billy laid a grimy hand on the region of his stomach and the filthy littlewaist sank close to the backbone. “Bet yer life, boss,” he said cheerfully.

“How long have you been twisted?” asked Sinton.

Billy appealed to the others. “When was it we had the stuff on the bridge?”

“Yesterday morning,” said the girl.

“Is that all gone?” asked Sinton.

“She went and told us to take it home,” said Billy ruefully, “and ’cos she saidto, we took it. Pa had come back, he was drinking some more, and he ate a lotof it—almost the whole thing, and it made him sick as a dog, and he wentand wasted all of it. Then he got drunk some more, and now he’s asleep again.We didn’t get hardly none.”

“You children sit on the steps until the man comes,” said Sinton. “I’ll sendyou some things to eat with him. What’s your name, sonny?”

“Billy,” said the boy.

“Well, Billy, I guess you better come with me. I’ll take care of him,” Sintonpromised the others. He reached a hand to Billy.

“I ain’t no baby, I’m a boy!” said Billy, as he shuffled along beside Sinton,taking a kick at every movable object without regard to his battered toes.

Once they passed a Great Dane dog lolling after its master, and Billy ascendedSinton as if he were a tree, and clung to him with trembling hot hands.

“I ain’t afraid of that dog,” scoffed Billy, as he was again placed on thewalk, “but onc’t he took me for a rat or somepin’ and his teeth cut into myback. If I’d a done right, I’d a took the law on him.”

Sinton looked down into the indignant little face. The child was bright enough,he had a good head, but oh, such a body!

“I ’bout got enough of dogs,” said Billy. “I used to like ’em, but I’m gettingpretty tired. You ought to seen the lickin’ Jimmy and Belle and me give our dogwhen we caught him, for taking a little bird she gave us. We waited ’till hewas asleep ’nen laid a board on him and all of us jumped on it to onc’t. Youcould a heard him yell a mile. Belle said mebbe we could squeeze the bird outof him. But, squeeze nothing! He was holler as us, and that bird was lost long’fore it got to his stummick. It was ist a little one, anyway. Belle said itwouldn’t ’a’ made a bite apiece for three of us nohow, and the dog got one goodswaller. We didn’t get much of the meat, either. Pa took most of that. Seemslike pas and dogs gets everything.”

Billy laughed dolefully. Involuntarily Wesley Sinton reached his hand. Theywere coming into the business part of Onabasha and the streets were crowded.Billy understood it to mean that he might lose his companion and took a grip.That little hot hand clinging tight to his, the sore feet recklessly scouringthe walk, the hungry child panting for breath as he tried to keep even, thebrave soul jesting in the face of hard luck, caught Sinton in a tender, emptyspot.

“Say, son,” he said. “How would you like to be washed clean, and have all thesupper your skin could hold, and sleep in a good bed?”

“Aw, gee!” said Billy. “I ain’t dead yet! Them things is in heaven! Poor folkscan’t have them. Pa said so.”

“Well, you can have them if you want to go with me and get them,” promisedSinton.

“Honest?”

“Yes, honest.”

“Crost yer heart?”

“Yes,” said Sinton.

“Kin I take some to Jimmy and Belle?”

“If you’ll come with me and be my boy, I’ll see that they have plenty.”

“What will pa say?”

“Your pa is in that kind of sleep now where he won’t wake up, Billy,” saidSinton. “I am pretty sure the law will give you to me, if you want to come.”

“When people don’t ever wake up they’re dead,” announced Billy. “Is my padead?”

“Yes, he is,” answered Sinton.

“And you’ll take care of Jimmy and Belle, too?”

“I can’t adopt all three of you,” said Sinton. “I’ll take you, and see thatthey are well provided for. Will you come?”

“Yep, I’ll come,” said Billy. “Let’s eat, first thing we do.”

“All right,” agreed Sinton. “Come into this restaurant.” He lifted Billy to thelunch counter and ordered the clerk to give him as many glasses of milk as hewanted, and a biscuit. “I think there’s going to be fried chicken when we gethome, Billy,” he said, “so you just take the edge off now, and fill up later.”

While Billy lunched Sinton called up the different departments and notified theproper authorities ending with the Women’s Relief Association. He sent a basketof food to Belle and Jimmy, bought Billy a pair of trousers, and a shirt, andwent to bring Elnora.

“Why, Uncle Wesley!” cried the girl. “Where did you find Billy?”

“I’ve adopted him for the time being, if not longer,” replied Wesley Sinton.

“Where did you get him?”

“Well, young woman,” said Wesley Sinton, “Mr. Brownlee told me the history ofyour lunch box. It didn’t seem so funny to me as it does to the rest of them;so I went to look up the father of Billy’s family, and make him take care ofthem, or allow the law to do it for him. It will have to be the law.”

“He’s deader than anything!” broke in Billy. “He can’t ever take all the meatany more.”

“Billy!” gasped Elnora.

“Never you mind!” said Sinton. “A child doesn’t say such things about a fatherwho loved and raised him right. When it happens, the father alone is to blame.You won’t hear Billy talk like that about me when I cross over.”

“You don’t mean you are going to take him to keep!”

“I’ll soon need help,” said Wesley. “Billy will come in just about right tenyears from now, and if I raise him I’ll have him the way I want him.”

“But Aunt Margaret doesn’t like boys,” objected Elnora.

“Well, she likes me, and I used to be a boy. Anyway, as I remember she has hadher way about everything at our house ever since we were married. I am going toplease myself about Billy. Hasn’t she always done just as she chose so far asyou know? Honest, Elnora!”

“Honest!” replied Elnora. “You are beautiful to all of us, Uncle Wesley; butAunt Margaret won’t like Billy. She won’t want him in her home.”

“In our home,” corrected Wesley.

“What makes you want him?” marvelled Elnora.

“God only knows,” said Sinton. “Billy ain’t so beautiful, and he ain’t sosmart, I guess it’s because he’s so human. My heart goes out to him.”

“So did mine,” said Elnora. “I love him. I’d rather see him eat my lunch thanhave it myself any time.”

“What makes you like him?” asked Wesley.

“Why, I don’t know,” pondered Elnora. “He’s so little, he needs so much, he’sgot such splendid grit, and he’s perfectly unselfish with his brother andsister. But we must wash him before Aunt Margaret sees him. I wonder ifmother——”

“You needn’t bother. I’m going to take him home the way he is,” said Sinton. “Iwant Maggie to see the worst of it.”

“I’m afraid——” began Elnora.

“So am I,” said Wesley, “but I won’t give him up. He’s taken a sort of grip onmy heart. I’ve always been crazy for a boy. Don’t let him hear us.”

“Don’t let him be killed!” cried Elnora. During their talk Billy had wanderedto the edge of the walk and barely escaped the wheels of a passing automobilein an effort to catch a stray kitten that seemed in danger.

Wesley drew Billy back to the walk, and held his hand closely. “Are you ready,Elnora?”

“Yes; you were gone a long time,” she said.

Wesley glanced at a package she carried. “Have to have another book?” he asked.

“No, I bought this for mother. I’ve had such splendid luck selling myspecimens, I didn’t feel right about keeping all the money for myself, so Isaved enough from the Indian relics to get a few things I wanted. I would haveliked to have gotten her a dress, but I didn’t dare, so I compromised on abook.”

“What did you select, Elnora?” asked Wesley wonderingly.

“Well,” said she, “I have noticed mother always seemed interested in anythingMark Twain wrote in the newspapers, and I thought it would cheer her up alittle, so I just got his ‘Innocents Abroad.’ I haven’t read it myself, butI’ve seen mention made of it all my life, and the critics say it’s genuinefun.”

“Good!” cried Sinton. “Good! You’ve made a splendid choice. It will take hermind off herself a lot. But she will scold you.”

“Of course,” assented Elnora. “But, possibly she will read it, and feel better.I’m going to serve her a trick. I am going to hide it until Monday, and set iton her little shelf of books the last thing before I go away. She must have allof them by heart. When she sees a new one she can’t help being glad, for sheloves to read, and if she has all day to become interested, maybe she’ll likeit so she won’t scold so much.”

“We are both in for it, but I guess we are prepared. I don’t know what Margaretwill say, but I’m going to take Billy home and see. Maybe he can win with her,as he did with us.”

Elnora had doubts, but she did not say anything more. When they started homeBilly sat on the front seat. He drove with the hitching strap tied to therailing of the dash-board, flourished the whip, and yelled with delight. Atfirst Sinton laughed with him, but by the time he left Elnora with severalpackages at her gate, he was looking serious enough.

Margaret was at the door as they drove up the lane. Wesley left Billy in thecarriage, hitched the horses and went to explain to her. He had not reached herbefore she cried, “Look, Wesley, that child! You’ll have a runaway!”

Wesley looked and ran. Billy was standing in the carriage slashing themettlesome horses with the whip.

“See me make ’em go!” he shouted as the whip fell a second time.

He did make them go. They took the hitching post and a few fence palings, whichscraped the paint from a wheel. Sinton missed the lines at the first effort,but the dragging post impeded the horses, and he soon caught them. He led themto the barn, and ordered Billy to remain in the carriage while he unhitched.Then leading Billy and carrying his packages he entered the yard.

“You run play a few minutes, Billy,” he said. “I want to talk to the nicelady.”

The nice lady was looking rather stupefied as Wesley approached her.

“Where in the name of sense did you get that awful child?” she demanded.

“He is a young gentleman who has been stopping Elnora and eating her lunchevery day, part of the time with the assistance of his brother and sister,while our girl went hungry. Brownlee told me about it at the store. It’shappened three days running. The first time she went without anything, thesecond time Brownlee’s girl took her to lunch, and the third a crowd of highschool girls bought a lot of stuff and met them at the bridge. The youngstersseemed to think they could rob her every day, so I went to see their fatherabout having it stopped.”

“Well, I should think so!” cried Margaret.

“There were three of them, Margaret,” said Wesley, “that littlefellow——”

“Hyena, you mean,” interpolated Margaret.

“Hyena,” corrected Wesley gravely, “and another boy and a girl, all equallydirty and hungry. The man was dead. They thought he was in a drunken sleep, buthe was stone dead. I brought the little boy with me, and sent the officers andother help to the house. He’s half starved. I want to wash him, and put cleanclothes on him, and give him some supper.”

“Have you got anything to put on him?”

“Yes.”

“Where did you get it?”

“Bought it. It ain’t much. All I got didn’t cost a dollar.”

“A dollar is a good deal when you work and save for it the way we do.”

“Well, I don’t know a better place to put it. Have you got any hot water? I’lluse this tub at the cistern. Please give me some soap and towels.”

Instead Margaret pushed by him with a shriek. Billy had played by producing acord from his pocket, and having tied the tails of Margaret’s white kittenstogether, he had climbed on a box and hung them across the clothes line. Wildwith fright the kittens were clawing each other to death, and the air was whitewith fur. The string had twisted and the frightened creatures could notrecognize friends. Margaret stepped back with bleeding hands. Sinton cut thecord with his knife and the poor little cats raced under the house bleeding anddisfigured. Margaret white with wrath faced Wesley.

“If you don’t hitch up and take that animal back to town,” she said, “I will.”

Billy threw himself on the grass and began to scream.

“You said I could have fried chicken for supper,” he wailed. “You said she wasa nice lady!”

Wesley lifted him and something in his manner of handling the child infuriatedMargaret. His touch was so gentle. She reached for Billy and gripped his shirtcollar in the back. Wesley’s hand closed over hers.

“Gently, girl!” he said. “This little body is covered with sores.”

“Sores!” she ejaculated. “Sores? What kind of sores?”

“Oh, they might be from bruises made by fists or boot toes, or they might bebad blood, from wrong eating, or they might be pure filth. Will you hand mesome towels?”

“No, I won’t!” said Margaret.

“Well, give me some rags, then.”

Margaret compromised on pieces of old tablecloth. Wesley led Billy to thecistern, pumped cold water into the tub, poured in a kettle of hot, andbeginning at the head scoured him. The boy shut his little teeth, and saidnever a word though he twisted occasionally when the soap struck a raw spot.Margaret watched the process from the window in amazed and ever-increasinganger. Where did Wesley learn it? How could his big hands be so gentle? He cameto the door.

“Have you got any peroxide?” he asked.

“A little,” she answered stiffly.

“Well, I need about a pint, but I’ll begin on what you have.”

Margaret handed him the bottle. Wesley took a cup, weakened the drug and saidto Billy: “Man, these sores on you must be healed. Then you must eat the kindof food that’s fit for little men. I am going to put some medicine on you, andit is going to sting like fire. If it just runs off, I won’t use any more. Ifit boils, there is poison in these places, and they must be tied up, dosedevery day, and you must be washed, and kept mighty clean. Now, hold still,because I am going to put it on.”

“I think the one on my leg is the worst,” said the undaunted Billy, holding outa raw place. Sinton poured on the drug. Billy’s body twisted and writhed, buthe did not run.

“Gee, look at it boil!” he cried. “I guess they’s poison. You’ll have to do itto all of them.”

Wesley’s teeth were set, as he watched the boy’s face. He poured the drug,strong enough to do effective work, on a dozen places over that little body andbandaged all he could. Billy’s lips quivered at times, and his chin jumped, buthe did not shed a tear or utter a sound other than to take a deep interest inthe boiling. As Wesley put the small shirt on the boy, and fastened thetrousers, he was ready to reset the hitching post and mend the fence without aword.

“Now am I clean?” asked Billy.

“Yes, you are clean outside,” said Wesley. “There is some dirty blood in yourbody, and some bad words in your mouth, that we have to get out, but that takestime. If we put right things to eat into your stomach that will do away withthe sores, and if you know that I don’t like bad words you won’t say them anyoftener than you can help, will you Billy?”

Billy leaned against Wesley in apparent indifference.

“I want to see me!” he demanded.

Wesley led the boy into the house, and lifted him to a mirror.

“My, I’m purty good-looking, ain’t I?” bragged Billy. Then as Wesley stooped toset him on the floor Billy’s lips passed close to the big man’s ear and hastilywhispered a vehement “No!” as he ran for the door.

“How long until supper, Margaret?” asked Wesley as he followed.

“You are going to keep him for supper?” she asked

“Sure!” said Wesley. “That’s what I brought him for. It’s likely he never had agood square meal of decent food in his life. He’s starved to the bone.”

Margaret arose deliberately, removed the white cloth from the supper table andsubstituted an old red one she used to wrap the bread. She put away the prettydishes they commonly used and set the table with old plates for pies andkitchen utensils. But she fried the chicken, and was generous with milk andhoney, snowy bread, gravy, potatoes, and fruit.

Wesley repainted the scratched wheel. He mended the fence, with Billy holdingthe nails and handing the pickets. Then he filled the old hole, digged a newone and set the hitching post.

Billy hopped on one foot at his task of holding the post steady as the earthwas packed around it. There was not the shadow of a trouble on his littlefreckled face.

Sinton threw in stones and pounded the earth solid around the post. The soundof a gulping sob attracted him to Billy. The tears were rolling down hischeeks. “If I’d a knowed you’d have to get down in a hole, and work so hard Iwouldn’t ’a’ hit the horses,” he said.

“Never you mind, Billy,” said Wesley. “You will know next time, so you canthink over it, and make up your mind whether you really want to before youstrike.”

Wesley went to the barn to put away the tools. He thought Billy was at hisheels, but the boy lagged on the way. A big snowy turkey gobbler resented thesmall intruder in his especial preserves, and with spread tail and draggingwings came toward him threateningly. If that turkey gobbler had known the sortof things with which Billy was accustomed to holding his own, he never wouldhave issued the challenge. Billy accepted instantly. He danced around withstiff arms at his sides and imitated the gobbler. Then came his opportunity,and he jumped on the big turkey’s back. Wesley heard Margaret’s scream in timeto see the flying leap and admire its dexterity. The turkey tucked its tail andscampered. Billy slid from its back and as he fell he clutched wildly, caughtthe folded tail, and instinctively clung to it. The turkey gave one scream andrelaxed its muscles. Then it fled in disfigured defeat to the haystack. Billyscrambled to his feet holding the tail, while his eyes were bulging.

“Why, the blasted old thing came off!” he said to Wesley, holding out the tailin amazed wonder.

The man, caught suddenly, forgot everything and roared. Seeing which, Billythought a turkey tail of no account and flung that one high above him shoutingin wild childish laughter, when the feathers scattered and fell.

Margaret, watching, began to cry. Wesley had gone mad. For the first time inher married life she wanted to tell her mother. When Wesley had waited until hewas so hungry he could wait no longer he invaded the kitchen to find a cookedsupper baking on the back of the stove, while Margaret with red eyes nursed apair of demoralized white kittens.

“Is supper ready?” he asked.

“It has been for an hour,” answered Margaret.

“Why didn’t you call us?”

That “us” had too much comradeship in it. It irritated Margaret.

“I supposed it would take you even longer than this to fix things decent again.As for my turkey, and my poor little kittens, they don’t matter.”

“I am mighty sorry about them, Margaret, you know that. Billy is very bright,and he will soon learn——”

“Soon learn!” cried Margaret. “Wesley Sinton, you don’t mean to say that youthink of keeping that creature here for some time?”

“No, I think of keeping a well-behaved little boy.”

Margaret set the supper on the table. Seeing the old red cloth Wesley stared inamazement. Then he understood. Billy capered around in delight.

“Ain’t that pretty?” he exulted. “I wish Jimmy and Belle could see. We, why weist eat out of our hands or off a old dry goods box, and when we fix up a lot,we have newspaper. We ain’t ever had a nice red cloth like this.”

Wesley looked straight at Margaret, so intently that she turned away, her faceflushing. He stacked the dictionary and the geography of the world on a chair,and lifted Billy beside him. He heaped a plate generously, cut the food, put afork into Billy’s little fist, and made him eat slowly and properly. Billy didhis best. Occasionally greed overcame him, and he used his left hand to pop abite into his mouth with his fingers. These lapses Wesley patiently overlooked,and went on with his general instructions. Luckily Billy did not spill anythingon his clothing or the cloth. After supper Wesley took him to the barn while hefinished the night work. Then he went and sat beside Margaret on the frontporch. Billy appropriated the hammock, and swung by pulling a rope tied arounda tree. The very energy with which he went at the work of swinging himselfappealed to Wesley.

“Mercy, but he’s an active little body,” he said. “There isn’t a lazy bone inhim. See how he works to pay for his fun.”

“There goes his foot through it!” cried Margaret. “Wesley, he shall not ruin myhammock.”

“Of course he shan’t!” said Wesley. “Wait, Billy, let me show you.”

Thereupon he explained to Billy that ladies wearing beautiful white dresses satin hammocks, so little boys must not put their dusty feet in them. Billyimmediately sat, and allowed his feet to swing.

“Margaret,” said Wesley after a long silence on the porch, “isn’t it true thatif Billy had been a half-starved sore cat, dog, or animal of any sort, that youwould have pitied, and helped care for it, and been glad to see me get anypleasure out of it I could?”

“Yes,” said Margaret coldly.

“But because I brought a child with an immortal soul, there is no welcome.”

“That isn’t a child, it’s an animal.”

“You just said you would have welcomed an animal.”

“Not a wild one. I meant a tame beast.”

“Billy is not a beast!” said Wesley hotly. “He is a very dear little boy.Margaret, you’ve always done the church-going and Bible reading for thisfamily. How do you reconcile that ‘Suffer little children to come unto Me’ withthe way you are treating Billy?”

Margaret arose. “I haven’t treated that child. I have only let him alone. I canbarely hold myself. He needs the hide tanned about off him!”

“If you’d cared to look at his body, you’d know that you couldn’t find a placeto strike without cutting into a raw spot,” said Wesley. “Besides, Billy hasnot done a thing for which a child should be punished. He is only full of life,no training, and with a boy’s love of mischief. He did abuse your kittens, butan hour before I saw him risk his life to save one from being run over. Heminds what you tell him, and doesn’t do anything he is told not to. He thinksof his brother and sister right away when anything pleases him. He took thatstinging medicine with the grit of a bulldog. He is just a bully little chap,and I love him.”

“Oh good heavens!” cried Margaret, going into the house as she spoke.

Sinton sat still. At last Billy tired of the swing, came to him and leaned hisslight body against the big knee.

“Am I going to sleep here?” he asked.

“Sure you are!” said Sinton.

Billy swung his feet as he laid across Wesley’s knee. “Come on,” said Wesley,“I must clean you up for bed.”

“You have to be just awful clean here,” announced Billy. “I like to be clean,you feel so good, after the hurt is over.”

Sinton registered that remark, and worked with especial tenderness as heredressed the ailing places and washed the dust from Billy’s feet and hands.

“Where can he sleep?” he asked Margaret.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” she answered.

“Oh, I can sleep ist any place,” said Billy. “On the floor or anywhere. Home, Isleep on pa’s coat on a store-box, and Jimmy and Belle they sleep on thestorebox, too. I sleep between them, so’s I don’t roll off and crack my head.Ain’t you got a storebox and a old coat?”

Wesley arose and opened a folding lounge. Then he brought an armload of cleanhorse blankets from a closet.

“These don’t look like the nice white bed a little boy should have, Billy,” hesaid, “but we’ll make them do. This will beat a storebox all hollow.”

Billy took a long leap for the lounge. When he found it bounced, he proceededto bounce, until he was tired. By that time the blankets had to be refolded.Wesley had Billy take one end and help, while both of them seemed to enjoy thejob. Then Billy lay down and curled up in his clothes like a small dog. Butsleep would not come.

Finally he sat up. He stared around restlessly. Then he arose, went to Wesley,and leaned against his knee. He picked up the boy and folded his arms aroundhim. Billy sighed in rapturous content.

“That bed feels so lost like,” he said. “Jimmy always jabbed me on one side,and Belle on the other, and so I knew I was there. Do you know where they are?”

“They are with kind people who gave them a fine supper, a clean bed, and willalways take good care of them.”

“I wisht I was—” Billy hesitated and looked earnestly at Wesley. “I meanI wish they was here.”

“You are about all I can manage, Billy,” said Wesley.

Billy sat up. “Can’t she manage anything?” he asked, waving toward Margaret.

“Indeed, yes,” said Wesley. “She has managed me for twenty years.”

“My, but she made you nice!” said Billy. “I just love you. I wisht she’d takeJimmy and Belle and make them nice as you.”

“She isn’t strong enough to do that, Billy. They will grow into a good boy andgirl where they are.”

Billy slid from Wesley’s arms and walked toward Margaret until he reached themiddle of the room. Then he stopped, and at last sat on the floor. Finally helay down and closed his eyes. “This feels more like my bed; if only Jimmy andBelle was here to crowd up a little, so it wasn’t so alone like.”

“Won’t I do, Billy?” asked Wesley in a husky voice.

Billy moved restlessly. “Seems like—seems like toward night as if a bodygot kind o’ lonesome for a woman person—like her.”

Billy indicated Margaret and then closed his eyes so tight his small facewrinkled.

Soon he was up again. “Wisht I had Snap,” he said. “Oh, I ist wisht I hadSnap!”

“I thought you laid a board on Snap and jumped on it,” said Wesley.

“We did!” cried Billy—“oh, you ought to heard him squeal!” Billy laughedloudly, then his face clouded.

“But I want Snap to lay beside me so bad now—that if he was here I’d givehim a piece of my chicken, ’fore I ate any. Do you like dogs?”

“Yes, I do,” said Wesley.

Billy was up instantly. “Would you like Snap?”

“I am sure I would,” said Wesley.

“Would she?” Billy indicated Margaret. And then he answered his own question.“But of course, she wouldn’t, cos she likes cats, and dogs chases cats. Oh,dear, I thought for a minute maybe Snap could come here.” Billy lay down andclosed his eyes resolutely.

Suddenly they flew open. “Does it hurt to be dead?” he demanded.

“Nothing hurts you after you are dead, Billy,” said Wesley.

“Yes, but I mean does it hurt getting to be dead?”

“Sometimes it does. It did not hurt your father, Billy. It came softly while hewas asleep.”

“It ist came softly?”

“Yes.”

“I kind o’ wisht he wasn’t dead!” said Billy. “’Course I like to stay with you,and the fried chicken, and the nice soft bed, and—and everything, and Ilike to be clean, but he took us to the show, and he got us gum, and he neverhurt us when he wasn’t drunk.”

Billy drew a deep breath, and tightly closed his eyes. But very soon theyopened. Then he sat up. He looked at Wesley pitifully, and then he glanced atMargaret. “You don’t like boys, do you?” he questioned.

“I like good boys,” said Margaret.

Billy was at her knee instantly. “Well say, I’m a good boy!” he announcedjoyously.

“I do not think boys who hurt helpless kittens and pull out turkeys’ tails aregood boys.”

“Yes, but I didn’t hurt the kittens,” explained Billy. “They got mad ’bout ista little fun and scratched each other. I didn’t s’pose they’d act like that.And I didn’t pull the turkey’s tail. I ist held on to the first thing Igrabbed, and the turkey pulled. Honest, it was the turkey pulled.” He turned toWesley. “You tell her! Didn’t the turkey pull? I didn’t know its tail wasloose, did I?”

“I don’t think you did, Billy,” said Wesley.

Billy stared into Margaret’s cold face. “Sometimes at night, Belle sits on thefloor, and I lay my head in her lap. I could pull up a chair and lay my head inyour lap. Like this, I mean.” Billy pulled up a chair, climbed on it and laidhis head on Margaret’s lap. Then he shut his eyes again. Margaret could havelooked little more repulsed if he had been a snake. Billy was soon up.

“My, but your lap is hard,” he said. “And you are a good deal fatter ’an Belle,too!” He slid from the chair and came back to the middle of the room.

“Oh but I wisht he wasn’t dead!” he cried. The flood broke and Billy screamedin desperation.

Out of the night a soft, warm young figure flashed through the door and with aswoop caught him in her arms. She dropped into a chair, nestled him closely,drooped her fragrant brown head over his little bullet-eyed red one, and rockedsoftly while she crooned over him—

“Billy, boy, where have you been?
Oh, I have been to seek a wife,
She’s the joy of my life,
But then she’s a young thing and she can’t leave her mammy!”

Billy clung to her frantically. Elnora wiped his eyes, kissed his face, swayedand sang.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” she asked at last.

“I don’t know,” said Billy. “I tried. I tried awful hard cos I thought hewanted me to, but it ist wouldn’t come. Please tell her I tried.” He appealedto Margaret.

“He did try to go to sleep,” admitted Margaret.

“Maybe he can’t sleep in his clothes,” suggested Elnora. “Haven’t you an olddressing sacque? I could roll the sleeves.”

Margaret got an old sacque, and Elnora put it on Billy. Then she brought abasin of water and bathed his face and head. She gathered him up and began torock again.

“Have you got a pa?” asked Billy.

“No,” said Elnora.

“Is he dead like mine?”

“Yes.”

“Did it hurt him to die?”

“I don’t know.”

Billy was wide awake again. “It didn’t hurt my pa,” he boasted; “he ist diedwhile he was asleep. He didn’t even know it was coming.”

“I am glad of that,” said Elnora, pressing the small head against her breastagain.

Billy escaped her hand and sat up. “I guess I won’t go to sleep,” he said. “Itmight ’come softly’ and get me.”

“It won’t get you, Billy,” said Elnora, rocking and singing between sentences.“It doesn’t get little boys. It just takes big people who are sick.”

“Was my pa sick?”

“Yes,” said Elnora. “He had a dreadful sickness inside him that burned, andmade him drink things. That was why he would forget his little boys and girl.If he had been well, he would have gotten you good things to eat, cleanclothes, and had the most fun with you.”

Billy leaned against her and closed his eyes, and Elnora rocked hopefully.

“If I was dead would you cry?” he was up again.

“Yes, I would,” said Elnora, gripping him closer until Billy almost squealedwith the embrace.

“Do you love me tight as that?” he questioned blissfully.

“Yes, bushels and bushels,” said Elnora. “Better than any little boy in thewhole world.”

Billy looked at Margaret. “She don’t!” he said. “She’d be glad if it would getme ‘softly,’ right now. She don’t want me here ’t all.”

Elnora smothered his face against her breast and rocked.

“You love me, don’t you?”

“I will, if you will go to sleep.”

“Every single day you will give me your dinner for the bologna, won’t you,”said Billy.

“Yes, I will,” replied Elnora. “But you will have as good lunch as I do afterthis. You will have milk, eggs, chicken, all kinds of good things, little pies,and cakes, maybe.”

Billy shook his head. “I am going back home soon as it is light,” he said, “shedon’t want me. She thinks I’m a bad boy. She’s going to whip me—if helets her. She said so. I heard her. Oh, I wish he hadn’t died! I want to gohome.” Billy shrieked again.

Mrs. Comstock had started to walk slowly to meet Elnora. The girl had been solate that her mother reached the Sinton gate and followed the path until thepicture inside became visible. Elnora had told her about Wesley taking Billyhome. Mrs. Comstock had some curiosity to see how Margaret bore the unexpectedaddition to her family. Billy’s voice, raised with excitement, was plainlyaudible. She could see Elnora holding him, and hear his excited wail. Wesley’sface was drawn and haggard, and Margaret’s set and defiant. A very imp ofperversity entered the breast of Mrs. Comstock.

“Hoity, toity!” she said as she suddenly appeared in the door. “Blest if I everheard a man making sounds like that before!”

Billy ceased suddenly. Mrs. Comstock was tall, angular, and her hair wasprematurely white. She was only thirty-six, although she appeared fifty. Butthere was an expression on her usually cold face that was attractive just then,and Billy was in search of attractions.

“Have I stayed too late, mother?” asked Elnora anxiously. “I truly intended tocome straight back, but I thought I could rock Billy to sleep first. Everythingis strange, and he’s so nervous.”

“Is that your ma?” demanded Billy.

“Yes.”

“Does she love you?”

“Of course!”

“My mother didn’t love me,” said Billy. “She went away and left me, and nevercame back. She don’t care what happens to me. You wouldn’t go away and leaveyour little girl, would you?” questioned Billy.

“No,” said Katharine Comstock, “and I wouldn’t leave a little boy, either.”

Billy began sliding from Elnora’s knees.

“Do you like boys?” he questioned.

“If there is anything I love it is a boy,” said Mrs. Comstock assuringly. Billywas on the floor.

“Do you like dogs?”

“Yes. Almost as well as boys. I am going to buy a dog as soon as I can find agood one.”

Billy swept toward her with a whoop.

“Do you want a boy?” he shouted.

Katharine Comstock stretched out her arms, and gathered him in.

“Of course, I want a boy!” she rejoiced.

“Maybe you’d like to have me?” offered Billy.

“Sure I would,” triumphed Mrs. Comstock. “Any one would like to have you. Youare just a real boy, Billy.”

“Will you take Snap?”

“I’d like to have Snap almost as well as you.”

“Mother!” breathed Elnora imploringly. “Don’t! Oh, don’t! He thinks you meanit!”

“And so I do mean it,” said Mrs. Comstock. “I’ll take him in a jiffy. I throwaway enough to feed a little tyke like him every day. His chatter would begreat company while you are gone. Blood soon can be purified with right foodand baths, and as for Snap, I meant to buy a bulldog, but possibly Snap willserve just as well. All I ask of a dog is to bark at the right time. I’ll dothe rest. Would you like to come and be my boy, Billy?”

Billy leaned against Mrs. Comstock, reached his arms around her neck andgripped her with all his puny might. “You can whip me all you want to,” hesaid. “I won’t make a sound.”

Mrs. Comstock held him closely and her hard face was softening; of that therecould be no doubt.

“Now, why would any one whip a nice little boy like you?” she askedwonderingly.

“She”—Billy from his refuge waved toward Margaret—“she was going towhip me ’cause her cats fought, when I tied their tails together and hung themover the line to dry. How did I know her old cats would fight?”

Mrs. Comstock began to laugh suddenly, and try as she would she could not stopso soon as she desired. Billy studied her.

“Have you got turkeys?” he demanded.

“Yes, flocks of them,” said Mrs. Comstock, vainly struggling to suppress hermirth, and settle her face in its accustomed lines.

“Are their tails fast?” demanded Billy.

“Why, I think so,” marvelled Mrs. Comstock.

“Hers ain’t!” said Billy with the wave toward Margaret that was becomingfamiliar. “Her turkey pulled, and its tail comed right off. She’s going to whipme if he lets her. I didn’t know the turkey would pull. I didn’t know its tailwould come off. I won’t ever touch one again, will I?”

“Of course, you won’t,” said Mrs. Comstock. “And what’s more, I don’t care ifyou do! I’d rather have a fine little man like you than all the turkeys in thecountry. Let them lose their old tails if they want to, and let the cats fight.Cats and turkeys don’t compare with boys, who are going to be fine big men someof these days.”

Then Billy and Mrs. Comstock hugged each other rapturously, while theiraudience stared in silent amazement.

“You like boys!” exulted Billy, and his head dropped against Mrs. Comstock inunspeakable content.

“Yes, and if I don’t have to carry you the whole way home, we must start rightnow,” said Mrs. Comstock. “You are going to be asleep before you know it.”

Billy opened his eyes and braced himself. “I can walk,” he said proudly.

“All right, we must start. Come, Elnora! Good-night, folks!” Mrs. Comstock setBilly on the floor, and arose gripping his hand. “You take the other side,Elnora, and we will help him as much as we can,” she said.

Elnora stared piteously at Margaret, then at Wesley, and arose in white-facedbewilderment.

“Billy, are you going to leave without even saying good-bye to me?” askedWesley, with a gulp.

Billy held tight to Mrs. Comstock and Elnora.

“Good-bye!” he said casually. “I’ll come and see you some time.”

Wesley Sinton gave a smothered sob, and strode from the room.

Mrs. Comstock started toward the door, dragging at Billy while Elnora pulledback, but Mrs. Sinton was before them, her eyes flashing.

“Kate Comstock, you think you are mighty smart, don’t you?” she cried.

“I ain’t in the lunatic asylum, where you belong, anyway,” said Mrs. Comstock.“I am smart enough to tell a dandy boy when I see him, and I’m good and glad toget him. I’ll love to have him!”

“Well, you won’t have him!” exclaimed Margaret Sinton. “That boy is Wesley’s!He found him, and brought him here. You can’t come in and take him like that!Let go of him!”

“Not much, I won’t!” cried Mrs. Comstock. “Leave the poor sick little soul herefor you to beat, because he didn’t know just how to handle things! Of course,he’ll make mistakes. He must have a lot of teaching, but not the kind he’ll getfrom you! Clear out of my way!”

“You let go of our boy,” ordered Margaret.

“Why? Do you want to whip him, before he can go to sleep?” jeered Mrs.Comstock.

“No, I don’t!” said Margaret. “He’s Wesley’s, and nobody shall touch him.Wesley!”

Wesley Sinton appeared behind Margaret in the doorway, and she turned to him.“Make Kate Comstock let go of our boy!” she demanded.

“Billy, she wants you now,” said Wesley Sinton. “She won’t whip you, and shewon’t let any one else. You can have stacks of good things to eat, ride in thecarriage, and have a great time. Won’t you stay with us?”

Billy drew away from Mrs. Comstock and Elnora.

He faced Margaret, his eyes shrewd with unchildish wisdom. Necessity had taughthim to strike the hot iron, to drive the hard bargain.

“Can I have Snap to live here always?” he demanded.

“Yes, you can have all the dogs you want,” said Margaret Sinton.

“Can I sleep close enough so’s I can touch you?”

“Yes, you can move your lounge up so that you can hold my hand,” said Margaret.

“Do you love me now?” questioned Billy.

“I’ll try to love you, if you are a good boy,” said Margaret.

“Then I guess I’ll stay,” said Billy, walking over to her.

Out in the night Elnora and her mother went down the road in the moonlight;every few rods Mrs. Comstock laughed aloud.

“Mother, I don’t understand you,” sobbed Elnora.

“Well, maybe when you have gone to high school longer you will,” said Mrs.Comstock. “Anyway, you saw me bring Mag Sinton to her senses, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did,” answered Elnora, “but I thought you were in earnest. So didBilly, and Uncle Wesley, and Aunt Margaret.”

“Well, wasn’t I?” inquired Mrs. Comstock.

“But you just said you brought Aunt Margaret to!”

“Well, didn’t I?”

“I don’t understand you.”

“That’s the reason I am recommending more schooling!”

Elnora took her candle and went to bed. Mrs. Comstock was feeling too good tosleep. Twice of late she really had enjoyed herself for the first in sixteenyears, and greediness for more of the same feeling crept into her blood likeintoxication. As she sat brooding alone she knew the truth. She would haveloved to have taken Billy. She would not have minded his mischief, his chatter,or his dog. He would have meant a distraction from herself that she greatlyneeded; she was even sincere about the dog. She had intended to tell Wesley tobuy her one at the very first opportunity. Her last thought was of Billy. Shechuckled softly, for she was not saintly, and now she knew how she could even along score with Margaret and Wesley in a manner that would fill her soul withgrim satisfaction.

CHAPTER VIII

WHEREIN THE LIMBERLOST TEMPTS ELNORA, AND BILLY BURIES HIS FATHER

Immediately after dinner on Sunday Wesley Sinton stopped at the Comstock gateto ask if Elnora wanted to go to town with them. Billy sat beside him and hedid not appear as if he were on his way to a funeral. Elnora said she had tostudy and could not go, but she suggested that her mother take her place. Mrs.Comstock put on her hat and went at once, which surprised Elnora. She did notknow that her mother was anxious for an opportunity to speak with Sinton alone.Elnora knew why she was repeatedly cautioned not to leave their land, if shewent specimen hunting.

She studied two hours and was several lessons ahead of her classes. There wasno use to go further. She would take a walk and see if she could gather anycaterpillars or find any freshly spun cocoons. She searched the bushes and lowtrees behind the garden and all around the edge of the woods on their land, andhaving little success, at last came to the road. Almost the first thorn bushshe examined yielded a Polyphemus cocoon. Elnora lifted her head with theinstinct of a hunter on the chase, and began work. She reached the swamp beforeshe knew it, carrying five fine cocoons of different species as her reward. Shepushed back her hair and gazed around longingly. A few rods inside she thoughtshe saw cocoons on a bush, to which she went, and found several. Sense ofcaution was rapidly vanishing; she was in a fair way to forget everything andplunge into the swamp when she thought she heard footsteps coming down thetrail. She went back, and came out almost facing Pete Corson.

That ended her difficulty. She had known him since childhood. When she sat onthe front bench of the Brushwood schoolhouse, Pete had been one of the big boysat the back of the room. He had been rough and wild, but she never had beenafraid of him, and often he had given her pretty things from the swamp.

“What luck!” she cried. “I promised mother I would not go inside the swampalone, and will you look at the cocoons I’ve found! There are more justscreaming for me to come get them, because the leaves will fall with the firstfrost, and then the jays and crows will begin to tear them open. I haven’t muchtime, since I’m going to school. You will go with me, Pete! Please say yes!Just a little way!”

“What are those things?” asked the man, his keen black eyes staring at her.

“They are the cases these big caterpillars spin for winter, and in the springthey come out great night moths, and I can sell them. Oh, Pete, I can sell themfor enough to take me through high school and dress me so like the others thatI don’t look different, and if I have very good luck I can save some forcollege. Pete, please go with me?”

“Why don’t you go like you always have?”

“Well, the truth is, I had a little scare,” said Elnora. “I never did mean togo alone; sometimes I sort of wandered inside farther than I intended, chasingthings. You know Duncan gave me Freckles’s books, and I have been gatheringmoths like he did. Lately I found I could sell them. If I can make a completecollection, I can get three hundred dollars for it. Three such collectionswould take me almost through college, and I’ve four years in the high schoolyet. That’s a long time. I might collect them.”

“Can every kind there is be found here?”

“No, not all of them, but when I get more than I need of one kind, I can tradethem with collectors farther north and west, so I can complete sets. It’s theonly way I see to earn the money. Look what I have already. Big gray Cecropiascome from this kind; brown Polyphemus from that, and green Lunas from these.You aren’t working on Sunday. Go with me only an hour, Pete!”

The man looked at her narrowly. She was young, wholesome, and beautiful. Shewas innocent, intensely in earnest, and she needed the money, he knew that.

“You didn’t tell me what scared you,” he said.

“Oh, I thought I did! Why you know I had Freckles’s box packed full of mothsand specimens, and one evening I sold some to the Bird Woman. Next morning Ifound a note telling me it wasn’t safe to go inside the swamp. That sort ofscared me. I think I’ll go alone, rather than miss the chance, but I’d be sohappy if you would take care of me. Then I could go anywhere I chose, becauseif I mired you could pull me out. You will take care of me, Pete?”

“Yes, I’ll take care of you,” promised Pete Corson.

“Goody!” said Elnora. “Let’s start quick! And Pete, you look at these closely,and when you are hunting or going along the road, if one dangles under yournose, you cut off the little twig and save it for me, will you?”

“Yes, I’ll save you all I see,” promised Pete. He pushed back his hat andfollowed Elnora. She plunged fearlessly among bushes, over underbrush, andacross dead logs. One minute she was crying wildly, that here was a big one,the next she was reaching for a limb above her head or on her knees overturningdead leaves under a hickory or oak tree, or working aside black muck with herbare hands as she searched for buried pupae cases. For the first hour Pete bentback bushes and followed, carrying what Elnora discovered. Then he found one.

“Is this the kind of thing you are looking for?” he asked bashfully, as hepresented a wild cherry twig.

“Oh Pete, that’s a Promethea! I didn’t even hope to find one.”

“What’s the bird like?” asked Pete.

“Almost black wings,” said Elnora, “with clay-coloured edges, and the mostwonderful wine-coloured flush over the under side if it’s a male, and strongerwine above and below if it’s a female. Oh, aren’t I happy!”

“How would it do to make what you have into a bunch that we could leave here,and come back for them?”

“That would be all right.”

Relieved of his load Pete began work. First, he narrowly examined the cocoonsElnora had found. He questioned her as to what other kinds would be like. Hebegan to use the eyes of a trained woodman and hunter in her behalf. He sawseveral so easily, and moved through the forest so softly, that Elnora forgotthe moths in watching him. Presently she was carrying the specimens, and he wasmaking the trips of investigation to see which was a cocoon and which a curledleaf, or he was on his knees digging around stumps. As he worked he kept askingquestions. What kind of logs were best to look beside, what trees were pupaecases most likely to be under; on what bushes did caterpillars spin mostfrequently? Time passed, as it always does when one’s occupation is absorbing.

When the Sintons took Mrs. Comstock home, they stopped to see Elnora. She wasnot there. Mrs. Comstock called at the edge of her woods and received no reply.Then Wesley turned and drove back to the Limberlost. He left Margaret and Mrs.Comstock holding the team and entertaining Billy, while he entered the swamp.

Elnora and Pete had made a wide trail behind them. Before Sinton had thought ofcalling, he heard voices and approached with some caution. Soon he saw Elnora,her flushed face beaming as she bent with an armload of twigs and branches andtalked to a kneeling man.

“Now go cautiously!” she was saying. “I am just sure we will find an Imperialishere. It’s their very kind of a place. There! What did I tell you! Isn’t thatsplendid? Oh, I am so glad you came with me!”

Wesley stood staring in speechless astonishment, for the man had arisen,brushed the dirt from his hands, and held out to Elnora a small shining darkpupa case. As his face came into view Sinton almost cried out, for he was theone man of all others Wesley knew with whom he most feared for Elnora’s safety.She had him on his knees digging pupae cases for her from the swamp.

“Elnora!” called Sinton. “Elnora!”

“Oh, Uncle Wesley!” cried the girl. “See what luck we’ve had! I know we have adozen and a half cocoons and we have three pupae cases. It’s much harder to getthe cases because you have to dig for them, and you can’t see where to look.But Pete is fine at it! He’s found three, and he says he will keep watch besidethe roads, and through the woods while he hunts. Isn’t that splendid of him?Uncle Wesley, there is a college over there on the western edge of the swamp.Look closely, and you can see the great dome up among the clouds.”

“I should say you have had luck,” said Wesley, striving to make his voicenatural. “But I thought you were not coming to the swamp?”

“Well, I wasn’t,” said Elnora, “but I couldn’t find many anywhere else, honest,I couldn’t, and just as soon as I came to the edge I began to see them here. Ikept my promise. I didn’t come in alone. Pete came with me. He’s so strong, heisn’t afraid of anything, and he’s perfectly splendid to locate cocoons! He’sfound half of these. Come on, Pete, it’s getting dark now, and we must go.”

They started toward the trail, Pete carrying the cocoons. He left them at thecase, while Elnora and Wesley went on to the carriage together.

“Elnora Comstock, what does this mean?” demanded her mother.

“It’s all right, one of the neighbours was with her, and she got severaldollars’ worth of stuff,” interposed Wesley.

“You oughter seen my pa,” shouted Billy. “He was ist all whited out, and helaid as still as anything. They put him away deep in the ground.”

“Billy!” breathed Margaret in a prolonged groan.

“Jimmy and Belle are going to be together in a nice place. They are coming tosee me, and Snap is right down here by the wheel. Here, Snap! My, but he’ll betickled to get something to eat! He’s ’most twisted as me. They get newclothes, and all they want to eat, too, but they’ll miss me. They couldn’t havegot along without me. I took care of them. I had a lot of things give to me’cause I was the littlest, and I always divided with them. But they won’t needme now.”

When she left the carriage Mrs. Comstock gravely shook hands with Billy.“Remember,” she said to him, “I love boys, and I love dogs. Whenever you don’thave a good time up there, take your dog and come right down and be my littleboy. We will just have loads of fun. You should hear the whistles I can make.If you aren’t treated right you come straight to me.”

Billy wagged his head sagely. “You ist bet I will!” he said.

“Mother, how could you?” asked Elnora as they walked up the path.

“How could I, missy? You better ask how couldn’t I? I just couldn’t! Not forenough to pay my road tax! Not for enough to pay the road tax, and the dredgetax, too!”

“Aunt Margaret always has been lovely to me, and I don’t think it’s fair toworry her.”

“I choose to be lovely to Billy, and let her sweat out her own worries just asshe has me, these sixteen years. There is nothing in all this world so good forpeople as taking a dose of their own medicine. The difference is that I amhonest. I just say in plain English, ‘if they don’t treat you right, come tome.’ They have only said it in actions and inferences. I want to teach MagSinton how her own doses taste, but she begins to sputter before I fairly getthe spoon to her lips. Just you wait!”

“When I think what I owe her——” began Elnora.

“Well, thank goodness, I don’t owe her anything, and so I’m perfectly free todo what I choose. Come on, and help me get supper. I’m hungry as Billy!”

Margaret Sinton rocked slowly back and forth in her chair. On her breast layBilly’s red head, one hand clutched her dress front with spasmodic grip, evenafter he was unconscious.

“You mustn’t begin that, Margaret,” said Sinton. “He’s too heavy. And it’s badfor him. He’s better off to lie down and go to sleep alone.”

“He’s very light, Wesley. He jumps and quivers so. He has to be stronger thanhe is now, before he will sleep soundly.”

CHAPTER IX

WHEREIN ELNORA DISCOVERS A VIOLIN, AND BILLY DISCIPLINES MARGARET

Elnora missed the little figure at the bridge the following morning. She slowlywalked up the street and turned in at the wide entrance to the school grounds.She scarcely could comprehend that only a week ago she had gone therefriendless, alone, and so sick at heart that she was physically ill. To-day shehad decent clothing, books, friends, and her mind was at ease to work on herstudies.

As she approached home that night the girl paused in amazement. Her mother hadcompany, and she was laughing. Elnora entered the kitchen softly and peepedinto the sitting-room. Mrs. Comstock sat in her chair holding a book and everyfew seconds a soft chuckle broke into a real laugh. Mark Twain was doing hiswork; while Mrs. Comstock was not lacking in a sense of humour. Elnora enteredthe room before her mother saw her. Mrs. Comstock looked up with flushed face.

“Where did you get this?” she demanded.

“I bought it,” said Elnora.

“Bought it! With all the taxes due!”

“I paid for it out of my Indian money, mother,” said Elnora. “I couldn’t bearto spend so much on myself and nothing at all on you. I was afraid to buy thedress I should have liked to, and I thought the book would be company, while Iwas gone. I haven’t read it, but I do hope it’s good.”

“Good! It’s the biggest piece of foolishness I have read in all my life. I’velaughed all day, ever since I found it. I had a notion to go out and read someof it to the cows and see if they wouldn’t laugh.”

“If it made you laugh, it’s a wise book,” said Elnora.

“Wise!” cried Mrs. Comstock. “You can stake your life it’s a wise book. Ittakes the smartest man there is to do this kind of fooling,” and she beganlaughing again.

Elnora, highly satisfied with her purchase, went to her room and put on herworking clothes. Thereafter she made a point of bringing a book that shethought would interest her mother, from the library every week, and leaving iton the sitting-room table. Each night she carried home at least two schoolbooks and studied until she had mastered the points of her lessons. She did hershare of the work faithfully, and every available minute she was in the fieldssearching for cocoons, for the moths promised to become her largest source ofincome.

She gathered baskets of nests, flowers, mosses, insects, and all sorts ofnatural history specimens and sold them to the grade teachers. At first shetried to tell these instructors what to teach their pupils about the specimens;but recognizing how much more she knew than they, one after another begged herto study at home, and use her spare hours in school to exhibit and explainnature subjects to their pupils. Elnora loved the work, and she needed themoney, for every few days some matter of expense arose that she had notexpected.

From the first week she had been received and invited with the crowd of girlsin her class, and it was their custom in passing through the business part ofthe city to stop at the confectioners’ and take turns in treating to expensivecandies, ice cream sodas, hot chocolate, or whatever they fancied. When firstElnora was asked she accepted without understanding. The second time she wentbecause she seldom had tasted these things, and they were so delicious shecould not resist. After that she went because she knew all about it, and haddecided to go.

She had spent half an hour on the log beside the trail in deep thought and hadarrived at her conclusions. She worked harder than usual for the next week, butshe seemed to thrive on work. It was October and the red leaves were fallingwhen her first time came to treat. As the crowd flocked down the broad walkthat night Elnora called, “Girls, it’s my treat to-night! Come on!”

She led the way through the city to the grocery they patronized when they had asmall spread, and entering came out with a basket, which she carried to thebridge on her home road. There she arranged the girls in two rows on the cementabutments and opening her basket she gravely offered each girl an exquisitelittle basket of bark, lined with red leaves, in one end of which nestled ajuicy big red apple and in the other a spicy doughnut not an hour from MargaretSinton’s frying basket.

Another time she offered big balls of popped corn stuck together with maplesugar, and liberally sprinkled with beechnut kernels. Again it was hickory-nutkernels glazed with sugar, another time maple candy, and once a basket of warmpumpkin pies. She never made any apology, or offered any excuse. She simplygave what she could afford, and the change was as welcome to those city girlsaccustomed to sodas and French candy, as were these same things to Elnorasurfeited on popcorn and pie. In her room was a little slip containing a recordof the number of weeks in the school year, the times it would be her turn totreat and the dates on which such occasions would fall, with a number ofsuggestions beside each. Once the girls almost fought over a basket lined withyellow leaves, and filled with fat, very ripe red haws. In late October therewas a riot over one which was lined with red leaves and contained big fragrantpawpaws frost-bitten to a perfect degree. Then hazel nuts were ripe, and oncethey served. One day Elnora at her wits’ end, explained to her mother that thegirls had given her things and she wanted to treat them. Mrs. Comstock, withcharacteristic stubbornness, had said she would leave a basket at the groceryfor her, but firmly declined to say what would be in it. All day Elnorastruggled to keep her mind on her books. For hours she wavered in tenseuncertainty. What would her mother do? Should she take the girls to theconfectioner’s that night or risk the basket? Mrs. Comstock could makedelicious things to eat, but would she?

As they left the building Elnora made a final rapid mental calculation. Shecould not see her way clear to a decent treat for ten people for less than twodollars and if the basket proved to be nice, then the money would be wasted.She decided to risk it. As they went to the bridge the girls were betting onwhat the treat would be, and crowding near Elnora like spoiled small children.Elnora set down the basket.

“Girls,” she said, “I don’t know what this is myself, so all of us are going tobe surprised. Here goes!”

She lifted the cover and perfumes from the land of spices rolled up. In one endof the basket lay ten enormous sugar cakes the tops of which had been liberallydotted with circles cut from stick candy. The candy had melted in baking andmade small transparent wells of waxy sweetness and in the centre of each cakewas a fat turtle made from a raisin with cloves for head and feet. Theremainder of the basket was filled with big spiced pears that could be held bytheir stems while they were eaten. The girls shrieked and attacked the cookies,and of all the treats Elnora offered perhaps none was quite so long rememberedas that.

When Elnora took her basket, placed her books in it, and started home, all thegirls went with her as far as the fence where she crossed the field to theswamp. At parting they kissed her good-bye. Elnora was a happy girl as shehurried home to thank her mother. She was happy over her books that night, andhappy all the way to school the following morning.

When the music swelled from the orchestra her heart almost broke with throbbingjoy. For music always had affected her strangely, and since she had beencomfortable enough in her surroundings to notice things, she had listened toevery note to find what it was that literally hurt her heart, and at last sheknew. It was the talking of the violins. They were human voices, and they spokea language Elnora understood. It seemed to her that she must climb up on thestage, take the instruments from the fingers of the players and make them speakwhat was in her heart.

That night she said to her mother, “I am perfectly crazy for a violin. I amsure I could play one, sure as I live. Did any one——” Elnora nevercompleted that sentence.

“Hush!” thundered Mrs. Comstock. “Be quiet! Never mention those things beforeme again—never as long as you live! I loathe them! They are a snare ofthe very devil himself! They were made to lure men and women from their homesand their honour. If ever I see you with one in your fingers I will smash it inpieces.”

Naturally Elnora hushed, but she thought of nothing else after she had finishedher lessons. At last there came a day when for some reason the leader of theorchestra left his violin on the grand piano. That morning Elnora made herfirst mistake in algebra. At noon, as soon as the building was empty, sheslipped into the auditorium, found the side door which led to the stage, andgoing through the musicians’ entrance she took the violin. She carried it backinto the little side room where the orchestra assembled, closed all the doors,opened the case and lifted out the instrument.

She laid it on her breast, dropped her chin on it and drew the bow softlyacross the strings. One after another she tested the open notes. Gradually herstroke ceased to tremble and she drew the bow firmly. Then her fingers began tofall and softly, slowly she searched up and down those strings for sounds sheknew. Standing in the middle of the floor, she tried over and over. It seemedscarcely a minute before the hall was filled with the sound of hurrying feet,and she was forced to put away the violin and go to her classes. The next dayshe prayed that the violin would be left again, but her petition was notanswered. That night when she returned from the school she made an excuse to godown to see Billy. He was engaged in hulling walnuts by driving them throughholes in a board. His hands were protected by a pair of Margaret’s old gloves,but he had speckled his face generously. He appeared well, and greeted Elnorahilariously.

“Me an’ the squirrels are laying up our winter stores,” he shouted. “Cos thecold is coming, an’ the snow an’ if we have any nuts we have to fix ’em now.But I’m ahead, cos Uncle Wesley made me this board, and I can hull a big pilewhile the old squirrel does only ist one with his teeth.”

Elnora picked him up and kissed him. “Billy, are you happy?” she asked.

“Yes, and so’s Snap,” answered Billy. “You ought to see him make the dirt flywhen he gets after a chipmunk. I bet you he could dig up pa, if anybody wantedhim to.”

“Billy!” gasped Margaret as she came out to them.

“Well, me and Snap don’t want him up, and I bet you Jimmy and Belle don’t,either. I ain’t been twisty inside once since I been here, and I don’t want togo away, and Snap don’t, either. He told me so.”

“Billy! That is not true. Dogs can’t talk,” cautioned Margaret.

“Then what makes you open the door when he asks you to?” demanded Billy.

“Scratching and whining isn’t talking.”

“Anyway, it’s the best Snap can talk, and you get up and do things he wantsdone. Chipmunks can talk too. You ought to hear them damn things holler whenSnap gets them!”

“Billy! When you want a cooky for supper and I don’t give it to you it isbecause you said a wrong word.”

“Well, for——” Billy clapped his hand over his mouth and stained hisface in swipes. “Well, for—anything! Did I go an’ forget again! Thecookies will get all hard, won’t they? I bet you ten dollars I don’t say thatany more.”

He espied Wesley and ran to show him a walnut too big to go through the holes,and Elnora and Margaret entered the house.

They talked of many things for a time and then Elnora said suddenly: “AuntMargaret, I like music.”

“I’ve noticed that in you all your life,” answered Margaret.

“If dogs can’t talk, I can make a violin talk,” announced Elnora, and then inamazement watched the face of Margaret Sinton grow pale.

“A violin!” she wavered. “Where did you get a violin?”

“They fairly seemed to speak to me in the orchestra. One day the conductor lefthis in the auditorium, and I took it, and Aunt Margaret, I can make it do thewind in the swamp, the birds, and the animals. I can make any sound I everheard on it. If I had a chance to practise a little, I could make it do theorchestra music, too. I don’t know how I know, but I do.”

“Did—did you ever mention it to your mother?” faltered Margaret.

“Yes, and she seems prejudiced against them. But oh, Aunt Margaret, I neverfelt so about anything, not even going to school. I just feel as if I’d die ifI didn’t have one. I could keep it at school, and practise at noon a wholehour. Soon they’d ask me to play in the orchestra. I could keep it in the caseand practise in the woods in summer. You’d let me play over here Sunday. Oh,Aunt Margaret, what does one cost? Would it be wicked for me to take of mymoney, and buy a very cheap one? I could play on the least expensive one made.”

“Oh, no you couldn’t! A cheap machine makes cheap music. You got to have a finefiddle to make it sing. But there’s no sense in your buying one. There isn’t adecent reason on earth why you shouldn’t have your fa——”

“My father’s!” cried Elnora. She caught Margaret Sinton by the arm. “My fatherhad a violin! He played it. That’s why I can! Where is it! Is it in our house?Is it in mother’s room?”

“Elnora!” panted Margaret. “Your mother will kill me! She always hated it.”

“Mother dearly loves music,” said Elnora.

“Not when it took the man she loved away from her to make it!”

“Where is my father’s violin?”

“Elnora!”

“I’ve never seen a picture of my father. I’ve never heard his name mentioned.I’ve never had a scrap that belonged to him. Was he my father, or am I acharity child like Billy, and so she hates me?”

“She has good pictures of him. Seems she just can’t bear to hear him talkedabout. Of course, he was your father. They lived right there when you wereborn. She doesn’t dislike you; she merely tries to make herself think she does.There’s no sense in the world in you not having his violin. I’ve a greatnotion——”

“Has mother got it?”

“No. I’ve never heard her mention it. It was not at home when he—when hedied.”

“Do you know where it is?”

“Yes. I’m the only person on earth who does, except the one who has it.”

“Who is that?”

“I can’t tell you, but I will see if they have it yet, and get it if I can. Butif your mother finds it out she will never forgive me.”

“I can’t help it,” said Elnora. “I want that violin.”

“I’ll go to-morrow, and see if it has been destroyed.”

“Destroyed! Oh, Aunt Margaret! Would any one dare?”

“I hardly think so. It was a good instrument. He played it like a master.”

“Tell me!” breathed Elnora.

“His hair was red and curled more than yours, and his eyes were blue. He wastall, slim, and the very imp of mischief. He joked and teased all day until hepicked up that violin. Then his head bent over it, and his eyes got big andearnest. He seemed to listen as if he first heard the notes, and then copiedthem. Sometimes he drew the bow trembly, like he wasn’t sure it was right, andhe might have to try again. He could almost drive you crazy when he wanted to,and no man that ever lived could make you dance as he could. He made it all upas he went. He seemed to listen for his dancing music, too. It appeared to cometo him; he’d begin to play and you had to keep time. You couldn’t be still; heloved to sweep a crowd around with that bow of his. I think it was the thingyou call inspiration. I can see him now, his handsome head bent, his cheeksred, his eyes snapping, and that bow going across the strings, and driving uslike sheep. He always kept his body swinging, and he loved to play. He oftenslighted his work shamefully, and sometimes her a little; that is why she hatedit—Elnora, what are you making me do?”

The tears were rolling down Elnora’s cheeks. “Oh, Aunt Margaret,” she sobbed.“Why haven’t you told me about him sooner? I feel as if you had given my fatherto me living, so that I could touch him. I can see him, too! Why didn’t youever tell me before? Go on! Go on!”

“I can’t, Elnora! I’m scared silly. I never meant to say anything. If I hadn’tpromised her not to talk of him to you she wouldn’t have let you come here. Shemade me swear it.”

“But why? Why? Was he a shame? Was he disgraced?”

“Maybe it was that unjust feeling that took possession of her when she couldn’thelp him from the swamp. She had to blame some one, or go crazy, so she took itout on you. At times, those first ten years, if I had talked to you, and youhad repeated anything to her, she might have struck you too hard. She was notmaster of herself. You must be patient with her, Elnora. God only knows whatshe has gone through, but I think she is a little better, lately.”

“So do I,” said Elnora. “She seems more interested in my clothes, and she fixesme such delicious lunches that the girls bring fine candies and cake and beg totrade. I gave half my lunch for a box of candy one day, brought it home to her,and told her. Since, she has wanted me to carry a market basket and treat thecrowd every day, she was so pleased. Life has been too monotonous for her. Ithink she enjoys even the little change made by my going and coming. She sitsup half the night to read the library books I bring, but she is so stubborn shewon’t even admit that she touches them. Tell me more about my father.”

“Wait until I see if I can find the violin.”

So Elnora went home in suspense, and that night she added to her prayers: “DearLord, be merciful to my father, and oh, do help Aunt Margaret to get hisviolin.”

Wesley and Billy came in to supper tired and hungry. Billy ate heartily, buthis eyes often rested on a plate of tempting cookies, and when Wesley offeredthem to the boy he reached for one. Margaret was compelled to explain thatcookies were forbidden that night.

“What!” said Wesley. “Wrong words been coming again. Oh Billy, I do wish youcould remember! I can’t sit and eat cookies before a little boy who has none.I’ll have to put mine back, too.” Billy’s face twisted in despair.

“Aw go on!” he said gruffly, but his chin was jumping, for Wesley was his idol.

“Can’t do it,” said Wesley. “It would choke me.”

Billy turned to Margaret. “You make him,” he appealed.

“He can’t, Billy,” said Margaret. “I know how he feels. You see, I can’tmyself.”

Then Billy slid from his chair, ran to the couch, buried his face in the pillowand cried heart-brokenly. Wesley hurried to the barn, and Margaret to thekitchen. When the dishes were washed Billy slipped from the back door.

Wesley piling hay into the mangers heard a sound behind him and inquired, “Thatyou, Billy?”

“Yes,” answered Billy, “and it’s all so dark you can’t see me now, isn’t it?”

“Well, mighty near,” answered Wesley.

“Then you stoop down and open your mouth.”

Sinton had shared bites of apple and nuts for weeks, for Billy had not learnedhow to eat anything without dividing with Jimmy and Belle. Since he had beenseparated from them, he shared with Wesley and Margaret. So he bent over theboy and received an instalment of cooky that almost choked him.

“Now you can eat it!” shouted Billy in delight. “It’s all dark! I can’t seewhat you’re doing at all!”

Wesley picked up the small figure and set the boy on the back of a horse tobring his face level so that they could talk as men. He never towered from hisheight above Billy, but always lifted the little soul when important matterswere to be discussed.

“Now what a dandy scheme,” he commented. “Did you and Aunt Margaret fix it up?”

“No. She ain’t had hers yet. But I got one for her. Ist as soon as you eatyours, I am going to take hers, and feed her first time I find her in thedark.”

“But Billy, where did you get the cookies? You know Aunt Margaret said you werenot to have any.”

“I ist took them,” said Billy, “I didn’t take them for me. I ist took them foryou and her.”

Wesley thought fast. In the warm darkness of the barn the horses crunched theircorn, a rat gnawed at a corner of the granary, and among the rafters the whitepigeon cooed a soft sleepy note to his dusky mate.

“Did—did—I steal?” wavered Billy.

Wesley’s big hands closed until he almost hurt the boy.

“No!” he said vehemently. “That is too big a word. You made a mistake. You weretrying to be a fine little man, but you went at it the wrong way. You only madea mistake. All of us do that, Billy. The world grows that way. When we makemistakes we can see them; that teaches us to be more careful the next time, andso we learn.”

“How wouldn’t it be a mistake?”

“If you had told Aunt Margaret what you wanted to do, and asked her for thecookies she would have given them to you.”

“But I was ’fraid she wouldn’t, and you ist had to have it.”

“Not if it was wrong for me to have it, Billy. I don’t want it that much.”

“Must I take it back?”

“You think hard, and decide yourself.”

“Lift me down,” said Billy, after a silence, “I got to put this in the jar, andtell her.”

Wesley set the boy on the floor, but as he did so he paused one second andstrained him close to his breast.

Margaret sat in her chair sewing; Billy slipped in and crept beside her. Thelittle face was lined with tragedy.

“Why Billy, whatever is the matter?” she cried as she dropped her sewing andheld out her arms. Billy stood back. He gripped his little fists tight andsquared his shoulders. “I got to be shut up in the closet,” he said.

“Oh Billy! What an unlucky day! What have you done now?”

“I stold!” gulped Billy. “He said it was ist a mistake, but it was worser ’anthat. I took something you told me I wasn’t to have.”

“Stole!” Margaret was in despair. “What, Billy?”

“Cookies!” answered Billy in equal trouble.

“Billy!” wailed Margaret. “How could you?”

“It was for him and you,” sobbed Billy. “He said he couldn’t eat it ’fore me,but out in the barn it’s all dark and I couldn’t see. I thought maybe he couldthere. Then we might put out the light and you could have yours. He said I onlymade it worse, cos I mustn’t take things, so I got to go in the closet. Willyou hold me tight a little bit first? He did.”

Margaret opened her arms and Billy rushed in and clung to her a few seconds,with all the force of his being, then he slipped to the floor and marched tothe closet. Margaret opened the door. Billy gave one glance at the light,clinched his fists and, walking inside, climbed on a box. Margaret closed thedoor.

Then she sat and listened. Was the air pure enough? Possibly he might smother.She had read something once. Was it very dark? What if there should be a mousein the closet and it should run across his foot and frighten him into spasms.Somewhere she had heard—Margaret leaned forward with tense face andlistened. Something dreadful might happen. She could bear it no longer. Shearose hurriedly and opened the door. Billy was drawn up on the box in a littleheap, and he lifted a disapproving face to her.

“Shut that door!” he said. “I ain’t been in here near long enough yet!”

CHAPTER X

WHEREIN ELNORA HAS MORE FINANCIAL TROUBLES, AND MRS. COMSTOCK AGAIN HEARSTHE SONG OF THE LIMBERLOST

The following night Elnora hurried to Sintons’. She threw open the back doorand with anxious eyes searched Margaret’s face.

“You got it!” panted Elnora. “You got it! I can see by your face that you did.Oh, give it to me!”

“Yes, I got it, honey, I got it all right, but don’t be so fast. It had beenkept in such a damp place it needed glueing, it had to have strings, and a keywas gone. I knew how much you wanted it, so I sent Wesley right to town withit. They said they could fix it good as new, but it should be varnished, andthat it would take several days for the glue to set. You can have it Saturday.”

“You found it where you thought it was? You know it’s his?”

“Yes, it was just where I thought, and it’s the same violin I’ve seen him playhundreds of times. It’s all right, only laying so long it needs fixing.”

“Oh Aunt Margaret! Can I ever wait?”

“It does seem a long time, but how could I help it? You couldn’t do anythingwith it as it was. You see, it had been hidden away in a garret, and it neededcleaning and drying to make it fit to play again. You can have it Saturdaysure. But Elnora, you’ve got to promise me that you will leave it here, or intown, and not let your mother get a hint of it. I don’t know what she’d do.”

“Uncle Wesley can bring it here until Monday. Then I will take it to school sothat I can practise at noon. Oh, I don’t know how to thank you. And there’smore than the violin for which to be thankful. You’ve given me my father. Lastnight I saw him plainly as life.”

“Elnora you were dreaming!”

“I know I was dreaming, but I saw him. I saw him so closely that a tiny whitescar at the corner of his eyebrow showed. I was just reaching out to touch himwhen he disappeared.”

“Who told you there was a scar on his forehead?”

“No one ever did in all my life. I saw it last night as he went down. And oh,Aunt Margaret! I saw what she did, and I heard his cries! No matter what shedoes, I don’t believe I ever can be angry with her again. Her heart is broken,and she can’t help it. Oh, it was terrible, but I am glad I saw it. Now, I willalways understand.”

“I don’t know what to make of that,” said Margaret. “I don’t believe in suchstuff at all, but you couldn’t make it up, for you didn’t know.”

“I only know that I played the violin last night, as he played it, and while Iplayed he came through the woods from the direction of Carneys’. It was summerand all the flowers were in bloom. He wore gray trousers and a blue shirt, hishead was bare, and his face was beautiful. I could almost touch him when hesank.”

Margaret stood perplexed. “I don’t know what to think of that!” she ejaculated.“I was next to the last person who saw him before he was drowned. It was lateon a June afternoon, and he was dressed as you describe. He was bareheadedbecause he had found a quail’s nest before the bird began to brood, and hegathered the eggs in his hat and left it in a fence corner to get on his wayhome; they found it afterward.”

“Was he coming from Carneys’?”

“He was on that side of the quagmire. Why he ever skirted it so close as to getcaught is a mystery you will have to dream out. I never could understand it.”

“Was he doing something he didn’t want my mother to know?”

“Why?”

“Because if he had been, he might have cut close the swamp so he couldn’t beseen from the garden. You know, the whole path straight to the pool where hesank can be seen from our back door. It’s firm on our side. The danger is onthe north and east. If he didn’t want mother to know, he might have tried topass on either of those sides and gone too close. Was he in a hurry?”

“Yes, he was,” said Margaret. “He had been away longer than he expected, and healmost ran when he started home.”

“And he’d left his violin somewhere that you knew, and you went and got it.I’ll wager he was going to play, and didn’t want mother to find it out!”

“It wouldn’t make any difference to you if you knew every little thing, so quitthinking about it, and just be glad you are to have what he loved best ofanything.”

“That’s true. Now I must hurry home. I am dreadfully late.”

Elnora sprang up and ran down the road, but when she approached the cabin sheclimbed the fence, crossed the open woods pasture diagonally and entered at theback garden gate. As she often came that way when she had been looking forcocoons her mother asked no questions.

Elnora lived by the minute until Saturday, when, contrary to his usual custom,Wesley went to town in the forenoon, taking her along to buy some groceries.Wesley drove straight to the music store, and asked for the violin he had leftto be mended.

In its new coat of varnish, with new keys and strings, it seemed much like anyother violin to Sinton, but to Elnora it was the most beautiful instrument evermade, and a priceless treasure. She held it in her arms, touched the stringssoftly and then she drew the bow across them in whispering measure. She had notime to think what a remarkably good bow it was for sixteen years’ disuse. Thetan leather case might have impressed her as being in fine condition also, hadshe been in a state to question anything. She did remember to ask for the billand she was gravely presented with a slip calling for four strings, one key,and a coat of varnish, total, one dollar fifty. It seemed to Elnora she nevercould put the precious instrument in the case and start home. Wesley left herin the music store where the proprietor showed her all he could about tuning,and gave her several beginners’ sheets of notes and scales. She carried theviolin in her arms as far as the crossroads at the corner of their land, thenreluctantly put it under the carriage seat.

As soon as her work was done she ran down to Sintons’ and began to play, and onMonday the violin went to school with her. She made arrangements with thesuperintendent to leave it in his office and scarcely took time for her food atnoon, she was so eager to practise. Often one of the girls asked her to stay intown all night for some lecture or entertainment. She could take the violinwith her, practise, and secure help. Her skill was so great that the leader ofthe orchestra offered to give her lessons if she would play to pay for them, soher progress was rapid in technical work. But from the first day the instrumentbecame hers, with perfect faith that she could play as her father did, shespent half her practice time in imitating the sounds of all outdoors andimprovising the songs her happy heart sang in those days.

So the first year went, and the second and third were a repetition; but thefourth was different, for that was the close of the course, ending withgraduation and all its attendant ceremonies and expenses. To Elnora theseappeared mountain high. She had hoarded every cent, thinking twice before sheparted with a penny, but teaching natural history in the grades had taken timefrom her studies in school which must be made up outside. She was aconscientious student, ranking first in most of her classes, and standing highin all branches. Her interest in her violin had grown with the years. She wentto school early and practised half an hour in the little room adjoining thestage, while the orchestra gathered. She put in a full hour at noon, andremained another half hour at night. She carried the violin to Sintons’ onSaturday and practised all the time she could there, while Margaret watched theroad to see that Mrs. Comstock was not coming. She had become so skilful thatit was a delight to hear her play music of any composer, but when she playedher own, that was joy inexpressible, for then the wind blew, the water rippled,the Limberlost sang her songs of sunshine, shadow, black storm, and whitenight.

Since her dream Elnora had regarded her mother with peculiar tenderness. Thegirl realized, in a measure, what had happened. She avoided anything thatpossibly could stir bitter memories or draw deeper a line on the hard, whiteface. This cost many sacrifices, much work, and sometimes delayed progress, butthe horror of that awful dream remained with Elnora. She worked her waycheerfully, doing all she could to interest her mother in things that happenedin school, in the city, and by carrying books that were entertaining from thepublic library.

Three years had changed Elnora from the girl of sixteen to the very verge ofwomanhood. She had grown tall, round, and her face had the loveliness ofperfect complexion, beautiful eyes and hair and an added touch from within thatmight have been called comprehension. It was a compound of self-reliance, hardknocks, heart hunger, unceasing work, and generosity. There was no form ofsuffering with which the girl could not sympathize, no work she was afraid toattempt, no subject she had investigated she did not understand. These thingscombined to produce a breadth and depth of character altogether unusual. Shewas so absorbed in her classes and her music that she had not been able togather many specimens. When she realized this and hunted assiduously, she soonfound that changing natural conditions had affected such work. Men all aroundwere clearing available land. The trees fell wherever corn would grow. Theswamp was broken by several gravel roads, dotted in places around the edge withlittle frame houses, and the machinery of oil wells; one especially low placearound the region of Freckles’s room was nearly all that remained of theoriginal. Wherever the trees fell the moisture dried, the creeks ceased toflow, the river ran low, and at times the bed was dry. With unbroken sweep thewinds of the west came, gathering force with every mile and howled and raved;threatening to tear the shingles from the roof, blowing the surface from thesoil in clouds of fine dust and rapidly changing everything. From coming inwith two or three dozen rare moths in a day, in three years’ time Elnora hadgrown to be delighted with finding two or three. Big pursy caterpillars couldnot be picked from their favourite bushes, when there were no bushes.Dragonflies would not hover over dry places, and butterflies became scarce inproportion to the flowers, while no land yields over three crops of Indianrelics.

All the time the expense of books, clothing and incidentals had continued.Elnora added to her bank account whenever she could, and drew out when she wascompelled, but she omitted the important feature of calling for a balance. So,one early spring morning in the last quarter of the fourth year, she almostfainted when she learned that her funds were gone. Commencement with its extraexpense was coming, she had no money, and very few cocoons to open in June,which would be too late. She had one collection for the Bird Woman complete toa pair of Imperialis moths, and that was her only asset. On the day she addedthese big Yellow Emperors she had been promised a check for three hundreddollars, but she would not get it until these specimens were secured. Sheremembered that she never had found an Emperor before June.

Moreover, that sum was for her first year in college. Then she would be of age,and she meant to sell enough of her share of her father’s land to finish. Sheknew her mother would oppose her bitterly in that, for Mrs. Comstock had clungto every acre and tree that belonged to her husband. Her land was almostcomplete forest where her neighbours owned cleared farms, dotted with wellsthat every hour sucked oil from beneath her holdings, but she was too absorbedin the grief she nursed to know or care. The Brushwood road and the redredgingof the big Limberlost ditch had been more than she could pay from her income,and she had trembled before the wicket as she asked the banker if she had fundsto pay it, and wondered why he laughed when he assured her she had. For Mrs.Comstock had spent no time on compounding interest, and never added the sumsshe had been depositing through nearly twenty years. Now she thought her fundswere almost gone, and every day she worried over expenses. She could see noreason in going through the forms of graduation when pupils had all in theirheads that was required to graduate. Elnora knew she had to have her diploma inorder to enter the college she wanted to attend, but she did not dare utter theword, until high school was finished, for, instead of softening as she hopedher mother had begun to do, she seemed to remain very much the same.

When the girl reached the swamp she sat on a log and thought over the expenseshe was compelled to meet. Every member of her particular set was having alarge photograph taken to exchange with the others. Elnora loved these girlsand boys, and to say she could not have their pictures to keep was more thanshe could endure. Each one would give to all the others a handsome graduationpresent. She knew they would prepare gifts for her whether she could make apresent in return or not. Then it was the custom for each graduating class togive a great entertainment and use the funds to present the school with astatue for the entrance hall. Elnora had been cast for and was practising apart in that performance. She was expected to furnish her dress and personalnecessities. She had been told that she must have a green gauze dress, andwhere was it to come from?

Every girl of the class would have three beautiful new frocks for Commencement:one for the baccalaureate sermon, another, which could be plain, for graduationexercises, and a handsome one for the banquet and ball. Elnora faced the pastthree years and wondered how she could have spent so much money and not keptaccount of it. She did not realize where it had gone. She did not know what shecould do now. She thought over the photographs, and at last settled thatquestion to her satisfaction. She studied longer over the gifts, ten handsomeones there must be, and at last decided she could arrange for them. The greendress came first. The lights would be dim in the scene, and the setting deepwoods. She could manage that. She simply could not have three dresses. Shewould have to get a very simple one for the sermon and do the best she couldfor graduation. Whatever she got for that must be made with a guimpe that couldbe taken out to make it a little more festive for the ball. But where could sheget even two pretty dresses?

The only hope she could see was to break into the collection of the man fromIndia, sell some moths, and try to replace them in June. But in her soul sheknew that never would do. No June ever brought just the things she hoped itwould. If she spent the college money she knew she could not replace it. If shedid not, the only way was to secure a room in the grades and teach a year. Herwork there had been so appreciated that Elnora felt with the recommendation sheknew she could get from the superintendent and teachers she could secure aposition. She was sure she could pass the examinations easily. She had oncegone on Saturday, taken them and secured a license for a year before she leftthe Brushwood school.

She wanted to start to college when the other girls were going. If she couldmake the first year alone, she could manage the remainder. But make that firstyear herself, she must. Instead of selling any of her collection, she must huntas she never before had hunted and find a Yellow Emperor. She had to have it,that was all. Also, she had to have those dresses. She thought of Wesley anddismissed it. She thought of the Bird Woman, and knew she could not tell her.She thought of every way in which she ever had hoped to earn money and realizedthat with the play, committee meetings, practising, and final examinations shescarcely had time to live, much less to do more than the work required for herpictures and gifts. Again Elnora was in trouble, and this time it seemed theworst of all.

It was dark when she arose and went home.

“Mother,” she said, “I have a piece of news that is decidedly not cheerful.”

“Then keep it to yourself!” said Mrs. Comstock. “I think I have enough to bearwithout a great girl like you piling trouble on me.”

“My money is all gone!” said Elnora.

“Well, did you think it would last forever? It’s been a marvel to me that it’sheld out as well as it has, the way you’ve dressed and gone.”

“I don’t think I’ve spent any that I was not compelled to,” said Elnora. “I’vedressed on just as little as I possibly could to keep going. I am heartsick. Ithought I had over fifty dollars to put me through Commencement, but they tellme it is all gone.”

“Fifty dollars! To put you through Commencement! What on earth are youproposing to do?”

“The same as the rest of them, in the very cheapest way possible.”

“And what might that be?”

Elnora omitted the photographs, the gifts and the play. She told only of thesermon, graduation exercises, and the ball.

“Well, I wouldn’t trouble myself over that,” sniffed Mrs. Comstock. “If youwant to go to a sermon, put on the dress you always use for meeting. If youneed white for the exercises wear the new dress you got last spring. As for theball, the best thing for you to do is to stay a mile away from such folly. Inmy opinion you’d best bring home your books, and quit right now. You can’t befixed like the rest of them, don’t be so foolish as to run into it. Just stayhere and let these last few days go. You can’t learn enough more to be of anyaccount.”

“But, mother,” gasped Elnora. “You don’t understand!”

“Oh, yes, I do!” said Mrs. Comstock. “I understand perfectly. So long as themoney lasted, you held up your head, and went sailing without even explaininghow you got it from the stuff you gathered. Goodness knows I couldn’t see. Butnow it’s gone, you come whining to me. What have I got? Have you forgot thatthe ditch and the road completely strapped me? I haven’t any money. There’snothing for you to do but get out of it.”

“I can’t!” said Elnora desperately. “I’ve gone on too long. It would make abreak in everything. They wouldn’t let me have my diploma!”

“What’s the difference? You’ve got the stuff in your head. I wouldn’t give arap for a scrap of paper. That don’t mean anything!”

“But I’ve worked four years for it, and I can’t enter—I ought to have itto help me get a school, when I want to teach. If I don’t have my grades toshow, people will think I quit because I couldn’t pass my examinations. I musthave my diploma!”

“Then get it!” said Mrs. Comstock.

“The only way is to graduate with the others.”

“Well, graduate if you are bound to!”

“But I can’t, unless I have things enough like the class, that I don’t look asI did that first day.”

“Well, please remember I didn’t get you into this, and I can’t get you out. Youare set on having your own way. Go on, and have it, and see how you like it!”

Elnora went upstairs and did not come down again that night, which her mothercalled pouting.

“I’ve thought all night,” said the girl at breakfast, “and I can’t see any waybut to borrow the money of Uncle Wesley and pay it back from some that the BirdWoman will owe me, when I get one more specimen. But that means that I can’t goto—that I will have to teach this winter, if I can get a city grade or acountry school.”

“Just you dare go dinging after Wesley Sinton for money,” cried Mrs. Comstock.“You won’t do any such a thing!”

“I can’t see any other way. I’ve got to have the money!”

“Quit, I tell you!”

“I can’t quit!—I’ve gone too far!”

“Well then, let me get your clothes, and you can pay me back.”

“But you said you had no money!”

“Maybe I can borrow some at the bank. Then you can return it when the BirdWoman pays you.”

“All right,” said Elnora. “I don’t need expensive things. Just some kind of apretty cheap white dress for the sermon, and a white one a little better than Ihad last summer, for Commencement and the ball. I can use the white gloves andshoes I got myself for last year, and you can get my dress made at the sameplace you did that one. They have my measurements, and do perfect work. Don’tget expensive things. It will be warm so I can go bareheaded.”

Then she started to school, but was so tired and discouraged she scarcely couldwalk. Four years’ plans going in one day! For she felt that if she did notstart to college that fall she never would. Instead of feeling relieved at hermother’s offer, she was almost too ill to go on. For the thousandth time shegroaned: “Oh, why didn’t I keep account of my money?”

After that the days passed so swiftly she scarcely had time to think, butseveral trips her mother made to town, and the assurance that everything wasall right, satisfied Elnora. She worked very hard to pass good finalexaminations and perfect herself for the play. For two days she had remained intown with the Bird Woman in order to spend more time practising and at herwork.

Often Margaret had asked about her dresses for graduation, and Elnora hadreplied that they were with a woman in the city who had made her a white dressfor last year’s Commencement when she was a junior usher, and they would be allright. So Margaret, Wesley, and Billy concerned themselves over what they wouldgive her for a present. Margaret suggested a beautiful dress. Wesley said thatwould look to every one as if she needed dresses. The thing was to get ahandsome gift like all the others would have. Billy wanted to present her afive-dollar gold piece to buy music for her violin. He was positive Elnorawould like that best of anything.

It was toward the close of the term when they drove to town one evening to tryto settle this important question. They knew Mrs. Comstock had been aloneseveral days, so they asked her to accompany them. She had been more lonelythan she would admit, filled with unusual unrest besides, and so she was gladto go. But before they had driven a mile Billy had told that they were going tobuy Elnora a graduation present, and Mrs. Comstock devoutly wished that she hadremained at home. She was prepared when Billy asked: “Aunt Kate, what are yougoing to give Elnora when she graduates?”

“Plenty to eat, a good bed to sleep in, and do all the work while shetrollops,” answered Mrs. Comstock dryly.

Billy reflected. “I guess all of them have that,” he said. “I mean a presentyou buy at the store, like Christmas?”

“It is only rich folks who buy presents at stores,” replied Mrs. Comstock. “Ican’t afford it.”

“Well, we ain’t rich,” he said, “but we are going to buy Elnora something asfine as the rest of them have if we sell a corner of the farm. Uncle Wesleysaid so.”

“A fool and his land are soon parted,” said Mrs. Comstock tersely. Wesley andBilly laughed, but Margaret did not enjoy the remark.

While they were searching the stores for something on which all of them coulddecide, and Margaret was holding Billy to keep him from saying anything beforeMrs. Comstock about the music on which he was determined, Mr. Brownlee metWesley and stopped to shake hands.

“I see your boy came out finely,” he said.

“I don’t allow any boy anywhere to be finer than Billy,” said Wesley.

“I guess you don’t allow any girl to surpass Elnora,” said Mr. Brownlee. “Shecomes home with Ellen often, and my wife and I love her. Ellen says she isgreat in her part to-night. Best thing in the whole play! Of course, you are into see it! If you haven’t reserved seats, you’d better start pretty soon, forthe high school auditorium only seats a thousand. It’s always jammed at thesehome-talent plays. All of us want to see how our children perform.”

“Why yes, of course,” said the bewildered Wesley. Then he hurried to Margaret.“Say,” he said, “there is going to be a play at the high school to-night; andElnora is in it. Why hasn’t she told us?”

“I don’t know,” said Margaret, “but I’m going.”

“So am I,” said Billy.

“Me too!” said Wesley, “unless you think for some reason she doesn’t want us.Looks like she would have told us if she had. I’m going to ask her mother.”

“Yes, that’s what’s she’s been staying in town for,” said Mrs. Comstock. “It’ssome sort of a swindle to raise money for her class to buy some silly thing tostick up in the school house hall to remember them by. I don’t know whetherit’s now or next week, but there’s something of the kind to be done.”

“Well, it’s to-night,” said Wesley, “and we are going. It’s my treat, and we’vegot to hurry or we won’t get in. There are reserved seats, and we have none, soit’s the gallery for us, but I don’t care so I get to take one good peep atElnora.”

“S’pose she plays?” whispered Margaret in his ear.

“Aw, tush! She couldn’t!” said Wesley.

“Well, she’s been doing it three years in the orchestra, and working like aslave at it.”

“Oh, well that’s different. She’s in the play to-night. Brownlee told me so.Come on, quick! We’ll drive and hitch closest place we can find to thebuilding.”

Margaret went in the excitement of the moment, but she was troubled.

When they reached the building Wesley tied the team to a railing and Billysprang out to help Margaret. Mrs. Comstock sat still.

“Come on, Kate,” said Wesley, reaching his hand.

“I’m not going anywhere,” said Mrs. Comstock, settling comfortably back againstthe cushions.

All of them begged and pleaded, but it was no use. Not an inch would Mrs.Comstock budge. The night was warm and the carriage comfortable, the horseswere securely hitched. She did not care to see what idiotic thing a pack ofschool children were doing, she would wait until the Sintons returned. Wesleytold her it might be two hours, and she said she did not care if it were four,so they left her.

“Did you ever see such——?”

“Cookies!” cried Billy.

“Such blamed stubbornness in all your life?” demanded Wesley. “Won’t come tosee as fine a girl as Elnora in a stage performance. Why, I wouldn’t miss itfor fifty dollars!

“I think it’s a blessing she didn’t,” said Margaret placidly. “I beggedunusually hard so she wouldn’t. I’m scared of my life for fear Elnora willplay.”

They found seats near the door where they could see fairly well. Billy stood atthe back of the hall and had a good view. By and by, a great volume of soundwelled from the orchestra, but Elnora was not playing.

“Told you so!” said Sinton. “Got a notion to go out and see if Kate won’t comenow. She can take my seat, and I’ll stand with Billy.”

“You sit still!” said Margaret emphatically. “This is not over yet.”

So Wesley remained in his seat. The play opened and progressed very much as allhigh school plays have gone for the past fifty years. But Elnora did not appearin any of the scenes.

Out in the warm summer night a sour, grim woman nursed an aching heart andtried to justify herself. The effort irritated her intensely. She felt that shecould not afford the things that were being done. The old fear of losing theland that she and Robert Comstock had purchased and started clearing was strongupon her. She was thinking of him, how she needed him, when the orchestra musicpoured from the open windows near her. Mrs. Comstock endured it as long as shecould, and then slipped from the carriage and fled down the street.

She did not know how far she went or how long she stayed, but everything wasstill, save an occasional raised voice when she wandered back. She stoodlooking at the building. Slowly she entered the wide gates and followed up thewalk. Elnora had been coming here for almost four years. When Mrs. Comstockreached the door she looked inside. The wide hall was lighted with electricity,and the statuary and the decorations of the walls did not seem like pieces offoolishness. The marble appeared pure, white, and the big pictures mostinteresting. She walked the length of the hall and slowly read the titles ofthe statues and the names of the pupils who had donated them. She speculated onwhere the piece Elnora’s class would buy could be placed to advantage.

Then she wondered if they were having a large enough audience to buy marble.She liked it better than the bronze, but it looked as if it cost more. Howwhite the broad stairway was! Elnora had been climbing those stairs for yearsand never told her they were marble. Of course, she thought they were wood.Probably the upper hall was even grander than this. She went over to thefountain, took a drink, climbed to the first landing and looked around her, andthen without thought to the second. There she came opposite the wide-open doorsand the entrance to the auditorium packed with people and a crowd standingoutside. When they noticed a tall woman with white face and hair and blackdress, one by one they stepped a little aside, so that Mrs. Comstock could seethe stage. It was covered with curtains, and no one was doing anything. Just asshe turned to go a sound so faint that every one leaned forward and listened,drifted down the auditorium. It was difficult to tell just what it was; afterone instant half the audience looked toward the windows, for it seemed only abreath of wind rustling freshly opened leaves; merely a hint of stirring air.

Then the curtains were swept aside swiftly. The stage had been transformed intoa lovely little corner of creation, where trees and flowers grew and mosscarpeted the earth. A soft wind blew and it was the gray of dawn. Suddenly arobin began to sing, then a song sparrow joined him, and then several oriolesbegan talking at once. The light grew stronger, the dew drops trembled, flowerperfume began to creep out to the audience; the air moved the branches gentlyand a rooster crowed. Then all the scene was shaken with a babel of bird notesin which you could hear a cardinal whistling, and a blue finch piping. Backsomewhere among the high branches a dove cooed and then a horse neighedshrilly. That set a blackbird crying, “T’check,” and a whole flock answered it.The crows began to caw and a lamb bleated. Then the grosbeaks, chats, andvireos had something to say, and the sun rose higher, the light grew strongerand the breeze rustled the treetops loudly; a cow bawled and the whole barnyardanswered. The guineas were clucking, the turkey gobbler strutting, the henscalling, the chickens cheeping, the light streamed down straight overhead andthe bees began to hum. The air stirred strongly, and away in an unseen field areaper clacked and rattled through ripening wheat while the driver whistled. Anuneasy mare whickered to her colt, the colt answered, and the light began todecline. Miles away a rooster crowed for twilight, and dusk was coming down.Then a catbird and a brown thrush sang against a grosbeak and a hermit thrush.The air was tremulous with heavenly notes, the lights went out in the hall,dusk swept across the stage, a cricket sang and a katydid answered, and a woodpewee wrung the heart with its lonesome cry. Then a night hawk screamed, awhip-poor-will complained, a belated killdeer swept the sky, and the night windsang a louder song. A little screech owl tuned up in the distance, a barn owlreplied, and a great horned owl drowned both their voices. The moon shone andthe scene was warm with mellow light. The bird voices died and soft exquisitemelody began to swell and roll. In the centre of the stage, piece by piece thegrasses, mosses and leaves dropped from an embankment, the foliage softly blewaway, while plainer and plainer came the outlines of a lovely girl figuredraped in soft clinging green. In her shower of bright hair a few green leavesand white blossoms clung, and they fell over her robe down to her feet. Herwhite throat and arms were bare, she leaned forward a little and swayed withthe melody, her eyes fast on the clouds above her, her lips parted, a pinktinge of exercise in her cheeks as she drew her bow. She played as only apeculiar chain of circumstances puts it in the power of a very few to play. Allnature had grown still, the violin sobbed, sang, danced and quavered on alone,no voice in particular; the soul of the melody of all nature combined in onegreat outpouring.

At the doorway, a white-faced woman endured it as long as she could and thenfell senseless. The men nearest carried her down the hall to the fountain,revived her, and then placed her in the carriage to which she directed them.The girl played on and never knew. When she finished, the uproar of applausesounded a block down the street, but the half-senseless woman scarcely realizedwhat it meant. Then the girl came to the front of the stage, bowed, and liftingthe violin she played her conception of an invitation to dance. Every livingsoul within sound of her notes strained their nerves to sit still and let onlytheir hearts dance with her. When that began the woman ran toward the country.She never stopped until the carriage overtook her half-way to her cabin. Shesaid she had grown tired of sitting, and walked on ahead. That night she askedBilly to remain with her and sleep on Elnora’s bed. Then she pitched headlongupon her own, and suffered agony of soul such as she never before had known.The swamp had sent back the soul of her loved dead and put it into the body ofthe daughter she resented, and it was almost more than she could endure andlive.

CHAPTER XI

WHEREIN ELNORA GRADUATES, AND FRECKLES AND THE ANGEL SEND GIFTS

That was Friday night. Elnora came home Saturday morning and began work. Mrs.Comstock asked no questions, and the girl only told her that the audience hadbeen large enough to more than pay for the piece of statuary the class hadselected for the hall. Then she inquired about her dresses and was told theywould be ready for her. She had been invited to go to the Bird Woman’s toprepare for both the sermon and Commencement exercises. Since there was so muchpractising to do, it had been arranged that she should remain there from thenight of the sermon until after she was graduated. If Mrs. Comstock decided toattend she was to drive in with the Sintons. When Elnora begged her to come shesaid she cared nothing about such silliness.

It was almost time for Wesley to come to take Elnora to the city, when freshfrom her bath, and dressed to her outer garment, she stood with expectant facebefore her mother and cried: “Now my dress, mother!”

Mrs. Comstock was pale as she replied: “It’s on my bed. Help yourself.”

Elnora opened the door and stepped into her mother’s room with never amisgiving. Since the night Margaret and Wesley had brought her clothing, whenshe first started to school, her mother had selected all of her dresses, withMrs. Sinton’s help made most of them, and Elnora had paid the bills. The whitedress of the previous spring was the first made at a dressmaker’s. She had wornthat as junior usher at Commencement; but her mother had selected the material,had it made, and it had fitted perfectly and had been suitable in every way. Sowith her heart at rest on that point, Elnora hurried to the bed to find onlyher last summer’s white dress, freshly washed and ironed. For an instant shestared at it, then she picked up the garment, looked at the bed beneath it, andher gaze slowly swept the room.

It was unfamiliar. Perhaps this was the third time she had been in it since shewas a very small child. Her eyes ranged over the beautiful walnut dresser, thetall bureau, the big chest, inside which she never had seen, and the row ofmasculine attire hanging above it. Somewhere a dainty lawn or mull dress simplymust be hanging: but it was not. Elnora dropped on the chest because she felttoo weak to stand. In less than two hours she must be in the church, atOnabasha. She could not wear a last year’s washed dress. She had nothing else.She leaned against the wall and her father’s overcoat brushed her face. Shecaught the folds and clung to it with all her might.

“Oh father! Father!” she moaned. “I need you! I don’t believe you would havedone this!” At last she opened the door.

“I can’t find my dress,” she said.

“Well, as it’s the only one there I shouldn’t think it would be much trouble.”

“You mean for me to wear an old washed dress to-night?”

“It’s a good dress. There isn’t a hole in it! There’s no reason on earth whyyou shouldn’t wear it.”

“Except that I will not,” said Elnora. “Didn’t you provide any dress forCommencement, either?”

“If you soil that to-night, I’ve plenty of time to wash it again.”

Wesley’s voice called from the gate.

“In a minute,” answered Elnora.

She ran upstairs and in an incredibly short time came down wearing one of hergingham school dresses. Her face cold and hard, she passed her mother and wentinto the night. Half an hour later Margaret and Billy stopped for Mrs. Comstockwith the carriage. She had determined fully that she would not go before theycalled. With the sound of their voices a sort of horror of being left seizedher, so she put on her hat, locked the door and went out to them.

“How did Elnora look?” inquired Margaret anxiously.

“Like she always does,” answered Mrs. Comstock curtly.

“I do hope her dresses are as pretty as the others,” said Margaret. “None ofthem will have prettier faces or nicer ways.”

Wesley was waiting before the big church to take care of the team. As theystood watching the people enter the building, Mrs. Comstock felt herselfgrowing ill. When they went inside among the lights, saw the flower-deckedstage, and the masses of finely dressed people, she grew no better. She couldhear Margaret and Billy softly commenting on what was being done.

“That first chair in the very front row is Elnora’s,” exulted Billy, “cos she’sgot the highest grades, and so she gets to lead the procession to theplatform.”

“The first chair!” “Lead the procession!” Mrs. Comstock was dumbfounded. Thenotes of the pipe organ began to fill the building in a slow rolling march.Would Elnora lead the procession in a gingham dress? Or would she be absent andher chair vacant on this great occasion? For now, Mrs. Comstock could see thatit was a great occasion. Every one would remember how Elnora had played a fewnights before, and they would miss her and pity her. Pity? Because she had noone to care for her. Because she was worse off than if she had no mother. Forthe first time in her life, Mrs. Comstock began to study herself as she wouldappear to others. Every time a junior girl came fluttering down the aisle,leading some one to a seat, and Mrs. Comstock saw a beautiful white dress pass,a wave of positive illness swept over her. What had she done? What would becomeof Elnora?

As Elnora rode to the city, she answered Wesley’s questions in monosyllables sothat he thought she was nervous or rehearsing her speech and did not care totalk. Several times the girl tried to tell him and realized that if she saidthe first word it would bring uncontrollable tears. The Bird Woman opened thescreen and stared unbelievingly.

“Why, I thought you would be ready; you are so late!” she said. “If you havewaited to dress here, we must hurry.”

“I have nothing to put on,” said Elnora.

In bewilderment the Bird Woman drew her inside.

“Did—did—” she faltered. “Did you think you would wear that?”

“No. I thought I would telephone Ellen that there had been an accident and Icould not come. I don’t know yet how to explain. I’m too sick to think. Oh, doyou suppose I can get something made by Tuesday, so that I can graduate?”

“Yes; and you’ll get something on you to-night, so that you can lead yourclass, as you have done for four years. Go to my room and take off thatgingham, quickly. Anna, drop everything, and come help me.”

The Bird Woman ran to the telephone and called Ellen Brownlee.

“Elnora has had an accident. She will be a little late,” she said. “You havegot to make them wait. Have them play extra music before the march.”

Then she turned to the maid. “Tell Benson to have the carriage at the gate,just as soon as he can get it there. Then come to my room. Bring the thread boxfrom the sewing-room, that roll of wide white ribbon on the cutting table, andgather all the white pins from every dresser in the house. But first come withme a minute.”

“I want that trunk with the Swamp Angel’s stuff in it, from the cedar closet,”she panted as they reached the top of the stairs.

They hurried down the hall together and dragged the big trunk to the BirdWoman’s room. She opened it and began tossing out white stuff.

“How lucky that she left these things!” she cried. “Here are white shoes,gloves, stockings, fans, everything!”

“I am all ready but a dress,” said Elnora.

The Bird Woman began opening closets and pulling out drawers and boxes.

“I think I can make it this way,” she said.

She snatched up a creamy lace yoke with long sleeves that recently had beenmade for her and held it out. Elnora slipped into it, and the Bird Woman begansmoothing out wrinkles and sewing in pins. It fitted very well with a littlelapping in the back. Next, from among the Angel’s clothing she caught up awhite silk waist with low neck and elbow sleeves, and Elnora put it on. It waslarge enough, but distressingly short in the waist, for the Angel had worn itat a party when she was sixteen. The Bird Woman loosened the sleeves and pushedthem to a puff on the shoulders, catching them in places with pins. She beganon the wide draping of the yoke, fastening it front, back and at each shoulder.She pulled down the waist and pinned it. Next came a soft white dress skirt ofher own. By pinning her waist band quite four inches above Elnora’s, the BirdWoman could secure a perfect Empire sweep, with the clinging silk. Then shebegan with the wide white ribbon that was to trim a new frock for herself,bound it three times around the high waist effect she had managed, tied theends in a knot and let them fall to the floor in a beautiful sash.

“I want four white roses, each with two or three leaves,” she cried.

Anna ran to bring them, while the Bird Woman added pins.

“Elnora,” she said, “forgive me, but tell me truly. Is your mother so poor asto make this necessary?”

“No,” answered Elnora. “Next year I am heir to my share of over three hundredacres of land covered with almost as valuable timber as was in the Limberlost.We adjoin it. There could be thirty oil wells drilled that would yield to usthe thousands our neighbours are draining from under us, and the bare land isworth over one hundred dollars an acre for farming. She is not poor, sheis—I don’t know what she is. A great trouble soured and warped her. Itmade her peculiar. She does not in the least understand, but it is because shedoesn’t care to, instead of ignorance. She does not——”

Elnora stopped.

“She is—is different,” finished the girl.

Anna came with the roses. The Bird Woman set one on the front of the drapedyoke, one on each shoulder and the last among the bright masses of brown hair.Then she turned the girl facing the tall mirror.

“Oh!” panted Elnora. “You are a genius! Why, I will look as well as any ofthem.”

“Thank goodness for that!” cried the Bird Woman. “If it wouldn’t do, I shouldhave been ill. You are lovely; altogether lovely! Ordinarily I shouldn’t saythat; but when I think of how you are carpentered, I’m admiring the result.”

The organ began rolling out the march as they came in sight. Elnora took herplace at the head of the procession, while every one wondered. Secretly theyhad hoped that she would be dressed well enough, that she would not appear poorand neglected. What this radiant young creature, gowned in the most recentstyle, her smooth skin flushed with excitement, and a rose-set coronet of redgold on her head, had to do with the girl they knew was difficult to decide.The signal was given and Elnora began the slow march across the vestry and downthe aisle. The music welled softly, and Margaret began to sob without knowingwhy.

Mrs. Comstock gripped her hands together and shut her eyes. It seemed aneternity to the suffering woman before Margaret caught her arm and whispered,“Oh, Kate! For any sake look at her! Here! The aisle across!”

Mrs. Comstock opened her eyes and directing them where she was told, gazedintently, and slid down in her seat close to collapse. She was saved byMargaret’s tense clasp and her command: “Here! Idiot! Stop that!”

In the blaze of light Elnora climbed the steps to the palm-embowered platform,crossed it and took her place. Sixty young men and women, each of them dressedthe best possible, followed her. There were manly, fine-looking men in thatclass which Elnora led. There were girls of beauty and grace, but not one ofthem was handsomer or clothed in better taste than she.

Billy thought the time never would come when Elnora would see him, but at lastshe met his eye, then Margaret and Wesley had faint signs of recognition inturn, but there was no softening of the girl’s face and no hint of a smile whenshe saw her mother.

Heartsick, Katharine Comstock tried to prove to herself that she was justifiedin what she had done, but she could not. She tried to blame Elnora for notsaying that she was to lead a procession and sit on a platform in the sight ofhundreds of people; but that was impossible, for she realized that she wouldhave scoffed and not understood if she had been told. Her heart pained untilshe suffered with every breath.

When at last the exercises were over she climbed into the carriage and rodehome without a word. She did not hear what Margaret and Billy were saying. Shescarcely heard Wesley, who drove behind, when he told her that Elnora would notbe home until Wednesday. Early the next morning Mrs. Comstock was on her way toOnabasha. She was waiting when the Brownlee store opened. She examinedready-made white dresses, but they had only one of the right size, and it wasmarked forty dollars. Mrs. Comstock did not hesitate over the price, butwhether the dress would be suitable. She would have to ask Elnora. She inquiredher way to the home of the Bird Woman and knocked.

“Is Elnora Comstock here?” she asked the maid.

“Yes, but she is still in bed. I was told to let her sleep as long as shewould.”

“Maybe I could sit here and wait,” said Mrs. Comstock. “I want to see aboutgetting her a dress for to-morrow. I am her mother.”

“Then you don’t need wait or worry,” said the girl cheerfully. “There are twowomen up in the sewing-room at work on a dress for her right now. It will bedone in time, and it will be a beauty.”

Mrs. Comstock turned and trudged back to the Limberlost. The bitterness in hersoul became a physical actuality, which water would not wash from her lips. Shewas too late! She was not needed. Another woman was mothering her girl. Anotherwoman would prepare a beautiful dress such as Elnora had worn the previousnight. The girl’s love and gratitude would go to her. Mrs. Comstock tried theold process of blaming some one else, but she felt no better. She nursed hergrief as closely as ever in the long days of the girl’s absence. She broodedover Elnora’s possession of the forbidden violin and her ability to play ituntil the performance could not have been told from her father’s. She triedevery refuge her mind could conjure, to quiet her heart and remove the fearthat the girl never would come home again, but it persisted. Mrs. Comstockcould neither eat nor sleep. She wandered around the cabin and garden. She keptfar from the pool where Robert Comstock had sunk from sight for she felt thatit would entomb her also if Elnora did not come home Wednesday morning. Themother told herself that she would wait, but the waiting was as bitter asanything she ever had known.

When Elnora awoke Monday another dress was in the hands of a seamstress and wassoon fitted. It had belonged to the Angel, and was a soft white thing that witha little alteration would serve admirably for Commencement and the ball. Allthat day Elnora worked, helping prepare the auditorium for the exercises,rehearsing the march and the speech she was to make in behalf of the class. Thefollowing day was even busier. But her mind was at rest, for the dress was asoft delicate lace easy to change, and the marks of alteration impossible todetect.

The Bird Woman had telephoned to Grand Rapids, explained the situation andasked the Angel if she might use it. The reply had been to give the girl thecontents of the chest. When the Bird Woman told Elnora, tears filled her eyes.

“I will write at once and thank her,” she said. “With all her beautiful gownsshe does not need them, and I do. They will serve for me often, and be muchfiner than anything I could afford. It is lovely of her to give me the dressand of you to have it altered for me, as I never could.”

The Bird Woman laughed. “I feel religious to-day,” she said. “You know thefirst and greatest rock of my salvation is ‘Do unto others.’ I’m only doing toyou what there was no one to do for me when I was a girl very like you. Annatells me your mother was here early this morning and that she came to see aboutgetting you a dress.”

“She is too late!” said Elnora coldly. “She had over a month to prepare mydresses, and I was to pay for them, so there is no excuse.”

“Nevertheless, she is your mother,” said the Bird Woman, softly. “I thinkalmost any kind of a mother must be better than none at all, and you say shehas had great trouble.”

“She loved my father and he died,” said Elnora. “The same thing, in quite astragic a manner, has happened to thousands of other women, and they have goneon with calm faces and found happiness in life by loving others. There wassomething else I am afraid I never shall forget; this I know I shall not, buttalking does not help. I must deliver my presents and photographs to the crowd.I have a picture and I made a present for you, too, if you would care forthem.”

“I shall love anything you give me,” said the Bird Woman. “I know you wellenough to know that whatever you do will be beautiful.”

Elnora was pleased over that, and as she tried on her dress for the lastfitting she was really happy. She was lovely in the dainty gown: it would servefinely for the ball and many other like occasions, and it was her very own.

The Bird Woman’s driver took Elnora in the carriage and she called on all thegirls with whom she was especially intimate, and left her picture and thepackage containing her gift to them. By the time she returned parcels for herwere arriving. Friends seemed to spring from everywhere. Almost every one sheknew had some gift for her, while because they so loved her the members of hercrowd had made her beautiful presents. There were books, vases, silver pieces,handkerchiefs, fans, boxes of flowers and candy. One big package settled thetrouble at Sinton’s, for it contained a dainty dress from Margaret, afive-dollar gold piece, conspicuously labelled, “I earned this myself,” fromBilly, with which to buy music; and a gorgeous cut-glass perfume bottle, itwould have cost five dollars to fill with even a moderate-priced scent, fromWesley.

In an expressed crate was a fine curly-maple dressing table, sent by Freckles.The drawers were filled with wonderful toilet articles from the Angel. The BirdWoman added an embroidered linen cover and a small silver vase for a fewflowers, so no girl of the class had finer gifts. Elnora laid her head on thetable sobbing happily, and the Bird Woman was almost crying herself. ProfessorHenley sent a butterfly book, the grade rooms in which Elnora had taught gaveher a set of volumes covering every phase of life afield, in the woods, andwater. Elnora had no time to read so she carried one of these books around withher hugging it as she went. After she had gone to dress a queer-looking packagewas brought by a small boy who hopped on one foot as he handed it in and said:“Tell Elnora that is from her ma.”

“Who are you?” asked the Bird Woman as she took the bundle.

“I’m Billy!” announced the boy. “I gave her the five dollars. I earned itmyself dropping corn, sticking onions, and pulling weeds. My, but you got todrop, and stick, and pull a lot before it’s five dollars’ worth.”

“Would you like to come in and see Elnora’s gifts?”

“Yes, ma’am!” said Billy, trying to stand quietly.

“Gee-mentley!” he gasped. “Does Elnora get all this?”

“Yes.”

“I bet you a thousand dollars I be first in my class when I graduate. Say, havethe others got a lot more than Elnora?”

“I think not.”

“Well, Uncle Wesley said to find out if I could, and if she didn’t have as muchas the rest, he’d buy till she did, if it took a hundred dollars. Say, youought to know him! He’s just scrumptious! There ain’t anybody any where finer’an he is. My, he’s grand!”

“I’m very sure of it!” said the Bird Woman. “I’ve often heard Elnora say so.”

“I bet you nobody can beat this!” he boasted. Then he stopped, thinking deeply.“I don’t know, though,” he began reflectively. “Some of them are awful rich;they got big families to give them things and wagon loads of friends, and Ihaven’t seen what they have. Now, maybe Elnora is getting left, after all!”

“Don’t worry, Billy,” she said. “I will watch, and if I find Elnora is ‘gettingleft’ I’ll buy her some more things myself. But I’m sure she is not. She hasmore beautiful gifts now than she will know what to do with, and others willcome. Tell your Uncle Wesley his girl is bountifully remembered, very happy,and she sends her dearest love to all of you. Now you must go, so I can helpher dress. You will be there to-night of course?”

“Yes, sir-ee! She got me a seat, third row from the front, middle section, so Ican see, and she’s going to wink at me, after she gets her speech off her mind.She kissed me, too! She’s a perfect lady, Elnora is. I’m going to marry herwhen I am big enough.”

“Why isn’t that splendid!” laughed the Bird Woman as she hurried upstairs.

“Dear!” she called. “Here is another gift for you.”

Elnora was half disrobed as she took the package and, sitting on a couch,opened it. The Bird Woman bent over her and tested the fabric with her fingers.

“Why, bless my soul!” she cried. “Hand-woven, hand-embroidered linen, fine assilk. It’s priceless! I haven’t seen such things in years. My mother hadgarments like those when I was a child, but my sisters had them cut up forcollars, belts, and fancy waists while I was small. Look at the exquisitework!”

“Where could it have come from?” cried Elnora.

She shook out a petticoat, with a hand-wrought ruffle a foot deep, then anold-fashioned chemise the neck and sleeve work of which was elaborate andperfectly wrought. On the breast was pinned a note that she hastily opened.

“I was married in these,” it read, “and I had intended to be buried in them,but perhaps it would be more sensible for you to graduate and get married inthem yourself, if you like. Your mother.”

“From my mother!” Wide-eyed, Elnora looked at the Bird Woman. “I never in mylife saw the like. Mother does things I think I never can forgive, and when Ifeel hardest, she turns around and does something that makes me think she justmust love me a little bit, after all. Any of the girls would give almostanything to graduate in hand-embroidered linen like that. Money can’t buy suchthings. And they came when I was thinking she didn’t care what became of me. Doyou suppose she can be insane?”

“Yes,” said the Bird Woman. “Wildly insane, if she does not love you and carewhat becomes of you.”

Elnora arose and held the petticoat to her. “Will you look at it?” she cried.“Only imagine her not getting my dress ready, and then sending me such apetticoat as this! Ellen would pay fifty dollars for it and never blink. Isuppose mother has had it all my life, and I never saw it before.”

“Go take your bath and put on those things,” said the Bird Woman. “Forgeteverything and be happy. She is not insane. She is embittered. She did notunderstand how things would be. When she saw, she came at once to provide you adress. This is her way of saying she is sorry she did not get the other. Younotice she has not spent any money, so perhaps she is quite honest in sayingshe has none.”

“Oh, she is honest!” said Elnora. “She wouldn’t care enough to tell an untruth.She’d say just how things were, no matter what happened.”

Soon Elnora was ready for her dress. She never had looked so well as when sheagain headed the processional across the flower and palm decked stage of thehigh school auditorium. As she sat there she could have reached over anddropped a rose she carried into the seat she had occupied that Septembermorning when she entered the high school. She spoke the few words she had tosay in behalf of the class beautifully, had the tiny wink ready for Billy, andthe smile and nod of recognition for Wesley and Margaret. When at last shelooked into the eyes of a white-faced woman next them, she slipped a hand toher side and raised her skirt the fraction of an inch, just enough to let theembroidered edge of a petticoat show a trifle. When she saw the look of reliefwhich flooded her mother’s face, Elnora knew that forgiveness was in her heart,and that she would go home in the morning.

It was late afternoon before she arrived, and a dray followed with a load ofpackages. Mrs. Comstock was overwhelmed. She sat half dazed and made Elnorashow her each costly and beautiful or simple and useful gift, tell hercarefully what it was and from where it came. She studied the faces of Elnora’sparticular friends. The gifts from them had to be set in a group. Several timesshe started to speak and then stopped. At last, between her dry lips, came aharsh whisper.

“Elnora, what did you give back for these things?”

“I’ll show you,” said Elnora cheerfully. “I made the same gifts for the BirdWoman, Aunt Margaret and you if you care for it. But I have to run upstairs toget it.”

When she returned she handed her mother an oblong frame, hand carved, enclosingElnora’s picture, taken by a schoolmate’s camera. She wore her storm-coat andcarried a dripping umbrella. From under it looked her bright face; her booksand lunchbox were on her arm, and across the bottom of the frame was carved,“Your Country Classmate.”

Then she offered another frame.

“I am strong on frames,” she said. “They seemed to be the best I could dowithout money. I located the maple and the black walnut myself, in a littlecorner that had been overlooked between the river and the ditch. They didn’tseem to belong to any one so I just took them. Uncle Wesley said it was allright, and he cut and hauled them for me. I gave the mill half of each tree forsawing and curing the remainder. Then I gave the wood-carver half of that formaking my frames. A photographer gave me a lot of spoiled plates, and I boiledoff the emulsion, and took the specimens I framed from my stuff. The man saidthe white frames were worth three and a half, and the black ones five. Iexchanged those little framed pictures for the photographs of the others. Forpresents, I gave each one of my crowd one like this, only a different moth. TheBird Woman gave me the birch bark. She got it up north last summer.”

Elnora handed her mother a handsome black-walnut frame a foot and a half wideby two long. It finished a small, shallow glass-covered box of birch bark, tothe bottom of which clung a big night moth with delicate pale green wings andlong exquisite trailers.

“So you see I did not have to be ashamed of my gifts,” said Elnora. “I madethem myself and raised and mounted the moths.”

“Moth, you call it,” said Mrs. Comstock. “I’ve seen a few of the thingsbefore.”

“They are numerous around us every June night, or at least they used to be,”said Elnora. “I’ve sold hundreds of them, with butterflies, dragonflies, andother specimens. Now, I must put away these and get to work, for it is almostJune and there are a few more I want dreadfully. If I find them I will be paidsome money for which I have been working.”

She was afraid to say college at that time. She thought it would be better towait a few days and see if an opportunity would not come when it would work inmore naturally. Besides, unless she could secure the Yellow Emperor she neededto complete her collection, she could not talk college until she was of age,for she would have no money.

CHAPTER XII

WHEREIN MARGARET SINTON REVEALS A SECRET, AND MRS. COMSTOCK POSSESSES THELIMBERLOST

“Elnora, bring me the towel, quick!” cried Mrs Comstock.

“In a minute, mother,” mumbled Elnora.

She was standing before the kitchen mirror, tying the back part of her hair,while the front turned over her face.

“Hurry! There’s a varmint of some kind!”

Elnora ran into the sitting-room and thrust the heavy kitchen towel into hermother’s hand. Mrs. Comstock swung open the screen door and struck at someobject, Elnora tossed the hair from her face so that she could see past hermother. The girl screamed wildly.

“Don’t! Mother, don’t!”

Mrs. Comstock struck again. Elnora caught her arm. “It’s the one I want! It’sworth a lot of money! Don’t! Oh, you shall not!”

“Shan’t, missy?” blazed Mrs. Comstock. “When did you get to bossing me?”

The hand that held the screen swept a half-circle and stopped at Elnora’scheek. She staggered with the blow, and across her face, paled with excitement,a red mark arose rapidly. The screen slammed shut, throwing the creature on thefloor before them. Instantly Mrs. Comstock crushed it with her foot. Elnorastepped back. Excepting the red mark, her face was very white.

“That was the last moth I needed,” she said, “to complete a collection worththree hundred dollars. You’ve ruined it before my eyes!”

“Moth!” cried Mrs. Comstock. “You say that because you are mad. Moths have bigwings. I know a moth!”

“I’ve kept things from you,” said Elnora, “because I didn’t dare confide inyou. You had no sympathy with me. But you know I never told you untruths in allmy life.”

“It’s no moth!” reiterated Mrs. Comstock.

“It is!” cried Elnora. “It’s from a case in the ground. Its wings take two orthree hours to expand and harden.”

“If I had known it was a moth——” Mrs. Comstock wavered.

“You did know! I told you! I begged you to stop! It meant just three hundreddollars to me.”

“Bah! Three hundred fiddlesticks!”

“They are what have paid for books, tuition, and clothes for the past fouryears. They are what I could have started on to college. You’ve ruined the veryone I needed. You never made any pretence of loving me. At last I’ll be equallyfrank with you. I hate you! You are a selfish, wicked woman! I hate you!”

Elnora turned, went through the kitchen and from the back door. She followedthe garden path to the gate and walked toward the swamp a short distance whenreaction overtook her. She dropped on the ground and leaned against a big log.When a little child, desperate as now, she had tried to die by holding herbreath. She had thought in that way to make her mother sorry, but she hadlearned that life was a thing thrust upon her and she could not leave it at herwish.

She was so stunned over the loss of that moth, which she had childishly namedthe Yellow Emperor, that she scarcely remembered the blow. She had thought noluck in all the world would be so rare as to complete her collection; now shehad been forced to see a splendid Imperialis destroyed before her. There was apossibility that she could find another, but she was facing the certainty thatthe one she might have had and with which she undoubtedly could have attractedothers, was spoiled by her mother. How long she sat there Elnora did not knowor care. She simply suffered in dumb, abject misery, an occasional dry sobshaking her. Aunt Margaret was right. Elnora felt that morning that her mothernever would be any different. The girl had reached the place where she realizedthat she could endure it no longer.

As Elnora left the room, Mrs. Comstock took one step after her.

“You little huzzy!” she gasped.

But Elnora was gone. Her mother stood staring.

“She never did lie to me,” she muttered. “I guess it was a moth. And the onlyone she needed to get three hundred dollars, she said. I wish I hadn’t been sofast! I never saw anything like it. I thought it was some deadly, stinging,biting thing. A body does have to be mighty careful here. But likely I’ve spiltthe milk now. Pshaw! She can find another! There’s no use to be foolish. Maybemoths are like snakes, where there’s one, there are two.”

Mrs. Comstock took the broom and swept the moth out of the door. Then she gotdown on her knees and carefully examined the steps, logs and the earth of theflower beds at each side. She found the place where the creature had emergedfrom the ground, and the hard, dark-brown case which had enclosed it, still wetinside. Then she knew Elnora had been right. It was a moth. Its wings had beendamp and not expanded. Mrs. Comstock never before had seen one in that state,and she did not know how they originated. She had thought all of them came fromcases spun on trees or against walls or boards. She had seen only enough toknow that there were such things; as a flash of white told her that an erminewas on her premises, or a sharp “buzzzzz” warned her of a rattler.

So it was from creatures like that Elnora had secured her school money. In onesickening sweep there rushed into the heart of the woman a full realization ofthe width of the gulf that separated her from her child. Lately many things hadpointed toward it, none more plainly than when Elnora, like a reincarnation ofher father, had stood fearlessly before a large city audience and played witheven greater skill than he, on what Mrs. Comstock felt very certain was hisviolin. But that little crawling creature of earth, crushed by her before itssplendid yellow and lavender wings could spread and carry it into the mysteryof night, had performed a miracle.

“We are nearer strangers to each other than we are with any of the neighbours,”she muttered.

So one of the Almighty’s most delicate and beautiful creations was sacrificedwithout fulfilling the law, yet none of its species ever served so glorious acause, for at last Mrs. Comstock’s inner vision had cleared. She went throughthe cabin mechanically. Every few minutes she glanced toward the back walk tosee if Elnora were coming. She knew arrangements had been made with Margaret togo to the city some time that day, so she grew more nervous and uneasy everymoment. She was haunted by the fear that the blow might discolour Elnora’scheek; that she would tell Margaret. She went down the back walk, lookingintently in all directions, left the garden and followed the swamp path. Herstep was noiseless on the soft, black earth, and soon she came close enough tosee Elnora. Mrs. Comstock stood looking at the girl in troubled uncertainty.Not knowing what to say, at last she turned and went back to the cabin.

Noon came and she prepared dinner, calling, as she always did, when Elnora wasin the garden, but she got no response, and the girl did not come. A littleafter one o’clock Margaret stopped at the gate.

“Elnora has changed her mind. She is not going,” called Mrs. Comstock.

She felt that she hated Margaret as she hitched her horse and came up the walkinstead of driving on.

“You must be mistaken,” said Margaret. “I was going on purpose for her. Sheasked me to take her. I had no errand. Where is she?”

“I will call her,” said Mrs. Comstock.

She followed the path again, and this time found Elnora sitting on the log. Herface was swollen and discoloured, and her eyes red with crying. She paid noattention to her mother.

“Mag Sinton is here,” said Mrs. Comstock harshly. “I told her you had changedyour mind, but she said you asked her to go with you, and she had nothing to gofor herself.”

Elnora arose, recklessly waded through the deep swamp grasses and so reachedthe path ahead of her mother. Mrs. Comstock followed as far as the garden, butshe could not enter the cabin. She busied herself among the vegetables, barelylooking up when the back-door screen slammed noisily. Margaret Sintonapproached colourless, her eyes so angry that Mrs. Comstock shrank back.

“What’s the matter with Elnora’s face?” demanded Margaret.

Mrs. Comstock made no reply.

“You struck her, did you?”

“I thought you wasn’t blind!”

“I have been, for twenty long years now, Kate Comstock,” said Margaret Sinton,“but my eyes are open at last. What I see is that I’ve done you no good andElnora a big wrong. I had an idea that it would kill you to know, but I guessyou are tough enough to stand anything. Kill or cure, you get it now!”

“What are you frothing about?” coolly asked Mrs. Comstock.

“You!” cried Margaret. “You! The woman who doesn’t pretend to love her onlychild. Who lets her grow to a woman, as you have let Elnora, and can’t besatisfied with every sort of neglect, but must add abuse yet; and all for afool idea about a man who wasn’t worth his salt!”

Mrs. Comstock picked up a hoe.

“Go right on!” she said. “Empty yourself. It’s the last thing you’ll ever do!”

“Then I’ll make a tidy job of it,” said Margaret. “You’ll not touch me. You’llstand there and hear the truth at last, and because I dare face you and tellit, you will know in your soul it is truth. When Robert Comstock shaved thatquagmire out there so close he went in, he wanted to keep you from knowingwhere he was coming from. He’d been to see Elvira Carney. They had plans to goto a dance that night——”

“Close your lips!” said Mrs. Comstock in a voice of deadly quiet.

“You know I wouldn’t dare open them if I wasn’t telling you the truth. I canprove what I say. I was coming from Reeds. It was hot in the woods and Istopped at Carney’s as I passed for a drink. Elvira’s bedridden old motherheard me, and she was so crazy for some one to talk with, I stepped in aminute. I saw Robert come down the path. Elvira saw him, too, so she ran out ofthe house to head him off. It looked funny, and I just deliberately moved whereI could see and hear. He brought her his violin, and told her to get ready andmeet him in the woods with it that night, and they would go to a dance. Shetook it and hid it in the loft to the well-house and promised she’d go.”

“Are you done?” demanded Mrs. Comstock.

“No. I am going to tell you the whole story. You don’t spare Elnora anything. Ishan’t spare you. I hadn’t been here that day, but I can tell you just how hewas dressed, which way he went and every word they said, though they thought Iwas busy with her mother and wouldn’t notice them. Put down your hoe, Kate. Iwent to Elvira, told her what I knew and made her give me Comstock’s violin forElnora over three years ago. She’s been playing it ever since. I won’t see herslighted and abused another day on account of a man who would have broken yourheart if he had lived. Six months more would have showed you what everybodyelse knew. He was one of those men who couldn’t trust himself, and so no womanwas safe with him. Now, will you drop grieving over him, and do Elnorajustice?”

Mrs. Comstock grasped the hoe tighter and turning she went down the walk, andstarted across the woods to the home of Elvira Carney. With averted head shepassed the pool, steadily pursuing her way. Elvira Carney, hanging towelsacross the back fence, saw her coming and went toward the gate to meet her.Twenty years she had dreaded that visit. Since Margaret Sinton had compelledher to produce the violin she had hidden so long, because she was afraid todestroy it, she had come closer expectation than dread. The wages of sin arethe hardest debts on earth to pay, and they are always collected atinconvenient times and unexpected places. Mrs. Comstock’s face and hair were sowhite, that her dark eyes seemed burned into their setting. Silently she staredat the woman before her a long time.

“I might have saved myself the trouble of coming,” she said at last, “I see youare guilty as sin!”

“What has Mag Sinton been telling you?” panted the miserable woman, grippingthe fence.

“The truth!” answered Mrs. Comstock succinctly. “Guilt is in every line of yourface, in your eyes, all over your wretched body. If I’d taken a good look atyou any time in all these past years, no doubt I could have seen it just asplain as I can now. No woman or man can do what you’ve done, and not get a markset on them for every one to read.”

“Mercy!” gasped weak little Elvira Carney. “Have mercy!”

“Mercy?” scoffed Mrs. Comstock. “Mercy! That’s a nice word from you! How muchmercy did you have on me? Where’s the mercy that sent Comstock to the slime ofthe bottomless quagmire, and left me to see it, and then struggle on in agonyall these years? How about the mercy of letting me neglect my baby all the daysof her life? Mercy! Do you really dare use the word to me?”

“If you knew what I’ve suffered!”

“Suffered?” jeered Mrs. Comstock. “That’s interesting. And pray, what have yousuffered?”

“All the neighbours have suspected and been down on me. I ain’t had a friend.I’ve always felt guilty of his death! I’ve seen him go down a thousand times,plain as ever you did. Many’s the night I’ve stood on the other bank of thatpool and listened to you, and I tried to throw myself in to keep from hearingyou, but I didn’t dare. I knew God would send me to burn forever, but I’dbetter done it; for now, He has set the burning on my body, and every hour itis slowly eating the life out of me. The doctor says it’s acancer——”

Mrs. Comstock exhaled a long breath. Her grip on the hoe relaxed and herstature lifted to towering height.

“I didn’t know, or care, when I came here, just what I did,” she said. “But myway is beginning to clear. If the guilt of your soul has come to a head, in acancer on your body, it looks as if the Almighty didn’t need any of my help inmeting out His punishments. I really couldn’t fix up anything to come anywherenear that. If you are going to burn until your life goes out with that sort offire, you don’t owe me anything!”

“Oh, Katharine Comstock!” groaned Elvira Carney, clinging to the fence forsupport.

“Looks as if the Bible is right when it says, ‘The wages of sin is death,’doesn’t it?” asked Mrs. Comstock. “Instead of doing a woman’s work in life, youchose the smile of invitation, and the dress of unearned cloth. Now you tell meyou are marked to burn to death with the unquenchable fire. And him! It wasshorter with him, but let me tell you he got his share! He left me with anuntruth on his lips, for he told me he was going to take his violin to Onabashafor a new key, when he carried it to you. Every vow of love and constancy heever made me was a lie, after he touched your lips, so when he tried the wrongside of the quagmire, to hide from me the direction in which he was coming, itreached out for him, and it got him. It didn’t hurry, either! It sucked himdown, slow and deliberate.”

“Mercy!” groaned Elvira Carney. “Mercy!”

“I don’t know the word,” said Mrs. Comstock. “You took all that out of me longago. The past twenty years haven’t been of the sort that taught mercy. I’venever had any on myself and none on my child. Why in the name of justice,should I have mercy on you, or on him? You were both older than I, both strong,sane people, you deliberately chose your course when you lured him, and he,when he was unfaithful to me. When a Loose Man and a Light Woman face the endthe Almighty ordained for them, why should they shout at me for mercy? What didI have to do with it?”

Elvira Carney sobbed in panting gasps.

“You’ve got tears, have you?” marvelled Mrs. Comstock. “Mine all dried longago. I’ve none left to shed over my wasted life, my disfigured face and hair,my years of struggle with a man’s work, my wreck of land among the tilledfields of my neighbours, or the final knowledge that the man I so gladly wouldhave died to save, wasn’t worth the sacrifice of a rattlesnake. If anything yetcould wring a tear from me, it would be the thought of the awful injustice Ialways have done my girl. If I’d lay hand on you for anything, it would be forthat.”

“Kill me if you want to,” sobbed Elvira Carney. “I know that I deserve it, andI don’t care.”

“You are getting your killing fast enough to suit me,” said Mrs. Comstock. “Iwouldn’t touch you, any more than I would him, if I could. Once is all any manor woman deceives me about the holiest things of life. I wouldn’t touch you anymore than I would the black plague. I am going back to my girl.”

Mrs. Comstock turned and started swiftly through the woods, but she had goneonly a few rods when she stopped, and leaning on the hoe, she stood thinkingdeeply. Then she turned back. Elvira still clung to the fence, sobbingbitterly.

“I don’t know,” said Mrs. Comstock, “but I left a wrong impression with you. Idon’t want you to think that I believe the Almighty set a cancer to burning youas a punishment for your sins. I don’t! I think a lot more of the Almighty.With a whole sky-full of worlds on His hands to manage, I’m not believing thatHe has time to look down on ours, and pick you out of all the millions of ussinners, and set a special kind of torture to eating you. It wouldn’t be agentlemanly thing to do, and first of all, the Almighty is bound to be agentleman. I think likely a bruise and bad blood is what caused your trouble.Anyway, I’ve got to tell you that the cleanest housekeeper I ever knew, and oneof the noblest Christian women, was slowly eaten up by a cancer. She got hersfrom the careless work of a poor doctor. The Almighty is to forgive sin andheal disease, not to invent and spread it.”

She had gone only a few steps when she again turned back.

“If you will gather a lot of red clover bloom, make a tea strong as lye of it,and drink quarts, I think likely it will help you, if you are not too far gone.Anyway, it will cool your blood and make the burning easier to bear.”

Then she swiftly went home. Enter the lonely cabin she could not, neither couldshe sit outside and think. She attacked a bed of beets and hoed until theperspiration ran from her face and body, then she began on the potatoes. Whenshe was too tired to take another stroke she bathed and put on dry clothing. Insecuring her dress she noticed her husband’s carefully preserved clothinglining one wall. She gathered it in an armload and carried it to the swamp.Piece by piece she pitched into the green maw of the quagmire all thosearticles she had dusted carefully and fought moths from for years, and stoodwatching as it slowly sucked them down. She went back to her room and gatheredevery scrap that had in any way belonged to Robert Comstock, excepting his gunand revolver, and threw it into the swamp. Then for the first time she set herdoor wide open.

She was too weary now to do more, but an urging unrest drove her. She wantedElnora. It seemed to her she never could wait until the girl came and deliveredher judgment. At last in an effort to get nearer to her, Mrs. Comstock climbedthe stairs and stood looking around Elnora’s room. It was very unfamiliar. Thepictures were strange to her. Commencement had filled it with packages andbundles. The walls were covered with cocoons; moths and dragonflies were pinnedeverywhere. Under the bed she could see half a dozen large white boxes. Shepulled out one and lifted the lid. The bottom was covered with a sheet of thincork, and on long pins sticking in it were large, velvet-winged moths. Each onewas labelled, always there were two of a kind, in many cases four, showingunder and upper wings of both male and female. They were of every colour andshape.

Mrs. Comstock caught her breath sharply. When and where had Elnora found them?They were the most exquisite sight the woman ever had seen, so she opened allthe boxes to feast on their beautiful contents. As she did so there came morefully a sense of the distance between her and her child. She could notunderstand how Elnora had gone to school, and performed so much work secretly.When it was finished, to the last moth, she, the mother who should have beenthe first confidant and helper, had been the one to bring disappointment. Smallwonder Elnora had come to hate her.

Mrs. Comstock carefully closed and replaced the boxes; and again stood lookingaround the room. This time her eyes rested on some books she did not rememberhaving seen before, so she picked up one and found that it was a moth book. Sheglanced over the first pages and was soon eagerly reading. When the textreached the classification of species, she laid it down, took up another andread the introductory chapters. By that time her brain was in a confused jumbleof ideas about capturing moths with differing baits and bright lights.

She went down stairs thinking deeply. Being unable to sit still and havingnothing else to do she glanced at the clock and began preparing supper. Thework dragged. A chicken was snatched up and dressed hurriedly. A spice cakesprang into being. Strawberries that had been intended for preserves went intoshortcake. Delicious odours crept from the cabin. She put many extra touches onthe table and then commenced watching the road. Everything was ready, butElnora did not come. Then began the anxious process of trying to keep cookedfood warm and not spoil it. The birds went to bed and dusk came. Mrs. Comstockgave up the fire and set the supper on the table. Then she went out and sat onthe front-door step watching night creep around her. She started eagerly as thegate creaked, but it was only Wesley Sinton coming.

“Katharine, Margaret and Elnora passed where I was working this afternoon, andMargaret got out of the carriage and called me to the fence. She told me whatshe had done. I’ve come to say to you that I am sorry. She has heard methreaten to do it a good many times, but I never would have got it done. I’dgive a good deal if I could undo it, but I can’t, so I’ve come to tell you howsorry I am.”

“You’ve got something to be sorry for,” said Mrs. Comstock, “but likely weain’t thinking of the same thing. It hurts me less to know the truth, than tolive in ignorance. If Mag had the sense of a pewee, she’d told me long ago.That’s what hurts me, to think that both of you knew Robert was not worth anhour of honest grief, yet you’d let me mourn him all these years and neglectElnora while I did it. If I have anything to forgive you, that is what it is.”

Wesley removed his hat and sat on a bench.

“Katharine,” he said solemnly, “nobody ever knows how to take you.”

“Would it be asking too much to take me for having a few grains of plain commonsense?” she inquired. “You’ve known all this time that Comstock got what hedeserved, when he undertook to sneak in an unused way across a swamp, withwhich he was none too familiar. Now I should have thought that you’d figurethat knowing the same thing would be the best method to cure me of pining forhim, and slighting my child.”

“Heaven only knows we have thought of that, and talked of it often, but we wereboth too big cowards. We didn’t dare tell you.”

“So you have gone on year after year, watching me show indifference to Elnora,and yet a little horse-sense would have pointed out to you that she was mysalvation. Why look at it! Not married quite a year. All his vows of love andfidelity made to me before the Almighty forgotten in a few months, and a danceand a Light Woman so alluring he had to lie and sneak for them. What kind of aprospect is that for a life? I know men and women. An honourable man is anhonourable man, and a liar is a liar; both are born and not made. One cannotchange to the other any more than that same old leopard can change its spots.After a man tells a woman the first untruth of that sort, the others comepiling thick, fast, and mountain high. The desolation they bring in their wakeovershadows anything I have suffered completely. If he had lived six monthsmore I should have known him for what he was born to be. It was in the blood ofhim. His father and grandfather before him were fiddling, dancing people; but Iwas certain of him. I thought we could leave Ohio and come out here alone, andI could so love him and interest him in his work, that he would be a man. Ofall the fool, fruitless jobs, making anything of a creature that begins bydeceiving her, is the foolest a sane woman ever undertook. I am more than sorryyou and Margaret didn’t see your way clear to tell me long ago. I’d have foundit out in a few more months if he had lived, and I wouldn’t have borne it aday. The man who breaks his vows to me once, doesn’t get the second chance. Igive truth and honour. I have a right to ask it in return. I am glad Iunderstand at last. Now, if Elnora will forgive me, we will take a new startand see what we can make out of what is left of life. If she won’t, then itwill be my time to learn what suffering really means.”

“But she will,” said Wesley. “She must! She can’t help it when things areexplained.”

“I notice she isn’t hurrying any about coming home. Do you know where she is orwhat she is doing?”

“I do not. But likely she will be along soon. I must go help Billy with thenight work. Good-bye, Katharine. Thank the Lord you have come to yourself atlast!”

They shook hands and Wesley went down the road while Mrs. Comstock entered thecabin. She could not swallow food. She stood in the back door watching the skyfor moths, but they did not seem to be very numerous. Her spirits sank and shebreathed unevenly. Then she heard the front screen. She reached the middle dooras Elnora touched the foot of the stairs.

“Hurry, and get ready, Elnora,” she said. “Your supper is almost spoiled now.”

Elnora closed the stair door behind her, and for the first time in her life,threw the heavy lever which barred out anyone from down stairs. Mrs. Comstockheard the thud, and knew what it meant. She reeled slightly and caught thedoorpost for support. For a few minutes she clung there, then sank to thenearest chair. After a long time she arose and stumbling half blindly, she putthe food in the cupboard and covered the table. She took the lamp in one hand,the butter in the other, and started to the spring house. Something brushedclose by her face, and she looked just in time to see a winged creature riseabove the cabin and sail away.

“That was a night bird,” she muttered. As she stopped to set the butter in thewater, came another thought. “Perhaps it was a moth!” Mrs. Comstock dropped thebutter and hurried out with the lamp; she held it high above her head andwaited until her arms ached. Small insects of night gathered, and at last alittle dusty miller, but nothing came of any size.

“I must go where they are, if I get them,” muttered Mrs. Comstock.

She went to the barn after the stout pair of high boots she used in feedingstock in deep snow. Throwing these beside the back door she climbed to the loftover the spring house, and hunted an old lard oil lantern and one of firstmanufacture for oil. Both these she cleaned and filled. She listened untileverything up stairs had been still for over half an hour. By that time it waspast eleven o’clock. Then she took the lantern from the kitchen, the two oldones, a handful of matches, a ball of twine, and went from the cabin, softlyclosing the door.

Sitting on the back steps, she put on the boots, and then stood gazing into theperfumed June night, first in the direction of the woods on her land, thentoward the Limberlost. Its outline was so dark and forbidding she shuddered andwent down the garden, following the path toward the woods, but as she nearedthe pool her knees wavered and her courage fled. The knowledge that in her soulshe was now glad Robert Comstock was at the bottom of it made a coward of her,who fearlessly had mourned him there, nights untold. She could not go on. Sheskirted the back of the garden, crossed a field, and came out on the road. Soonshe reached the Limberlost. She hunted until she found the old trail, thenfollowed it stumbling over logs and through clinging vines and grasses. Theheavy boots clumped on her feet, overhanging branches whipped her face andpulled her hair. But her eyes were on the sky as she went straining into thenight, hoping to find signs of a living creature on wing.

By and by she began to see the wavering flight of something she thought nearthe right size. She had no idea where she was, but she stopped, lighted alantern and hung it as high as she could reach. A little distance away sheplaced the second and then the third. The objects came nearer and sick withdisappointment she saw that they were bats. Crouching in the damp swampgrasses, without a thought of snakes or venomous insects, she waited, her eyesroving from lantern to lantern. Once she thought a creature of high flightdropped near the lard oil light, so she arose breathlessly waiting, but eitherit passed or it was an illusion. She glanced at the old lantern, then at thenew, and was on her feet in an instant creeping close. Something large as asmall bird was fluttering around. Mrs. Comstock began to perspire, while herhand shook wildly. Closer she crept and just as she reached for it, somethingsimilar swept past and both flew away together.

Mrs. Comstock set her teeth and stood shivering. For a long time the locustsrasped, the whip-poor-wills cried and a steady hum of night life throbbed inher ears. Away in the sky she saw something coming when it was no larger than afalling leaf. Straight toward the light it flew. Mrs. Comstock began to prayaloud.

“This way, O Lord! Make it come this way! Please! O Lord, send it lower!”

The moth hesitated at the first light, then slowly, easily it came toward thesecond, as if following a path of air. It touched a leaf near the lantern andsettled. As Mrs. Comstock reached for it a thin yellow spray wet her hand andthe surrounding leaves. When its wings raised above its back, her fingers cametogether. She held the moth to the light. It was nearer brown than yellow, andshe remembered having seen some like it in the boxes that afternoon. It was notthe one needed to complete the collection, but Elnora might want it, so Mrs.Comstock held on. Then the Almighty was kind, or nature was sufficient, as youlook at it, for following the law of its being when disturbed, the moth againthrew the spray by which some suppose it attracts its kind, and liberallysprinkled Mrs. Comstock’s dress front and arms. From that instant, she becamethe best moth bait ever invented. Every Polyphemus in range hastened to her,and other fluttering creatures of night followed. The influx came her way. Shesnatched wildly here and there until she had one in each hand and no place toput them. She could see more coming, and her aching heart, swollen with thestrain of long excitement, hurt pitifully. She prayed in broken exclamationsthat did not always sound reverent, but never was human soul in more intenseearnest.

Moths were coming. She had one in each hand. They were not yellow, and she didnot know what to do. She glanced around to try to discover some way to keepwhat she had, and her throbbing heart stopped and every muscle stiffened. Therewas the dim outline of a crouching figure not two yards away, and a pair ofeyes their owner thought hidden, caught the light in a cold stream. Her firstimpulse was to scream and fly for life. Before her lips could open a big mothalighted on her breast while she felt another walking over her hair. All senseof caution deserted her. She did not care to live if she could not replace theyellow moth she had killed. She turned her eyes to those among the leaves.

“Here, you!” she cried hoarsely. “I need you! Get yourself out here, and helpme. These critters are going to get away from me. Hustle!”

Pete Corson parted the bushes and stepped into the light.

“Oh, it’s you!” said Mrs. Comstock. “I might have known! But you gave me astart. Here, hold these until I make some sort of bag for them. Go easy! If youbreak them I don’t guarantee what will happen to you!”

“Pretty fierce, ain’t you!” laughed Pete, but he advanced and held out hishands. “For Elnora, I s’pose?”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Comstock. “In a mad fit, I trampled one this morning, and bythe luck of the old boy himself it was the last moth she needed to complete acollection. I got to get another one or die.”

“Then I guess it’s your funeral,” said Pete. “There ain’t a chance in a dozenthe right one will come. What colour was it?”

“Yellow, and big as a bird.”

“The Emperor, likely,” said Pete. “You dig for that kind, and they are notnumerous, so’s ’at you can smash ’em for fun.”

“Well, I can try to get one, anyway,” said Mrs. Comstock. “I forgot all aboutbringing anything to put them in. You take a pinch on their wings until I makea poke.”

Mrs. Comstock removed her apron, tearing off the strings. She unfastened andstepped from the skirt of her calico dress. With one apron string she tied shutthe band and placket. She pulled a wire pin from her hair, stuck it through theother string, and using it as a bodkin ran it around the hem of her skirt, soshortly she had a large bag. She put several branches inside to which the mothscould cling, closed the mouth partially and held it toward Pete.

“Put your hand well down and let the things go!” she ordered. “But be careful,man! Don’t run into the twigs! Easy! That’s one. Now the other. Is the one onmy head gone? There was one on my dress, but I guess it flew. Here comes a kindof a gray-looking one.”

Pete slipped several more moths into the bag.

“Now, that’s five, Mrs. Comstock,” he said. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to makethat do. You must get out of here lively. Your lights will be taken for hurrycalls, and inside the next hour a couple of men will ride here like fury. Theywon’t be nice Sunday-school men, and they won’t hold bags and catch moths foryou. You must go quick!”

Mrs. Comstock laid down the bag and pulled one of the lanterns lower.

“I won’t budge a step,” she said. “This land doesn’t belong to you. You have noright to order me off it. Here I stay until I get a Yellow Emperor, and nolittle petering thieves of this neighbourhood can scare me away.”

“You don’t understand,” said Pete. “I’m willing to help Elnora, and I’d takecare of you, if I could, but there will be too many for me, and they will bemad at being called out for nothing.”

“Well, who’s calling them out?” demanded Mrs. Comstock. “I’m catching moths. Ifa lot of good-for-nothings get fooled into losing some sleep, why let them,they can’t hurt me, or stop my work.”

“They can, and they’ll do both.”

“Well, I’ll see them do it!” said Mrs. Comstock. “I’ve got Robert’s revolver inmy dress, and I can shoot as straight as any man, if I’m mad enough. Any onewho interferes with me to-night will find me mad a-plenty. There goes another!”

She stepped into the light and waited until a big brown moth settled on her andwas easily taken. Then in light, airy flight came a delicate pale green thing,and Mrs. Comstock started in pursuit. But the scent was not right. The mothfluttered high, then dropped lower, still lower, and sailed away. Withoutstretched hands Mrs. Comstock pursued it. She hurried one way and another,then ran over an object which tripped her and she fell. She regained her feetin an instant, but she had lost sight of the moth. With livid face she turnedto the crouching man.

“You nasty, sneaking son of Satan!” she cried. “Why are you hiding there? Youmade me lose the one I wanted most of any I’ve had a chance at yet. Get out ofhere! Go this minute, or I’ll fill your worthless carcass so full of holesyou’ll do to sift cornmeal. Go, I say! I’m using the Limberlost to-night, and Iwon’t be stopped by the devil himself! Cut like fury, and tell the rest of themthey can just go home. Pete is going to help me, and he is all of you I need.Now go!”

The man turned and went. Pete leaned against a tree, held his mouth shut andshook inwardly. Mrs. Comstock came back panting.

“The old scoundrel made me lose that!” she said. “If any one else comessnooping around here I’ll just blow them up to start with. I haven’t time totalk. Suppose that had been yellow! I’d have killed that man, sure! TheLimberlost isn’t safe to-night, and the sooner those whelps find it out, thebetter it will be for them.”

Pete stopped laughing to look at her. He saw that she was speaking the truth.She was quite past reason, sense, or fear. The soft night air stirred the wethair around her temples, the flickering lanterns made her face a ghastly green.She would stop at nothing, that was evident. Pete suddenly began catching mothswith exemplary industry. In putting one into the bag, another escaped.

“We must not try that again,” said Mrs. Comstock. “Now, what will we do?”

“We are close to the old case,” said Pete. “I think I can get into it. Maybe wecould slip the rest in there.”

“That’s a fine idea!” said Mrs. Comstock. “They’ll have so much room there theywon’t be likely to hurt themselves, and the books say they don’t fly in daytimeunless they are disturbed, so they will settle when it’s light, and I can comewith Elnora to get them.”

They captured two more, and then Pete carried them to the case.

“Here comes a big one!” he cried as he returned.

Mrs. Comstock looked up and stepped out with a prayer on her lips. She couldnot tell the colour at that distance, but the moth appeared different from theothers. On it came, dropping lower and darting from light to light. As it sweptnear her, “O Heavenly Father!” exulted Mrs. Comstock, “it’s yellow! CarefulPete! Your hat, maybe!”

Pete made a long sweep. The moth wavered above the hat and sailed away. Mrs.Comstock leaned against a tree and covered her face with her shaking hands.

“That is my punishment!” she cried. “Oh, Lord, if you will give a moth likethat into my possession, I’ll always be a better woman!”

The Emperor again came in sight. Pete stood tense and ready. Mrs. Comstockstepped into the light and watched the mothh’s course. Then a second appearedin pursuit of the first. The larger one wavered into the radius of light oncemore. The perspiration rolled down the man’s face. He half lifted the hat.

“Pray, woman! Pray now!” he panted.

“I guess I best get over by that lard oil light and go to work,” breathed Mrs.Comstock. “The Lord knows this is all in prayer, but it’s no time for wordsjust now. Ready, Pete! You are going to get a chance first!”

Pete made another long, steady sweep, but the moth darted beneath the hat. Inits flight it came straight toward Mrs. Comstock. She snatched off the remnantof apron she had tucked into her petticoat band and held the calico before her.The moth struck full against it and clung to the goods. Pete crept upstealthily. The second moth followed the first, and the spray showered theapron.

“Wait!” gasped Mrs. Comstock. “I think they have settled. The books say theywon’t leave now.”

The big pale yellow creature clung firmly, lowering and raising its wings. Theother came nearer. Mrs. Comstock held the cloth with rigid hands, while Petecould hear her breathing in short gusts.

“Shall I try now?” he implored.

“Wait!” whispered the woman. “Something seems to say wait!”

The night breeze stiffened and gently waved the apron. Locusts rasped,mosquitoes hummed and frogs sang uninterruptedly. A musky odour slowly filledthe air.

“Now shall I?” questioned Pete.

“No. Leave them alone. They are safe now. They are mine. They are my salvation.God and the Limberlost gave them to me! They won’t move for hours. The booksall say so. O Heavenly Father, I am thankful to You, and you, too, Pete Corson!You are a good man to help me. Now, I can go home and face my girl.”

Instead, Mrs. Comstock dropped suddenly. She spread the apron across her knees.The moths remained undisturbed. Then her tired white head dropped, the tearsshe had thought forever dried gushed forth, and she sobbed for pure joy.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that now, you know!” comforted Pete. “Think of getting two!That’s more than you ever could have expected. A body would think you wouldcry, if you hadn’t got any. Come on, now. It’s almost morning. Let me help youhome.”

Pete took the bag and the two old lanterns. Mrs. Comstock carried her moths andthe best lantern and went ahead to light the way.

Elnora had sat beside her window far into the night. At last she undressed andwent to bed, but sleep would not come. She had gone to the city to talk withmembers of the School Board about a room in the grades. There was a possibilitythat she might secure the moth, and so be able to start to college that fall,but if she did not, then she wanted the school. She had been given someencouragement, but she was so unhappy that nothing mattered. She could not seethe way open to anything in life, save a long series of disappointments, whileshe remained with her mother. Yet Margaret Sinton had advised her to go homeand try once more. Margaret had seemed so sure there would be a change for thebetter, that Elnora had consented, although she had no hope herself. So strongis the bond of blood, she could not make up her mind to seek a home elsewhere,even after the day that had passed. Unable to sleep she arose at last, and theroom being warm, she sat on the floor close the window. The lights in the swampcaught her eye. She was very uneasy, for quite a hundred of her best moths werein the case. However, there was no money, and no one ever had touched a book orany of her apparatus. Watching the lights set her thinking, and before sherealized it, she was in a panic of fear.

She hurried down the stairway softly calling her mother. There was no answer.She lightly stepped across the sitting-room and looked in at the open door.There was no one, and the bed had not been used. Her first thought was that hermother had gone to the pool; and the Limberlost was alive with signals. Pityand fear mingled in the heart of the girl. She opened the kitchen door, crossedthe garden and ran back to the swamp. As she neared it she listened, but shecould hear only the usual voices of night.

“Mother!” she called softly. Then louder, “Mother!”

There was not a sound. Chilled with fright she hurried back to the cabin. Shedid not know what to do. She understood what the lights in the Limberlostmeant. Where was her mother? She was afraid to enter, while she was growingvery cold and still more fearful about remaining outside. At last she went toher mother’s room, picked up the gun, carried it into the kitchen, and crowdingin a little corner behind the stove, she waited in trembling anxiety. The timewas dreadfully long before she heard her mother’s voice. Then she decided someone had been ill and sent for her, so she took courage, and stepping swiftlyacross the kitchen she unbarred the door and drew back from sight beside thetable.

Mrs. Comstock entered dragging her heavy feet. Her dress skirt was gone, herpetticoat wet and drabbled, and the waist of her dress was almost torn from herbody. Her hair hung in damp strings; her eyes were red with crying. In one handshe held the lantern, and in the other stiffly extended before her, on a wad ofcalico reposed a magnificent pair of Yellow Emperors. Elnora stared, her lipsparted.

“Shall I put these others in the kitchen?” inquired a man’s voice.

The girl shrank back to the shadows.

“Yes, anywhere inside the door,” replied Mrs. Comstock as she moved a few stepsto make way for him. Pete’s head appeared. He set down the moths and was gone.

“Thank you, Pete, more than ever woman thanked you before!” said Mrs. Comstock.

She placed the lantern on the table and barred the door. As she turned Elnoracame into view. Mrs. Comstock leaned toward her, and held out the moths. In avoice vibrant with tones never before heard she said: “Elnora, my girl,mother’s found you another moth!”

CHAPTER XIII

WHEREIN MOTHER LOVE IS BESTOWED ON ELNORA, AND SHE FINDS AN ASSISTANT INMOTH HUNTING

Elnora awoke at dawn and lay gazing around the unfamiliar room. She noticedthat every vestige of masculine attire and belongings was gone, and knew,without any explanation, what that meant. For some reason every tangibleevidence of her father was banished, and she was at last to be allowed to takehis place. She turned to look at her mother. Mrs. Comstock’s face was white andhaggard, but on it rested an expression of profound peace Elnora never beforehad seen. As she studied the features on the pillow beside her, the heart ofthe girl throbbed in tenderness. She realized as fully as any one else couldwhat her mother had suffered. Thoughts of the night brought shuddering fear.She softly slipped from the bed, went to her room, dressed and entered thekitchen to attend the Emperors and prepare breakfast. The pair had been leftclinging to the piece of calico. The calico was there and a few pieces ofbeautiful wing. A mouse had eaten the moths!

“Well, of all the horrible luck!” gasped Elnora.

With the first thought of her mother, she caught up the remnants of the moths,burying them in the ashes of the stove. She took the bag to her room, hurriedlyreleasing its contents, but there was not another yellow one. Her mother hadsaid some had been confined in the case in the Limberlost. There was still ahope that an Emperor might be among them. She peeped at her mother, who stillslept soundly.

Elnora took a large piece of mosquito netting, and ran to the swamp. Throwingit over the top of the case, she unlocked the door. She reeled, faint withdistress. The living moths that had been confined there in their fluttering toescape to night and the mates they sought not only had wrecked the otherspecimens of the case, but torn themselves to fringes on the pins. A third ofthe rarest moths of the collection for the man of India were antennaless,legless, wingless, and often headless. Elnora sobbed aloud.

“This is overwhelming,” she said at last. “It is making a fatalist of me. I ambeginning to think things happen as they are ordained from the beginning, thisplainly indicating that there is to be no college, at least, this year, for me.My life is all mountain-top or canon. I wish some one would lead me into a fewdays of ‘green pastures.’ Last night I went to sleep on mother’s arm, the mothsall secured, love and college, certainties. This morning I wake to find all myhopes wrecked. I simply don’t dare let mother know that instead of helping me,she has ruined my collection. Everything is gone—unless the love lasts.That actually seemed true. I believe I will go see.”

The love remained. Indeed, in the overflow of the long-hardened, pent-up heart,the girl was almost suffocated with tempestuous caresses and generousofferings. Before the day was over, Elnora realized that she never had knownher mother. The woman who now busily went through the cabin, her eyes bright,eager, alert, constantly planning, was a stranger. Her very face was different,while it did not seem possible that during one night the acid of twenty yearscould disappear from a voice and leave it sweet and pleasant.

For the next few days Elnora worked at mounting the moths her mother had taken.She had to go to the Bird Woman and tell about the disaster, but Mrs. Comstockwas allowed to think that Elnora delivered the moths when she made the trip. Ifshe had told her what actually happened, the chances were that Mrs. Comstockagain would have taken possession of the Limberlost, hunting there until shereplaced all the moths that had been destroyed. But Elnora knew from experiencewhat it meant to collect such a list in pairs. It would require steady work forat least two summers to replace the lost moths. When she left the Bird Womanshe went to the president of the Onabasha schools and asked him to do all inhis power to secure her a room in one of the ward buildings.

The next morning the last moth was mounted, and the housework finished. Elnorasaid to her mother, “If you don’t mind, I believe I will go into the woodspasture beside Sleepy Snake Creek and see if I can catch some dragonflies ormoths.”

“Wait until I get a knife and a pail and I will go along,” answered Mrs.Comstock. “The dandelions are plenty tender for greens among the deep grasses,and I might just happen to see something myself. My eyes are pretty sharp.”

“I wish you could realize how young you are,” said Elnora. “I know women inOnabasha who are ten years older than you, yet they look twenty years younger.So could you, if you would dress your hair becomingly, and wear appropriateclothes.”

“I think my hair puts me in the old woman class permanently,” said Mrs.Comstock.

“Well, it doesn’t!” cried Elnora. “There is a woman of twenty-eight who hashair as white as yours from sick headaches, but her face is young andbeautiful. If your face would grow a little fuller and those lines would goaway, you’d be lovely!”

“You little pig!” laughed Mrs. Comstock. “Any one would think you would besatisfied with having a splinter new mother, without setting up a kick on herlooks, first thing. Greedy!”

“That is a good word,” said Elnora. “I admit the charge. I am greedy over everywasted year. I want you young, lovely, suitably dressed and enjoying life likethe other girls’ mothers.”

Mrs. Comstock laughed softly as she pushed back her sunbonnet so that shrubsand bushes beside the way could be scanned closely. Elnora walked ahead with acase over her shoulder, a net in her hand. Her head was bare, the rollingcollar of her lavender gingham dress was cut in a V at the throat, the sleevesonly reached the elbows. Every few steps she paused and examined the shrubberycarefully, while Mrs. Comstock was watching until her eyes ached, but therewere no dandelions in the pail she carried.

Early June was rioting in fresh grasses, bright flowers, bird songs, andgay-winged creatures of air. Down the footpath the two went through the perfectmorning, the love of God and all nature in their hearts. At last they reachedthe creek, following it toward the bridge. Here Mrs. Comstock found a large bedof tender dandelions and stopped to fill her pail. Then she sat on the bank,picking over the greens, while she listened to the creek softly singing itsJune song.

Elnora remained within calling distance, and was having good success. At lastshe crossed the creek, following it up to a bridge. There she began a carefulexamination of the under sides of the sleepers and flooring for cocoons. Mrs.Comstock could see her and the creek for several rods above. The mother satbeating the long green leaves across her hand, carefully picking out the whitebuds, because Elnora liked them, when a splash up the creek attracted herattention.

Around the bend came a man. He was bareheaded, dressed in a white sweater, andwaders which reached his waist. He walked on the bank, only entering the waterwhen forced. He had a queer basket strapped on his hip, and with a small rod hesent a long line spinning before him down the creek, deftly manipulating withit a little floating object. He was closer Elnora than her mother, but Mrs.Comstock thought possibly by hurrying she could remain unseen and yet warn thegirl that a stranger was coming. As she approached the bridge, she caught asapling and leaned over the water to call Elnora. With her lips parted to speakshe hesitated a second to watch a sort of insect that flashed past on thewater, when a splash from the man attracted the girl.

She was under the bridge, one knee planted in the embankment and a foot bracedto support her. Her hair was tousled by wind and bushes, her face flushed, andshe lifted her arms above her head, working to loosen a cocoon she had found.The call Mrs. Comstock had intended to utter never found voice, for as Elnoralooked down at the sound, “Possibly I could get that for you,” suggested theman.

Mrs. Comstock drew back. He was a young man with a wonderfully attractive face,although it was too white for robust health, broad shoulders, and slender,upright frame.

“Oh, I do hope you can!” answered Elnora. “It’s quite a find! It’s one of thoselovely pale red cocoons described in the books. I suspect it comes from havingbeen in a dark place and screened from the weather.”

“Is that so?” cried the man. “Wait a minute. I’ve never seen one. I supposeit’s a Cecropia, from the location.”

“Of course,” said Elnora. “It’s so cool here the moth hasn’t emerged. Thecocoon is a big, baggy one, and it is as red as fox tail.”

“What luck!” he cried. “Are you making a collection?”

He reeled in his line, laid his rod across a bush and climbed the embankment toElnora’s side, produced a knife and began the work of whittling a deep groovearound the cocoon.

“Yes. I paid my way through the high school in Onabasha with them. Now I amstarting a collection which means college.”

“Onabasha!” said the man. “That is where I am visiting. Possibly you know mypeople—Dr. Ammon’s? The doctor is my uncle. My home is in Chicago. I’vebeen having typhoid fever, something fierce. In the hospital six weeks. Didn’tgain strength right, so Uncle Doc sent for me. I am to live out of doors allsummer, and exercise until I get in condition again. Do you know my uncle?”

“Yes. He is Aunt Margaret’s doctor, and he would be ours, only we are neverill.”

“Well, you look it!” said the man, appraising Elnora at a glance.

“Strangers always mention it,” sighed Elnora. “I wonder how it would seem to bea pale, languid lady and ride in a carriage.”

“Ask me!” laughed the man. “It feels like the—dickens! I’m so proud of myfeet. It’s quite a trick to stand on them now. I have to keep out of the waterall I can and stop to baby every half-mile. But with interesting outdoor workI’ll be myself in a week.”

“Do you call that work?” Elnora indicated the creek.

“I do, indeed! Nearly three miles, banks too soft to brag on and never astrike. Wouldn’t you call that hard labour?”

“Yes,” laughed Elnora. “Work at which you might kill yourself and never get afish. Did any one tell you there were trout in Sleepy Snake Creek?”

“Uncle said I could try.”

“Oh, you can,” said Elnora. “You can try no end, but you’ll never get a trout.This is too far south and too warm for them. If you sit on the bank and useworms you might catch some perch or catfish.”

“But that isn’t exercise.”

“Well, if you only want exercise, go right on fishing. You will have a creelfull of invisible results every night.”

“I object,” said the man emphatically. He stopped work again and studiedElnora. Even the watching mother could not blame him. In the shade of thebridge Elnora’s bright head and her lavender dress made a picture worthy ofmuch contemplation.

“I object!” repeated the man. “When I work I want to see results. I’d ratherexercise sawing wood, making one pile grow little and the other big than tocast all day and catch nothing because there is not a fish to take. Work forwork’s sake doesn’t appeal to me.”

He digged the groove around the cocoon with skilled hand. “Now there is somefun in this!” he said. “It’s going to be a fair job to cut it out, but when itcomes, it is not only beautiful, but worth a price; it will help you on yourway. I think I’ll put up my rod and hunt moths. That would be something like!Don’t you want help?”

Elnora parried the question. “Have you ever hunted moths, Mr. Ammon?”

“Enough to know the ropes in taking them and to distinguish the commonest ones.I go wild on Catocalæ. There’s too many of them, all too much alike for Philip,but I know all these fellows. One flew into my room when I was about ten yearsold, and we thought it a miracle. None of us ever had seen one so we took itover to the museum to Dr. Dorsey. He said they were common enough, but wedidn’t see them because they flew at night. He showed me the museum collection,and I was so interested I took mine back home and started to hunt them. Everyyear after that we went to our cottage a month earlier, so I could find them,and all my family helped. I stuck to it until I went to college. Then, keepingthe little moths out of the big ones was too much for the mater, so fatheradvised that I donate mine to the museum. He bought a fine case for them withmy name on it, which constitutes my sole contribution to science. I know enoughto help you all right.”

“Aren’t you going north this year?”

“All depends on how this fever leaves me. Uncle says the nights are too coldand the days too hot there for me. He thinks I had better stay in an eventemperature until I am strong again. I am going to stick pretty close to himuntil I know I am. I wouldn’t admit it to any one at home, but I was almostgone. I don’t believe anything can eat up nerve much faster than the burning ofa slow fever. No, thanks, I have enough. I stay with Uncle Doc, so if I feel itcoming again he can do something quickly.”

“I don’t blame you,” said Elnora. “I never have been sick, but it must bedreadful. I am afraid you are tiring yourself over that. Let me take the knifeawhile.”

“Oh, it isn’t so bad as that! I wouldn’t be wading creeks if it were. I onlyneed a few more days to get steady on my feet again. I’ll soon have this out.”

“It is kind of you to get it,” said Elnora. “I should have had to peel it,which would spoil the cocoon for a specimen and ruin the moth.”

“You haven’t said yet whether I may help you while I am here.”

Elnora hesitated.

“You better say ‘yes,’” he persisted. “It would be a real kindness. It wouldkeep me outdoors all day and give an incentive to work. I’m good at it. I’llshow you if I am not in a week or so. I can ‘sugar,’ manipulate lights, andmirrors, and all the expert methods. I’ll wager, moths are numerous in the oldswamp over there.”

“They are,” said Elnora. “Most I have I took there. A few nights ago my mothercaught a number, but we don’t dare go alone.”

“All the more reason why you need me. Where do you live? I can’t get an answerfrom you, I’ll go tell your mother who I am and ask her if I may help you. Iwarn you, young lady, I have a very effective way with mothers. They almostnever turn me down.”

“Then it’s probable you will have a new experience when you meet mine,” saidElnora. “She never was known to do what any one expected she surely would.”

The cocoon came loose. Philip Ammon stepped down the embankment turning tooffer his hand to Elnora. She ran down as she would have done alone, and takingthe cocoon turned it end for end to learn if the imago it contained were alive.Then Ammon took back the cocoon to smooth the edges. Mrs. Comstock gave themone long look as they stood there, and returned to her dandelions. While sheworked she paused occasionally, listening intently. Presently they came downthe creek, the man carrying the cocoon as if it were a jewel, while Elnora madeher way along the bank, taking a lesson in casting. Her face was flushed withexcitement, her eyes shining, the bushes taking liberties with her hair. For apicture of perfect loveliness she scarcely could have been surpassed, and theeyes of Philip Ammon seemed to be in working order.

“Moth-er!” called Elnora.

There was an undulant, caressing sweetness in the girl’s voice, as she sung outthe call in perfect confidence that it would bring a loving answer, that struckdeep in Mrs. Comstock’s heart. She never had heard that word so pronouncedbefore and a lump arose in her throat.

“Here!” she answered, still cleaning dandelions.

“Mother, this is Mr. Philip Ammon, of Chicago,” said Elnora. “He has been illand he is staying with Dr. Ammon in Onabasha. He came down the creek fishingand cut this cocoon from under the bridge for me. He feels that it would bebetter to hunt moths than to fish, until he is well. What do you think aboutit?”

Philip Ammon extended his hand. “I am glad to know you,” he said.

“You may take the hand-shaking for granted,” replied Mrs. Comstock. “Dandelionshave a way of making fingers sticky, and I like to know a man before I take hishand, anyway. That introduction seems mighty comprehensive on your part, but itstill leaves me unclassified. My name is Comstock.”

Philip Ammon bowed.

“I am sorry to hear you have been sick,” said Mrs. Comstock. “But if peoplewill live where they have such vile water as they do in Chicago, I don’t seewhat else they are to expect.”

Philip studied her intently.

“I am sure I didn’t have a fever on purpose,” he said.

“You do seem a little wobbly on your legs,” she observed. “Maybe you had bettersit and rest while I finish these greens. It’s late for the genuine article,but in the shade, among long grass they are still tender.”

“May I have a leaf?” he asked, reaching for one as he sat on the bank, lookingfrom the little creek at his feet, away through the dim cool spaces of the Juneforest on the opposite side. He drew a deep breath. “Glory, but this is goodafter almost two months inside hospital walls!”

He stretched on the grass and lay gazing up at the leaves, occasionally askingthe interpretation of a bird note or the origin of an unfamiliar forest voice.Elnora began helping with the dandelions.

“Another, please,” said the young man, holding out his hand.

“Do you suppose this is the kind of grass Nebuchadnezzar ate?” Elnora asked,giving the leaf.

“He knew a good thing if it is.”

“Oh, you should taste dandelions boiled with bacon and served with mother’scornbread.”

“Don’t! My appetite is twice my size now. While it is—how far is it toOnabasha, shortest cut?”

“Three miles.”

The man lay in perfect content, nibbling leaves.

“This surely is a treat,” he said. “No wonder you find good hunting here. Thereseems to be foliage for almost every kind of caterpillar. But I suppose youhave to exchange for northern species and Pacific Coast kinds?”

“Yes. And every one wants Regalis in trade. I never saw the like. They considera Cecropia or a Polyphemus an insult, and a Luna is barely acceptable.”

“What authorities have you?”

Elnora began to name text-books which started a discussion. Mrs. Comstocklistened. She cleaned dandelions with greater deliberation than they everbefore were examined. In reality she was taking stock of the young man’s long,well-proportioned frame, his strong hands, his smooth, fine-textured skin, histhick shock of dark hair, and making mental notes of his simple manly speechand the fact that he evidently did know much about moths. It pleased her tothink that if he had been a neighbour boy who had lain beside her every day ofhis life while she worked, he could have been no more at home. She liked thethings he said, but she was proud that Elnora had a ready answer which alwaysseemed appropriate.

At last Mrs. Comstock finished the greens.

“You are three miles from the city and less than a mile from where we live,”she said. “If you will tell me what you dare eat, I suspect you had best gohome with us and rest until the cool of the day before you start back. Probablysome one that you can ride in with will be passing before evening.”

“That is mighty kind of you,” said Philip. “I think I will. It doesn’t matterso much what I eat, the point is that I must be moderate. I am hungry all thetime.”

“Then we will go,” said Mrs. Comstock, “and we will not allow you to makeyourself sick with us.”

Philip Ammon arose: picking up the pail of greens and his fishing rod, he stoodwaiting. Elnora led the way. Mrs. Comstock motioned Philip to follow and shewalked in the rear. The girl carried the cocoon and the box of moths she hadtaken, searching every step for more. The young man frequently set down hisload to join in the pursuit of a dragonfly or moth, while Mrs. Comstock watchedthe proceedings with sharp eyes. Every time Philip picked up the pail of greensshe struggled to suppress a smile.

Elnora proceeded slowly, chattering about everything beside the trail. Philipwas interested in all the objects she pointed out, noticing several thingswhich escaped her. He carried the greens as casually when they took a short cutdown the roadway as on the trail. When Elnora turned toward the gate of herhome Philip Ammon stopped, took a long look at the big hewed log cabin, thevines which clambered over it, the flower garden ablaze with beds of brightbloom interspersed with strawberries and tomatoes, the trees of the forestrising north and west like a green wall and exclaimed: “How beautiful!”

Mrs. Comstock was pleased. “If you think that,” she said, “perhaps you willunderstand how, in all this present-day rush to be modern, I have preferred toremain as I began. My husband and I took up this land, and enough trees tobuild the cabin, stable, and outbuildings are nearly all we ever cut. Ofcourse, if he had lived, I suppose we should have kept up with our neighbours.I hear considerable about the value of the land, the trees which are on it, andthe oil which is supposed to be under it, but as yet I haven’t brought myselfto change anything. So we stand for one of the few remaining homes of firstsettlers in this region. Come in. You are very welcome to what we have.”

Mrs. Comstock stepped forward and took the lead. She had a bowl of soft waterand a pair of boots to offer for the heavy waders, for outer comfort, a glassof cold buttermilk and a bench on which to rest, in the circular arbour untildinner was ready. Philip Ammon splashed in the water. He followed to the stableand exchanged boots there. He was ravenous for the buttermilk, and when hestretched on the bench in the arbour the flickering patches of sunlight sotantalized his tired eyes, while the bees made such splendid music, he was soonsound asleep. When Elnora and her mother came out with a table they stood ashort time looking at him. It is probable Mrs. Comstock voiced a united thoughtwhen she said: “What a refined, decent looking young man! How proud his mothermust be of him! We must be careful what we let him eat.”

Then they returned to the kitchen where Mrs. Comstock proceeded to be careful.She broiled ham of her own sugar-curing, creamed potatoes, served asparagus ontoast, and made a delicious strawberry shortcake. As she cooked dandelions withbacon, she feared to serve them to him, so she made an excuse that it took toolong to prepare them, blanched some and made a salad. When everything was readyshe touched Philip’s sleeve.

“Best have something to eat, lad, before you get too hungry,” she said.

“Please hurry!” he begged laughingly as he held a plate toward her to befilled. “I thought I had enough self-restraint to start out alone, but I see Iwas mistaken. If you would allow me, just now, I am afraid I should start afever again. I never did smell food so good as this. It’s mighty kind of you totake me in. I hope I will be man enough in a few days to do something worthwhile in return.”

Spots of sunshine fell on the white cloth and blue china, the bees and anoccasional stray butterfly came searching for food. A rose-breasted grosbeak,released from a three hours’ siege of brooding, while his independent mate tookher bath and recreation, mounted the top branch of a maple in the west woodsfrom which he serenaded the dinner party with a joyful chorus in celebration ofhis freedom. Philip’s eyes strayed to the beautiful cabin, to the mixture offlowers and vegetables stretching down to the road, and to the singing birdwith his red-splotched breast of white and he said: “I can’t realize now that Iever lay in ice packs in a hospital. How I wish all the sick folks could comehere to grow strong!”

The grosbeak sang on, a big Turnus butterfly sailed through the arbour andpoised over the table. Elnora held up a lump of sugar and the butterfly,clinging to her fingers, tasted daintily. With eager eyes and parted lips, thegirl held steadily. When at last it wavered away, “That made a picture!” saidPhilip. “Ask me some other time how I lost my illusions concerning butterflies.I always thought of them in connection with sunshine, flower pollen, and fruitnectar, until one sad day.”

“I know!” laughed Elnora. “I’ve seen that, too, but it didn’t destroy anyillusion for me. I think quite as much of the butterflies as ever.”

Then they talked of flowers, moths, dragonflies, Indian relics, and all thenatural wonders the swamp afforded, straying from those subjects to books andschool work. When they cleared the table Philip assisted, carrying several trayloads to the kitchen. He and Elnora mounted specimens while Mrs Comstock washedthe dishes. Then she came out with a ruffle she was embroidering.

“I wonder if I did not see a picture of you in Onabasha last night,” Philipsaid to Elnora. “Aunt Anna took me to call on Miss Brownlee. She was showing meher crowd—of course, it was you! But it didn’t half do you justice,although it was the nearest human of any of them. Miss Brownlee is very fond ofyou. She said the finest things.”

Then they talked of Commencement, and at last Philip said he must go or hisfriends would become anxious about him.

Mrs. Comstock brought him a blue bowl of creamy milk and a plate of bread. Shestopped a passing team and secured a ride to the city for him, as his exerciseof the morning had been too violent, and he was forced to admit he was tired.

“May I come to-morrow afternoon and hunt moths awhile?” he asked Mrs. Comstockas he arose. “We will ‘sugar’ a tree and put a light beside it, if I can getstuff to make the preparation. Possibly we can take some that way. I alwaysenjoy moth hunting, I’d like to help Miss Elnora, and it would be a charity tome. I’ve got to remain outdoors some place, and I’m quite sure I’d get wellfaster here than anywhere else. Please say I may come.”

“I have no objections, if Elnora really would like help,” said Mrs. Comstock.

In her heart she wished he would not come. She wanted her newly found treasureall to herself, for a time, at least. But Elnora’s were eager, shining eyes.She thought it would be splendid to have help, and great fun to try bookmethods for taking moths, so it was arranged. As Philip rode away, Mrs.Comstock’s eyes followed him. “What a nice young man!” she said.

“He seems fine,” agreed Elnora.

“He comes of a good family, too. I’ve often heard of his father. He is a greatlawyer.”

“I am glad he likes it here. I need help. Possibly——”

“Possibly what?”

“We can find many moths.”

“What did he mean about the butterflies?”

“That he always had connected them with sunshine, flowers, and fruits, andthought of them as the most exquisite of creations; then one day he found someclustering thickly over carrion.”

“Come to think of it, I have seen butterflies——”

“So had he,” laughed Elnora. “And that is what he meant.”

CHAPTER XIV

WHEREIN A NEW POSITION IS TENDERED ELNORA, AND PHILIP AMMON IS SHOWNLIMBERLOST VIOLETS

The next morning Mrs. Comstock called to Elnora, “The mail carrier stopped atour box.”

Elnora ran down the walk and came back carrying an official letter. She tore itopen and read:

MY DEAR MISS COMSTOCK:

At the weekly meeting of the Onabasha School Board last night, it was decidedto add the position of Lecturer on Natural History to our corps of cityteachers. It will be the duty of this person to spend two hours a week in eachof the grade schools exhibiting and explaining specimens of the most prominentobjects in nature: animals, birds, insects, flowers, vines, shrubs, bushes, andtrees. These specimens and lectures should be appropriate to the seasons andthe comprehension of the grades. This position was unanimously voted to you. Ithink you will find the work delightful and much easier than the routine grindof the other teachers. It is my advice that you accept and begin to prepareyourself at once. Your salary will be $750 a year, and you will be allowed $200for expenses in procuring specimens and books. Let us know at once if you wantthe position, as it is going to be difficult to fill satisfactorily if you donot.

Very truly yours,

DAVID THOMPSON, President, Onabasha Schools.

“I hardly understand,” marvelled Mrs. Comstock.

“It is a new position. They never have had anything like it before. I suspectit arose from the help I’ve been giving the grade teachers in their naturework. They are trying to teach the children something, and half the instructorsdon’t know a blue jay from a king-fisher, a beech leaf from an elm, or a waspfrom a hornet.”

“Well, do you?” anxiously inquired Mrs. Comstock.

“Indeed, I do!” laughed Elnora, “and several other things beside. When Frecklesbequeathed me the swamp, he gave me a bigger inheritance than he knew. Whileyou have thought I was wandering aimlessly, I have been following a definiteplan, studying hard, and storing up the stuff that will earn these sevenhundred and fifty dollars. Mother dear, I am going to accept this, of course.The work will be a delight. I’d love it most of anything in teaching. You musthelp me. We must find nests, eggs, leaves, queer formations in plants and rareflowers. I must have flower boxes made for each of the rooms and filled withwild things. I should begin to gather specimens this very day.”

Elnora’s face was flushed and her eyes bright.

“Oh, what great work that will be!” she cried. “You must go with me so you cansee the little faces when I tell them how the goldfinch builds its nest, andhow the bees make honey.”

So Elnora and her mother went into the woods behind the cabin to study nature.

“I think,” said Elnora, “the idea is to begin with fall things in the fall,keeping to the seasons throughout the year.”

“What are fall things?” inquired Mrs. Comstock.

“Oh, fringed gentians, asters, ironwort, every fall flower, leaves from everytree and vine, what makes them change colour, abandoned bird nests, winterquarters of caterpillars and insects, what becomes of the butterflies andgrasshoppers—myriads of stuff. I shall have to be very wise to select thethings it will be most beneficial for the children to learn.”

“Can I really help you?” Mrs. Comstock’s strong face was pathetic.

“Indeed, yes!” cried Elnora. “I never can get through it alone. There will bean immense amount of work connected with securing and preparing specimens.”

Mrs. Comstock lifted her head proudly and began doing business at once. Hersharp eyes ranged from earth to heaven. She investigated everything, askinginnumerable questions. At noon Mrs. Comstock took the specimens they hadcollected, and went to prepare dinner, while Elnora followed the woods down tothe Sintons’ to show her letter.

She had to explain what became of her moths, and why college would have to beabandoned for that year, but Margaret and Wesley vowed not to tell. Wesleywaved the letter excitedly, explaining it to Margaret as if it were a personalpossession. Margaret was deeply impressed, while Billy volunteered first aid ingathering material.

“Now anything you want in the ground, Snap can dig it out,” he said. “UncleWesley and I found a hole three times as big as Snap, that he dug at the rootsof a tree.”

“We will train him to hunt pupae cases,” said Elnora.

“Are you going to the woods this afternoon?” asked Billy.

“Yes,” answered Elnora. “Dr. Ammon’s nephew from Chicago is visiting inOnabasha. He is going to show me how men put some sort of compound on a tree,hang a light beside it, and take moths that way. It will be interesting towatch and learn.”

“May I come?” asked Billy.

“Of course you may come!” answered Elnora.

“Is this nephew of Dr. Ammon a young man?” inquired Margaret.

“About twenty-six, I should think,” said Elnora. “He said he had been out ofcollege and at work in his father’s law office three years.”

“Does he seem nice?” asked Margaret, and Wesley smiled.

“Finest kind of a person,” said Elnora. “He can teach me so much. It is veryinteresting to hear him talk. He knows considerable about moths that will be ahelp to me. He had a fever and he has to stay outdoors until he grows strongagain.”

“Billy, I guess you better help me this afternoon,” said Margaret. “MaybeElnora had rather not bother with you.”

“There’s no reason on earth why Billy should not come!” cried Elnora, andWesley smiled again.

“I must hurry home or I won’t be ready,” she added.

Hastening down the road she entered the cabin, her face glowing.

“I thought you never would come,” said Mrs. Comstock. “If you don’t hurry Mr.Ammon will be here before you are dressed.”

“I forgot about him until just now,” said Elnora. “I am not going to dress.He’s not coming to visit. We are only going to the woods for more specimens. Ican’t wear anything that requires care. The limbs take the most dreadfulliberties with hair and clothing.”

Mrs. Comstock opened her lips, looked at Elnora and closed them. In her heartshe was pleased that the girl was so interested in her work that she hadforgotten Philip Ammon’s coming. But it did seem to her that such a pleasantyoung man should have been greeted by a girl in a fresh dress. “If she isn’tdisposed to primp at the coming of a man, heaven forbid that I should be theone to start her,” thought Mrs. Comstock.

Philip came whistling down the walk between the cinnamon pinks, pansies, andstrawberries. He carried several packages, while his face flushed with morecolour than on the previous day.

“Only see what has happened to me!” cried Elnora, offering her letter.

“I’ll wager I know!” answered Philip. “Isn’t it great! Every one in Onabasha istalking about it. At last there is something new under the sun. All of them arepleased. They think you’ll make a big success. This will give an incentive towork. In a few days more I’ll be myself again, and we’ll overturn the fieldsand woods around here.”

He went on to congratulate Mrs. Comstock.

“Aren’t you proud of her, though?” he asked. “You should hear what folks aresaying! They say she created the necessity for the position, and every oneseems to feel that it is a necessity. Now, if she succeeds, and she will, allof the other city schools will have such departments, and first thing you knowshe will have made the whole world a little better. Let me rest a few seconds;my feet are acting up again. Then we will cook the moth compound and put it tocool.”

He laughed as he sat breathing shortly.

“It doesn’t seem possible that a fellow could lose his strength like this. Myknees are actually trembling, but I’ll be all right in a minute. Uncle Doc saidI could come. I told him how you took care of me, and he said I would be safehere.”

Then he began unwrapping packages and explaining to Mrs. Comstock how to cookthe compound to attract the moths. He followed her into the kitchen, kindledthe fire, and stirred the preparation as he talked. While the mixture cooled,he and Elnora walked through the vegetable garden behind the cabin and strayedfrom there into the woods.

“What about college?” he asked. “Miss Brownlee said you were going.”

“I had hoped to,” replied Elnora, “but I had a streak of dreadful luck, so I’llhave to wait until next year. If you won’t speak of it, I’ll tell you.”

Philip promised, so Elnora recited the history of the Yellow Emperor. She wasso interested in doing the Emperor justice she did not notice how manypersonalities went into the story. A few pertinent questions told him theremainder. He looked at the girl in wonder. In face and form she was as lovelyas any one of her age and type he ever had seen. Her school work far surpassedthat of most girls of her age he knew. She differed in other ways. This vaststore of learning she had gathered from field and forest was a wealth ofattraction no other girl possessed. Her frank, matter-of-fact manner was aninheritance from her mother, but there was something more. Once, as they talkedhe thought “sympathy” was the word to describe it and again “comprehension.”She seemed to possess a large sense of brotherhood for all human and animatecreatures. She spoke to him as if she had known him all her life. She talked tothe grosbeak in exactly the same manner, as she laid strawberries and potatobugs on the fence for his family. She did not swerve an inch from her way whena snake slid past her, while the squirrels came down from the trees and tookcorn from her fingers. She might as well have been a boy, so lacking was she inany touch of feminine coquetry toward him. He studied her wonderingly. As theywent along the path they reached a large slime-covered pool surrounded bydecaying stumps and logs thickly covered with water hyacinths and blue flags.Philip stopped.

“Is that the place?” he asked.

Elnora assented. “The doctor told you?”

“Yes. It was tragic. Is that pool really bottomless?”

“So far as we ever have been able to discover.”

Philip stood looking at the water, while the long, sweet grasses, thicklysprinkled with blue flag bloom, over which wild bees clambered, swayed aroundhis feet. Then he turned to the girl. She had worked hard. The same lavenderdress she had worn the previous day clung to her in limp condition. But she wasas evenly coloured and of as fine grain as a wild rose petal, her hair wasreally brown, but never was such hair touched with a redder glory, while herheavy arching brows added a look of strength to her big gray-blue eyes.

“And you were born here?”

He had not intended to voice that thought.

“Yes,” she said, looking into his eyes. “Just in time to prevent my mother fromsaving the life of my father. She came near never forgiving me.”

“Ah, cruel!” cried Philip.

“I find much in life that is cruel, from our standpoints,” said Elnora. “Ittakes the large wisdom of the Unfathomable, the philosophy of the Almighty, toendure some of it. But there is always right somewhere, and at last it seems tocome.”

“Will it come to you?” asked Philip, who found himself deeply affected.

“It has come,” said the girl serenely. “It came a week ago. It came in fullestmeasure when my mother ceased to regret that I had been born. Now, work that Ilove has come—that should constitute happiness. A little farther along ismy violet bed. I want you to see it.”

As Philip Ammon followed he definitely settled upon the name of the unusualfeature of Elnora’s face. It should be called “experience.” She had knownbitter experiences early in life. Suffering had been her familiar more thanjoy. He watched her earnestly, his heart deeply moved. She led him into aswampy half-open space in the woods, stopped and stepped aside. He uttered acry of surprised delight.

A few decaying logs were scattered around, the grass grew in tufts long andfine. Blue flags waved, clusters of cowslips nodded gold heads, but the wholeearth was purple with a thick blanket of violets nodding from stems a foot inlength. Elnora knelt and slipping her fingers between the leaves and grasses tothe roots, gathered a few violets and gave them to Philip.

“Can your city greenhouses surpass them?” she asked.

He sat on a log to examine the blooms.

“They are superb!” he said. “I never saw such length of stem or such rankleaves, while the flowers are the deepest blue, the truest violet I ever sawgrowing wild. They are coloured exactly like the eyes of the girl I am going tomarry.”

Elnora handed him several others to add to those he held. “She must havewonderful eyes,” she commented.

“No other blue eyes are quite so beautiful,” he said. “In fact, she isaltogether lovely.”

“Is it customary for a man to think the girl he is going to marry lovely? Iwonder if I should find her so.”

“You would,” said Philip. “No one ever fails to. She is tall as you, veryslender, but perfectly rounded; you know about her eyes; her hair is black andwavy—while her complexion is clear and flushed with red.”

“Why, she must be the most beautiful girl in the whole world!” she cried.

“No, indeed!” he said. “She is not a particle better looking in her way thanyou are in yours. She is a type of dark beauty, but you are equally as perfect.She is unusual in her combination of black hair and violet eyes, although everyone thinks them black at a little distance. You are quite as unusual with yourfair face, black brows, and brown hair; indeed, I know many people who wouldprefer your bright head to her dark one. It’s all a question of taste—andbeing engaged to the girl,” he added.

“That would be likely to prejudice one,” laughed Elnora.

“Edith has a birthday soon; if these last will you let me have a box of them tosend her?”

“I will help gather and pack them for you, so they will carry nicely. Does shehunt moths with you?”

Back went Philip Ammon’s head in a gale of laughter.

“No!” he cried. “She says they are ‘creepy.’ She would go into a spasm if shewere compelled to touch those caterpillars I saw you handling yesterday.”

“Why would she?” marvelled Elnora. “Haven’t you told her that they areperfectly clean, helpless, and harmless as so much animate velvet?”

“No, I have not told her. She wouldn’t care enough about caterpillars tolisten.”

“In what is she interested?”

“What interests Edith Carr? Let me think! First, I believe she takes pride inbeing a little handsomer and better dressed than any girl of her set. She isinterested 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 allcircumstances have her own way about everything.”

“Good gracious!” cried Elnora, staring at him. “But what does she do? How doesshe spend her time?”

“Spend her time!” repeated Philip. “Well, she would call that a joke. Her daysare 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 wouldlike.”

“But I mean work,” persisted Elnora. “In what is she interested that is usefulto the world?”

“Me!” cried Philip promptly.

“I can understand that,” laughed Elnora. “What I can’t understand is how youcan be in——” She stopped in confusion, but she saw that he hadfinished the sentence as she had intended. “I beg your pardon!” she cried. “Ididn’t intend to say that. But I cannot understand these people I hear aboutwho live only for their own amusement. Perhaps it is very great; I’ll neverhave a chance to know. To me, it seems the only pleasure in this world worthhaving is the joy we derive from living for those we love, and those we canhelp. 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 hegazed at her steadily.

“No doubt I should be,” he said, “but the fact is I am not. I cannot understanda life purely for personal pleasure myself. But she is only a girl, and this isher 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 thatquestion.

“I would have to be well acquainted with her to know, but I should hope so. Tomake a real home for a tired business man is a very different kind of work fromthat required to be a leader of society. It demands different talent andeducation. Of course, she means to change, or she would not have promised tomake a home for you. I suspect our dope is cool now, let’s go try for somebutterflies.”

As they went along the path together Elnora talked of many things but Philipanswered absently. Evidently he was thinking of something else. But the mothbait recalled him and he was ready for work as they made their way back to thewoods. He wanted to try the Limberlost, but Elnora was firm about remaining onhome ground. She did not tell him that lights hung in the swamp would be asignal 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 withcyanide boxes and lanterns.

First they tried for butterflies and captured several fine ones withouttrouble. They also called swarms of ants, bees, beetles, and flies. When itgrew dusk, Mrs. Comstock and Philip went to prepare supper. Elnora and Billyremained 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 besideElnora.

“I am sure I hardly know,” said the girl. “This is a new way for me. Perhapsthey will come to the lights, but few moths eat; and I have some doubt aboutthose which the lights attract settling on the right trees. Maybe the smell ofthat dope will draw them. Between us, Billy, I think I like my old way best. IfI can find a hidden moth, slip up and catch it unawares, or take it in fullflight, it’s my captive, and I can keep it until it dies naturally. But thisway you seem to get it under false pretences, it has no chance, and it willprobably 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 quithating caterpillars when they see you handle them and hear you tell all aboutthem. You must have some to show people how they are. It’s not like killingthings to see if you can, or because you want to eat them, the way most menkill birds. I think it is right for you to take enough for collections, to showcity 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 upto 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 UncleWesley and Aunt Margaret never think of killing a caterpillar until they lookwhether it’s the beautiful June moth kind, or the horrid tent ones. That’s whatyou can do. You go straight ahead!”

“Billy, you are a jewel!” cried Elnora, throwing her arm across his shouldersas 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’twant 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 ofdelight.

CHAPTER XV

WHEREIN MRS. COMSTOCK FACES THE ALMIGHTY, AND PHILIP AMMON WRITES ALETTER

Mrs. Comstock and Elnora were finishing breakfast the following morning whenthey heard a cheery whistle down the road. Elnora with surprised eyes looked ather 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 onyesterday.

“I hope I am not too early,” he said. “I am consumed with anxiety to learn ifwe have made a catch. If we have, we should beat the birds to it. I promisedUncle Doc to put on my waders and keep dry for a few days yet, when I go to thewoods. 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 placePhilip stopped.

“Now we must use great caution,” he said. “The lights and the odours alwaysattract numbers that don’t settle on the baited trees. Every bush, shrub, andlimb may hide a specimen we want.”

So they approached with much care.

“There is something, anyway!” cried Philip.

“There are moths! I can see them!” exulted Elnora.

“Those you see are fast enough. It’s the ones for which you must search thatwill escape. The grasses are dripping, and I have boots, so you look beside thepath while I take the outside,” suggested Ammon.

Mrs. Comstock wanted to hunt moths, but she was timid about making a wrongmovement, so she wisely sat on a log and watched Philip and Elnora to learn howthey proceeded. Back in the deep woods a hermit thrush was singing his chant tothe rising sun. Orioles were sowing the pure, sweet air with notes of gold,poured out while on wing. The robins were only chirping now, for their morningsongs had awakened all the other birds an hour ago. Scolding red-wings tiltedon half the bushes. Excepting late species of haws, tree bloom was almost gone,but wild flowers made the path border and all the wood floor a riot of colour.Elnora, born among such scenes, worked eagerly, but to the city man, recentlyfrom a hospital, they seemed too good to miss. He frequently stooped to examinea flower face, paused to listen intently to the thrush or lifted his head tosee the gold flash which accompanied the oriole’s trailing notes. So Elnorauttered the first cry, as she softly lifted branches and peered among thegrasses.

“My find!” she called. “Bring the box, mother!”

Philip came hurrying also. When they reached her she stood on the path holdinga pair of moths. Her eyes were wide with excitement, her cheeks pink, her redlips parted, and on the hand she held out to them clung a pair of delicateblue-green moths, with white bodies, and touches of lavender and straw colour.All around her lay flower-brocaded grasses, behind the deep green background ofthe forest, while the sun slowly sifted gold from heaven to burnish her hair.Mrs. Comstock heard a sharp breath behind her.

“Oh, what a picture!” exulted Philip at her shoulder. “She is absolutely andaltogether lovely! I’d give a small fortune for that faithfully set on canvas!”

He picked the box from Mrs. Comstock’s fingers and slowly advanced with it.Elnora held down her hand and transferred the moths. Philip closed the boxcarefully, but the watching mother saw that his eyes were following the girl’sface. He was not making the slightest attempt to conceal his admiration.

“I wonder if a woman ever did anything lovelier than to find a pair of Lunamoths on a forest path, early on a perfect June morning,” he said to Mrs.Comstock, when he returned the box.

She glanced at Elnora who was intently searching the bushes.

“Look here, young man,” said Mrs. Comstock. “You seem to find that girl of mineabout right.”

“I could suggest no improvement,” said Philip. “I never saw a more attractivegirl anywhere. She seems absolutely perfect to me.”

“Then suppose you don’t start any scheme calculated to spoil her!” proposedMrs. Comstock dryly. “I don’t think you can, or that any man could, but I’m nottaking any risks. You asked to come here to help in this work. We are both gladto have you, if you confine yourself to work; but it’s the least you can do toleave us as you find us.”

“I beg your pardon!” said Philip. “I intended no offence. I admire her as Iadmire any perfect creation.”

“And nothing in all this world spoils the average girl so quickly and sosurely,” said Mrs. Comstock. She raised her voice. “Elnora, fasten up that tagof hair over your left ear. These bushes muss you so you remind me of a sheeppoking its nose through a hedge fence.”

Mrs. Comstock started down the path toward the log again, when she reached itshe called sharply: “Elnora, come here! I believe I have found somethingmyself.”

The “something” was a Citheronia Regalis which had emerged from its case on thesoft earth under the log. It climbed up the wood, its stout legs dragging a bigpursy body, while it wildly flapped tiny wings the size of a man’s thumb-nail.Elnora gave one look and a cry which brought Philip.

“That’s the rarest moth in America!” he announced. “Mrs. Comstock, you’ve goneup head. You can put that in a box with a screen cover to-night, and attracthalf a dozen, possibly.”

“Is it rare, Elnora?” inquired Mrs. Comstock, as if no one else knew.

“It surely is,” answered Elnora. “If we can find it a mate to-night, it willlay from two hundred and fifty to three hundred eggs to-morrow. With any luckat all I can raise two hundred caterpillars from them. I did once before. Andthey are worth a dollar apiece.”

“Was the one I killed like that?”

“No. That was a different moth, but its life processes were the same as this.The Bird Woman calls this the King of the Poets.”

“Why does she?”

“Because it is named for Citheron who was a poet, and regalis refers to a king.You mustn’t touch it or you may stunt wing development. You watch and don’t letthat moth out of sight, or anything touch it. When the wings are expanded andhardened we will put it in a box.”

“I am afraid it will race itself to death,” objected Mrs. Comstock.

“That’s a part of the game,” said Philip. “It is starting circulation now. Whenthe right moment comes, it will stop and expand its wings. If you watch closelyyou can see them expand.”

Presently the moth found a rough projection of bark and clung with its feet,back down, its wings hanging. The body was an unusual orange red, the tinywings were gray, striped with the red and splotched here and there withmarkings of canary yellow. Mrs. Comstock watched breathlessly. Presently sheslipped from the log and knelt to secure a better view.

“Are its wings developing?” called Elnora.

“They are growing larger and the markings coming stronger every minute.”

“Let’s watch, too,” said Elnora to Philip.

They came and looked over Mrs. Comstock’s shoulder. Lower drooped the gaywings, wider they spread, brighter grew the markings as if laid off ingeometrical patterns. They could hear Mrs. Comstock’s tense breath and see herabsorbed expression.

“Young people,” she said solemnly, “if your studying science and the elementshas ever led you to feel that things just happen, kind of evolve by chance, asit were, this sight will be good for you. Maybe earth and air accumulate, butit takes the wisdom of the Almighty God to devise the wing of a moth. If thereever was a miracle, this whole process is one. Now, as I understand it, thiscreature is going to keep on spreading those wings, until they grow to size andharden to strength sufficient to bear its body. Then it flies away, mates withits kind, lays its eggs on the leaves of a certain tree, and the eggs hatchtiny caterpillars which eat just that kind of leaves, and the worms grow andgrow, and take on different forms and colours until at last they are bigcaterpillars six inches long, with large horns. Then they burrow into theearth, build a water-proof house around themselves from material which isinside them, and lie through rain and freezing cold for months. A year from egglaying they come out like this, and begin the process all over again. Theydon’t eat, they don’t see distinctly, they live but a few days, and fly only atnight; then they drop off easy, but the process goes on.”

A shivering movement went over the moth. The wings drooped and spread wider.Mrs. Comstock sank into soft awed tones.

“There never was a moment in my life,” she said, “when I felt so in thePresence, as I do now. I feel as if the Almighty were so real, and so near,that I could reach out and touch Him, as I could this wonderful work of His, ifI dared. I feel like saying to Him: ‘To the extent of my brain power I realizeYour presence, and all it is in me to comprehend of Your power. Help me tolearn, even this late, the lessons of Your wonderful creations. Help me tounshackle and expand my soul to the fullest realization of Your wonders.Almighty God, make me bigger, make me broader!’”

The moth climbed to the end of the projection, up it a little way, thensuddenly reversed its wings, turned the hidden sides out and dropped thembeside its abdomen, like a large fly. The upper side of the wings, thusexposed, was far richer colour, more exquisite texture than the under, and theyslowly half lifted and drooped again. Mrs. Comstock turned her face to Philip.

“Am I an old fool, or do you feel it, too?” she half whispered.

“You are wiser than you ever have been before,” answered he. “I feel it, also.”

“And I,” breathed Elnora.

The moth spread its wings, shivered them tremulously, opening and closing themrapidly. Philip handed the box to Elnora.

She shook her head.

“I can’t take that one,” she said. “Give her freedom.”

“But, Elnora,” protested Mrs. Comstock, “I don’t want to let her go. She’smine. She’s the first one I ever found this way. Can’t you put her in a bigbox, and let her live, without hurting her? I can’t bear to let her go. I wantto learn all about her.”

“Then watch while we gather these on the trees,” said Elnora. “We will take herhome until night and then decide what to do. She won’t fly for a long timeyet.”

Mrs. Comstock settled on the ground, gazing at the moth. Elnora and Philip wentto the baited trees, placing several large moths and a number of smaller onesin the cyanide jar, and searching the bushes beyond where they found severalpaired specimens of differing families. When they returned Elnora showed hermother how to hold her hand before the moth so that it would climb upon herfingers. Then they started back to the cabin, Elnora and Philip leading theway; Mrs. Comstock followed slowly, stepping with great care lest she stumbleand injure the moth. Her face wore a look of comprehension, in her eyes was anexalted light. On she came to the blue-bordered pool lying beside her path.

A turtle scrambled from a log and splashed into the water, while a red-wingshouted, “O-ka-lee!” to her. Mrs. Comstock paused and looked intently at theslime-covered quagmire, framed in a flower riot and homed over by sweet-voicedbirds. Then she gazed at the thing of incomparable beauty clinging to herfingers and said softly: “If you had known about wonders like these in the daysof your youth, Robert Comstock, could you ever have done what you did?”

Elnora missed her mother, and turning to look for her, saw her standing besidethe pool. Would the old fascination return? A panic of fear seized the girl.She went back swiftly.

“Are you afraid she is going?” Elnora asked. “If you are, cup your other handover her for shelter. Carrying her through this air and in the hot sunshinewill dry her wings and make them ready for flight very quickly. You can’t trusther in such air and light as you can in the cool dark woods.”

While she talked she took hold of her mother’s sleeve, anxiously smiling apitiful little smile that Mrs. Comstock understood. Philip set his load at theback door, returning to hold open the garden gate for Elnora and Mrs. Comstock.He reached it in time to see them standing together beside the pool. The motherbent swiftly and kissed the girl on the lips. Philip turned and was busilyhunting moths on the raspberry bushes when they reached the gate. And soexcellent are the rewards of attending your own business, that he found aPromethea on a lilac in a corner; a moth of such rare wine-coloured, velvetyshades that it almost sent Mrs. Comstock to her knees again. But this one wasfully developed, able to fly, and had to be taken into the cabin hurriedly.Mrs. Comstock stood in the middle of the room holding up her Regalis.

“Now what must I do?” she asked.

Elnora glanced at Philip Ammon. Their eyes met and both of them smiled; he withamusement at the tall, spare figure, with dark eyes and white crown, asking thechildish question so confidingly; and Elnora with pride. She was beginning toappreciate the character of her mother.

“How would you like to sit and see her finish development? I’ll get dinner,”proposed the girl.

After they had dined, Philip and Elnora carried the dishes to the kitchen,brought out boxes, sheets of cork, pins, ink, paper slips and everythingnecessary for mounting and classifying the moths they had taken. When thehousework was finished Mrs. Comstock with her ruffle sat near, watching andlistening. She remembered all they said that she understood, and when uncertainshe asked questions. Occasionally she laid down her work to straighten someflower which needed attention or to search the garden for a bug for thegrosbeak. In one of these absences Elnora said to Philip: “These replace quitea number of the moths I lost for the man of India. With a week of such luck, Icould almost begin to talk college again.”

“There is no reason why you should not have the week and the luck,” said he. “Ihave taken moths until the middle of August, though I suspect one is morelikely to find late ones in the north where it is colder than here. The nextweek is hay-time, but we can count on a few double-brooders and strays, and byworking the exchange method for all it is worth, I think we can complete thecollection again.”

“You almost make me hope,” said Elnora, “but I must not allow myself. I don’ttruly think I can replace all I lost, not even with your help. If I could, Iscarcely see my way clear to leave mother this winter. I have found her sorecently, and she is so precious, I can’t risk losing her again. I am going totake the nature position in the Onabasha schools, and I shall be most happydoing the work. Only, these are a temptation.”

“I wish you might go to college this fall with the other girls,” said Philip.“I feel that if you don’t you never will. Isn’t there some way?”

“I can’t see it if there is, and I really don’t want to leave mother.”

“Well, mother is mighty glad to hear it,” said Mrs. Comstock, entering thearbour.

Philip noticed that her face was pale, her lips quivering, her voice cold.

“I was telling your daughter that she should go to college this winter,” heexplained, “but she says she doesn’t want to leave you.”

“If she wants to go, I wish she could,” said Mrs. Comstock, a look of reliefspreading over her face.

“Oh, all girls want to go to college,” said Philip. “It’s the only proper placeto learn bridge and embroidery; not to mention midnight lunches of mixedpickles and fruit cake, and all the delights of the sororities.”

“I have thought for years of going to college,” said Elnora, “but I neverthought of any of those things.”

“That is because your education in fudge and bridge has been sadly neglected,”said Philip. “You should hear my sister Polly! This was her final year! Lunchesand sororities were all I heard her mention, until Tom Levering came on deck;now he is the leading subject. I can’t see from her daily conversation that sheknows half as much really worth knowing as you do, but she’s ahead of you mileson fun.”

“Oh, we had some good times in the high school,” said Elnora. “Life hasn’t beenall work and study. Is Edith Carr a college girl?”

“No. She is the very selectest kind of a private boarding-school girl.”

“Who is she?” asked Mrs. Comstock.

Philip opened his lips.

“She is a girl in Chicago, that Mr. Ammon knows very well,” said Elnora. “Sheis beautiful and rich, and a friend of his sister’s. Or, didn’t you say that?”

“I don’t remember, but she is,” said Philip. “This moth needs an alcohol bathto remove the dope.”

“Won’t the down come, too?” asked Elnora anxiously.

“No. You watch and you will see it come out, as Polly would say, ‘a perfectlygood’ moth.”

“Is your sister younger than you?” inquired Elnora.

“Yes,” said Philip, “but she is three years older than you. She is the dearestsister in all the world. I’d love to see her now.”

“Why don’t you send for her,” suggested Elnora. “Perhaps she’d like to help uscatch moths.”

“Yes, I think Polly in a Virot hat, Picot embroidered frock and three-inchheels would take more moths than any one who ever tried the Limberlost,”laughed Philip.

“Well, you find many of them, and you are her brother.”

“Yes, but that is different. Father was reared in Onabasha, and he loved thecountry. He trained me his way and mother took charge of Polly. I don’t quiteunderstand it. Mother is a great home body herself, but she did succeed inmaking Polly strictly ornamental.”

“Does Tom Levering need a ‘strictly ornamental’ girl?”

“You are too matter of fact! Too ‘strictly’ material. He needs a darling girlwho will love him plenty, and Polly is that.”

“Well, then, does the Limberlost need a ‘strictly ornamental’ girl?”

“No!” cried Philip. “You are ornament enough for the Limberlost. I have changedmy mind. I don’t want Polly here. She would not enjoy catching moths, oranything we do.”

“She might,” persisted Elnora. “You are her brother, and surely you care forthese things.”

“The argument does not hold,” said Philip. “Polly and I do not like the samethings when we are at home, but we are very fond of each other. The member ofmy family who would go crazy about this is my father. I wish he could come, ifonly for a week. I’d send for him, but he is tied up in preparing some papersfor a great corporation case this summer. He likes the country. It was his votethat brought me here.”

Philip leaned back against the arbour, watching the grosbeak as it hunted foodbetween a tomato vine and a day lily. Elnora set him to making labels, and whenhe finished them he asked permission to write a letter. He took no pains toconceal his page, and from where she sat opposite him, Elnora could not lookhis way without reading: “My dearest Edith.” He wrote busily for a time andthen sat staring across the garden.

“Have you run out of material so quickly?” asked Elnora.

“That’s about it,” said Philip. “I have said that I am getting well as rapidlyas possible, that the air is fine, the folks at Uncle Doc’s all well, andentirely too good to me; that I am spending most of my time in the countryhelping catch moths for a collection, which is splendid exercise; now I can’tthink of another thing that will be interesting.”

There was a burst of exquisite notes in the maple.

“Put in the grosbeak,” suggested Elnora. “Tell her you are so friendly with himyou feed him potato bugs.”

Philip lowered the pen to the sheet, bent forward, then hesitated.

“Blest if I do!” he cried. “She’d think a grosbeak was a depraved person with alarge nose. She’d never dream that it was a black-robed lover, with a breast ofsnow and a crimson heart. She doesn’t care for hungry babies and potato bugs. Ishall write that to father. He will find it delightful.”

Elnora deftly picked up a moth, pinned it and placed its wings. Shestraightened the antennae, drew each leg into position and set it in perfectlylifelike manner. As she lifted her work to see if she had it right, she glancedat Philip. He was still frowning and hesitating over the paper.

“I dare you to let me dictate a couple of paragraphs.”

“Done!” cried Philip. “Go slowly enough that I can write it.”

Elnora laughed gleefully.

“I am writing this,” she began, “in an old grape arbour in the country, near alog cabin where I had my dinner. From where I sit I can see directly into thehome of the next-door neighbour on the west. His name is R. B. Grosbeak. Fromall I have seen of him, he is a gentleman of the old school; the oldest schoolthere is, no doubt. He always wears a black suit and cap and a white vest,decorated with one large red heart, which I think must be the emblem of someancient order. I have been here a number of times, and I never have seen himwear anything else, or his wife appear in other than a brown dress with touchesof white.

“It has appealed to me at times that she was a shade neglectful of her homeduties, but he does not seem to feel that way. He cheerfully stays in thesitting-room, while she is away having a good time, and sings while he caresfor the four small children. I must tell you about his music. I am sure henever saw inside a conservatory. I think he merely picked up what he knows byear and without vocal training, but there is a tenderness in his tones, a depthof pure melody, that I never have heard surpassed. It may be that I think moreof his music than that of some other good vocalists hereabout, because I seemore of him and appreciate his devotion to his home life.

“I just had an encounter with him at the west fence, and induced him to carry asmall gift to his children. When I see the perfect harmony in which he lives,and the depth of content he and the brown lady find in life, I am almostpersuaded to— Now this is going to be poetry,” said Elnora. “Move yourpen over here and begin with a quote and a cap.”

Philip’s face had been an interesting study while he wrote her sentences. Nowhe gravely set the pen where she indicated, and Elnora dictated—

“Buy a nice little home in the country,
And settle down there for life.”

“That’s the truth!” cried Philip. “It’s as big a temptation as I ever had. Goon!”

“That’s all,” said Elnora. “You can finish. The moths are done. I am goinghunting for whatever I can find for the grades.”

“Wait a minute,” begged Philip. “I am going, too.”

“No. You stay with mother and finish your letter.”

“It is done. I couldn’t add anything to that.”

“Very well! Sign your name and come on. But I forgot to tell you all thebargain. Maybe you won’t send the letter when you hear that. The remainder isthat you show me the reply to my part of it.”

“Oh, that’s easy! I wouldn’t have the slightest objection to showing you thewhole letter.”

He signed his name, folded the sheets and slipped them into his pocket.

“Where are we going and what do we take?”

“Will you go, mother?” asked Elnora.

“I have a little work that should be done,” said Mrs. Comstock. “Could youspare me? Where do you want to go?”

“We will go down to Aunt Margaret’s and see her a few minutes and get Billy. Wewill be back in time for supper.”

Mrs. Comstock smiled as she watched them down the road. What a splendid-lookingpair of young creatures they were! How finely proportioned, how full ofvitality! Then her face grew troubled as she saw them in earnest conversation.Just as she was wishing she had not trusted her precious girl with so much of astranger, she saw Elnora stoop to lift a branch and peer under. The mother grewcontent. Elnora was thinking only of her work. She was to be trusted utterly.

CHAPTER XVI

WHEREIN THE LIMBERLOST SINGS FOR PHILIP, AND THE TALKING TREES TELL GREATSECRETS

A few days later Philip handed Elnora a sheet of paper and she read: “In yourcondition I should think the moth hunting and life at that cabin would be verygood for you, but for any sake keep away from that Grosbeak person, and don’tcome home with your head full of granger ideas. No doubt he has a remarkablevoice, but I can’t bear untrained singers, and don’t you get the idea that aJune song is perennial. You are not hearing the music he will make when thefour babies have the scarlet fever and the measles, and the gadding wife leaveshim at home to care for them then. Poor soul, I pity her! How she exists whererampant cows bellow at you, frogs croak, mosquitoes consume you, the buttergoes to oil in summer and bricks in winter, while the pump freezes every day,and there is no earthly amusement, and no society! Poor things! Can’t youinfluence him to move? No wonder she gads when she has a chance! I should die.If you are thinking of settling in the country, think also of a woman who issatisfied with white and brown to accompany you! Brown! Of all deadly colours!I should go mad in brown.”

Elnora laughed while she read. Her face was dimpling, as she returned thesheet. “Who’s ahead?” she asked.

“Who do you think?” he parried.

“She is,” said Elnora. “Are you going to tell her in your next that R. B.Grosbeak is a bird, and that he probably will spend the winter in a wild plumthicket in Tennessee?”

“No,” said Philip. “I shall tell her that I understand her ideas of lifeperfectly, and, of course, I never shall ask her to deal with oily butter andfrozen pumps—”

“—and measley babies,” interpolated Elnora.

“Exactly!” said Philip. “At the same time I find so much to counterbalancethose things, that I should not object to bearing them myself, in view of therecompense. Where do we go and what do we do to-day?”

“We will have to hunt beside the roads and around the edge of the Limberlostto-day,” said Elnora. “Mother is making strawberry preserves, and she can’tcome until she finishes. Suppose we go down to the swamp and I’ll show you whatis left of the flower-room that Terence O’More, the big lumber man of GreatRapids, made when he was a homeless boy here. Of course, you have heard thestory?”

“Yes, and I’ve met the O’Mores who are frequently in Chicago society. They havefriends there. I think them one ideal couple.”

“That sounds as if they might be the only one,” said Elnora, “and, indeed, theyare not. I know dozens. Aunt Margaret and Uncle Wesley are another, theBrownlees another, and my mathematics professor and his wife. The world is fullof happy people, but no one ever hears of them. You must fight and make ascandal to get into the papers. No one knows about all the happy people. I amhappy myself, and look how perfectly inconspicuous I am.”

“You only need go where you will be seen,” began Philip, when he remembered andfinished. “What do we take to-day?”

“Ourselves,” said Elnora. “I have a vagabond streak in my blood and it’s inevidence. I am going to show you where real flowers grow, real birds sing, andif I feel quite right about it, perhaps I shall raise a note or two myself.”

“Oh, do you sing?” asked Philip politely.

“At times,” answered Elnora. “‘As do the birds; because I must,’ but don’t bescared. The mood does not possess me often. Perhaps I shan’t raise a note.”

They went down the road to the swamp, climbed the snake fence, followed thepath to the old trail and then turned south upon it. Elnora indicated to Philipthe trail with remnants of sagging barbed wire.

“It was ten years ago,” she said. “I was a little school girl, but I wanderedwidely even then, and no one cared. I saw him often. He had been in a cityinstitution all his life, when he took the job of keeping timber thieves out ofthis swamp, before many trees had been cut. It was a strong man’s work, and hewas a frail boy, but he grew hardier as he lived out of doors. This trail weare on is the path his feet first wore, in those days when he was insane withfear and eaten up with loneliness, but he stuck to his work and won out. I usedto come down to the road and creep among the bushes as far as I dared, to watchhim pass. He walked mostly, at times he rode a wheel.

“Some days his face was dreadfully sad, others it was so determined a littlechild could see the force in it, and once he was radiant. That day the SwampAngel was with him. I can’t tell you what she was like. I never saw any one whoresembled her. He stopped close here to show her a bird’s nest. Then they wenton to a sort of flower-room he had made, and he sang for her. By the time heleft, I had gotten bold enough to come out on the trail, and I met the bigScotchman Freckles lived with. He saw me catching moths and butterflies, so hetook me to the flower-room and gave me everything there. I don’t dare comealone often, so I can’t keep it up as he did, but you can see something of howit was.”

Elnora led the way and Philip followed. The outlines of the room were notdistinct, because many of the trees were gone, but Elnora showed how it hadbeen as nearly as she could.

“The swamp is almost ruined now,” she said. “The maples, walnuts, and cherriesare all gone. The talking trees are the only things left worth while.”

“The ‘talking trees!’ I don’t understand,” commented Philip.

“No wonder!” laughed Elnora. “They are my discovery. You know all trees whisperand talk during the summer, but there are two that have so much to say theykeep on the whole winter, when the others are silent. The beeches and oaks solove to talk, they cling to their dead, dry leaves. In the winter the winds arestiffest and blow most, so these trees whisper, chatter, sob, laugh, and attimes roar until the sound is deafening. They never cease until new leaves comeout in the spring to push off the old ones. I love to stand beneath them withmy ear to the trunks, interpreting what they say to fit my moods. The beechesbranch low, and their leaves are small so they only know common earthly things;but the oaks run straight above almost all other trees before they branch,their arms are mighty, their leaves large. They meet the winds that travelaround the globe, and from them learn the big things.”

Philip studied the girls face. “What do the beeches tell you, Elnora?” he askedgently.

“To be patient, to be unselfish, to do unto others as I would have them do tome.”

“And the oaks?”

“They say ‘be true,’ ‘live a clean life,’ ‘send your soul up here and the windsof the world will teach it what honour achieves.’”

“Wonderful secrets, those!” marvelled Philip. “Are they telling them now? CouldI hear?”

“No. They are only gossiping now. This is play-time. They tell the big secretsto a white world, when the music inspires them.”

“The music?”

“All other trees are harps in the winter. Their trunks are the frames, theirbranches the strings, the winds the musicians. When the air is cold and clear,the world very white, and the harp music swelling, then the talking trees tellthe strengthening, uplifting things.”

“You wonderful girl!” cried Philip. “What a woman you will be!”

“If I am a woman at all worth while, it will be because I have had suchwonderful opportunities,” said Elnora. “Not every girl is driven to the forestto learn what God has to say there. Here are the remains of Freckles’s room.The time the Angel came here he sang to her, and I listened. I never heardmusic like that. No wonder she loved him. Every one who knew him did, and theydo yet. Try that log, it makes a fairly good seat. This old store box was histreasure house, just as it’s now mine. I will show you my dearest possession. Ido not dare take it home because mother can’t overcome her dislike for it. Itwas my father’s, and in some ways I am like him. This is the strongest.”

Elnora lifted the violin and began to play. She wore a school dress of greengingham, with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. She seemed a part of thesetting all around her. Her head shone like a small dark sun, and her facenever had seemed so rose-flushed and fair. From the instant she drew the bow,her lips parted and her eyes turned toward something far away in the swamp, andnever did she give more of that impression of feeling for her notes andrepeating something audible only to her. Philip was too close to get the besteffect. He arose and stepped back several yards, leaning against a large tree,looking and listening intently.

As he changed positions he saw that Mrs. Comstock had followed them, and wasstanding on the trail, where she could not have helped hearing everythingElnora had said.

So to Philip before her and the mother watching on the trail, Elnora played theSong of the Limberlost. It seemed as if the swamp hushed all its other voicesand spoke only through her dancing bow. The mother out on the trail had heardit all, once before from the girl, many times from her father. To the man itwas a revelation. He stood so stunned he forgot Mrs. Comstock. He tried torealize what a city audience would say to that music, from such a player, witha similar background, and he could not imagine.

He was wondering what he dared say, how much he might express, when the lastnote fell and the girl laid the violin in the case, closed the door, locked itand hid the key in the rotting wood at the end of a log. Then she came to him.Philip stood looking at her curiously.

“I wonder,” he said, “what people would say to that?”

“I played that in public once,” said Elnora. “I think they liked it, fairlywell. I had a note yesterday offering me the leadership of the high schoolorchestra in Onabasha. I can take it as well as not. None of my talks to thegrades come the first thing in the morning. I can play a few minutes in theorchestra and reach the rooms in plenty of time. It will be more work that Ilove, and like finding the money. I would gladly play for nothing, merely to beable to express myself.”

“With some people it makes a regular battlefield of the human heart—thisstruggle for self-expression,” said Philip. “You are going to do beautiful workin the world, and do it well. When I realize that your violin belonged to yourfather, that he played it before you were born, and it no doubt affected yourmother strongly, and then couple with that the years you have roamed thesefields and swamps finding in nature all you had to lavish your heart upon, Ican see how you evolved. I understand what you mean by self-expression. I knowsomething of what you have to express. The world never so wanted your messageas it does now. It is hungry for the things you know. I can see easily how yourposition came to you. What you have to give is taught in no college, and I amnot sure but you would spoil yourself if you tried to run your mind through aset groove with hundreds of others. I never thought I should say such a thingto any one, but I do say to you, and I honestly believe it; give up the collegeidea. Your mind does not need that sort of development. Stick close to yourwork in the woods. You are becoming so infinitely greater on it, than the bestcollege girl I ever knew, that there is no comparison. When you have money tospend, take that violin and go to one of the world’s great masters and let theLimberlost sing to him; if he thinks he can improve it, very well. I have mydoubts.”

“Do you really mean that you would give up all idea of going to college, in myplace?”

“I really mean it,” said Philip. “If I now held the money in my hands to sendyou, and could give it to you in some way you would accept I would not. I donot know why it is the fate of the world always to want something differentfrom what life gives them. If you only could realize it, my girl, you are incollege, and have been always. You are in the school of experience, and it hastaught you to think, and given you a heart. God knows I envy the man who winsit! You have been in the college of the Limberlost all your life, and I nevermet a graduate from any other institution who could begin to compare with youin sanity, clarity, and interesting knowledge. I wouldn’t even advise you toread too many books on your lines. You acquire your material first hand, andyou know that you are right. What you should do is to begin early to practiseself-expression. Don’t wait too long to tell us about the woods as you knowthem.”

“Follow the course of the Bird Woman, you mean?” asked Elnora.

“In your own way; with your own light. She won’t live forever. You are younger,and you will be ready to begin where she ends. The swamp has given you all youneed so far; now you give it to the world in payment. College be confounded! Goto work and show people what there is in you!”

Not until then did he remember Mrs. Comstock.

“Should we go out to the trail and see if your mother is coming?” he asked.

“Here she is now,” said Elnora. “Gracious, it’s a mercy I got that violin putaway in time! I didn’t expect her so soon,” whispered the girl as she turnedand went toward her mother. Mrs. Comstock’s expression was peculiar as shelooked at Elnora.

“I forgot that you were making sun-preserves and they didn’t require muchcooking,” she said. “We should have waited for you.”

“Not at all!” answered Mrs. Comstock. “Have you found anything yet?”

“Nothing that I can show you,” said Elnora. “I am almost sure I have found anidea that will revolutionize the whole course of my work, thought, andambitions.”

“‘Ambitions!’ My, what a hefty word!” laughed Mrs. Comstock. “Now who wouldsuspect a little red-haired country girl of harbouring such a deadly germ inher body? Can you tell mother about it?”

“Not if you talk to me that way, I can’t,” said Elnora.

“Well, I guess we better let ambition lie. I’ve always heard it was safestasleep. If you ever get a bona fide attack, it will be time to attend it. Let’shunt specimens. It is June. Philip and I are in the grades. You have an hour toput an idea into our heads that will stick for a lifetime, and grow for good.That’s the way I look at your job. Now, what are you going to give us? We don’twant any old silly stuff that has been hashed over and over, we want a big newidea to plant in our hearts. Come on, Miss Teacher, what is the boiled-down,double-distilled essence of June? Give it to us strong. We are large enough tofurnish it developing ground. Hurry up! Time is short and we are waiting. Whatis the miracle of June? What one thing epitomizes the whole month, and makes itjust a little different from any other?”

“The birth of these big night moths,” said Elnora promptly.

Philip clapped his hands. The tears started to Mrs. Comstock’s eyes. She tookElnora in her arms, and kissed her forehead.

“You’ll do!” she said. “June is June, not because it has bloom, bird, fruit, orflower, exclusive to it alone.

“It’s half May and half July in all of them. But to me, it’s just June, when itcomes to these great, velvet-winged night moths which sweep its moonlit skies,consummating their scheme of creation, and dropping like a bloomed-out flower.Give them moths for June. Then make that the basis of your year’s work. Findthe distinctive feature of each month, the one thing which marks it a timeapart, and hit them squarely between the eyes with it. Even the babies of thelowest grades can comprehend moths when they see a few emerge, and learn theirhistory, as it can be lived before them. You should show your specimens inpairs, then their eggs, the growing caterpillars, and then the cocoons. Youwant to dig out the red heart of every month in the year, and hold it pulsingbefore them.

“I can’t name all of them off-hand, but I think of one more right now. Februarybelongs to our winter birds. It is then the great horned owl of the swampcourts his mate, the big hawks pair, and even the crows begin to take notice.These are truly our birds. Like the poor we have them always with us. Youshould hear the musicians of this swamp in February, Philip, on a mellow night.Oh, but they are in earnest! For twenty-one years I’ve listened by night to thegreat owls, all the smaller sizes, the foxes, coons, and every resident left inthese woods, and by day to the hawks, yellow-hammers, sap-suckers, titmice,crows, and other winter birds. Only just now it’s come to me that thedistinctive feature of February is not linen bleaching, nor sugar making; it’sthe love month of our very own birds. Give them hawks and owls for February,Elnora.”

With flashing eyes the girl looked at Philip. “How’s that?” she said. “Don’tyou think I will succeed, with such help? You should hear the concert she istalking about! It is simply indescribable when the ground is covered with snow,and the moonlight white.”

“It’s about the best music we have,” said Mrs. Comstock. “I wonder if youcouldn’t copy that and make a strong, original piece out of it for your violin,Elnora?”

There was one tense breath, then—— “I could try,” said Elnorasimply.

Philip rushed to the rescue. “We must go to work,” he said, and began examininga walnut branch for Luna moth eggs. Elnora joined him while Mrs. Comstock drewher embroidery from her pocket and sat on a log. She said she was tired, theycould come for her when they were ready to go. She could hear their voicesaround her until she called them at supper time. When they came to her shestood waiting on the trail, the sewing in one hand, the violin in the other.Elnora became very white, but followed the trail without a word. Philip, unableto see a woman carry a heavier load than he, reached for the instrument. Mrs.Comstock shook her head. She carried the violin home, took it into her room andclosed the door. Elnora turned to Philip.

“If she destroys that, I shall die!” cried the girl.

“She won’t!” said Philip. “You misunderstand her. She wouldn’t have said whatshe did about the owls, if she had meant to. She is your mother. No one lovesyou as she does. Trust her! Myself—I think she’s simply great!”

Mrs. Comstock returned with serene face, and all of them helped with thesupper. When it was over Philip and Elnora sorted and classified theafternoon’s specimens, and made a trip to the woods to paint and light severaltrees for moths. When they came back Mrs. Comstock sat in the arbour, and theyjoined her. The moonlight was so intense, print could have been read by it. Thedamp night air held odours near to earth, making flower and tree perfumestrong. A thousand insects were serenading, and in the maple the grosbeakoccasionally said a reassuring word to his wife, while she answered that allwas well. A whip-poor-will wailed in the swamp and beside the blue-borderedpool a chat complained disconsolately. Mrs. Comstock went into the cabin, butshe returned immediately, laying the violin and bow across Elnora’s lap. “Iwish you would give us a little music,” she said.

CHAPTER XVII

WHEREIN MRS. COMSTOCK DANCES IN THE MOONLIGHT, AND ELNORA MAKES ACONFESSION

Billy was swinging in the hammock, at peace with himself and all the world,when he thought he heard something. He sat bolt upright, his eyes staring. Oncehe opened his lips, then thought again and closed them. The sound persisted.Billy vaulted the fence, and ran down the road with his queer sidewise hop.When he neared the Comstock cabin, he left the warm dust of the highway andstepped softly at slower pace over the rank grasses of the roadside. He hadheard aright. The violin was in the grape arbour, singing a perfect jumble ofeverything, poured out in an exultant tumult. The strings were voicing the joyof a happy girl heart.

Billy climbed the fence enclosing the west woods and crept toward the arbour.He was not a spy and not a sneak. He merely wanted to satisfy his child-heartas to whether Mrs. Comstock was at home, and Elnora at last playing her lovedviolin with her mother’s consent. One peep sufficed. Mrs. Comstock sat in themoonlight, her head leaning against the arbour; on her face was a look ofperfect peace and contentment. As he stared at her the bow hesitated a secondand Mrs. Comstock spoke:

“That’s all very melodious and sweet,” she said, “but I do wish you could playMoney Musk and some of the tunes I danced as a girl.”

Elnora had been carefully avoiding every note that might be reminiscent of herfather. At the words she laughed softly and began “Turkey in the Straw.” Aninstant later Mrs. Comstock was dancing in the moon light. Ammon sprang to herside, caught her in his arms, while to Elnora’s laughter and the violin’simpetus they danced until they dropped panting on the arbour bench.

Billy scarcely knew when he reached the road. His light feet barely touched thesoft way, so swiftly he flew. He vaulted the fence and burst into the house.

“Aunt Margaret! Uncle Wesley!” he screamed. “Listen! Listen! She’s playing it!Elnora’s playing her violin at home! And Aunt Kate is dancing like anythingbefore the arbour! I saw her in the moonlight! I ran down! Oh, Aunt Margaret!”

Billy fled sobbing to Margaret’s breast.

“Why Billy!” she chided. “Don’t cry, you little dunce! That’s what we’ve allprayed for these many years; but you must be mistaken about Kate. I can’tbelieve it.”

Billy lifted his head. “Well, you just have to!” he said. “When I say I sawanything, Uncle Wesley knows I did. The city man was dancing with her. Theydanced together and Elnora laughed. But it didn’t look funny to me; I wasscared.”

“Who was it said ‘wonders never cease,’” asked Wesley. “You mark my word, onceyou get Kate Comstock started, you can’t stop her. There’s a wagon load ofpenned-up force in her. Dancing in the moonlight! Well, I’ll be hanged!”

Billy was at his side instantly. “Whoever does it will have to hang me, too,”he cried.

Sinton threw his arm around Billy and drew him closely. “Tell us all about it,son,” he said. Billy told. “And when Elnora just stopped a breath, ‘Can’t youplay some of the old things I knew when I was a girl?’ said her ma. Then Elnorabegan to do a thing that made you want to whirl round and round, and quicker’an scat there was her ma a-whirling. The city man, he ups and grabs her andwhirls, too, and back in the woods I was going just like they did. Elnorabegins to laugh, and I ran to tell you, cos I knew you’d like to know. Now, allthe world is right, ain’t it?” ended Billy in supreme satisfaction.

“You just bet it is!” said Wesley.

Billy looked steadily at Margaret. “Is it, Aunt Margaret?”

Margaret Sinton smiled at him bravely.

An hour later when Billy was ready to climb the stairs to his room, he went toMargaret to say good night. He leaned against her an instant, then brought hislips to her ear. “Wish I could get your little girls back for you!” hewhispered and dashed toward the stairs.

Down at the Comstock cabin the violin played on until Elnora was so tired shescarcely could lift the bow. Then Philip went home. The women walked to thegate with him, and stood watching him from sight.

“That’s what I call one decent young man!” said Mrs. Comstock. “To see him fitin with us, you’d think he’d been brought up in a cabin; but it’s likely he’salways had the very cream o’ the pot.”

“Yes, I think so,” laughed Elnora, “but it hasn’t hurt him. I’ve never seenanything I could criticise. He’s teaching me so much, unconsciously. You knowhe graduated from Harvard, and has several degrees in law. He’s coming in themorning, and we are going to put in a big day on Catocalæ.”

“Which is——?”

“Those gray moths with wings that fold back like big flies, and they appear asif they had been carved from old wood. Then, when they fly, the lower wingsflash out and they are red and black, or gold and black, or pink and black, ordozens of bright, beautiful colours combined with black. No one ever hasclassified all of them and written their complete history, unless the BirdWoman is doing it now. She wants everything she can get about them.”

“I remember,” said Mrs. Comstock. “They are mighty pretty things. I’ve startedup slews of them from the vines covering the logs, all my life. I must becautious and catch them after this, but they seem powerful spry. I might gethold of something rare.” She thought intently and added, “And wouldn’t know itif I did. It would just be my luck. I’ve had the rarest thing on earth in reachthis many a day and only had the wit to cinch it just as it was going. I’ll betI don’t let anything else escape me.”

Next morning Philip came early, and he and Elnora went at once to the fieldsand woods. Mrs. Comstock had come to believe so implicitly in him that she nowstayed at home to complete the work before she joined them, and when she didshe often sat sewing, leaving them wandering hours at a time. It was noonbefore she finished, and then she packed a basket of lunch. She found Elnoraand Philip near the violet patch, which was still in its prime. They alllunched together in the shade of a wild crab thicket, with flowers spread attheir feet, and the gold orioles streaking the air with flashes of light andtrailing ecstasy behind them, while the red-wings, as always, asked the mostimpertinent questions. Then Mrs. Comstock carried the basket back to the cabin,and Philip and Elnora sat on a log, resting a few minutes. They had unexpectedluck, and both were eager to continue the search.

“Do you remember your promise about these violets?” asked he. “To-morrow isEdith’s birthday, and if I’d put them special delivery on the morning train,she’d get them in the late afternoon. They ought to keep that long. She leavesfor the North next day.”

“Of course, you may have them,” said Elnora. “We will quit long enough beforesupper to gather a large bunch. They can be packed so they will carry allright. They should be perfectly fresh, especially if we gather them thisevening and let them drink all night.”

Then they went back to hunt Catocalæ. It was a long and a happy search. It ledthem into new, unexplored nooks of the woods, past a red-poll nest, and wheregoldfinches prospected for thistledown for the cradles they would line a littlelater. It led them into real forest, where deep, dark pools lay, where thehermit thrush and the wood robin extracted the essence from all other birdmelody, and poured it out in their pure bell-tone notes. It seemed as if everyold gray tree-trunk, slab of loose bark, and prostrate log yielded the flashinggray treasures; while of all others they seemed to take alarm most easily, andbe most difficult to capture.

Philip came to Elnora at dusk, daintily holding one by the body, its dark wingsshowing and its long slender legs trying to clasp his fingers and creep fromhis hold.

“Oh for mercy’s sake!” cried Elnora, staring at him.

“I half believe it!” exulted Ammon.

“Did you ever see one?”

“Only in collections, and very seldom there.”

Elnora studied the black wings intently. “I surely believe that’s Sappho,” shemarvelled. “The Bird Woman will be overjoyed.”

“We must get the cyanide jar quickly,” said Philip.

“I wouldn’t lose her for anything. Such a chase as she led me!”

Elnora brought the jar and began gathering up paraphernalia.

“When you make a find like that,” she said, “it’s the right time to quit andfeel glorious all the rest of that day. I tell you I’m proud! We will go now.We have barely time to carry out our plans before supper. Won’t mother bepleased to see that we have a rare one?”

“I’d like to see any one more pleased than I am!” said Philip Ammon. “I feel asif I’d earned my supper to-night. Let’s go.”

He took the greater part of the load and stepped aside for Elnora to precedehim. She followed the path, broken by the grazing cattle, toward the cabin andnearest the violet patch she stopped, laid down her net, and the things shecarried. Philip passed her and hurried straight toward the back gate.

“Aren’t you going to——?” began Elnora.

“I’m going to get this moth home in a hurry,” he said. “This cyanide has lostits strength, and it’s not working well. We need some fresh in the jar.”

He had forgotten the violets! Elnora stood looking after him, a curiousexpression on her face. One second so—then she picked up the net andfollowed. At the blue-bordered pool she paused and half turned back, then sheclosed her lips firmly and went on. It was nine o’clock when Philip saidgood-bye, and started to town. His gay whistle floated to them from thefarthest corner of the Limberlost. Elnora complained of being tired, so shewent to her room and to bed. But sleep would not come. Thought was racing inher brain and the longer she lay the wider awake she grew. At last she softlyslipped from bed, lighted her lamp and began opening boxes. Then she went towork. Two hours later a beautiful birch bark basket, strongly and artisticallymade, stood on her table. She set a tiny alarm clock at three, returned to bedand fell asleep instantly with a smile on her lips.

She was on the floor with the first tinkle of the alarm, and hastily dressing,she picked up the basket and a box to fit it, crept down the stairs, and out tothe violet patch. She was unafraid as it was growing light, and lining thebasket with damp mosses she swiftly began picking, with practised hands, thebest of the flowers. She scarcely could tell which were freshest at times, butday soon came creeping over the Limberlost and peeped at her. The robins awokeall their neighbours, and a babel of bird notes filled the air. The dew wasdripping, while the first strong rays of light fell on a world in which Elnoraworshipped. When the basket was filled to overflowing, she set it in the stoutpasteboard box, packed it solid with mosses, tied it firmly and slipped underthe cord a note she had written the previous night.

Then she took a short cut across the woods and walked swiftly to Onabasha. Itwas after six o’clock, but all of the city she wished to avoid were asleep. Shehad no trouble in finding a small boy out, and she stood at a distance waitingwhile he rang Dr. Ammon’s bell and delivered the package for Philip to a maid,with the note which was to be given him at once.

On the way home through the woods passing some baited trees she collected thecaptive moths. She entered the kitchen with them so naturally that Mrs.Comstock made no comment. After breakfast Elnora went to her room, cleared awayall trace of the night’s work and was out in the arbour mounting moths whenPhilip came down the road. “I am tired sitting,” she said to her mother. “Ithink I will walk a few rods and meet him.”

“Who’s a trump?” he called from afar.

“Not you!” retorted Elnora. “Confess that you forgot!”

“Completely!” said Philip. “But luckily it would not have been fatal. I wrotePolly last week to send Edith something appropriate to-day, with my card. Butthat touch from the woods will be very effective. Thank you more than I cansay. Aunt Anna and I unpacked it to see the basket, and it was a beauty. Shesays you are always doing such things.”

“Well, I hope not!” laughed Elnora. “If you’d seen me sneaking out before dawn,not to awaken mother and coming in with moths to make her think I’d been to thetrees, you’d know it was a most especial occasion.”

Then Philip understood two things: Elnora’s mother did not know of the earlymorning trip to the city, and the girl had come to meet him to tell him so.

“You were a brick to do it!” he whispered as he closed the gate behind them.“I’ll never forget you for it. Thank you ever so much.”

“I did not do that for you,” said Elnora tersely. “I did it mostly to preservemy own self-respect. I saw you were forgetting. If I did it for anythingbesides that, I did it for her.”

“Just look what I’ve brought!” said Philip, entering the arbour and greetingMrs. Comstock. “Borrowed it of the Bird Woman. And it isn’t hers. A rareedition of Catocalæ with coloured plates. I told her the best I could, and shesaid to try for Sappho here. I suspect the Bird Woman will be out presently.She was all excitement.”

Then they bent over the book together and with the mounted moth before themdetermined her family. The Bird Woman did come later, and carried the mothaway, to put into a book and Elnora and Philip were freshly filled withenthusiasm.

So these days were the beginning of the weeks that followed. Six of them flyingon Time’s wings, each filled to the brim with interest. After June, the mothhunts grew less frequent; the fields and woods were searched for material forElnora’s grade work. The most absorbing occupation they found was in carryingout Mrs. Comstock’s suggestion to learn the vital thing for which each monthwas distinctive, and make that the key to the nature work. They wrote out alist of the months, opposite each the things all of them could suggest whichseemed to pertain to that month alone, and then tried to sift until they foundsomething typical. Mrs. Comstock was a great help. Her mother had been Dutchand had brought from Holland numerous quaint sayings and superstitions easilytraceable to Pliny’s Natural History; and in Mrs. Comstock’s early years inOhio she had heard much Indian talk among her elders, so she knew the signs ofeach season, and sometimes they helped. Always her practical thought andsterling common sense were useful. When they were afield until exhausted theycame back to the cabin for food, to prepare specimens and classify them, and totalk over the day. Sometimes Philip brought books and read while Elnora and hermother worked, and every night Mrs. Comstock asked for the violin. Her perfecthunger for music was sufficient evidence of how she had suffered without it. Sothe days crept by, golden, filled with useful work and pure pleasure.

The grosbeak had led the family in the maple abroad and a second brood, in awild grape vine clambering over the well, was almost ready for flight. The dustlay thick on the country roads, the days grew warmer; summer was just poisingto slip into fall, and Philip remained, coming each day as if he had belongedthere always.

One warm August afternoon Mrs. Comstock looked up from the ruffle on which shewas engaged to see a blue-coated messenger enter the gate.

“Is Philip Ammon here?” asked the boy.

“He is,” said Mrs. Comstock.

“I have a message for him.”

“He is in the woods back of the cabin. I will ring the bell. Do you know if itis important?”

“Urgent,” said the boy; “I rode hard.”

Mrs. Comstock stepped to the back door and clanged the dinner bell sharply,paused a second, and rang again. In a short time Philip and Elnora ran down thepath.

“Are you ill, mother?” cried Elnora.

Mrs. Comstock indicated the boy. “There is an important message for Philip,”she said.

He muttered an excuse and tore open the telegram. His colour faded slightly. “Ihave to take the first train,” he said. “My father is ill and I am needed.”

He handed the sheet to Elnora. “I have about two hours, as I remember thetrains north, but my things are all over Uncle Doc’s house, so I must go atonce.”

“Certainly,” said Elnora, giving back the message. “Is there anything I can doto help? Mother, bring Philip a glass of buttermilk to start on. I will gatherwhat you have here.”

“Never mind. There is nothing of importance. I don’t want to be hampered. I’llsend for it if I miss anything I need.”

Philip drank the milk, said good-bye to Mrs. Comstock; thanked her for all herkindness, and turned to Elnora.

“Will you walk to the edge of the Limberlost with me?” he asked. Elnoraassented. Mrs. Comstock followed to the gate, urged him to come again soon, andrepeated her good-bye. Then she went back to the arbour to await Elnora’sreturn. As she watched down the road she smiled softly.

“I had an idea he would speak to me first,” she thought, “but this may changethings some. He hasn’t time. Elnora will come back a happy girl, and she hasgood reason. He is a model young man. Her lot will be very different frommine.”

She picked up her embroidery and began setting dainty precise little stitches,possible only to certain women.

On the road Elnora spoke first. “I do hope it is nothing serious,” she said.“Is he usually strong?”

“Quite strong,” said Philip. “I am not at all alarmed but I am very muchashamed. I have been well enough for the past month to have gone home andhelped him with some critical cases that were keeping him at work in this heat.I was enjoying myself so I wouldn’t offer to go, and he would not ask me tocome, so long as he could help it. I have allowed him to overtax himself untilhe is down, and mother and Polly are north at our cottage. He’s never been sickbefore, and it’s probable I am to blame that he is now.”

“He intended you to stay this long when you came,” urged Elnora.

“Yes, but it’s hot in Chicago. I should have remembered him. He is alwaysthinking of me. Possibly he has needed me for days. I am ashamed to go to himin splendid condition and admit that I was having such a fine time I forgot tocome home.”

“You have had a fine time, then?” asked Elnora.

They had reached the fence. Philip vaulted over to take a short cut across thefields. He turned and looked at her.

“The best, the sweetest, and most wholesome time any man ever had in thisworld,” he said. “Elnora, if I talked hours I couldn’t make you understand whata girl I think you are. I never in all my life hated anything as I hate leavingyou. It seems to me that I have not strength to do it.”

“If you have learned anything worth while from me,” said Elnora, “that shouldbe it. Just to have strength to go to your duty, and to go quickly.”

He caught the hand she held out to him in both his. “Elnora, these days we havehad together, have they been sweet to you?”

“Beautiful days!” said Elnora. “Each like a perfect dream to be thought overand over all my life. Oh, they have been the only really happy days I’ve everknown; these days rich with mother’s love, and doing useful work with yourhelp. Good-bye! You must hurry!”

Philip gazed at her. He tried to drop her hand, only clutched it closer.Suddenly he drew her toward him. “Elnora,” he whispered, “will you kiss megood-bye?”

Elnora drew back and stared at him with wide eyes. “I’d strike you sooner!” shesaid. “Have I ever said or done anything in your presence that made you feelfree to ask that, Philip Ammon?”

“No!” panted Philip. “No! I think so much of you I wanted to touch your lipsonce before I left you. You know, Elnora——”

“Don’t distress yourself,” said Elnora calmly. “I am broad enough to judge yousanely. I know what you mean. It would be no harm to you. It would not matterto me, but here we will think of some one else. Edith Carr would not want yourlips to-morrow if she knew they had touched mine to-day. I was wise to say: ‘Goquickly!’”

Philip still clung to her. “Will you write me?” he begged.

“No,” said Elnora. “There is nothing to say, save good-bye. We can do thatnow.”

He held on. “Promise that you will write me only one letter,” he urged. “I wantjust one message from you to lock in my desk, and keep always. Promise you willwrite once, Elnora.”

She looked into his eyes, and smiled serenely. “If the talking trees tell methis winter, the secret of how a man may grow perfect, I will write you what itis, Philip. In all the time I have known you, I never have liked you so little.Good-bye.”

She drew away her hand and swiftly turned back to the road. Philip Ammon,wordless, started toward Onabasha on a run.

Elnora crossed the road, climbed the fence and sought the shelter of their ownwoods. She chose a diagonal course and followed it until she came to the pathleading past the violet patch. She went down this hurriedly. Her hands wereclenched at her side, her eyes dry and bright, her cheeks red-flushed, and herbreath coming fast. When she reached the patch she turned into it and stoodlooking around her.

The mosses were dry, the flowers gone, weeds a foot high covered it. She turnedaway and went on down the path until she was almost in sight of the cabin.

Mrs. Comstock smiled and waited in the arbour until it occurred to her thatElnora was a long time coming, so she went to the gate. The road stretched awaytoward the Limberlost empty and lonely. Then she knew that Elnora had gone intotheir own woods and would come in the back way. She could not understand whythe girl did not hurry to her with what she would have to tell. She went outand wandered around the garden. Then she stepped into the path and startedalong the way leading to the woods, past the pool now framed in a thick settingof yellow lilies. Then she saw, and stopped, gasping for breath. Her hands flewup and her lined face grew ghastly. She stared at the sky and then at theprostrate girl figure. Over and over she tried to speak, but only a dry breathcame. She turned and fled back to the garden.

In the familiar enclosure she gazed around her like a caged animal seekingescape. The sun beat down on her bare head mercilessly, and mechanically shemoved to the shade of a half-grown hickory tree that voluntarily had sproutedbeside the milk house. At her feet lay an axe with which she made kindlings forfires. She stooped and picked it up. The memory of that prone figure sobbing inthe grass caught her with a renewed spasm. She shut her eyes as if to close itout. That made hearing so acute she felt certain she heard Elnora moaningbeside the path. The eyes flew open. They looked straight at a few spindlingtomato plants set too near the tree and stunted by its shade. Mrs. Comstockwhirled on the hickory and swung the axe. Her hair shook down, her clothingbecame disarranged, in the heat the perspiration streamed, but stroke fell onstroke until the tree crashed over, grazing a corner of the milk house andsmashing the garden fence on the east.

At the sound Elnora sprang to her feet and came running down the garden walk.“Mother!” she cried. “Mother! What in the world are you doing?”

Mrs. Comstock wiped her ghastly face on her apron. “I’ve laid out to cut thattree for years,” she said. “It shades the beets in the morning, and thetomatoes in the afternoon!”

Elnora uttered one wild little cry and fled into her mother’s arms. “Ohmother!” she sobbed. “Will you ever forgive me?”

Mrs. Comstock’s arms swept together in a tight grip around Elnora.

“There isn’t a thing on God’s footstool from a to izzard I won’t forgive you,my precious girl!” she said. “Tell mother what it is!”

Elnora lifted her wet face. “He told me,” she panted, “just as soon as hedecently could—that second day he told me. Almost all his life he’s beenengaged to a girl at home. He never cared anything about me. He was onlyinterested in the moths and growing strong.”

Mrs. Comstock’s arms tightened. With a shaking hand she stroked the brighthair.

“Tell me, honey,” she said. “Is he to blame for a single one of these tears?”

“Not one!” sobbed Elnora. “Oh mother, I won’t forgive you if you don’t believethat. Not one! He never said, or looked, or did anything all the world mightnot have known. He likes me very much as a friend. He hated to go dreadfully!”

“Elnora!” the mother’s head bent until the white hair mingled with the brown.“Elnora, why didn’t you tell me at first?”

Elnora caught her breath in a sharp snatch. “I know I should!” she sobbed. “Iwill bear any punishment for not, but I didn’t feel as if I possibly could. Iwas afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” the shaking hand was on the hair again.

“Afraid you wouldn’t let him come!” panted Elnora. “And oh, mother, I wantedhim so!”

CHAPTER XVIII

WHEREIN MRS. COMSTOCK EXPERIMENTS WITH REJUVENATION, AND ELNORA TEACHESNATURAL HISTORY

For the following week Mrs. Comstock and Elnora worked so hard there was notime to talk, and they were compelled to sleep from physical exhaustion.Neither of them made any pretence of eating, for they could not swallow withoutan effort, so they drank milk and worked. Elnora kept on setting bait forCatacolae and Sphinginae, which, unlike the big moths of June, live severalmonths. She took all the dragonflies and butterflies she could, and when shewent over the list for the man of India, she found, to her amazement, that withPhilip’s help she once more had it complete save a pair of Yellow Emperors.

This circumstance was so surprising she had a fleeting thought of writingPhilip and asking him to see if he could not secure her a pair. She did tellthe Bird Woman, who from every source at her command tried to complete theseries with these moths, but could not find any for sale.

“I think the mills of the Gods are grinding this grist,” said Elnora, “and wemight as well wait patiently until they choose to send a Yellow Emperor.”

Mrs. Comstock invented work. When she had nothing more to do, she hoed in thegarden although the earth was hard and dry and there were no plants that reallyneeded attention. Then came a notification that Elnora would be compelled toattend a week’s session of the Teachers’ Institute held at the county seattwenty miles north of Onabasha the following week. That gave them something ofwhich to think and real work to do. Elnora was requested to bring her violin.As she was on the programme of one of the most important sessions for a talk onnature work in grade schools, she was driven to prepare her speech, also toselect and practise some music. Her mother turned her attention to clothing.

They went to Onabasha together and purchased a simple and appropriate fall suitand hat, goods for a dainty little coloured frock, and a dress skirt andseveral fancy waists. Margaret Sinton came down and the sewing began. Wheneverything was finished and packed, Elnora kissed her mother good-bye at thedepot, and entered the train. Mrs. Comstock went into the waiting-room anddropped into a seat to rest. Her heart was so sore her whole left side felttender. She was half starved for the food she had no appetite to take. She hadworked in dogged determination until she was exhausted. For a time she simplysat and rested. Then she began to think. She was glad Elnora had gone where shewould be compelled to fix her mind on other matters for a few days. Sheremembered the girl had said she wanted to go.

School would begin the following week. She thought over what Elnora would haveto do to accomplish her work successfully. She would be compelled to arise atsix o’clock, walk three miles through varying weather, lead the high schoolorchestra, and then put in the remainder of the day travelling from building tobuilding over the city, teaching a specified length of time every week in eachroom. She must have her object lessons ready, and she must do a certain amountof practising with the orchestra. Then a cold lunch at noon, and a three-milewalk at night.

“Humph!” said Mrs. Comstock, “to get through that the girl would have to bemade of cast-iron. I wonder how I can help her best?”

She thought deeply.

“The less she sees of what she’s been having all summer, the sooner she’ll feelbetter about it,” she muttered.

She arose, went to the bank and inquired for the cashier.

“I want to know just how I am fixed here,” she said.

The cashier laughed. “You haven’t been in a hurry,” he replied. “We have beenready for you any time these twenty years, but you didn’t seem to pay muchattention. Your account is rather flourishing. Interest, when it gets tocompounding, is quite a money breeder. Come back here to a table and I willshow you your balances.”

Mrs. Comstock sank into a chair and waited while the cashier read a jumble offigures to her. It meant that her deposits had exceeded her expenses from oneto three hundred dollars a year, according to the cattle, sheep, hogs, poultry,butter, and eggs she had sold. The aggregate of these sums had been compoundinginterest throughout the years. Mrs. Comstock stared at the total with dazed andunbelieving eyes. Through her sick heart rushed the realization, that if shemerely had stood before that wicket and asked one question, she would haveknown that all those bitter years of skimping for Elnora and herself had beenunnecessary. She arose and went back to the depot.

“I want to send a message,” she said. She picked up the pencil, and with rashextravagance, wrote, “Found money at bank didn’t know about. If you want to goto college, come on first train and get ready.” She hesitated a second and thenshe said to herself grimly, “Yes, I’ll pay for that, too,” and recklesslyadded, “With love, Mother.” Then she sat waiting for the answer. It came inless than an hour. “Will teach this winter. With dearest love, Elnora.”

Mrs. Comstock held the message a long time. When she arose she was ravenouslyhungry, but the pain in her heart was a little easier. She went to a restaurantand ate some food, then to a dressmaker where she ordered four dresses: twovery plain every-day ones, a serviceable dark gray cloth suit, and a soft lightgray silk with touches of lavender and lace. She made a heavy list of purchasesat Brownlee’s, and the remainder of the day she did business in her direct andspirited way. At night she was so tired she scarcely could walk home, but shebuilt a fire and cooked and ate a hearty meal.

Later she went out beside the west fence and gathered an armful of tansy whichshe boiled to a thick green tea. Then she stirred in oatmeal until it was astiff paste. She spread a sheet over her bed and began tearing strips of oldmuslin. She bandaged each hand and arm with the mixture and plastered thesoggy, evil-smelling stuff in a thick poultice over her face and neck. She wasso tired she went to sleep, and when she awoke she was half skinned. She bathedher face and hands, did the work and went back to town, coming home at night togo through the same process.

By the third morning she was a raw even red, the fourth she had faded to abrilliant pink under the soothing influence of a cream recommended. That daycame a letter from Elnora saying that she would remain where she was untilSaturday morning, and then come to Ellen Brownlee’s at Onabasha and stay forthe Saturday’s session of teachers to arrange their year’s work. Sunday wasEllen’s last day at home, and she wanted Elnora very much. She had to calltogether the orchestra and practise them Sunday; and could not come home untilafter school Monday night. Mrs. Comstock at once answered the letter sayingthose arrangements suited her.

The following day she was a pale pink, later a delicate porcelain white. Thenshe went to a hairdresser and had the rope of snowy hair which covered herscalp washed, dressed, and fastened with such pins and combs as were decided tobe most becoming. She took samples of her dresses, went to a milliner, andbought a street hat to match her suit, and a gray satin with lavender orchidsto wear with the silk dress. Her last investment was a loose coat of soft graybroadcloth with white lining, and touches of lavender on the embroideredcollar, and gray gloves to match.

Then she went home, rested and worked by turns until Monday. When school closedon that evening, Elnora, so tired she almost trembled, came down the long walkafter a late session of teachers’ meeting, to be stopped by a messenger boy.

“There’s a lady wants to see you most important. I am to take you to theplace,” he said.

Elnora groaned. She could not imagine who wanted her, but there was nothing todo but find out; tired and anxious to see her mother as she was.

“This is the place,” said the boy, and went his way whistling. Elnora was threeblocks from the high school building on the same street. She was before aquaint old house, fresh with paint and covered with vines. There was a longwide lot, grass-covered, closely set with trees, and a barn and chicken park atthe back that seemed to be occupied. Elnora stepped on the veranda which wasfurnished with straw rugs, bent-hickory chairs, hanging baskets, and a tablewith a work-box and magazines, and knocked at the screen door.

Inside she could see polished floors, walls freshly papered in low-tonedharmonious colours, straw rugs and madras curtains. It seemed to be a restful,homelike place to which she had come. A second later down an open stairway camea tall, dark-eyed woman with cheeks faintly pink and a crown of fluffysnow-white hair. She wore a lavender gingham dress with white collar and cuffs,and she called as she advanced: “That screen isn’t latched! Open it and comesee your brand-new mother, my girl.”

Elnora stepped inside the door. “Mother!” she cried. “You my mother! I don’tbelieve it!”

“Well, you better!” said Mrs. Comstock, “because it’s true! You said you wishedI were like the other girls’ mothers, and I’ve shot as close the mark as Icould without any practice. I thought that walk would be too much for you thiswinter, so I just rented this house and moved in, to be near you, and help morein case I’m needed. I’ve only lived here a day, but I like it so well I’ve amortal big notion to buy the place.”

“But mother!” protested Elnora, clinging to her wonderingly. “You are perfectlybeautiful, and this house is a little paradise, but how will we ever pay forit? We can’t afford it!”

“Humph! Have you forgotten I telegraphed you I’d found some money I didn’t knowabout? All I’ve done is paid for, and plenty more to settle for all I proposeto do.”

Mrs. Comstock glanced around with satisfaction.

“I may get homesick as a pup before spring,” she said, “but if I do I can goback. If I don’t, I’ll sell some timber and put a few oil wells where theydon’t show much. I can have land enough cleared for a few fields and put atenant on our farm, and we will buy this and settle here. It’s for sale.”

“You don’t look it, but you’ve surely gone mad!”

“Just the reverse, my girl,” said Mrs. Comstock, “I’ve gone sane. If you aregoing to undertake this work, you must be convenient to it. And your mothershould be where she can see that you are properly dressed, fed, and cared for.This is our—let me think—reception-room. How do you like it? Thisdoor leads to your workroom and study. I didn’t do much there because I wasn’tsure of my way. But I knew you would want a rug, curtains, table, shelves forbooks, and a case for your specimens, so I had a carpenter shelve and enclosethat end of it. Looks pretty neat to me. The dining-room and kitchen are back,one of the cows in the barn, and some chickens in the coop. I understand thatnone of the other girls’ mothers milk a cow, so a neighbour boy will tend toours for a third of the milk. There are three bedrooms, and a bath upstairs. Gotake one, put on some fresh clothes, and come to supper. You can find your roombecause your things are in it.”

Elnora kissed her mother over and over, and hurried upstairs. She identifiedher room by the dressing-case. There were a pretty rug, and curtains, whiteiron bed, plain and rocking chairs to match her case, a shirtwaist chest, andthe big closet was filled with her old clothing and several new dresses. Shefound the bathroom, bathed, dressed in fresh linen and went down to a supperthat was an evidence of Mrs. Comstock’s highest art in cooking. Elnora was sohungry she ate her first real meal in two weeks. But the bites went down slowlybecause she forgot about them in watching her mother.

“How on earth did you do it?” she asked at last. “I always thought you werenaturally brown as a nut.”

“Oh, that was tan and sunburn!” explained Mrs. Comstock. “I always knew I waswhite underneath it. I hated to shade my face because I hadn’t anything but asunbonnet, and I couldn’t stand for it to touch my ears, so I went bareheadedand took all the colour I accumulated. But when I began to think of moving youin to your work, I saw I must put up an appearance that wouldn’t disgrace you,so I thought I’d best remove the crust. It took some time, and I hope I may diebefore I ever endure the feel and the smell of the stuff I used again, but itskinned me nicely. What you now see is my own with a little dust of ricepowder, for protection. I’m sort of tender yet.”

“And your lovely, lovely hair?” breathed Elnora.

“Hairdresser did that!” said Mrs. Comstock. “It cost like smoke. But I watchedher, and with a little help from you I can wash it alone next time, though itwill be hard work. I let her monkey with it until she said she had found ‘mystyle.’ Then I tore it down and had her show me how to build it up again threetimes. I thought my arms would drop. When I paid the bill for her work, thetime I’d taken, the pins, and combs she’d used, I nearly had heart failure, butI didn’t turn a hair before her. I just smiled at her sweetly and said, ‘Howreasonable you are!’ Come to think of it, she was! She might have charged meten dollars for what she did quite as well as nine seventy-five. I couldn’thave helped myself. I had made no bargain to begin on.”

Then Elnora leaned back in her chair and shouted, in a gust of hearty laughter,so a little of the ache ceased in her breast. There was no time to think, theremainder of that evening, she was so tired she had to sleep, while her motherdid not awaken her until she barely had time to dress, breakfast and reachschool. There was nothing in the new life to remind her of the old. It seemedas if there never came a minute for retrospection, but her mother appeared onthe scene with more work, or some entertaining thing to do.

Mrs. Comstock invited Elnora’s friends to visit her, and proved herself abright and interesting hostess. She digested a subject before she spoke; andwhen she advanced a view, her point was sure to be original and terselyexpressed. Before three months people waited to hear what she had to say. Shekept her appearance so in mind that she made a handsome and a distinguishedfigure.

Elnora never mentioned Philip Ammon, neither did Mrs. Comstock. Early inDecember came a note and a big box from him. It contained several books onnature subjects which would be of much help in school work, a number ofconveniences Elnora could not afford, and a pair of glass-covered plastercasts, for each large moth she had. In these the upper and underwings of maleand female showed. He explained that she would break her specimens easily,carrying them around in boxes. He had seen these and thought they would be ofuse. Elnora was delighted with them, and at once began the tedious process ofsoftening the mounted moths and fitting them to the casts moulded to receivethem. Her time was so taken in school, she progressed slowly, so her motherundertook this work. After trying one or two very common ones she learned tohandle the most delicate with ease. She took keen pride in relaxing the tensemoths, fitting them to the cases, polishing the glass covers to the last degreeand sealing them. The results were beautiful to behold.

Soon after Elnora wrote to Philip:

DEAR FRIEND:

I am writing to thank you for the books, and the box of conveniences sent mefor my work. I can use everything with fine results. Hope I am giving goodsatisfaction in my position. You will be interested to learn that when thesummer’s work was classified and pinned, I again had my complete collection forthe man of India, save a Yellow Emperor. I have tried everywhere I know, so hasthe Bird Woman. We cannot find a pair for sale. Fate is against me, at leastthis season. I shall have to wait until next year and try again.

Thank you very much for helping me with my collection and for the books andcases.

Sincerely yours,

ELNORA COMSTOCK.

Philip was disappointed over that note and instead of keeping it he tore itinto bits and dropped them into the waste basket.

That was precisely what Elnora had intended he should do. Christmas broughtbeautiful cards of greeting to Mrs. Comstock and Elnora, Easter others, and theyear ran rapidly toward spring. Elnora’s position had been intensely absorbing,while she had worked with all her power. She had made a wonderful success andwon new friends. Mrs. Comstock had helped in every way she could, so she wasvery popular also.

Throughout the winter they had enjoyed the city thoroughly, and the change oflife it afforded, but signs of spring did wonderful things to the hearts of thecountry-bred women. A restlessness began on bright February days, calmed duringMarch storms and attacked full force in April. When neither could bear it anylonger they were forced to discuss the matter and admit they were growing illwith pure homesickness. They decided to keep the city house during the summer,but to return to the farm to live as soon as school closed.

So Mrs. Comstock would prepare breakfast and lunch and then slip away to thefarm to make up beds in her ploughed garden, plant seeds, trim and tend herflowers, and prepare the cabin for occupancy. Then she would go home and makethe evening as cheerful as possible for Elnora; in these days she lived onlyfor the girl.

Both of them were glad when the last of May came and the schools closed. Theypacked the books and clothing they wished to take into a wagon and walkedacross the fields to the old cabin. As they approached it, Mrs. Comstock saidto Elnora: “You are sure you won’t be lonely here?”

Elnora knew what she really meant.

“Quite sure,” she said. “For a time last fall I was glad to be away, but thatall wore out with the winter. Spring made me homesick as I could be. I canscarcely wait until we get back again.”

So they began that summer as they had begun all others—with work. Butboth of them took a new joy in everything, and the violin sang by the hour inthe twilight.

CHAPTER XIX

WHEREIN PHILIP AMMON GIVES A BALL IN HONOUR OF EDITH CARR, AND HARTHENDERSON APPEARS ON THE SCENE

Edith Carr stood in a vine-enclosed side veranda of the Lake Shore Club Housewaiting while Philip Ammon gave some important orders. In a few days she wouldsail for Paris to select a wonderful trousseau she had planned for her marriagein October. To-night Philip was giving a club dance in her honour. He had spentdays in devising new and exquisite effects in decorations, entertainment, andsupper. Weeks before the favoured guests had been notified. Days before theyhad received the invitations asking them to participate in this entertainmentby Philip Ammon in honour of Miss Carr. They spoke of it as “Phil’s dance forEdith!”

She could hear the rumble of carriages and the panting of automobiles as in asteady stream they rolled to the front entrance. She could catch glimpses offloating draperies of gauze and lace, the flash of jewels, and the passing ofexquisite colour. Every one was newly arrayed in her honour in the loveliestclothing, and the most expensive jewels they could command. As she thought ofit she lifted her head a trifle higher and her eyes flashed proudly.

She was robed in a French creation suggested and designed by Philip. He hadsaid to her: “I know a competent judge who says the distinctive feature of Juneis her exquisite big night moths. I want you to be the very essence of Junethat night, as you will be the embodiment of love. Be a moth. The mostbeautiful of them is either the pale-green Luna or the Yellow Imperialis. Be mymoon lady, or my gold Empress.”

He took her to the museum and showed her the moths. She instantly decided onthe yellow. Because she knew the shades would make her more startlinglybeautiful than any other colour. To him she said: “A moon lady seems so faraway and cold. I would be of earth and very near on that night. I choose theEmpress.”

So she matched the colours exactly, wrote out the idea and forwarded the orderto Paquin. To-night when Philip Ammon came for her, he stood speechless aminute and then silently kissed her hands.

For she stood tall, lithe, of grace inborn, her dark waving hair high piled andcrossed by gold bands studded with amethyst and at one side an enamelledlavender orchid rimmed with diamonds, which flashed and sparkled. The softyellow robe of lightest weight velvet fitted her form perfectly, while fromeach shoulder fell a great velvet wing lined with lavender, and flecked withembroidery of that colour in imitation of the moth. Around her throat was awonderful necklace and on her arms were bracelets of gold set with amethyst andrimmed with diamonds. Philip had said that her gloves, fan, and slippers mustbe lavender, because the feet of the moth were that colour. These accessorieshad been made to order and embroidered with gold. It had been arranged that hermother, Philip’s, and a few best friends should receive his guests. She was toappear when she led the grand march with Philip Ammon. Miss Carr was positivethat she would be the most beautiful, and most exquisitely gowned womanpresent. In her heart she thought of herself as “Imperialis Regalis,” as theYellow Empress. In a few moments she would stun her world into feeling it asPhilip Ammon had done, for she had taken pains that the history of her costumeshould be whispered to a few who would give it circulation. She lifted her headproudly and waited, for was not Philip planning something unusual andunsurpassed in her honour? Then she smiled.

But of all the fragmentary thoughts crossing her brain the one that never camewas that of Philip Ammon as the Emperor. Philip the king of her heart; at leasther equal in all things. She was the Empress—yes, Philip was but a mereman, to devise entertainments, to provide luxuries, to humour whims, to kisshands!

“Ah, my luck!” cried a voice behind her.

Edith Carr turned and smiled.

“I thought you were on the ocean,” she said.

“I only reached the dock,” replied the man, “when I had a letter that recalledme by the first limited.”

“Oh! Important business?”

“The only business of any importance in all the world to me. I’m triumphantthat I came. Edith, you are the most superb woman in every respect that I haveever seen. One glimpse is worth the whole journey.”

“You like my dress?” She moved toward him and turned, lifting her arms. “Do youknow what it is intended to represent?”

“Yes, Polly Ammon told me. I knew when I heard about it how you would look, soI started a sleuth hunt, to get the first peep. Edith, I can become intoxicatedmerely with looking at you to-night.”

He half-closed his eyes and smilingly stared straight at her. He was tallerthan she, a lean man, with close-cropped light hair, steel-gray eyes, a squarechin and “man of the world” written all over him.

Edith Carr flushed. “I thought you realized when you went away that you were tostop that, Hart Henderson,” she cried.

“I did, but this letter of which I tell you called me back to start it all overagain.”

She came a step closer. “Who wrote that letter, and what did it containconcerning me?” she demanded.

“One of your most intimate chums wrote it. It contained the hazard thatpossibly I had given up too soon. It said that in a fit of petulance you hadbroken your engagement with Ammon twice this winter, and he had come backbecause he knew you did not really mean it. I thought deeply there on the dockwhen I read that, and my boat sailed without me. I argued that anything so weakas an engagement twice broken and patched up again was a mighty frail affairindeed, and likely to smash completely at any time, so I came on the run. Isaid once I would not see you marry any other man. Because I could not bear it,I planned to go into exile of any sort to escape that. I have changed my mind.I have come back to haunt you until the ceremony is over. Then I go, notbefore. I was insane!”

The girl laughed merrily. “Not half so insane as you are now, Hart!” she criedgaily. “You know that Philip Ammon has been devoted to me all my life. Now I’lltell you something else, because this looks serious for you. I love him withall my heart. Not while he lives shall he know it, and I will laugh at him ifyou tell him, but the fact remains: I intend to marry him, but no doubt I shalltease him constantly. It’s good for a man to be uncertain. If you could seePhilip’s face at the quarterly return of his ring, you would understand the funof it. You had better have taken your boat.”

“Possibly,” said Henderson calmly. “But you are the only woman in the world forme, and while you are free, as I now see my light, I remain near you. You knowthe old adage.”

“But I’m not ‘free!’” cried Edith Carr. “I’m telling you I am not. This nightis my public acknowledgment that Phil and I are promised, as our world hassurmised since we were children. That promise is an actual fact, because ofwhat I just have told you. My little fits of temper don’t count with Phil. He’sbeen reared on them. In fact, I often invent one in a perfect calm to see himperform. He is the most amusing spectacle. But, please, please, do understandthat I love him, and always shall, and that we shall be married.”

“Just the same, I’ll wait and see it an accomplished fact,” said Henderson.“And Edith, because I love you, with the sort of love it is worth a woman’swhile to inspire, I want your happiness before my own. So I am going to saythis to you, for I never dreamed you were capable of the feeling you havedisplayed for Phil. If you do love him, and have loved him always, adisappointment would cut you deeper than you know. Go careful from now on!Don’t strain that patched engagement of yours any further. I’ve known Philipall my life. I’ve known him through boyhood, in college, and since. All menrespect him. Where the rest of us confess our sins, he stands clean. You can goto his arms with nothing to forgive. Mark this thing! I have heard him say,‘Edith is my slogan,’ and I have seen him march home strong in the strength ofhis love for you, in the face of temptations before which every other man of usfell. Before the gods! that ought to be worth something to a girl, if shereally is the delicate, sensitive, refined thing she would have man believe. Itwould take a woman with the organism of an ostrich to endure some of the menhere to-night, if she knew them as I do; but Phil is sound to the core. So thisis what I would say to you: first, your instincts are right in loving him, whynot let him feel it in the ways a woman knows? Second, don’t break yourengagement again. As men know the man, any of us would be afraid to the soul.He loves you, yes! He is long-suffering for you, yes! But men know he has alimit. When the limit is reached, he will stand fast, and all the powers can’tmove him. You don’t seem to think it, but you can go too far!”

“Is that all?” laughed Edith Carr sarcastically.

“No, there is one thing more,” said Henderson. “Here or here-after, now and solong as I breathe, I am your slave. You can do anything you choose and knowthat I will kneel before you again. So carry this in the depths of your heart;now or at any time, in any place or condition, merely lift your hand, and Iwill come. Anything you want of me, that thing will I do. I am going to wait;if you need me, it is not necessary to speak; only give me the faintest sign.All your life I will be somewhere near you waiting for it.”

“Idjit! You rave!” laughed Edith Carr. “How you would frighten me! What abugbear you would raise! Be sensible and go find what keeps Phil. I was waitingpatiently, but my patience is going. I won’t look nearly so well as I do nowwhen it is gone.”

At that instant Philip Ammon entered. He was in full evening dress andexceptionally handsome. “Everything is ready,” he said; “they are waiting forus to lead the march. It is formed.”

Edith Carr smiled entrancingly. “Do you think I am ready?”

Philip looked what he thought, and offered his arm. Edith Carr noddedcarelessly to Hart Henderson, and moved away. Attendants parted the curtainsand the Yellow Empress bowing right and left, swept the length of the ballroomand took her place at the head of the formed procession. The large open dancingpavilion was draped with yellow silk caught up with lilac flowers. Every cornerwas filled with bloom of those colours. The music was played by harpers dressedin yellow and violet, so the ball opened.

The midnight supper was served with the same colours and the last half of theprogramme was being danced. Never had girl been more complimented and petted inthe same length of time than Edith Carr. Every minute she seemed to grow moreworthy of praise. A partners’ dance was called and the floor was filled withcouples waiting for the music. Philip stood whispering delightful things toEdith facing him. From out of the night, in at the wide front entrance to thepavilion, there swept in slow wavering flight a large yellow moth and flutteredtoward the centre cluster of glaring electric lights. Philip Ammon and EdithCarr saw it at the same instant.

“Why, isn’t that——?” she began excitedly.

“It’s a Yellow Emperor! This is fate!” cried Philip. “The last one Elnora needsfor her collection. I must have it! Excuse me!”

He ran toward the light. “Hats! Handkerchiefs! Fans! Anything!” he panted.“Every one hold up something and stop that! It’s a moth; I’ve got to catch it!”

“It’s yellow! He wants it for Edith!” ran in a murmur around the hall. Thegirl’s face flushed, while she bit her lips in vexation.

Instantly every one began holding up something to keep the moth from flyingback into the night. One fan held straight before it served, and the mothgently settled on it.

“Hold steady!” cried Philip. “Don’t move for your life!” He rushed toward themoth, made a quick sweep and held it up between his fingers. “All right!” hecalled. “Thanks, every one! Excuse me a minute.”

He ran to the office.

“An ounce of gasolene, quick!” he ordered. “A cigar box, a cork, and the gluebottle.”

He poured some glue into the bottom of the box, set the cork in it firmly,dashed the gasolene over the moth repeatedly, pinned it to the cork, poured theremainder of the liquid over it, closed the box, and fastened it. Then he laida bill on the counter.

“Pack that box with cork around it, in one twice its size, tie securely andexpress to this address at once.”

He scribbled on a sheet of paper and shoved it over.

“On your honour, will you do that faithfully as I say?” he asked the clerk.

“Certainly,” was the reply.

“Then keep the change,” called Philip as he ran back to the pavilion.

Edith Carr stood where he left her, thinking rapidly. She heard the murmur thatarose when Philip started to capture the exquisite golden creature she wasimpersonating. She saw the flash of surprise that went over unrestrained faceswhen he ran from the room, without even showing it to her. “The last one Elnoraneeds,” rang in her ears. He had told her that he helped collect moths theprevious summer, but she had understood that the Bird Woman, with whose workMiss Carr was familiar, wanted them to put in a book.

He had spoken of a country girl he had met who played the violin wonderfully,and at times, he had shown a disposition to exalt her as a standard ofwomanhood. Miss Carr had ignored what he said, and talked of something else.But that girl’s name had been Elnora. It was she who was collecting moths! Nodoubt she was the competent judge who was responsible for the yellow costumePhilip had devised. Had Edith Carr been in her room, she would have torn offthe dress at the thought.

Being in a circle of her best friends, which to her meant her keenest rivalsand harshest critics, she grew rigid with anger. Her breath hurt her painingchest. No one thought to speak to the musicians, and seeing the floor filled,they began the waltz. Only part of the guests could see what had happened, andat once the others formed and commenced to dance. Gay couples came whirlingpast her.

Edith Carr grew very white as she stood alone. Her lips turned pale, while herdark eyes flamed with anger. She stood perfectly still where Philip had lefther, and the approaching men guided their partners around her, while the girls,looking back, could be seen making exclamations of surprise.

The idolized only daughter of the Carr family hoped that she would drop deadfrom mortification, but nothing happened. She was too perverse to step asideand say that she was waiting for Philip. Then came Tom Levering dancing withPolly Ammon. Being in the scales with the Ammon family, Tom scented troublefrom afar, so he whispered to Polly: “Edith is standing in the middle of thefloor, and she’s awful mad about something.”

“That won’t hurt her,” laughed Polly. “It’s an old pose of hers. She knows shelooks superb when she is angry, so she keeps herself furious half the time onpurpose.”

“She looks like the mischief!” answered Tom. “Hadn’t we better steer over andwait with her? She’s the ugliest sight I ever saw!”

“Why, Tom!” cried Polly. “Stop, quickly!”

They hurried to Edith.

“Come dear,” said Polly. “We are going to wait with you until Phil returns.Let’s go after a drink. I am so thirsty!”

“Yes, do!” begged Tom, offering his arm. “Let’s get out of here until Philcomes.”

There was the opportunity to laugh and walk away, but Edith Carr would notaccept it.

“My betrothed left me here,” she said. “Here I shall remain until he returnsfor me, and then—he will be my betrothed no longer!”

Polly grasped Edith’s arm.

“Oh, Edith!” she implored. “Don’t make a scene here, and to-night. Edith, thishas been the loveliest dance ever given at the club house. Every one is sayingso. Edith! Darling, do come! Phil will be back in a second. He can explain!It’s only a breath since I saw him go out. I thought he had returned.”

As Polly panted these disjointed ejaculations, Tom Levering began to grow angryon her account.

“He has been gone just long enough to show every one of his guests that he willleave me standing alone, like a neglected fool, for any passing whim of his.Explain! His explanation would sound well! Do you know for whom he caught thatmoth? It is being sent to a girl he flirted with all last summer. It has justoccurred to me that the dress I am wearing is her suggestion. Let him try toexplain!”

Speech unloosed the fountain. She stripped off her gloves to free her hands. Atthat instant the dancers parted to admit Philip. Instinctively they stopped asthey approached and with wondering faces walled in Edith and Philip, Polly andTom.

“Mighty good of you to wait!” cried Philip, his face showing his delight overhis success in capturing the Yellow Emperor. “I thought when I heard the musicyou were going on.”

“How did you think I was going on?” demanded Edith Carr in frigid tones.

“I thought you would step aside and wait a few seconds for me, or dance withHenderson. It was most important to have that moth. It completes a valuablecollection for a person who needs the money. Come!”

He held out his arms.

“I ‘step aside’ for no one!” stormed Edith Carr. “I await no other girl’spleasure! You may ‘complete the collection’ with that!”

She drew her engagement ring from her finger and reached to place it on one ofPhilip’s outstretched hands. He saw and drew back. Instantly Edith dropped thering. As it fell, almost instinctively Philip caught it in air. With amazedface he looked closely at Edith Carr. Her distorted features were scarcelyrecognizable. He held the ring toward her.

“Edith, for the love of mercy, wait until I can explain,” he begged. “Put onyour ring and let me tell you how it is.”

“I know perfectly ‘how it is,’” she answered. “I never shall wear that ringagain.”

“You won’t even hear what I have to say? You won’t take back your ring?” hecried.

“Never! Your conduct is infamous!”

“Come to think of it,” said Philip deliberately, “it is ‘infamous’ to cut agirl, who has danced all her life, out of a few measures of a waltz. As forasking forgiveness for so black a sin as picking up a moth, and starting it toa friend who lives by collecting them, I don’t see how I could! I have not beengone three minutes by the clock, Edith. Put on your ring and finish the dancelike a dear girl.”

He thrust the glittering ruby into her fingers and again held out his arms. Shedropped the ring, and it rolled some distance from them. Hart Hendersonfollowed its shining course, and caught it before it was lost.

“You really mean it?” demanded Philip in a voice as cold as hers ever had been.

“You know I mean it!” cried Edith Carr.

“I accept your decision in the presence of these witnesses,” said Philip Ammon.“Where is my father?” The elder Ammon with a distressed face hurried to him.“Father, take my place,” said Philip. “Excuse me to my guests. Ask all myfriends to forgive me. I am going away for awhile.”

He turned and walked from the pavilion. As he went Hart Henderson rushed toEdith Carr and forced the ring into her fingers. “Edith, quick. Come, quick!”he implored. “There’s just time to catch him. If you let him go that way, henever will return in this world. Remember what I told you.”

“Great prophet! aren’t you, Hart?” she sneered. “Who wants him to return? Ifthat ring is thrust upon me again I shall fling it into the lake. Signal themusicians to begin, and dance with me.”

Henderson put the ring into his pocket, and began the dance. He could feel themuscular spasms of the girl in his arms, her face was cold and hard, but herbreath burned with the scorch of fever. She finished the dance and all others,taking Phil’s numbers with Henderson, who had arrived too late to arrange aprogramme. She left with the others, merely inclining her head as she passedAmmon’s father taking his place, and entered the big touring car for whichHenderson had telephoned. She sank limply into a seat and moaned softly.

“Shall I drive awhile in the night air?” asked Henderson.

She nodded. He instructed the chauffeur.

She raised her head in a few seconds. “Hart, I’m going to pieces,” she said.“Won’t you put your arm around me a little while?”

Henderson gathered her into his arms and her head fell on his shoulder.“Closer!” she cried.

Henderson held her until his arms were numb, but he did not know it. The tricksof fate are cruel enough, but there scarcely could have been a worse one thanthat: To care for a woman as he loved Edith Carr and have her given into hisarms because she was so numb with misery over her trouble with another man thatshe did not know or care what she did. Dawn was streaking the east when hespoke to her.

“Edith, it is growing light.”

“Take me home,” she said.

Henderson helped her up the steps and rang the bell.

“Miss Carr is ill,” he said to the footman. “Arouse her maid instantly, andhave her prepare something hot as quickly as possible.”

“Edith,” he cried, “just a word. I have been thinking. It isn’t too late yet.Take your ring and put it on. I will go find Phil at once and tell him youhave, that you are expecting him, and he will come.”

“Think what he said!” she cried. “He accepted my decision as final, ‘in thepresence of witnesses,’ as if it were court. He can return it to me, if I everwear it again.”

“You think that now, but in a few days you will find that you feel verydifferently. Living a life of heartache is no joke, and no job for a woman. Puton your ring and send me to tell him to come.”

“No.”

“Edith, there was not a soul who saw that, but sympathized with Phil. It wasridiculous for you to get so angry over a thing which was never intended forthe slightest offence, and by no logical reasoning could have been soconsidered.”

“Do you think that?” she demanded.

“I do!” said Henderson. “If you had laughed and stepped aside an instant, orlaughed and stayed where you were, Phil would have been back; or, if he neededpunishment in your eyes, to have found me having one of his dances would havebeen enough. I was waiting. You could have called me with one look. But topublicly do and say what you did, my lady—I know Phil, and I know youwent too far. Put on that ring, and send him word you are sorry, before it istoo late.”

“I will not! He shall come to me.”

“Then God help you!” said Henderson, “for you are plunging into misery whosedepth you do not dream. Edith, I beg of you——”

She swayed where she stood. Her maid opened the door and caught her. Hendersonwent down the hall and out to his car.

CHAPTER XX

WHEREIN THE ELDER AMMON OFFERS ADVICE, AND EDITH CARR EXPERIENCESREGRETS

Philip Ammon walked from among his friends a humiliated and a wounded man.Never before had Edith Carr appeared quite so beautiful. All evening she hadtreated him with unusual consideration. Never had he loved her so deeply. Thenin a few seconds everything was different. Seeing the change in her face, andhearing her meaningless accusations, killed something in his heart. Warmth wentout and a cold weight took its place. But even after that, he had offered thering to her again, and asked her before others to reconsider. The answer hadbeen further insult.

He walked, paying no heed to where he went. He had traversed many miles when hebecame aware that his feet had chosen familiar streets. He was passing hishome. Dawn was near, but the first floor was lighted. He staggered up the stepsand was instantly admitted. The library door stood open, while his father satwith a book pretending to read. At Philip’s entrance the father scarcelyglanced up.

“Come on!” he called. “I have just told Banks to bring me a cup of coffeebefore I turn in. Have one with me!”

Philip sat beside the table and leaned his head on his hands, but he drank acup of steaming coffee and felt better.

“Father,” he said, “father, may I talk with you a little while?”

“Of course,” answered Mr. Ammon. “I am not at all tired. I think I must havebeen waiting in the hope that you would come. I want no one’s version of thisbut yours. Tell me the straight of the thing, Phil.”

Philip told all he knew, while his father sat in deep thought.

“On my life I can’t see any occasion for such a display of temper, Phil. Itpassed all bounds of reason and breeding. Can’t you think of anything more?”

“I cannot!”

“Polly says every one expected you to carry the moth you caught to Edith. Whydidn’t you?”

“She screams if a thing of that kind comes near her. She never has taken theslightest interest in them. I was in a big hurry. I didn’t want to miss oneminute of my dance with her. The moth was not so uncommon, but by a combinationof bad luck it had become the rarest in America for a friend of mine, who ismaking a collection to pay college expenses. For an instant last June theseries was completed; when a woman’s uncontrolled temper ruined this specimenand the search for it began over. A few days later a pair was secured, andagain the money was in sight for several hours. Then an accident wreckedone-fourth of the collection. I helped replace those last June, all but thisYellow Emperor which we could not secure, and we haven’t been able to find, buyor trade for one since. So my friend was compelled to teach this past winterinstead of going to college. When that moth came flying in there to-night, itseemed to me like fate. All I thought of was, that to secure it would completethe collection and secure the money. So I caught the Emperor and started it toElnora. I declare to you that I was not out of the pavilion over three minutesat a liberal estimate. If I only had thought to speak to the orchestra! I wassure I would be back before enough couples gathered and formed for the dance.”

The eyes of the father were very bright.

“The friend for whom you wanted the moth is a girl?” he asked indifferently, ashe ran the book leaves through his fingers.

“The girl of whom I wrote you last summer, and told you about in the fall. Ihelped her all the time I was away.”

“Did Edith know of her?”

“I tried many times to tell her, to interest her, but she was so indifferentthat it was insulting. She would not hear me.”

“We are neither one in any condition to sleep. Why don’t you begin at the firstand tell me about this girl? To think of other matters for a time may clear ourvision for a sane solution of this. Who is she, just what is she doing, andwhat is she like? You know I was reared among those Limberlost people, I canunderstand readily. What is her name and where does she live?”

Philip gave a man’s version of the previous summer, while his father playedwith the book industriously.

“You are very sure as to her refinement and education?”

“In almost two months’ daily association, could a man be mistaken? She can farand away surpass Polly, Edith, or any girl of our set on any common, highschool, or supplementary branch, and you know high schools have French, German,and physics now. Besides, she is a graduate of two other institutions. All herlife she has been in the school of Hard Knocks. She has the biggest, tenderest,most human heart I ever knew in a girl. She has known life in its most cruelphases, and instead of hardening her, it has set her trying to save otherpeople suffering. Then this nature position of which I told you; she graduatedin the School of the Woods, before she secured that. The Bird Woman, whose workyou know, helped her there. Elnora knows more interesting things in a minutethan any other girl I ever met knew in an hour, provided you are a person whocares to understand plant and animal life.”

The book leaves slid rapidly through his fingers as the father drawled: “Whatsort of looking girl is she?”

“Tall as Edith, a little heavier, pink, even complexion, wide open blue-grayeyes with heavy black brows, and lashes so long they touch her cheeks. She hasa rope of waving, shining hair that makes a real crown on her head, and itappears almost red in the light. She is as handsome as any fair woman I eversaw, but she doesn’t know it. Every time any one pays her a compliment, hermother, who is a caution, discovers that, for some reason, the girl is afright, so she has no appreciation of her looks.”

“And you were in daily association two months with a girl like that! How aboutit, Phil?”

“If you mean, did I trifle with her, no!” cried Philip hotly. “I told her thesecond time I met her all about Edith. Almost every day I wrote to Edith in herpresence. Elnora gathered violets and made a fancy basket to put them in forEdith’s birthday. I started to err in too open admiration for Elnora, but hermother brought me up with a whirl I never forgot. Fifty times a day in theswamps and forests Elnora made a perfect picture, but I neither looked nor saidanything. I never met any girl so downright noble in bearing and actions. Inever hated anything as I hated leaving her, for we were dear friends, like twowholly congenial men. Her mother was almost always with us. She knew how much Iadmired Elnora, but so long as I concealed it from the girl, the mother did notcare.”

“Yet you left such a girl and came back whole-hearted to Edith Carr!”

“Surely! You know how it has been with me about Edith all my life.”

“Yet the girl you picture is far her superior to an unprejudiced person, whenthinking what a man would require in a wife to be happy.”

“I never have thought what I would ‘require’ to be happy! I only thoughtwhether I could make Edith happy. I have been an idiot! What I’ve borne you’llnever know! To-night is only one of many outbursts like that, in varying andlesser degrees.”

“Phil, I love you, when you say you have thought only of Edith! I happen toknow that it is true. You are my only son, and I have had a right to watch youclosely. I believe you utterly. Any one who cares for you as I do, and has hadmy years of experience in this world over yours, knows that in some ways,to-night would be a blessed release, if you could take it; but you cannot! Goto bed now, and rest. To-morrow, go back to her and fix it up.”

“You heard what I said when I left her! I said it because something in my heartdied a minute before that, and I realized that it was my love for Edith Carr.Never again will I voluntarily face such a scene. If she can act like that at aball, before hundreds, over a thing of which I thought nothing at all, shewould go into actual physical fits and spasms, over some of the householdcrises I’ve seen the mater meet with a smile. Sir, it is truth that I havethought only of her up to the present. Now, I will admit I am thinking aboutmyself. Father, did you see her? Life is too short, and it can be too sweet, tothrow it away in a battle with an unrestrained woman. I am nofighter—where a girl is concerned, anyway. I respect and love her or I donothing. Never again is either respect or love possible between me and EdithCarr. Whenever I think of her in the future, I will see her as she wasto-night. But I can’t face the crowd just yet. Could you spare me a few days?”

“It is only ten days until you were to go north for the summer, go now.”

“I don’t want to go north. I don’t want to meet people I know. There, the storywould precede me. I do not need pitying glances or rough condolences. I wonderif I could not hide at Uncle Ed’s in Wisconsin for awhile?”

The book closed suddenly. The father leaned across the table and looked intothe son’s eyes.

“Phil, are you sure of what you just have said?”

“Perfectly sure!”

“Do you think you are in any condition to decide to-night?”

“Death cannot return to life, father. My love for Edith Carr is dead. I hopenever to see her again.”

“If I thought you could be certain so soon! But, come to think of it, you arevery like me in many ways. I am with you in this. Public scenes and disgraces Iwould not endure. It would be over with me, were I in your position, that Iknow.”

“It is done for all time,” said Philip Ammon. “Let us not speak of it further.”

“Then, Phil,” the father leaned closer and looked at the son tenderly, “Phil,why don’t you go to the Limberlost?”

“Father!”

“Why not? No one can comfort a hurt heart like a tender woman; and, Phil, haveyou ever stopped to think that you may have a duty in the Limberlost, if youare free? I don’t know! I only suggest it. But, for a country schoolgirl,unaccustomed to men, two months with a man like you might well awaken feelingsof which you do not think. Because you were safe-guarded is no sign the girlwas. She might care to see you. You can soon tell. With you, she comes next toEdith, and you have made it clear to me that you appreciate her in many waysabove. So I repeat it, why not go to the Limberlost?”

A long time Philip Ammon sat in deep thought. At last he raised his head.

“Well, why not!” he said. “Years could make me no surer than I am now, and lifeis short. Please ask Banks to get me some coffee and toast, and I will batheand dress so I can take the early train.”

“Go to your bath. I will attend to your packing and everything. And Phil, if Iwere you, I would leave no addresses.”

“Not an address!” said Philip. “Not even Polly.”

When the train pulled out, the elder Ammon went home to find Hart Hendersonwaiting.

“Where is Phil?” he demanded.

“He did not feel like facing his friends at present, and I am just back fromdriving him to the station. He said he might go to Siam, or Patagonia. He wouldleave no address.”

Henderson almost staggered. “He’s not gone? And left no address? You don’t meanit! He’ll never forgive her!”

“Never is a long time, Hart,” said Mr. Ammon. “And it seems even longer tothose of us who are well acquainted with Phil. Last night was not the laststraw. It was the whole straw-stack. It crushed Phil so far as she isconcerned. He will not see her again voluntarily, and he will not forget if hedoes. You can take it from him, and from me, we have accepted the lady’sdecision. Will you have a cup of coffee?”

Twice Henderson opened his lips to speak of Edith Carr’s despair. Twice helooked into the stern, inflexible face of Mr. Ammon and could not betray her.He held out the ring.

“I have no instructions as to that,” said the elder Ammon, drawing back.“Possibly Miss Carr would have it as a keepsake.”

“I am sure not,” said Henderson curtly.

“Then suppose you return it to Peacock. I will phone him. He will give you theprice of it, and you might add it to the children’s Fresh Air Fund. We would beobliged if you would do that. No one here cares to handle the object.”

“As you choose,” said Henderson. “Good morning!”

Then he went to his home, but he could not think of sleep. He orderedbreakfast, but he could not eat. He paced the library for a time, but it wastoo small. Going on the streets he walked until exhausted, then he called ahansom and was driven to his club. He had thought himself familiar with everydepth of suffering; that night had taught him that what he felt for himself wasnot to be compared with the anguish which wrung his heart over the agony ofEdith Carr. He tried to blame Philip Ammon, but being an honest man, Hendersonknew that was unjust. The fault lay wholly with her, but that only made itharder for him, as he realized it would in time for her.

As he sauntered into the room an attendant hurried to him.

“You are wanted most urgently at the ’phone, Mr. Henderson,” he said. “You havehad three calls from Main 5770.”

Henderson shivered as he picked down the receiver and gave the call.

“Is that you, Hart?” came Edith’s voice.

“Yes.”

“Did you find Phil?”

“No.”

“Did you try?”

“Yes. As soon as I left you I went straight there.”

“Wasn’t he home yet?”

“He has been home and gone again.”

“Gone!”

The cry tore Henderson’s heart.

“Shall I come and tell you, Edith?”

“No! Tell me now.”

“When I reached the house Banks said Mr. Ammon and Phil were out in the motor,so I waited. Mr. Ammon came back soon. Edith, are you alone?”

“Yes. Go on!”

“Call your maid. I can’t tell you until some one is with you.”

“Tell me instantly!”

“Edith, he said he had been to the station. He said Phil had started to Siam orPatagonia, he didn’t know which, and left no address. He said——”

Distinctly Henderson heard her fall. He set the buzzer ringing, and in a fewseconds heard voices, so he knew she had been found. Then he crept into aprivate den and shook with a hard, nervous chill.

The next day Edith Carr started on her trip to Europe. Henderson felt certainshe hoped to meet Philip there. He was sure she would be disappointed, thoughhe had no idea where Ammon could have gone. But after much thought he decidedhe would see Edith soonest by remaining at home, so he spent the summer inChicago.

CHAPTER XXI

WHEREIN PHILIP AMMON RETURNS TO THE LIMBERLOST, AND ELNORA STUDIES THESITUATION

“We must be thinking about supper, mother,” said Elnora, while she set thewings of a Cecropia with much care. “It seems as if I can’t get enough to eat,or enough of being at home. I enjoyed that city house. I don’t believe I couldhave done my work if I had been compelled to walk back and forth. I thought atfirst I never wanted to come here again. Now, I feel as if I could not liveanywhere else.”

“Elnora,” said Mrs. Comstock, “there’s some one coming down the road.”

“Coming here, do you think?”

“Yes, coming here, I suspect.”

Elnora glanced quickly at her mother and then turned to the road as PhilipAmmon reached the gate.

“Careful, mother!” the girl instantly warned. “If you change your treatment ofhim a hair’s breadth, he will suspect. Come with me to meet him.”

She dropped her work and sprang up.

“Well, of all the delightful surprises!” she cried.

She was a trifle thinner than during the previous summer. On her face there wasa more mature, patient look, but the sun struck her bare head with the same rayof red gold. She wore one of the old blue gingham dresses, open at the throatand rolled to the elbows. Mrs. Comstock did not appear at all the same woman,but Philip saw only Elnora; heard only her greeting. He caught both hands whereshe offered but one.

“Elnora,” he cried, “if you were engaged to me, and we were at a ball, amonghundreds, where I offended you very much, and didn’t even know I had doneanything, and if I asked you before all of them to allow me to explain, toforgive me, to wait, would your face grow distorted and unfamiliar with anger?Would you drop my ring on the floor and insult me repeatedly? Oh Elnora, wouldyou?”

Elnora’s big eyes seemed to leap, while her face grew very white. She drew awayher hands.

“Hush, Phil! Hush!” she protested. “That fever has you again! You aredreadfully ill. You don’t know what you are saying.”

“I am sleepless and exhausted; I’m heartsick; but I am well as I ever was.Answer me, Elnora, would you?”

“Answer nothing!” cried Mrs. Comstock. “Answer nothing! Hang your coat there onyour nail, Phil, and come split some kindling. Elnora, clean away that stuff,and set the table. Can’t you see the boy is starved and tired? He’s come hometo rest and eat a decent meal. Come on, Phil!”

Mrs. Comstock marched away, and Philip hung his coat in its old place andfollowed. Out of sight and hearing she turned on him.

“Do you call yourself a man or a hound?” she flared.

“I beg your pardon——” stammered Philip Ammon.

“I should think you would!” she ejaculated. “I’ll admit you did the squarething and was a man last summer, though I’d liked it better if you’d faced upand told me you were promised; but to come back here babying, and take hold ofElnora like that, and talk that way because you have had a fuss with your girl,I don’t tolerate. Split that kindling and I’ll get your supper, and then youbetter go. I won’t have you working on Elnora’s big heart, because you havequarrelled with some one else. You’ll have it patched up in a week and be goneagain, so you can go right away.”

“Mrs. Comstock, I came to ask Elnora to marry me.”

“The more fool you, then!” cried Mrs. Comstock. “This time yesterday you wereengaged to another woman, no doubt. Now, for some little flare-up you comeracing here to use Elnora as a tool to spite the other girl. A week of saneliving, and you will be sorry and ready to go back to Chicago, or, if youreally are man enough to be sure of yourself, she will come to claim you. Shehas her rights. An engagement of years is a serious matter, and not broken fora whim. If you don’t go, she’ll come. Then, when you patch up your affairs andgo sailing away together, where does my girl come in?”

“I am a lawyer, Mrs. Comstock,” said Philip. “It appeals to me as beneath yourordinary sense of justice to decide a case without hearing the evidence. It isdue me that you hear me first.”

“Hear your side!” flashed Mrs. Comstock. “I’d a heap sight rather hear thegirl!”

“I wish to my soul that you had heard and seen her last night, Mrs. Comstock,”said Ammon. “Then, my way would be clear. I never even thought of coming hereto-day. I’ll admit I would have come in time, but not for many months. Myfather sent me.”

“Your father sent you! Why?”

“Father, mother, and Polly were present last night. They, and all my friends,saw me insulted and disgraced in the worst exhibition of uncontrolled temperany of us ever witnessed. All of them knew it was the end. Father liked what Ihad told him of Elnora, and he advised me to come here, so I came. If she doesnot want me, I can leave instantly, but, oh I hoped she would understand!”

“You people are not splitting wood,” called Elnora.

“Oh yes we are!” answered Mrs. Comstock. “You set out the things for biscuit,and lay the table.” She turned again to Philip. “I know considerable about yourfather,” she said. “I have met your Uncle’s family frequently this winter. I’veheard your Aunt Anna say that she didn’t at all like Miss Carr, and that sheand all your family secretly hoped that something would happen to prevent yourmarrying her. That chimes right in with your saying that your father sent youhere. I guess you better speak your piece.”

Philip gave his version of the previous night.

“Do you believe me?” he finished.

“Yes,” said Mrs. Comstock.

“May I stay?”

“Oh, it looks all right for you, but what about her?”

“Nothing, so far as I am concerned. Her plans were all made to start to Europeto-day. I suspect she is on the way by this time. Elnora is very sensible, Mrs.Comstock. Hadn’t you better let her decide this?”

“The final decision rests with her, of course,” admitted Mrs. Comstock. “Butlook you one thing! She’s all I have. As Solomon says, ‘she is the one child,the only child of her mother.’ I’ve suffered enough in this world that I fightagainst any suffering which threatens her. So far as I know you’ve always beena man, and you may stay. But if you bring tears and heartache to her, don’thave the assurance to think I’ll bear it tamely. I’ll get right up and fightlike a catamount, if things go wrong for Elnora!”

“I have no doubt but you will,” replied Philip, “and I don’t blame you in theleast if you do. I have the utmost devotion to offer Elnora, a good home, fairsocial position, and my family will love her dearly. Think it over. I know itis sudden, but my father advised it.”

“Yes, I reckon he did!” said Mrs. Comstock dryly. “I guess instead of me beingthe catamount, you had the genuine article up in Chicago, masquerading inpeacock feathers, and posing as a fine lady, until her time came to scratch.Human nature seems to be the same the world over. But I’d give a pretty to knowthat secret thing you say you don’t, that set her raving over your justcatching a moth for Elnora. You might get that crock of strawberries in thespring house.”

They prepared and ate supper. Afterward they sat in the arbour and talked, orElnora played until time for Philip to go.

“Will you walk to the gate with me?” he asked Elnora as he arose.

“Not to-night,” she answered lightly. “Come early in the morning if you like,and we will go over to Sleepy Snake Creek and hunt moths and gather dandelionsfor dinner.”

Philip leaned toward her. “May I tell you to-morrow why I came?” he asked.

“I think not,” replied Elnora. “The fact is, I don’t care why you came. It isenough for me that we are your very good friends, and that in trouble, you havefound us a refuge. I fancy we had better live a week or two before you sayanything. There is a possibility that what you have to say may change in thatlength of time.

“It will not change one iota!” cried Philip.

“Then it will have the grace of that much age to give it some small touch offlavour,” said the girl. “Come early in the morning.”

She lifted the violin and began to play.

“Well bless my soul!” ejaculated the astounded Mrs. Comstock. “To think I wasworrying for fear you couldn’t take care of yourself!”

Elnora laughed while she played.

“Shall I tell you what he said?”

“Nope! I don’t want to hear it!” said Elnora. “He is only six hours fromChicago. I’ll give her a week to find him and fix it up, if he stays that long.If she doesn’t put in an appearance then, he can tell me what he wants to say,and I’ll take my time to think it over. Time in plenty, too! There are three ofus in this, and one must be left with a sore heart for life. If the decisionrests with me I propose to be very sure that it is the one who deserves suchhard luck.”

The next morning Philip came early, dressed in the outing clothing he had wornthe previous summer, and aside from a slight paleness seemed very much the sameas when he left. Elnora met him on the old footing, and for a week life went onexactly as it had the previous summer. Mrs. Comstock made mental notes andwatched in silence. She could see that Elnora was on a strain, though she hopedPhilip would not. The girl grew restless as the week drew to a close. Once whenthe gate clicked she suddenly lost colour and moved nervously. Billy came downthe walk.

Philip leaned toward Mrs. Comstock and said: “I am expressly forbidden to speakto Elnora as I would like. Would you mind telling her for me that I had aletter from my father this morning saying that Miss Carr is on her way toEurope for the summer?”

“Elnora,” said Mrs. Comstock promptly, “I have just heard that Carr woman is onher way to Europe, and I wish to my gracious stars she’d stay there!”

Philip Ammon shouted, but Elnora arose hastily and went to meet Billy. Theycame into the arbour together and after speaking to Mrs. Comstock and Philip,Billy said: “Uncle Wesley and I found something funny, and we thought you’dlike to see.”

“I don’t know what I should do without you and Uncle Wesley to help me,” saidElnora. “What have you found now?”

“Something I couldn’t bring. You have to come to it. I tried to get one and Ikilled it. They are a kind of insecty things, and they got a long tail that isthree fine hairs. They stick those hairs right into the hard bark of trees, andif you pull, the hairs stay fast and it kills the bug.”

“We will come at once,” laughed Elnora. “I know what they are, and I can usesome in my work.”

“Billy, have you been crying?” inquired Mrs. Comstock.

Billy lifted a chastened face. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied. “This has been theworst day.”

“What’s the matter with the day?”

“The day is all right,” admitted Billy. “I mean every single thing has gonewrong with me.”

“Now that is too bad!” sympathized Mrs. Comstock.

“Began early this morning,” said Billy. “All Snap’s fault, too.”

“What has poor Snap been doing?” demanded Mrs. Comstock, her eyes beginning totwinkle.

“Digging for woodchucks, like he always does. He gets up at two o’clock to digfor them. He was coming in from the woods all tired and covered thick withdirt. I was going to the barn with the pail of water for Uncle Wesley to use inmilking. I had to set down the pail to shut the gate so the chickens wouldn’tget into the flower beds, and old Snap stuck his dirty nose into the water andbegan to lap it down. I knew Uncle Wesley wouldn’t use that, so I had to go‘way back to the cistern for more, and it pumps awful hard. Made me mad, so Ithrew the water on Snap.”

“Well, what of it?”

“Nothing, if he’d stood still. But it scared him awful, and when he’s afraid hegoes a-humping for Aunt Margaret. When he got right up against her he stiffenedout and gave a big shake. You oughter seen the nice blue dress she had put onto go to Onabasha!”

Mrs. Comstock and Philip laughed, but Elnora put her arms around the boy. “OhBilly!” she cried. “That was too bad!”

“She got up early and ironed that dress to wear because it was cool. Then, whenit was all dirty, she wouldn’t go, and she wanted to real bad.” Billy wiped hiseyes. “That ain’t all, either,” he added.

“We’d like to know about it, Billy,” suggested Mrs. Comstock, struggling withher face.

“Cos she couldn’t go to the city, she’s most worked herself to death. She’sdone all the dirty, hard jobs she could find. She’s fixing her grape juicenow.”

“Sure!” cried Mrs. Comstock. “When a woman is disappointed she always workslike a dog to gain sympathy!”

“Well, Uncle Wesley and I are sympathizing all we know how, without her workingso. I’ve squeezed until I almost busted to get the juice out from the seeds andskins. That’s the hard part. Now, she has to strain it through white flanneland seal it in bottles, and it’s good for sick folks. Most wish I’d get sickmyself, so I could have a glass. It’s so good!”

Elnora glanced swiftly at her mother.

“I worked so hard,” continued Billy, “that she said if I would throw theleavings in the woods, then I could come after you to see about the bugs. Doyou want to go?”

“We will all go,” said Mrs. Comstock. “I am mightily interested in those bugsmyself.”

From afar commotion could be seen at the Sinton home. Wesley and Margaret wererunning around wildly and peculiar sounds filled the air.

“What’s the trouble?” asked Philip, hurrying to Wesley.

“Cholera!” groaned Sinton. “My hogs are dying like flies.”

Margaret was softly crying. “Wesley, can’t I fix something hot? Can’t we doanything? It means several hundred dollars and our winter meat.”

“I never saw stock taken so suddenly and so hard,” said Wesley. “I have ’phonedfor the veterinary to come as soon as he can get here.”

All of them hurried to the feeding pen into which the pigs seemed to begathering from the woods. Among the common stock were big white beasts ofpedigree which were Wesley’s pride at county fairs. Several of these rolled ontheir backs, pawing the air feebly and emitting little squeaks. A hugeBerkshire sat on his haunches, slowly shaking his head, the water dropping fromhis eyes, until he, too, rolled over with faint grunts. A pair crossing theyard on wavering legs collided, and attacked each other in anger, only to fall,so weak they scarcely could squeal. A fine snowy Plymouth Rock rooster, afterseveral attempts, flew to the fence, balanced with great effort, wildly flappedhis wings and started a guttural crow, but fell sprawling among the pigs, toohelpless to stand.

“Did you ever see such a dreadful sight?” sobbed Margaret.

Billy climbed on the fence, took one long look and turned an astounded face toWesley.

“Why them pigs is drunk!” he cried. “They act just like my pa!”

Wesley turned to Margaret.

“Where did you put the leavings from that grape juice?” he demanded.

“I sent Billy to throw it in the woods.”

“Billy——” began Wesley.

“Threw it just where she told me to,” cried Billy. “But some of the pigs cameby there coming into the pen, and some were close in the fence corners.”

“Did they eat it?” demanded Wesley.

“They just chanked into it,” replied Billy graphically. “They pushed, andsquealed, and fought over it. You couldn’t blame ’em! It was the best stuff Iever tasted!”

“Margaret,” said Wesley, “run ’phone that doctor he won’t be needed. Billy,take Elnora and Mr. Ammon to see the bugs. Katharine, suppose you help me aminute.”

Wesley took the clothes basket from the back porch and started in the directionof the cellar. Margaret returned from the telephone.

“I just caught him,” she said. “There’s that much saved. Why Wesley, what areyou going to do?”

“You go sit on the front porch a little while,” said Wesley. “You will feelbetter if you don’t see this.”

“Wesley,” cried Margaret aghast. “Some of that wine is ten years old. There aredays and days of hard work in it, and I couldn’t say how much sugar. Dr. Ammonkeeps people alive with it when nothing else will stay on their stomachs.”

“Let ’em die, then!” said Wesley. “You heard the boy, didn’t you?”

“It’s a cold process. There’s not a particle of fermentation about it.”

“Not a particle of fermentation! Great day, Margaret! Look at those pigs!”

Margaret took a long look. “Leave me a few bottles for mince-meat,” shewavered.

“Not a smell for any use on this earth! You heard the boy! He shan’t say, whenhe grows to manhood, that he learned to like it here!”

Wesley threw away the wine, Mrs. Comstock cheerfully assisting. Then theywalked to the woods to see and learn about the wonderful insects. The day endedwith a big supper at Sintons’, and then they went to the Comstock cabin for aconcert. Elnora played beautifully that night. When the Sintons left she kissedBilly with particular tenderness. She was so moved that she was kinder toPhilip than she had intended to be, and Elnora as an antidote to a disappointedlover was a decided success in any mood.

However strong the attractions of Edith Carr had been, once the bond wasfinally broken, Philip Ammon could not help realizing that Elnora was thesuperior woman, and that he was fortunate to have escaped, when he regarded histies strongest. Every day, while working with Elnora, he saw more to admire. Hegrew very thankful that he was free to try to win her, and impatient to justifyhimself to her.

Elnora did not evince the slightest haste to hear what he had to say, butwaited the week she had set, in spite of Philip’s hourly manifest impatience.When she did consent to listen, Philip felt before he had talked five minutes,that she was putting herself in Edith Carr’s place, and judging him from whatthe other girl’s standpoint would be. That was so disconcerting, he did notplead his cause nearly so well as he had hoped, for when he ceased Elnora satin silence.

“You are my judge,” he said at last. “What is your verdict?”

“If I could hear her speak from her heart as I just have heard you, then Icould decide,” answered Elnora.

“She is on the ocean,” said Philip. “She went because she knew she was whollyin the wrong. She had nothing to say, or she would have remained.”

“That sounds plausible,” reasoned Elnora, “but it is pretty difficult to find awoman in an affair that involves her heart with nothing at all to say. I fancyif I could meet her, she would say several things. I should love to hear them.If I could talk with her three minutes, I could tell what answer to make you.”

“Don’t you believe me, Elnora?”

“Unquestioningly,” answered Elnora. “But I would believe her also. If only Icould meet her I soon would know.”

“I don’t see how that is to be accomplished,” said Philip, “but I am perfectlywilling. There is no reason why you should not meet her, except that sheprobably would lose her temper and insult you.”

“Not to any extent,” said Elnora calmly. “I have a tongue of my own, while I amnot without some small sense of personal values.”

Philip glanced at her and began to laugh. Very different of facial formationand colouring, Elnora at times closely resembled her mother. She joined in hislaugh ruefully.

“The point is this,” she said. “Some one is going to be hurt, most dreadfully.If the decision as to whom it shall be rests with me, I must know it is theright one. Of course, no one ever hinted it to you, but you are a veryattractive man, Philip. You are mighty good to look at, and you have a trained,refined mind, that makes you most interesting. For years Edith Carr has feltthat you were hers. Now, how is she going to change? I have beenthinking—thinking deep and long, Phil. If I were in her place, I simplycould not give you up, unless you had made yourself unworthy of love.Undoubtedly, you never seemed so desirable to her as just now, when she is toldshe can’t have you. What I think is that she will come to claim you yet.”

“You overlook the fact that it is not in a woman’s power to throw away a manand pick him up at pleasure,” said Philip with some warmth. “She publicly andrepeatedly cast me off. I accepted her decision as publicly as it was made. Youhave done all your thinking from a wrong viewpoint. You seem to have an ideathat it lies with you to decide what I shall do, that if you say the word, Ishall return to Edith. Put that thought out of your head! Now, and for all timeto come, she is a matter of indifference to me. She killed all feeling in myheart for her so completely that I do not even dread meeting her.

“If I hated her, or was angry with her, I could not be sure the feeling wouldnot die. As it is, she has deadened me into a creature of indifference. So youjust revise your viewpoint a little, Elnora. Cease thinking it is for you todecide what I shall do, and that I will obey you. I make my own decisions inreference to any woman, save you. The question you are to decide is whether Imay remain here, associating with you as I did last summer; but with thedifference that it is understood that I am free; that it is my intention tocare for you all I please, to make you return my feeling for you if I can.There is just one question for you to decide, and it is not triangular. It isbetween us. May I remain? May I love you? Will you give me the chance to provewhat I think of you?”

“You speak very plainly,” said Elnora.

“This is the time to speak plainly,” said Philip Ammon. “There is no use inallowing you to go on threshing out a problem which does not exist. If you donot want me here, say so and I will go. Of course, I warn you before I start,that I will come back. I won’t yield without the stiffest fight it is in me tomake. But drop thinking it lies in your power to send me back to Edith Carr. Ifshe were the last woman in the world, and I the last man, I’d jump off theplanet before I would give her further opportunity to exercise her temper onme. Narrow this to us, Elnora. Will you take the place she vacated? Will youtake the heart she threw away? I’d give my right hand and not flinch, if Icould offer you my life, free from any contact with hers, but that is notpossible. I can’t undo things which are done. I can only profit by experienceand build better in the future.”

“I don’t see how you can be sure of yourself,” said Elnora. “I don’t see how Icould be sure of you. You loved her first, you never can care for me anythinglike that. Always I’d have to be afraid you were thinking of her andregretting.”

“Folly!” cried Philip. “Regretting what? That I was not married to a woman whowas liable to rave at me any time or place, without my being conscious ofhaving given offence? A man does relish that! I am likely to pine for more!”

“You’d be thinking she’d learned a lesson. You would think it wouldn’t happenagain.”

“No, I wouldn’t be ‘thinking,’” said, Philip. “I’d be everlastingly sure! Iwouldn’t risk what I went through that night again, not to save my life! Justyou and me, Elnora. Decide for us.”

“I can’t!” cried Elnora. “I am afraid!”

“Very well,” said Philip. “We will wait until you feel that you can. Wait untilfear vanishes. Just decide now whether you would rather have me go for a fewmonths, or remain with you. Which shall it be, Elnora?”

“You can never love me as you did her,” wailed Elnora.

“I am happy to say I cannot,” replied he. “I’ve cut my matrimonial teeth. I’mcured of wanting to swell in society. I’m over being proud of a woman for herlooks alone. I have no further use for lavishing myself on a beautiful,elegantly dressed creature, who thinks only of self. I have learned that I am acommon man. I admire beauty and beautiful clothing quite as much as I ever did;but, first, I want an understanding, deep as the lowest recess of my soul, withthe woman I marry. I want to work for you, to plan for you, to build you a homewith every comfort, to give you all good things I can, to shield you from everyevil. I want to interpose my body between yours and fire, flood, or famine. Iwant to give you everything; but I hate the idea of getting nothing at all onwhich I can depend in return. Edith Carr had only good looks to offer, and whenanger overtook her, beauty went out like a snuffed candle.

“I want you to love me. I want some consideration. I even crave respect. I’vekept myself clean. So far as I know how to be, I am honest and scrupulous. Itwouldn’t hurt me to feel that you took some interest in these things. Ratherfierce temptations strike a man, every few days, in this world. I can keepdecent, for a woman who cares for decency, but when I do, I’d like to have thefact recognized, by just enough of a show of appreciation that I could see it.I am tired of this one-sided business. After this, I want to get a little inreturn for what I give. Elnora, you have love, tenderness, and honestappreciation of the finest in life. Take what I offer, and give what I ask.”

“You do not ask much,” said Elnora.

“As for not loving you as I did Edith,” continued Philip, “as I said before, Ihope not! I have a newer and a better idea of loving. The feeling I offer youwas inspired by you. It is a Limberlost product. It is as much bigger, cleaner,and more wholesome than any feeling I ever had for Edith Carr, as you arebigger than she, when you stand before your classes and in calm dignity explainthe marvels of the Almighty, while she stands on a ballroom floor, and givesway to uncontrolled temper. Ye gods, Elnora, if you could look into my soul,you would see it leap and rejoice over my escape! Perhaps it isn’t decent, butit’s human; and I’m only a common human being. I’m the gladdest man alive thatI’m free! I would turn somersaults and yell if I dared. What an escape! Stopstraining after Edith Carr’s viewpoint and take a look from mine. Put yourselfin my place and try to study out how I feel.

“I am so happy I grow religious over it. Fifty times a day I catch myselfwhispering, ‘My soul is escaped!’ As for you, take all the time you want. Ifyou prefer to be alone, I’ll take the next train and stay away as long as I canbear it, but I’ll come back. You can be most sure of that. Straight as yourpigeons to their loft, I’ll come back to you, Elnora. Shall I go?”

“Oh, what’s the use to be extravagant?” murmured Elnora.

CHAPTER XXII

WHEREIN PHILIP AMMON KNEELS TO ELNORA, AND STRANGERS COME TO THELIMBERLOST

The month which followed was a reproduction of the previous June. There werelong moth hunts, days of specimen gathering, wonderful hours with great books,big dinners all of them helped to prepare, and perfect nights filled withmusic. Everything was as it had been, with the difference that Philip was nowan avowed suitor. He missed no opportunity to advance himself in Elnora’sgraces. At the end of the month he was no nearer any sort of understanding withher than he had been at the beginning. He revelled in the privilege of lovingher, but he got no response. Elnora believed in his love, yet she hesitated toaccept him, because she could not forget Edith Carr.

One afternoon early in July, Philip came across the fields, through theComstock woods, and entered the garden. He inquired for Elnora at the back doorand was told that she was reading under the willow. He went around the west endof the cabin to her. She sat on a rustic bench they had made and placed beneatha drooping branch. He had not seen her before in the dress she was wearing. Itwas clinging mull of pale green, trimmed with narrow ruffles and touched withknots of black velvet; a simple dress, but vastly becoming. Every tint of herbright hair, her luminous eyes, her red lips, and her rose-flushed face, neck,and arms grew a little more vivid with the delicate green setting.

He stopped short. She was so near, so temptingly sweet, he lost control. Hewent to her with a half-smothered cry after that first long look, dropped onone knee beside her and reached an arm behind her to the bench back, so that hewas very near. He caught her hands.

“Elnora!” he cried tensely, “end it now! Say this strain is over. I pledge youthat you will be happy. You don’t know! If you only would say the word, youwould awake to new life and great joy! Won’t you promise me now, Elnora?”

The girl sat staring into the west woods, while strong in her eyes was herfather’s look of seeing something invisible to others. Philip’s arm slippedfrom the bench around her. His fingers closed firmly over hers. “Elnora,” hepleaded, “you know me well enough. You have had time in plenty. End it now. Sayyou will be mine!” He gathered her closer, pressing his face against hers, hisbreath on her cheek. “Can’t you quite promise yet, my girl of the Limberlost?”

Elnora shook her head. Instantly he released her.

“Forgive me,” he begged. “I had no intention of thrusting myself upon you, but,Elnora, you are the veriest Queen of Love this afternoon. From the tips of yourtoes to your shining crown, I worship you. I want no woman save you. You are sowonderful this afternoon, I couldn’t help urging. Forgive me. Perhaps it wassomething that came this morning for you. I wrote Polly to send it. May we tryif it fits? Will you tell me if you like it?”

He drew a little white velvet box from his pocket and showed her a splendidemerald ring.

“It may not be right,” he said. “The inside of a glove finger is not veryaccurate for a measure, but it was the best I could do. I wrote Polly to getit, because she and mother are home from the East this week, but next they willgo on to our cottage in the north, and no one knows what is right quite so wellas Polly.” He laid the ring in Elnora’s hand. “Dearest,” he said, “don’t slipthat on your finger; put your arms around my neck and promise me, all at onceand abruptly, or I’ll keel over and die of sheer joy.”

Elnora smiled.

“I won’t! Not all those venturesome things at once; but, Phil, I’m ashamed toconfess that ring simply fascinates me. It is the most beautiful one I eversaw, and do you know that I never owned a ring of any kind in my life? Wouldyou think me unwomanly if I slip it on for a second, before I can say for sure?Phil, you know I care! I care very much! You know I will tell you the instant Ifeel right about it.”

“Certainly you will,” agreed Philip promptly. “It is your right to take all thetime you choose. I can’t put that ring on you until it means a bond between us.I’ll shut my eyes and you try it on, so we can see if it fits.” Philip turnedhis face toward the west woods and tightly closed his eyes. It was a boyishthing to do, and it caught the hesitating girl in the depths of her heart asthe boy element in a man ever appeals to a motherly woman. Before she quiterealized what she was doing, the ring slid on her finger. With both arms shecaught Philip and drew him to her breast, holding him closely. Her head droopedover his, her lips were on his hair. So an instant, then her arms dropped. Helifted a convulsed, white face.

“Dear Lord!” he whispered. “You—you didn’t mean that, Elnora!You—— What made you do it?”

“You—you looked so boyish!” panted Elnora. “I didn’t mean it! I—Iforgot that you were older than Billy. Look—look at the ring!”

“‘The Queen can do no wrong,’” quoted Philip between his set teeth. “But don’tyou do that again, Elnora, unless you do mean it. Kings are not so good asqueens, and there is a limit with all men. As you say, we will look at yourring. It seems very lovely to me. Suppose you leave it on until time for me togo. Please do! I have heard of mute appeals; perhaps it will plead for me. I amwild for your lips this afternoon. I am going to take your hands.”

He caught both of them and covered them with kisses.

“Elnora,” he said, “Will you be my wife?”

“I must have a little more time,” she whispered. “I must be absolutely certain,for when I say yes, and give myself to you, only death shall part us. I wouldnot give you up. So I want a little more time—but, I think I will.”

“Thank you,” said Philip. “If at any time you feel that you have reached adecision, will you tell me? Will you promise me to tell me instantly, or shallI keep asking you until the time comes?”

“You make it difficult,” said Elnora. “But I will promise you that. Wheneverthe last doubt vanishes, I will let you know instantly—if I can.”

“Would it be difficult for you?” whispered Ammon.

“I—I don’t know,” faltered Elnora.

“It seems as if I can’t be man enough to put this thought aside and give upthis afternoon,” said Philip. “I am ashamed of myself, but I can’t help it. Iam going to ask God to make that last doubt vanish before I go this night. I amgoing to believe that ring will plead for me. I am going to hope that doubtwill disappear suddenly. I will be watching. Every second I will be watching.If it happens and you can’t speak, give me your hand. Just the least movementtoward me, I will understand. Would it help you to talk this over with yourmother? Shall I call her? Shall I——?”

Honk! Honk! Honk! Hart Henderson set the horn of the big automobile going as itshot from behind the trees lining the Brushwood road. The picture of avine-covered cabin, a large drooping tree, a green-clad girl and a man bendingover her very closely flashed into view. Edith Carr caught her breath with asnap. Polly Ammon gave Tom Levering a quick touch and wickedly winked at him.

Several days before, Edith had returned from Europe suddenly. She and Hendersonhad called at the Ammon residence saying that they were going to motor down tothe Limberlost to see Philip a few hours, and urged that Polly and Tomaccompany them. Mrs. Ammon knew that her husband would disapprove of the trip,but it was easy to see that Edith Carr had determined on going. So the motherthought it better to have Polly along to support Philip than to allow him toconfront Edith unexpectedly and alone. Polly was full of spirit. She did notrelish the thought of Edith as a sister. Always they had been in the same set,always Edith, because of greater beauty and wealth, had patronized Polly.Although it had rankled, she had borne it sweetly. But two days before, herfather had extracted a promise of secrecy, given her Philip’s address and toldher to send him the finest emerald ring she could select. Polly knew how thatring would be used. What she did not know was that the girl who accompanied herwent back to the store afterward, made an excuse to the clerk that she had beensent to be absolutely sure that the address was right, and so secured it forEdith Carr.

Two days later Edith had induced Hart Henderson to take her to Onabasha. By theaid of maps they located the Comstock land and passed it, merely to see theplace. Henderson hated that trip, and implored Edith not to take it, but shemade no effort to conceal from him what she suffered, and it was more than hecould endure. He pointed out that Philip had gone away without leaving anaddress, because he did not wish to see her, or any of them. But Edith was sosure of her power, she felt certain Philip needed only to see her to succumb toher beauty as he always had done, while now she was ready to plead forforgiveness. So they came down the Brushwood road, and Henderson had just saidto Edith beside him: “This should be the Comstock land on our left.”

A minute later the wood ended, while the sunlight, as always pitiless, etchedwith distinctness the scene at the west end of the cabin. Instinctively, tosave Edith, Henderson set the horn blowing. He had thought to drive to thecity, but Polly Ammon arose crying: “Phil! Phil!” Tom Levering was on his feetshouting and waving, while Edith in her most imperial manner ordered him toturn into the lane leading through the woods beside the cabin.

“Find some way for me to have a minute alone with her,” she commanded as hestopped the car.

“That is my sister Polly, her fiance Tom Levering, a friend of mine namedHenderson, and——” began Philip,

“—and Edith Carr,” volunteered Elnora.

“And Edith Carr,” repeated Philip Ammon. “Elnora, be brave, for my sake. Theircoming can make no difference in any way. I won’t let them stay but a fewminutes. Come with me!”

“Do I seem scared?” inquired Elnora serenely. “This is why you haven’t had youranswer. I have been waiting just six weeks for that motor. You may bring themto me at the arbour.”

Philip glanced at her and broke into a laugh. She had not lost colour. Herself-possession was perfect. She deliberately turned and walked toward thegrape arbour, while he sprang over the west fence and ran to the car.

Elnora standing in the arbour entrance made a perfect picture, framed in greenleaves and tendrils. No matter how her heart ached, it was good to her, for itpumped steadily, and kept her cheeks and lips suffused with colour. She sawPhilip reach the car and gather his sister into his arms. Past her he reached ahand to Levering, then to Edith Carr and Henderson. He lifted his sister to theground, and assisted Edith to alight. Instantly, she stepped beside him, andElnora’s heart played its first trick.

She could see that Miss Carr was splendidly beautiful, while she moved with thehauteur and grace supposed to be the prerogatives of royalty. And she hadinstantly taken possession of Philip. But he also had a brain which was workingwith rapidity. He knew Elnora was watching, so he turned to the others.

“Give her up, Tom!” he cried. “I didn’t know I wanted to see the littlenuisance so badly, but I do. How are father and mother? Polly, didn’t the matersend me something?”

“She did!” said Polly Ammon, stopping on the path and lifting her chin as alittle child, while she drew away her veil.

Philip caught her in his arms and stooped for his mother’s kiss.

“Be good to Elnora!” he whispered.

“Umhu!” assented Polly. And aloud—“Look at that ripping green and goldsymphony! I never saw such a beauty! Thomas Asquith Levering, you come straighthere and take my hand!”

Edith’s move to compel Philip to approach Elnora beside her had been easy tosee; also its failure. Henderson stepped into Philip’s place as he turned tohis sister. Instead of taking Polly’s hand Levering ran to open the gate. Edithpassed through first, but Polly darted in front of her on the run, with Philholding her arm, and swept up to Elnora. Polly looked for the ring and saw it.That settled matters with her.

“You lovely, lovely, darling girl!” she cried, throwing her arms around Elnoraand kissing her. With her lips close Elnora’s ear, Polly whispered, “Sister!Dear, dear sister!”

Elnora drew back, staring at Polly in confused amazement. She was a beautifulgirl, her eyes were sparkling and dancing, and as she turned to make way forthe others, she kept one of Elnora’s hands in hers. Polly would have droppeddead in that instant if Edith Carr could have killed with a look, for not untilthen did she realize that Polly would even many a slight, and that it had beena great mistake to bring her.

Edith bowed low, muttered something and touched Elnora’s fingers. Tom took hiscue from Polly.

“I always follow a good example,” he said, and before any one could divine hisintention he kissed Elnora as he gripped her hand and cried: “Mighty glad tomeet you! Like to meet you a dozen times a day, you know!”

Elnora laughed and her heart pumped smoothly. They had accomplished theirpurpose. They had let her know they were there through compulsion, but on herside. In that instant only pity was in Elnora’s breast for the flashing darkbeauty, standing with smiling face while her heart must have been filled withexceeding bitterness. Elnora stepped back from the entrance.

“Come into the shade,” she urged. “You must have found it warm on these countryroads. Won’t you lay aside your dust-coats and have a cool drink? Philip, wouldyou ask mother to come, and bring that pitcher from the spring house?”

They entered the arbour exclaiming at the dim, green coolness. There was plentyof room and wide seats around the sides, a table in the centre, on which lay apiece of embroidery, magazines, books, the moth apparatus, and the cyanide jarcontaining several specimens. Polly rejoiced in the cooling shade, slipped offher duster, removed her hat, rumpled her pretty hair and seated herself toindulge in the delightful occupation of paying off old scores. Tom Leveringfollowed her example. Edith took a seat but refused to remove her hat and coat,while Henderson stood in the entrance.

“There goes something with wings! Should you have that?” cried Levering.

He seized a net from the table and raced across the garden after a butterfly.He caught it and came back mightily pleased with himself. As the creaturestruggled in the net, Elnora noted a repulsed look on Edith Carr’s face.Levering helped the situation beautifully.

“Now what have I got?” he demanded. “Is it just a common one that every oneknows and you don’t keep, or is it the rarest bird off the perch?”

“You must have had practice, you took that so perfectly,” said Elnora. “I amsorry, but it is quite common and not of a kind I keep. Suppose all of you seehow beautiful it is and then it may go nectar hunting again.”

She held the butterfly where all of them could see, showed its upper and underwing colours, answered Polly’s questions as to what it ate, how long it lived,and how it died. Then she put it into Polly’s hand saying: “Stand there in thelight and loosen your hold slowly and easily.”

Elnora caught a brush from the table and began softly stroking the creature’ssides and wings. Delighted with the sensation the butterfly opened and closedits wings, clinging to Polly’s soft little fingers, while every one cried outin surprise. Elnora laid aside the brush, and the butterfly sailed away.

“Why, you are a wizard! You charm them!” marvelled Levering.

“I learned that from the Bird Woman,” said Elnora. “She takes soft brushes andcoaxes butterflies and moths into the positions she wants for the illustrationsof a book she is writing. I have helped her often. Most of the rare ones I findgo to her.”

“Then you don’t keep all you take?” questioned Levering.

“Oh, dear, no!” cried Elnora. “Not a tenth! For myself, a pair of each kind touse in illustrating the lectures I give in the city schools in the winter, andone pair for each collection I make. One might as well keep the big night mothsof June, for they only live four or five days anyway. For the Bird Woman, Ionly save rare ones she has not yet secured. Sometimes I think it is cruel totake such creatures from freedom, even for an hour, but it is the only way toteach the masses of people how to distinguish the pests they should destroy,from the harmless ones of great beauty. Here comes mother with something coolto drink.”

Mrs. Comstock came deliberately, talking to Philip as she approached. Elnoragave her one searching look, but could discover only an extreme brightness ofeye to denote any unusual feeling. She wore one of her lavender dresses, whileher snowy hair was high piled. She had taken care of her complexion, and herface had grown fuller during the winter. She might have been any one’s motherwith pride, and she was perfectly at ease.

Polly instantly went to her and held up her face to be kissed. Mrs. Comstock’seyes twinkled and she made the greeting hearty.

The drink was compounded of the juices of oranges and berries from the garden.It was cool enough to frost glasses and pitcher and delicious to dusty tiredtravellers. Soon the pitcher was empty, and Elnora picked it up and went torefill it. While she was gone Henderson asked Philip about some trouble he washaving with his car. They went to the woods and began a minute examination tofind a defect which did not exist. Polly and Levering were having an animatedconversation with Mrs. Comstock. Henderson saw Edith arise, follow the gardenpath next the woods and stand waiting under the willow which Elnora would passon her return. It was for that meeting he had made the trip. He got down on theground, tore up the car, worked, asked for help, and kept Philip busy screwingbolts and applying the oil can. All the time Henderson kept an eye on Edith andElnora under the willow. But he took pains to lay the work he asked Philip todo where that scene would be out of his sight. When Elnora came around thecorner with the pitcher, she found herself facing Edith Carr.

“I want a minute with you,” said Miss Carr.

“Very well,” replied Elnora, walking on.

“Set the pitcher on the bench there,” commanded Edith Carr, as if speaking to aservant.

“I prefer not to offer my visitors a warm drink,” said Elnora. “I’ll come backif you really wish to speak with me.”

“I came solely for that,” said Edith Carr.

“It would be a pity to travel so far in this dust and heat for nothing. I’llonly be gone a second.”

Elnora placed the pitcher before her mother. “Please serve this,” she said.“Miss Carr wishes to speak with me.”

“Don’t you pay the least attention to anything she says,” cried Polly. “Tom andI didn’t come here because we wanted to. We only came to checkmate her. I hopedI’d get the opportunity to say a word to you, and now she has given it to me. Ijust want to tell you that she threw Phil over in perfectly horrid way. Shehasn’t any right to lay the ghost of a claim to him, has she, Tom?”

“Nary a claim,” said Tom Levering earnestly. “Why, even you, Polly, couldn’tserve me as she did Phil, and ever get me back again. If I were you, MissComstock, I’d send my mother to talk with her and I’d stay here.”

Tom had gauged Mrs. Comstock rightly. Polly put her arms around Elnora. “Let mego with you, dear,” she begged.

“I promised I would speak with her alone,” said Elnora, “and she must beconsidered. But thank you, very much.”

“How I shall love you!” exulted Polly, giving Elnora a parting hug.

The girl slowly and gravely walked back to the willow. She could not imaginewhat was coming, but she was promising herself that she would be very patientand control her temper.

“Will you be seated?” she asked politely.

Edith Carr glanced at the bench, while a shudder shook her.

“No. I prefer to stand,” she said. “Did Mr. Ammon give you the ring you arewearing, and do you consider yourself engaged to him?”

“By what right do you ask such personal questions as those?” inquired Elnora.

“By the right of a betrothed wife. I have been promised to Philip Ammon eversince I wore short skirts. All our lives we have expected to marry. Anagreement of years cannot be broken in one insane moment. Always he has lovedme devotedly. Give me ten minutes with him and he will be mine for all time.”

“I seriously doubt that,” said Elnora. “But I am willing that you should makethe test. I will call him.”

“Stop!” commanded Edith Carr. “I told you that it was you I came to see.”

“I remember,” said Elnora.

“Mr. Ammon is my betrothed,” continued Edith Carr. “I expect to take him backto Chicago with me.”

“You expect considerable,” murmured Elnora. “I will raise no objection to yourtaking him, if you can—but, I tell you frankly, I don’t think itpossible.”

“You are so sure of yourself as that,” scoffed Edith Carr. “One hour in mypresence will bring back the old spell, full force. We belong to each other. Iwill not give him up.”

“Then it is untrue that you twice rejected his ring, repeatedly insulted him,and publicly renounced him?”

“That was through you!” cried Edith Carr. “Phil and I never had been so nearand so happy as we were on that night. It was your clinging to him for thingsthat caused him to desert me among his guests, while he tried to make me awaityour pleasure. I realize the spell of this place, for a summer season. Iunderstand what you and your mother have done to inveigle him. I know that yourhold on him is quite real. I can see just how you have worked to ensnare him!”

“Men would call that lying,” said Elnora calmly. “The second time I met PhilipAmmon he told me of his engagement to you, and I respected it. I did by you asI would want you to do by me. He was here parts of each day, almost daily lastsummer. The Almighty is my witness that never once, by word or look, did I evermake the slightest attempt to interest him in my person or personality. Hewrote you frequently in my presence. He forgot the violets for which he askedto send you. I gathered them and carried them to him. I sent him back to you inunswerving devotion, and the Almighty is also my witness that I could havechanged his heart last summer, if I had tried. I wisely left that work for you.All my life I shall be glad that I lived and worked on the square. That he everwould come back to me free, by your act, I never dreamed. When he left me I didnot hope or expect to see him again,” Elnora’s voice fell soft and low, “and,behold! You sent him—and free!”

“You exult in that!” cried Edith Carr. “Let me tell you he is not free! We havebelonged for years. We always shall. If you cling to him, and hold him to rashthings he has said and done, because he thought me still angry and unforgivingwith him, you will ruin all our lives. If he married you, before a month youwould read heart-hunger for me in his eyes. He could not love me as he hasdone, and give me up for a little scene like that!”

“There is a great poem,” said Elnora, “one line of which reads, ‘For each mankills the thing he loves.’ Let me tell you that a woman can do that also. Hedid love you—that I concede. But you killed his love everlastingly, whenyou disgraced him in public. Killed it so completely he does not even feelresentment toward you. To-day, he would do you a favour, if he could; but loveyou, no! That is over!”

Edith Carr stood truly regal and filled with scorn. “You are mistaken! Nothingon earth could kill that!” she cried, and Elnora saw that the girl reallybelieved what she said.

“You are very sure of yourself!” said Elnora.

“I have reason to be sure,” answered Edith Carr.

“We have lived and loved too long. I have had years with him to match againstyour days. He is mine! His work, his ambitions, his friends, his place insociety are with me. You may have a summer charm for a sick man in the country;if he tried placing you in society, he soon would see you as others will. Ittakes birth to position, schooling, and endless practice to meet social demandsgracefully. You would put him to shame in a week.”

“I scarcely think I should follow your example so far,” said Elnora dryly. “Ihave a feeling for Philip that would prevent my hurting him purposely, eitherin public or private. As for managing a social career for him he nevermentioned that he desired such a thing. What he asked of me was that I shouldbe his wife. I understood that to mean that he desired me to keep him a cleanhouse, serve him digestible food, mother his children, and give him lovingsympathy and tenderness.”

“Shameless!” cried Edith Carr.

“To which of us do you intend that adjective to apply?” inquired Elnora. “Inever was less ashamed in all my life. Please remember I am in my own home, andyour presence here is not on my invitation.”

Miss Carr lifted her head and struggled with her veil. She was very pale andtrembling violently, while Elnora stood serene, a faint smile on her lips.

“Such vulgarity!” panted Edith Carr. “How can a man like Philip endure it?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” inquired Elnora. “I can call him with one breath; but,if he judged us as we stand, I should not be the one to tremble at hisdecision. Miss Carr, you have been quite plain. You have told me in carefullyselected words what you think of me. You insult my birth, education,appearance, and home. I assure you I am legitimate. I will pass a testexamination with you on any high school or supplementary branch, or French orGerman. I will take a physical examination beside you. I will face any socialemergency you can mention with you. I am acquainted with a whole world in whichPhilip Ammon is keenly interested, that you scarcely know exists. I am notafraid to face any audience you can get together anywhere with my violin. I amnot repulsive to look at, and I have a wholesome regard for the proprieties andcivilities of life. Philip Ammon never asked anything more of me, why shouldyou?”

“It is plain to see,” cried Edith Carr, “that you took him when he was hurt andangry and kept his wound wide open. Oh, what have you not done against me?”

“I did not promise to marry him when an hour ago he asked me, and offered methis ring, because there was so much feeling in my heart for you, that I knew Inever could be happy, if I felt that in any way I had failed in doing justiceto your interests. I did slip on this ring, which he had just brought, becauseI never owned one, and it is very beautiful, but I made him no promise, norshall I make any, until I am quite, quite sure, that you fully realize he neverwould marry you if I sent him away this hour.”

“You know perfectly that if your puny hold on him were broken, if he were backin his home, among his friends, and where he was meeting me, in one short weekhe would be mine again, as he always has been. In your heart you don’t believewhat you say. You don’t dare trust him in my presence. You are afraid to allowhim out of your sight, because you know what the results would be. Right orwrong, you have made up your mind to ruin him and me, and you are going to beselfish enough to do it. But——”

“That will do!” said Elnora. “Spare me the enumeration of how I will regret it.I shall regret nothing. I shall not act until I know there will be nothing toregret. I have decided on my course. You may return to your friends.”

“What do you mean?” demanded Edith Carr.

“That is my affair,” replied Elnora. “Only this! When your opportunity comes,seize it! Any time you are in Philip Ammon’s presence, exert the charms ofwhich you boast, and take him. I grant you are justified in doing it if youcan. I want nothing more than I want to see you marry Philip if he wants you.He is just across the fence under that automobile. Go spread your meshes andexert your wiles. I won’t stir to stop you. Take him to Onabasha, and toChicago with you. Use every art you possess. If the old charm can be revived Iwill be the first to wish both of you well. Now, I must return to my visitors.Kindly excuse me.”

Elnora turned and went back to the arbour. Edith Carr followed the fence andpassed through the gate into the west woods where she asked Henderson about thecar. As she stood near him she whispered: “Take Phil back to Onabasha with us.”

“I say, Ammon, can’t you go to the city with us and help me find a shop where Ican get this pinion fixed?” asked Henderson. “We want to lunch and start backby five. That will get us home about midnight. Why don’t you bring yourautomobile here?”

“I am a working man,” said Philip. “I have no time to be out motoring. I can’tsee anything the matter with your car, myself; but, of course you don’t want tobreak down in the night, on strange roads, with women on your hands. I’ll see.”

Philip went into the arbour, where Polly took possession of his lap, fingeredhis hair, and kissed his forehead and lips.

“When are you coming to the cottage, Phil?” she asked. “Come soon, and bringMiss Comstock for a visit. All of us will be so glad to have her.”

Philip beamed on Polly. “I’ll see about that,” he said. “Sounds pretty good.Elnora, Henderson is in trouble with his automobile. He wants me to go toOnabasha with him to show him where the doctor lives, and make repairs so hecan start back this evening. It will take about two hours. May I go?”

“Of course, you must go,” she said, laughing lightly. “You can’t leave yoursister. Why don’t you return to Chicago with them? There is plenty of room, andyou could have a fine visit.”

“I’ll be back in just two hours,” said Philip. “While I am gone, you bethinking over what we were talking of when the folks came.”

“Miss Comstock can go with us as well as not,” said Polly. “That back seat wasmade for three, and I can sit on your lap.”

“Come on! Do come!” urged Philip instantly, and Tom Levering joined him, butHenderson and Edith silently waited at the gate.

“No, thank you,” laughed Elnora. “That would crowd you, and it’s warm anddusty. We will say good-bye here.”

She offered her hand to all of them, and when she came to Philip she gave himone long steady look in the eyes, then shook hands with him also.

CHAPTER XXIII

WHEREIN ELNORA REACHES A DECISION, AND FRECKLES AND THE ANGEL APPEAR

“Well, she came, didn’t she?” remarked Mrs. Comstock to Elnora as they watchedthe automobile speed down the road. As it turned the Limberlost corner, Philiparose and waved to them.

“She hasn’t got him yet, anyway,” said Mrs. Comstock, taking heart. “What’sthat on your finger, and what did she say to you?”

Elnora explained about the ring as she drew it off.

“I have several letters to write, then I am going to change my dress and walkdown toward Aunt Margaret’s for a little exercise. I may meet some of them, andI don’t want them to see this ring. You keep it until Philip comes,” saidElnora. “As for what Miss Carr said to me, many things, two of importance: one,that I lacked every social requirement necessary for the happiness of PhilipAmmon, and that if I married him I would see inside a month that he was ashamedof me——”

“Aw, shockins!” scorned Mrs. Comstock. “Go on!”

“The other was that she has been engaged to him for years, that he belongs toher, and she refuses to give him up. She said that if he were in her presenceone hour, she would have him under a mysterious thing she calls ‘her spell’again; if he were where she could see him for one week, everything would bemade up. It is her opinion that he is suffering from wounded pride, and thatthe slightest concession on her part will bring him to his knees before her.”

Mrs. Comstock giggled. “I do hope the boy isn’t weak-kneed,” she said. “I justhappened to be passing the west window this afternoon——”

Elnora laughed. “Nothing save actual knowledge ever would have made me believethere was a girl in all this world so infatuated with herself. She speakscasually of her power over men, and boasts of ‘bringing a man to his knees’ ascomplacently as I would pick up a net and say: ‘I am going to take abutterfly.’ She honestly believes that if Philip were with her a short time shecould rekindle his love for her and awaken in him every particle of the olddevotion. Mother, the girl is honest! She is absolutely sincere! She sobelieves in herself and the strength of Phil’s love for her, that all her lifeshe will believe in and brood over that thought, unless she is taughtdifferently. So long as she thinks that, she will nurse wrong ideas and pineover her blighted life. She must be taught that Phil is absolutely free, andyet he will not go to her.”

“But how on earth are you proposing to teach her that?”

“The way will open.”

“Lookey here, Elnora!” cried Mrs. Comstock. “That Carr girl is the handsomestdark woman I ever saw. She’s got to the place where she won’t stop at anything.Her coming here proves that. I don’t believe there was a thing the matter withthat automobile. I think that was a scheme she fixed up to get Phil where shecould see him alone, as she worked to see you. If you are going deliberately toput Philip under her influence again, you’ve got to brace yourself for thepossibility that she may win. A man is a weak mortal, where a lovely woman isconcerned, and he never denied that he loved her once. You may make yourselfdownright miserable.”

“But mother, if she won, it wouldn’t make me half so miserable as to marry Philmyself, and then read hunger for her in his eyes! Some one has got to sufferover this. If it proves to be me, I’ll bear it, and you’ll never hear a whisperof complaint from me. I know the real Philip Ammon better in our months of workin the fields than she knows him in all her years of society engagements. Soshe shall have the hour she asked, many, many of them, enough to make heracknowledge that she is wrong. Now I am going to write my letters and take mywalk.”

Elnora threw her arms around her mother and kissed her repeatedly. “Don’t youworry about me,” she said. “I will get along all right, and whatever happens, Ialways will be your girl and you my darling mother.”

She left two sealed notes on her desk. Then she changed her dress, packed asmall bundle which she dropped with her hat from the window beside the willow,and softly went down stairs. Mrs. Comstock was in the garden. Elnora picked upthe hat and bundle, hurried down the road a few rods, then climbed the fenceand entered the woods. She took a diagonal course, and after a long walkreached a road two miles west and one south. There she straightened herclothing, put on her hat and a thin dark veil and waited the passing of thenext trolley. She left it at the first town and took a train for Fort Wayne.She made that point just in time to climb on the evening train north, as itpulled from the station. It was after midnight when she left the car at GrandRapids, and went into the depot to await the coming of day.

Tired out, she laid her head on her bundle and fell asleep on a seat in thewomen’s waiting-room. Long after light she was awakened by the roar and rattleof trains. She washed, re-arranged her hair and clothing, and went into thegeneral waiting-room to find her way to the street. She saw him as he enteredthe door. There was no mistaking the tall, lithe figure, the bright hair, thelean, brown-splotched face, the steady gray eyes. He was dressed fortravelling, and carried a light overcoat and a bag. Straight to him Elnora wentspeeding.

“Oh, I was just starting to find you!” she cried.

“Thank you!” he said.

“You are going away?” she panted.

“Not if I am needed. I have a few minutes. Can you be telling me briefly?”

“I am the Limberlost girl to whom your wife gave the dress for Commencementlast spring, and both of you sent lovely gifts. There is a reason, a very goodreason, why I must be hidden for a time, and I came straight to you—as ifI had a right.”

“You have!” answered Freckles. “Any boy or girl who ever suffered one pang inthe Limberlost has a claim to the best drop of blood in my heart. You needn’tbe telling me anything more. The Angel is at our cottage on Mackinac. You shalltell her and play with the babies while you want shelter. This way!”

They breakfasted in a luxurious car, talked over the swamp, the work of theBird Woman; Elnora told of her nature lectures in the schools, and soon theywere good friends. In the evening they left the train at Mackinaw City andcrossed the Straits by boat. Sheets of white moonlight flooded the water andpaved a molten path across the breast of it straight to the face of the moon.

The island lay a dark spot on the silver surface, its tall trees sharplyoutlined on the summit, and a million lights blinked around the shore. Thenight guns boomed from the white fort and a dark sentinel paced the rampartsabove the little city tucked down close to the water. A great tenor summeringin the north came out on the upper deck of the big boat, and baring his head,faced the moon and sang: “Oh, the moon shines bright on my old Kentucky home!”Elnora thought of the Limberlost, of Philip, and her mother, and almost chokedwith the sobs that would arise in her throat. On the dock a woman of exquisitebeauty swept into the arms of Terence O’More.

“Oh, Freckles!” she cried. “You’ve been gone a month!”

“Four days, Angel, only four days by the clock,” remonstrated Freckles. “Whereare the children?”

“Asleep! Thank goodness! I’m worn to a thread. I never saw such inventive,active children. I can’t keep track of them!”

“I have brought you help,” said Freckles. “Here is the Limberlost girl in whomthe Bird Woman is interested. Miss Comstock needs a rest before beginning herschool work for next year, so she came to us.”

“You dear thing! How good of you!” cried the Angel. “We shall be so happy tohave you!”

In her room that night, in a beautiful cottage furnished with every luxury,Elnora lifted a tired face to the Angel.

“Of course, you understand there is something back of this?” she said. “I musttell you.”

“Yes,” agreed the Angel. “Tell me! If you get it out of your system, you willstand a better chance of sleeping.”

Elnora stood brushing the copper-bright masses of her hair as she talked. Whenshe finished the Angel was almost hysterical.

“You insane creature!” she cried. “How crazy of you to leave him to her! I knowboth of them. I have met them often. She may be able to make good her boast.But it is perfectly splendid of you! And, after all, really it is the only way.I can see that. I think it is what I should have done myself, or tried to do. Idon’t know that I could have done it! When I think of walking away and leavingFreckles with a woman he once loved, to let her see if she can make him loveher again, oh, it gives me a graveyard heart. No, I never could have done it!You are bigger than I ever was. I should have turned coward, sure.”

“I am a coward,” admitted Elnora. “I am soul-sick! I am afraid I shall lose mysenses before this is over. I didn’t want to come! I wanted to stay, to gostraight into his arms, to bind myself with his ring, to love him with all myheart. It wasn’t my fault that I came. There was something inside that justpushed me. She is beautiful——”

“I quite agree with you!”

“You can imagine how fascinating she can be. She used no arts on me. Herpurpose was to cower me. She found she could not do that, but she did a thingwhich helped her more: she proved that she was honest, perfectly sincere inwhat she thought. She believes that if she merely beckons to Philip, he will goto her. So I am giving her the opportunity to learn from him what he will do.She never will believe it from any one else. When she is satisfied, I shall bealso.”

“But, child! Suppose she wins him back!”

“That is the supposition with which I shall eat and sleep for the coming fewweeks. Would one dare ask for a peep at the babies before going to bed?”

“Now, you are perfect!” announced the Angel. “I never should have liked you allI can, if you had been content to go to sleep in this house without asking tosee the babies. Come this way. We named the first boy for his father, ofcourse, and the girl for Aunt Alice. The next boy is named for my father, andthe baby for the Bird Woman. After this we are going to branch out.”

Elnora began to laugh.

“Oh, I suspect there will be quite a number of them,” said the Angel serenely.“I am told the more there are the less trouble they make. The big ones takecare of the little ones. We want a large family. This is our start.”

She entered a dark room and held aloft a candle. She went to the side of asmall white iron bed in which lay a boy of eight and another of three. Theywere perfectly formed, rosy children, the elder a replica of his mother, theother very like. Then they came to a cradle where a baby girl of almost twoslept soundly, and made a picture.

“But just see here!” said the Angel. She threw the light on a sleeping girl ofsix. A mass of red curls swept the pillow. Line and feature the face was thatof Freckles. Without asking, Elnora knew the colour and expression of theclosed eyes. The Angel handed Elnora the candle, and stooping, straightened thechild’s body. She ran her fingers through the bright curls, and lightly touchedthe aristocratic little nose.

“The supply of freckles holds out in my family, you see!” she said. “Both ofthe girls will have them, and the second boy a few.”

She stood an instant longer, then bending, ran her hand caressingly down a rosybare leg, while she kissed the babyish red mouth. There had been some reasonfor touching all of them, the kiss fell on the lips which were like Freckles’s.

To Elnora she said a tender good-night, whispering brave words of encouragementand making plans to fill the days to come. Then she went away. An hour laterthere was a light tap on the girl’s door.

“Come!” she called as she lay staring into the dark.

The Angel felt her way to the bedside, sat down and took Elnora’s hands.

“I just had to come back to you,” she said. “I have been telling Freckles, andhe is almost hurting himself with laughing. I didn’t think it was funny, but hedoes. He thinks it’s the funniest thing that ever happened. He says that to runaway from Mr. Ammon, when you had made him no promise at all, when he wasn’tsure of you, won’t send him home to her; it will set him hunting you! He saysif you had combined the wisdom of Solomon, Socrates, and all the remainder ofthe wise men, you couldn’t have chosen any course that would have sealed him toyou so surely. He feels that now Mr. Ammon will perfectly hate her for comingdown there and driving you away. And you went to give her the chance shewanted. Oh, Elnora! It is becoming funny! I see it, too!”

The Angel rocked on the bedside. Elnora faced the dark in silence.

“Forgive me,” gulped the Angel. “I didn’t mean to laugh. I didn’t think it wasfunny, until all at once it came to me. Oh, dear! Elnora, it isfunny!I’ve got to laugh!”

“Maybe it is,” admitted Elnora “to others; but it isn’t very funny to me. Andit won’t be to Philip, or to mother.”

That was very true. Mrs. Comstock had been slightly prepared for stringentaction of some kind, by what Elnora had said. The mother instantly had guessedwhere the girl would go, but nothing was said to Philip. That would have beento invalidate Elnora’s test in the beginning, and Mrs. Comstock knew her childwell enough to know that she never would marry Philip unless she felt it rightthat she should. The only way was to find out, and Elnora had gone to seek theinformation. There was nothing to do but wait until she came back, and hermother was not in the least uneasy but that the girl would return brave andself-reliant, as always.

Philip Ammon hurried back to the Limberlost, strong in the hope that now hemight take Elnora into his arms and receive her promise to become his wife. Hisfirst shock of disappointment came when he found her gone. In talking with Mrs.Comstock he learned that Edith Carr had made an opportunity to speak withElnora alone. He hastened down the road to meet her, coming back alone, anagitated man. Then search revealed the notes. His read:

DEAR PHILIP:

I find that I am never going to be able to answer your question of thisafternoon fairly to all of us, when you are with me. So I am going away a fewweeks to think over matters alone. I shall not tell you, or even mother, whereI am going, but I shall be safe, well cared for, and happy. Please go back homeand live among your friends, just as you always have done, and on or before thefirst of September, I will write you where I am, and what I have decided.Please do not blame Edith Carr for this, and do not avoid her. I hope you willcall on her and be friends. I think she is very sorry, and covets yourfriendship at least. Until September, then, as ever,

ELNORA.

Mrs. Comstock’s note was much the same. Philip was ill with disappointment. Inthe arbour he laid his head on the table, among the implements of Elnora’sloved work, and gulped down dry sobs he could not restrain. Mrs. Comstock neverhad liked him so well. Her hand involuntarily crept toward his dark head, thenshe drew back. Elnora would not want her to do anything whatever to influencehim.

“What am I going to do to convince Edith Carr that I do not love her, andElnora that I am hers?” he demanded.

“I guess you have to figure that out yourself,” said Mrs. Comstock. “I’d beglad to help you if I could, but it seems to be up to you.”

Philip sat a long time in silence. “Well, I have decided!” he said abruptly.“Are you perfectly sure Elnora had plenty of money and a safe place to go?”

“Absolutely!” answered Mrs. Comstock. “She has been taking care of herself eversince she was born, and she always has come out all right, so far; I’ll stakeall I’m worth on it, that she always will. I don’t know where she is, but I’mnot going to worry about her safety.”

“I can’t help worrying!” cried Philip. “I can think of fifty things that mayhappen to her when she thinks she is safe. This is distracting! First, I amgoing to run up to see my father. Then, I’ll let you know what we have decided.Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Nothing!” said Mrs. Comstock.

But the desire to do something for him was so strong with her she scarcelycould keep her lips closed or her hands quiet. She longed to tell him whatEdith Carr had said, how it had affected Elnora, and to comfort him as she feltshe could. But loyalty to the girl held her. If Elnora truly felt that shecould not decide until Edith Carr was convinced, then Edith Carr would have toyield or triumph. It rested with Philip. So Mrs. Comstock kept silent, whilePhilip took the night limited, a bitterly disappointed man.

By noon the next day he was in his father’s offices. They had a longconference, but did not arrive at much until the elder Ammon suggested sendingfor Polly. Anything that might have happened could be explained after Polly hadtold of the private conference between Edith and Elnora.

“Talk about lovely woman!” cried Philip Ammon. “One would think that after sucha dose as Edith gave me, she would be satisfied to let me go my way, but no!Not caring for me enough herself to save me from public disgrace, she must nowpursue me to keep any other woman from loving me. I call that too much! I amgoing to see her, and I want you to go with me, father.”

“Very well,” said Mr. Ammon, “I will go.”

When Edith Carr came into her reception-room that afternoon, gowned forconquest, she expected only Philip, and him penitent. She came hurrying towardhim, smiling, radiant, ready to use every allurement she possessed, and pausedin dismay when she saw his cold face and his father. “Why, Phil!” she cried.“When did you come home?”

“I am not at home,” answered Philip. “I merely ran up to see my father onbusiness, and to inquire of you what it was you said to Miss Comstock yesterdaythat caused her to disappear before I could return to the Limberlost.”

“Miss Comstock disappear! Impossible!” cried Edith Carr. “Where could she go?”

“I thought perhaps you could answer that, since it was through you that shewent.”

“Phil, I haven’t the faintest idea where she is,” said the girl gently.

“But you know perfectly why she went! Kindly tell me that.”

“Let me see you alone, and I will.”

“Here and now, or not at all.”

“Phil!”

“What did you say to the girl I love?”

Then Edith Carr stretched out her arms.

“Phil, I am the girl you love!” she cried. “All your life you have loved me.Surely it cannot be all gone in a few weeks of misunderstanding. I was jealousof her! I did not want you to leave me an instant that night for any other girlliving. That was the moth I was representing. Every one knew it! I wanted youto bring it to me. When you did not, I knew instantly it had been for her thatyou worked last summer, she who suggested my dress, she who had power to takeyou from me, when I wanted you most. The thought drove me mad, and I said anddid those insane things. Phil, I beg your pardon! I ask your forgiveness.Yesterday she said that you had told her of me at once. She vowed both of youhad been true to me and Phil, I couldn’t look into her eyes and not see that itwas the truth. Oh, Phil, if you understood how I have suffered you wouldforgive me. Phil, I never knew how much I cared for you! I will doanything—anything!”

“Then tell me what you said to Elnora yesterday that drove her, alone andfriendless, into the night, heaven knows where!”

“You have no thought for any one save her?”

“Yes,” said Philip. “I have. Because I once loved you, and believed in you, myheart aches for you. I will gladly forgive anything you ask. I will do anythingyou want, except to resume our former relations. That is impossible. It ishopeless and useless to ask it.”

“You truly mean that!”

“Yes.”

“Then find out from her what I said!”

“Come, father,” said Philip, rising.

“You were going to show Miss Comstock’s letter to Edith!” suggested Mr. Ammon.

“I have not the slightest interest in Miss Comstock’s letter,” said Edith Carr.

“You are not even interested in the fact that she says you are not responsiblefor her going, and that I am to call on you and be friends with you?”

“That is interesting, indeed!” sneered Miss Carr.

She took the letter, read and returned it.

“She has done what she could for my cause, it seems,” she said coldly. “Howvery generous of her! Do you propose calling out Pinkertons and instituting ageneral search?”

“No,” replied Philip. “I simply propose to go back to the Limberlost and livewith her mother, until Elnora becomes convinced that I am not courting you, andnever shall be. Then, perhaps, she will come home to us. Good-bye. Good luck toyou always!”

CHAPTER XXIV

WHEREIN EDITH CARR WAGES A BATTLE, AND HART HENDERSON STANDS GUARD

Many people looked, a few followed, when Edith Carr slowly came down the mainstreet of Mackinac, pausing here and there to note the glow of colour in onesmall booth after another, overflowing with gay curios. That street of packedwhite sand, winding with the curves of the shore, outlined with brilliantshops, and thronged with laughing, bare-headed people in outing costumes was apicturesque and fascinating sight. Thousands annually made long journeys andpaid exorbitant prices to take part in that pageant.

As Edith Carr passed, she was the most distinguished figure of the old street.Her clinging black gown was sufficiently elaborate for a dinner dress. On herhead was a large, wide, drooping-brimmed black hat, with immense floating blackplumes, while on the brim, and among the laces on her breast glowed velvety,deep red roses. Some way these made up for the lack of colour in her cheeks andlips, and while her eyes seemed unnaturally bright, to a close observer theyappeared weary. Despite the effort she made to move lightly she was very tired,and dragged her heavy feet with an effort.

She turned at the little street leading to the dock, and went to meet the biglake steamer ploughing up the Straits from Chicago. Past the landing place, onto the very end of the pier she went, then sat down, leaned against a docksupport and closed her tired eyes. When the steamer came very close shelanguidly watched the people lining the railing. Instantly she marked one leananxious face turned toward hers, and with a throb of pity she lifted a hand andwaved to Hart Henderson. He was the first man to leave the boat, coming to herinstantly. She spread her trailing skirts and motioned him to sit beside her.Silently they looked across the softly lapping water. At last she forcedherself to speak to him.

“Did you have a successful trip?”

“I accomplished my purpose.”

“You didn’t lose any time getting back.”

“I never do when I am coming to you.”

“Do you want to go to the cottage for anything?”

“No.”

“Then let us sit here and wait until the Petoskey steamer comes in. I like towatch the boats. Sometimes I study the faces, if I am not too tired.”

“Have you seen any new types to-day?”

She shook her head. “This has not been an easy day, Hart.”

“And it’s going to be worse,” said Henderson bitterly. “There’s no use puttingit off. Edith, I saw some one to-day.”

“You should have seen thousands,” she said lightly.

“I did. But of them all, only one will be of interest to you.”

“Man or woman?”

“Man.”

“Where?”

“Lake Shore private hospital.”

“An accident?”

“No. Nervous and physical breakdown.”

“Phil said he was going back to the Limberlost.”

“He went. He was there three weeks, but the strain broke him. He has an oldletter in his hands that he has handled until it is ragged. He held it up to meand said: ‘You can see for yourself that she says she will be well and happy,but we can’t know until we see her again, and that may never be. She may havegone too near that place her father went down, some of that Limberlost gang mayhave found her in the forest, she may lie dead in some city morgue thisinstant, waiting for me to find her body.’”

“Hart! For pity sake stop!”

“I can’t,” cried Henderson desperately. “I am forced to tell you. They arefighting brain fever. He did go back to the swamp and he prowled it night andday. The days down there are hot now, and the nights wet with dew and cold. Hepaid no attention and forgot his food. A fever started and his uncle broughthim home. They’ve never had a word from her, or found a trace of her. Mrs.Comstock thought she had gone to O’Mores’ at Great Rapids, so when Phil brokedown she telegraphed there. They had been gone all summer, so her mother is asanxious as Phil.”

“The O’Mores are here,” said Edith. “I haven’t seen any of them, because Ihaven’t gone out much in the few days since we came, but this is their summerhome.”

“Edith, they say at the hospital that it will take careful nursing to savePhil. He is surrounded by stacks of maps and railroad guides. He is trying toframe up a plan to set the entire detective agency of the country to work. Hesays he will stay there just two days longer. The doctors say he will killhimself when he goes. He is a sick man, Edith. His hands are burning and shakyand his breath was hot against my face.”

“Why are you telling me?” It was a cry of acute anguish.

“He thinks you know where she is.”

“I do not! I haven’t an idea! I never dreamed she would go away when she hadhim in her hand! I should not have done it!”

“He said it was something you said to her that made her go.”

“That may be, but it doesn’t prove that I know where she went.”

Henderson looked across the water and suffered keenly. At last he turned toEdith and laid a firm, strong hand over hers.

“Edith,” he said, “do you realize how serious this is?”

“I suppose I do.”

“Do you want as fine a fellow as Philip driven any further? If he leaves thathospital now, and goes out to the exposure and anxiety of a search for her,there will be a tragedy that no after regrets can avert. Edith, what did yousay to Miss Comstock that made her run away from Phil?”

The girl turned her face from him and sat still, but the man gripping her handsand waiting in agony could see that she was shaken by the jolting of the heartin her breast.

“Edith, what did you say?”

“What difference can it make?”

“It might furnish some clue to her action.”

“It could not possibly.”

“Phil thinks so. He has thought so until his brain is worn enough to give way.Tell me, Edith!”

“I told her Phil was mine! That if he were away from her an hour and back in mypresence, he would be to me as he always has been.”

“Edith, did you believe that?”

“I would have staked my life, my soul on it!”

“Do you believe it now?”

There was no answer. Henderson took her other hand and holding both of themfirmly he said softly: “Don’t mind me, dear. I don’t count! I’m just old Hart!You can tell me anything. Do you still believe that?”

The beautiful head barely moved in negation. Henderson gathered both her handsin one of his and stretched an arm across her shoulders to the post to supporther. She dragged her hands from him and twisted them together.

“Oh, Hart!” she cried. “It isn’t fair! There is a limit! I have suffered myshare. Can’t you see? Can’t you understand?”

“Yes,” he panted. “Yes, my girl! Tell me just this one thing yet, and I’llcheerfully kill any one who annoys you further. Tell me, Edith!”

Then she lifted her big, dull, pain-filled eyes to his and cried: “No! I do notbelieve it now! I know it is not true! I killed his love for me. It is dead andgone forever. Nothing will revive it! Nothing in all this world. And that isnot all. I did not know how to touch the depths of his nature. I neverdeveloped in him those things he was made to enjoy. He admired me. He was proudto be with me. He thought, and I thought, that he worshipped me; but I know nowthat he never did care for me as he cares for her. Never! I can see it! Iplanned to lead society, to make his home a place sought for my beauty andpopularity. She plans to advance his political ambitions, to make himcomfortable physically, to stimulate his intellect, to bear him a brood ofred-faced children. He likes her and her plans as he never did me and mine. Oh,my soul! Now, are you satisfied?”

She dropped back against his arm exhausted. Henderson held her and learned whatsuffering truly means. He fanned her with his hat, rubbed her cold hands andmurmured broken, incoherent things. By and by slow tears slipped from under herclosed lids, but when she opened them her eyes were dull and hard.

“What a rag one is when the last secret of the soul is torn out and laid bare!”she cried.

Henderson thrust his handkerchief into her fingers and whispered, “Edith, theboat has been creeping up. It’s very close. Maybe some of our crowd are on it.Hadn’t we better slip away from here before it lands?”

“If I can walk,” she said. “Oh, I am so dead tired, Hart!

“Yes, dear,” said Henderson soothingly. “Just try to pass the landing beforethe boat anchors. If I only dared carry you!”

They struggled through the waiting masses, but directly opposite the landingthere was a backward movement in the happy, laughing crowd, the gang-plank camedown with a slam, and people began hurrying from the boat. Crowded against thefish house on the dock, Henderson could only advance a few steps at a time. Hewas straining every nerve to protect and assist Edith. He saw no one herecognized near them, so he slipped his arm across her back to help supporther. He felt her stiffen against him and catch her breath. At the same instant,the clearest, sweetest male voice he ever had heard called: “Be careful there,little men!”

Henderson sent a swift glance toward the boat. Terence O’More had stepped fromthe gang-plank, leading a little daughter, so like him, it was comical. Therefollowed a picture not easy to describe. The Angel in the full flower of herbeauty, richly dressed, a laugh on her cameo face, the setting sun glinting onher gold hair, escorted by her eldest son, who held her hand tightly andcarefully watched her steps. Next came Elnora, dressed with equal richness, atrifle taller and slenderer, almost the same type of colouring, but withdifferent eyes and hair, facial lines and expression. She was led by the secondO’More boy who convulsed the crowd by saying: “Tareful, Elnora! Don’t ’oo be’teppin’ in de water!”

People surged around them, purposely closing them in.

“What lovely women! Who are they? It’s the O’Mores. The lightest one is hiswife. Is that her sister? No, it is his! They say he has a title in England.”

Whispers ran fast and audible. As the crowd pressed around the party an openingwas left beside the fish sheds. Edith ran down the dock. Henderson sprang afterher, catching her arm and assisting her to the street.

“Up the shore! This way!” she panted. “Every one will go to dinner the firstthing they do.”

They left the street and started around the beach, but Edith was breathlessfrom running, while the yielding sand made difficult walking.

“Help me!” she cried, clinging to Henderson. He put his arm around her, almostcarrying her from sight into a little cove walled by high rocks at the back,while there was a clean floor of white sand, and logs washed from the lake forseats. He found one of these with a back rest, and hurrying down to the waterhe soaked his handkerchief and carried it to her. She passed it across herlips, over her eyes, and then pressed the palms of her hands upon it. Hendersonremoved the heavy hat, fanned her with his, and wet the handkerchief again.

“Hart, what makes you?” she said wearily. “My mother doesn’t care. She saysthis is good for me. Do you think this is good for me, Hart?”

“Edith, you know I would give my life if I could save you this,” he said, andcould not speak further.

She leaned against him, closed her eyes and lay silent so long the man fellinto panic.

“Edith, you are not unconscious?” he whispered, touching her.

“No, just resting. Please don’t leave me.”

He held her carefully, gently fanning her. She was suffering almost more thaneither of them could endure.

“I wish you had your boat,” she said at last. “I want to sail with the wind inmy face.”

“There is no wind. I can bring my motor around in a few minutes.”

“Then get it.”

“Lie on the sand. I can ’phone from the first booth. It won’t take but a littlewhile.”

Edith lay on the white sand, and Henderson covered her face with her hat. Thenhe ran to the nearest booth and talked imperatively. Presently he was backbringing a hot drink that was stimulating. Shortly the motor ran close to thebeach and stopped. Henderson’s servant brought a row-boat ashore and took themto the launch. It was filled with cushions and wraps. Henderson made a couchand soon, warmly covered, Edith sped out over the water in search of peace.

Hour after hour the boat ran up and down the shore. The moon arose and thenight air grew very chilly. Henderson put on an overcoat and piled more coverson Edith.

“You must take me home,” she said at last. “The folks will be uneasy.”

He was compelled to take her to the cottage with the battle still raging. Hewent back early the next morning, but already she had wandered out over theisland. Instinctively Henderson felt that the shore would attract her. Therewas something in the tumult of rough little Huron’s waves that called to him.It was there he found her, crouching so close the water the foam was dampeningher skirts.

“May I stay?” he asked.

“I have been hoping you would come,” she answered. “It’s bad enough when youare here, but it is a little easier than bearing it alone.”

“Thank God for that!” said Henderson sitting beside her. “Shall I talk to you?”

She shook her head. So they sat by the hour. At last she spoke: “Of course, youknow there is something I have got to do, Hart!”

“You have not!” cried Henderson, violently. “That’s all nonsense! Give me justone word of permission. That is all that is required of you.”

“‘Required?’ You grant, then, that there is something ‘required?’”

“One word. Nothing more.”

“Did you ever know one word could be so big, so black, so desperately bitter?Oh, Hart!”

“No.”

“But you know it now, Hart!”

“Yes.”

“And still you say that it is ‘required?’”

Henderson suffered unspeakably. At last he said: “If you had seen and heardhim, Edith, you, too, would feel that it is ‘required.’ Remember——”

“No! No! No!” she cried. “Don’t ask me to remember even the least of my prideand folly. Let me forget!”

She sat silent for a long time.

“Will you go with me?” she whispered.

“Of course.”

At last she arose.

“I might as well give up and have it over,” she faltered.

That was the first time in her life that Edith Carr ever had proposed to giveup anything she wanted.

“Help me, Hart!”

Henderson started around the beach assisting her all he could. Finally hestopped.

“Edith, there is no sense in this! You are too tired to go. You know you cantrust me. You wait in any of these lovely places and send me. You will be safe,and I’ll run. One word is all that is necessary.”

“But I’ve got to say that word myself, Hart!”

“Then write it, and let me carry it. The message is not going to prove who wentto the office and sent it.”

“That is quite true,” she said, dropping wearily, but she made no movement totake the pen and paper he offered.

“Hart, you write it,” she said at last.

Henderson turned away his face. He gripped the pen, while his breath suckedbetween his dry teeth.

“Certainly!” he said when he could speak. “Mackinac, August 27, 1908. PhilipAmmon, Lake Shore Hospital, Chicago.” He paused with suspended pen and glancedat Edith. Her white lips were working, but no sound came. “Miss Comstock iswith the Terence O’Mores, on Mackinac Island,” prompted Henderson.

Edith nodded.

“Signed, Henderson,” continued the big man.

Edith shook her head.

“Say, ‘She is well and happy,’ and sign, Edith Carr!” she panted.

“Not on your life!” flashed Henderson.

“For the love of mercy, Hart, don’t make this any harder! It is the least I cando, and it takes every ounce of strength in me to do it.”

“Will you wait for me here?” he asked.

She nodded, and, pulling his hat lower over his eyes, Henderson ran around theshore. In less than an hour he was back. He helped her a little farther towhere the Devil’s Kitchen lay cut into the rocks; it furnished places to rest,and cool water. Before long his man came with the boat. From it they spreadblankets on the sand for her, and made chafing-dish tea. She tried to refuseit, but the fragrance overcame her for she drank ravenously. Then Hendersoncooked several dishes and spread an appetizing lunch. She was young, strong,and almost famished for food. She was forced to eat. That made her feel muchbetter. Then Henderson helped her into the boat and ran it through shady covesof the shore, where there were refreshing breezes. When she fell asleep thegirl did not know, but the man did. Sadly in need of rest himself, he ran thatboat for five hours through quiet bays, away from noisy parties, and where theshade was cool and deep. When she awoke he took her home, and as they went sheknew that she had been mistaken. She would not die. Her heart was not evenbroken. She had suffered horribly; she would suffer more; but eventually thepain must wear out. Into her head crept a few lines of an old opera:

“Hearts do not break, they sting and ache,
For old love’s sake, but do not die,
As witnesseth the living I.”

That evening they were sailing down the Straits before a stiff breeze andHenderson was busy with the tiller when she said to him: “Hart, I want you todo something more for me.”

“You have only to tell me,” he said.

“Have I only to tell you, Hart?” she asked softly.

“Haven’t you learned that yet, Edith?”

“I want you to go away.”

“Very well,” he said quietly, but his face whitened visibly.

“You say that as if you had been expecting it.”

“I have. I knew from the beginning that when this was over you would dislike mefor having seen you suffer. I have grown my Gethsemane in a full realization ofwhat was coming, but I could not leave you, Edith, so long as it seemed to methat I was serving you. Does it make any difference to you where I go?”

“I want you where you will be loved, and good care taken of you.”

“Thank you!” said Henderson, smiling grimly. “Have you any idea where such aspot might be found?”

“It should be with your sister at Los Angeles. She always has seemed very fondof you.”

“That is quite true,” said Henderson, his eyes brightening a little. “I will goto her. When shall I start?”

“At once.”

Henderson began to tack for the landing, but his hands shook until he scarcelycould manage the boat. Edith Carr sat watching him indifferently, but her heartwas throbbing painfully. “Why is there so much suffering in the world?” shekept whispering to herself. Inside her door Henderson took her by the shouldersalmost roughly.

“For how long is this, Edith, and how are you going to say good-bye to me?”

She raised tired, pain-filled eyes to his.

“I don’t know for how long it is,” she said. “It seems now as if it had been aslow eternity. I wish to my soul that God would be merciful to me and makesomething ‘snap’ in my heart, as there did in Phil’s, that would give me rest.I don’t know for how long, but I’m perfectly shameless with you, Hart. If peaceever comes and I want you, I won’t wait for you to find it out yourself, I’llcable, Marconigraph, anything. As for how I say good-bye; any way you please, Idon’t care in the least what happens to me.”

Henderson studied her intently.

“In that case, we will shake hands,” he said. “Good-bye, Edith. Don’t forgetthat every hour I am thinking of you and hoping all good things will come toyou soon.”

CHAPTER XXV

WHEREIN PHILIP FINDS ELNORA, AND EDITH CARR OFFERS A YELLOW EMPEROR

“Oh, I need my own violin,” cried Elnora. “This one may be a thousand timesmore expensive, and much older than mine; but it wasn’t inspired and taught tosing by a man who knew how. It doesn’t know ‘beans,’ as mother would say, aboutthe Limberlost.”

The guests in the O’More music-room laughed appreciatively.

“Why don’t you write your mother to come for a visit and bring yours?”suggested Freckles.

“I did that three days ago,” acknowledged Elnora. “I am half expecting her onthe noon boat. That is one reason why this violin grows worse every minute.There is nothing at all the matter with me.”

“Splendid!” cried the Angel. “I’ve begged and begged her to do it. I know howanxious these mothers become. When did you send? What made you? Why didn’t youtell me?”

“‘When?’ Three days ago. ‘What made me?’ You. ‘Why didn’t I tell you?’ BecauseI can’t be sure in the least that she will come. Mother is the most individualperson. She never does what every one expects she will. She may not come, and Ididn’t want you to be disappointed.”

“How did I make you?” asked the Angel.

“Loving Alice. It made me realize that if you cared for your girl like that,with Mr. O’More and three other children, possibly my mother, with no one,might like to see me. I know I want to see her, and you had told me to sooften, I just sent for her. Oh, I do hope she comes! I want her to see thislovely place.”

“I have been wondering what you thought of Mackinac,” said Freckles.

“Oh, it is a perfect picture, all of it! I should like to hang it on the wall,so I could see it whenever I wanted to; but it isn’t real, of course; it’snothing but a picture.”

“These people won’t agree with you,” smiled Freckles.

“That isn’t necessary,” retorted Elnora. “They know this, and they love it; butyou and I are acquainted with something different. The Limberlost is life. Hereit is a carefully kept park. You motor, sail, and golf, all so secure and fine.But what I like is the excitement of choosing a path carefully, in the fearthat the quagmire may reach out and suck me down; to go into the swampnaked-handed and wrest from it treasures that bring me books and clothing, andI like enough of a fight for things that I always remember how I got them. Ieven enjoy seeing a canny old vulture eyeing me as if it were saying: ’Ware thesting of the rattler, lest I pick your bones as I did old Limber’s.’ I likesufficient danger to put an edge on life. This is so tame. I should have lovedit when all the homes were cabins, and watchers for the stealthy Indian canoespatrolled the shores. You wait until mother comes, and if my violin isn’t angrywith me for leaving it, to-night we shall sing you the Song of the Limberlost.You shall hear the big gold bees over the red, yellow, and purple flowers, birdsong, wind talk, and the whispers of Sleepy Snake Creek, as it goes past you.You will know!” Elnora turned to Freckles.

He nodded. “Who better?” he asked. “This is secure while the children are sosmall, but when they grow larger, we are going farther north, into real forest,where they can learn self-reliance and develop backbone.”

Elnora laid away the violin. “Come along, children,” she said. “We must get atthat backbone business at once. Let’s race to the playhouse.”

With the brood at her heels Elnora ran, and for an hour lively sounds stolefrom the remaining spot of forest on the Island, which lay beside the O’Morecottage. Then Terry went to the playroom to bring Alice her doll. He cameracing back, dragging it by one leg, and crying: “There’s company! Someone hascome that mamma and papa are just tearing down the house over. I saw throughthe window.”

“It could not be my mother, yet,” mused Elnora. “Her boat is not due untiltwelve. Terry, give Alice that doll——”

“It’s a man-person, and I don’t know him, but my father is shaking his handright straight along, and my mother is running for a hot drink and a cushion.It’s a kind of a sick person, but they are going to make him well right away,any one can see that. This is the best place.

“I’ll go tell him to come lie on the pine needles in the sun and watch thesails go by. That will fix him!”

“Watch sails go by,” chanted Little Brother. “‘A fix him! Elnora fix him, won’tyou?”

“I don’t know about that,” answered Elnora. “What sort of person is he, Terry?”

“A beautiful white person; but my father is going to ‘colour him up,’ I heardhim say so. He’s just out of the hospital, and he is a bad person, ’cause heran away from the doctors and made them awful angry. But father and mother aregoing to doctor him better. I didn’t know they could make sick people well.”

“’Ey do anyfing!” boasted Little Brother.

Before Elnora missed her, Alice, who had gone to investigate, came flyingacross the shadows and through the sunshine waving a paper. She thurst it intoElnora’s hand.

“There is a man-person—a stranger-person!” she shouted. “But he knowsyou! He sent you that! You are to be the doctor! He said so! Oh, do hurry! Ilike him heaps!”

Elnora read Edith Carr’s telegram to Philip Ammon and understood that he hadbeen ill, that she had been located by Edith who had notified him. In so doingshe had acknowledged defeat. At last Philip was free. Elnora looked up with aradiant face.

“I like him ‘heaps’ myself!” she cried. “Come on children, we will go tell himso.”

Terry and Alice ran, but Elnora had to suit her steps to Little Brother, whowas her loyal esquire, and would have been heartbroken over desertion andinsulted at being carried. He was rather dragged, but he was arriving, and theemergency was great, he could see that.

“She’s coming!” shouted Alice.

“She’s going to be the doctor!” cried Terry.

“She looked just like she’d seen angels when she read the letter,” explainedAlice.

“She likes you ‘heaps!’ She said so!” danced Terry. “Be waiting! Here she is!”

Elnora helped Little Brother up the steps, then deserted him and came at arush. The stranger-person stood holding out trembling arms.

“Are you sure, at last, runaway?” asked Philip Ammon.

“Perfectly sure!” cried Elnora.

“Will you marry me now?”

“This instant! That is, any time after the noon boat comes in.”

“Why such unnecessary delay?” demanded Ammon.

“It is almost September,” explained Elnora. “I sent for mother three days ago.We must wait until she comes, and we either have to send for Uncle Wesley andAunt Margaret, or go to them. I couldn’t possibly be married properly withoutthose dear people.”

“We will send,” decided Ammon. “The trip will be a treat for them. O’More,would you get off a message at once?”

Every one met the noon boat. They went in the motor because Philip was too weakto walk so far. As soon as people could be distinguished at all Elnora andPhilip sighted an erect figure, with a head like a snowdrift. When thegang-plank fell the first person across it was a lean, red-haired boy ofeleven, carrying a violin in one hand and an enormous bouquet of yellowmarigolds and purple asters in the other. He was beaming with broad smilesuntil he saw Philip. Then his expression changed.

“Aw, say!” he exclaimed reproachfully. “I bet you Aunt Margaret is right. He isgoing to be your beau!”

Elnora stooped to kiss Billy as she caught her mother.

“There, there!” cried Mrs. Comstock. “Don’t knock my headgear into my eye. I’mnot sure I’ve got either hat or hair. The wind blew like bizzem coming up theriver.”

She shook out her skirts, straightened her hat, and came forward to meetPhilip, who took her into his arms and kissed her repeatedly. Then he passedher along to Freckles and the Angel to whom her greetings were mingled withscolding and laughter over her wind-blown hair.

“No doubt I’m a precious spectacle!” she said to the Angel. “I saw your pa alittle before I started, and he sent you a note. It’s in my satchel. He said hewas coming up next week. What a lot of people there are in this world! And whaton earth are all of them laughing about? Did none of them ever hear ofsickness, or sorrow, or death? Billy, don’t you go to playing Indian or chasingwoodchucks until you get out of those clothes. I promised Margaret I’d bringback that suit good as new.”

Then the O’More children came crowding to meet Elnora’s mother.

“Merry Christmas!” cried Mrs. Comstock, gathering them in. “Got everythingright here but the tree, and there seems to be plenty of them a little higherup. If this wind would stiffen just enough more to blow away the people, so onecould see this place, I believe it would be right decent looking.”

“See here,” whispered Elnora to Philip. “You must fix this with Billy. I can’thave his trip spoiled.”

“Now, here is where I dust the rest of ’em!” complacently remarked Mrs.Comstock, as she climbed into the motor car for her first ride, in company withPhilip and Little Brother. “I have been the one to trudge the roads and hop outof the way of these things for quite a spell.”

She sat very erect as the car rolled into the broad main avenue, where onlystray couples were walking. Her eyes began to twinkle and gleam. Suddenly sheleaned forward and touched the driver on the shoulder.

“Young man,” she said, “just you toot that horn suddenly and shave close enougha few of those people, so that I can see how I look when I leap for ragweed andsnake fences.”

The amazed chauffeur glanced questioningly at Philip who slightly nodded. Asecond later there was a quick “honk!” and a swerve at a corner. A manengrossed in conversation grabbed the woman to whom he was talking and dashedfor the safety of a lawn. The woman tripped in her skirts, and as she fell theman caught and dragged her. Both of them turned red faces to the car andberated the driver. Mrs. Comstock laughed in unrestrained enjoyment. Then shetouched the chauffeur again.

“That’s enough,” she said. “It seems a mite risky.” A minute later she added toPhilip, “If only they had been carrying six pounds of butter and ten dozen eggsapiece, wouldn’t that have been just perfect?”

Billy had wavered between Elnora and the motor, but his loyal little soul hadbeen true to her, so the walk to the cottage began with him at her side. Longbefore they arrived the little O’Mores had crowded around and captured Billy,and he was giving them an expurgated version of Mrs. Comstock’s tales of BigFoot and Adam Poe, boasting that Uncle Wesley had been in the camps ofMe-shin-go-me-sia and knew Wa-ca-co-nah before he got religion and dressed likewhite men; while the mighty prowess of Snap as a woodchuck hunter was done fulljustice. When they reached the cottage Philip took Billy aside, showed him theemerald ring and gravely asked his permission to marry Elnora. Billy struggledto be just, but it was going hard with him, when Alice, who kept close enoughto hear, intervened.

“Why don’t you let them get married?” she asked. “You are much too small forher. You wait for me!”

Billy studied her intently. At last he turned to Ammon. “Aw, well! Go on,then!” he said gruffly. “I’ll marry Alice!”

Alice reached her hand. “If you got that settled let’s put on our Indianclothes, call the boys, and go to the playhouse.”

“I haven’t got any Indian clothes,” said Billy ruefully.

“Yes, you have,” explained Alice. “Father bought you some coming from the dock.You can put them on in the playhouse. The boys do.”

Billy examined the playhouse with gleaming eyes.

Never had he encountered such possibilities. He could see a hundred amusingthings to try, and he could not decide which to do first. The most immediateattraction seemed to be a dead pine, held perpendicularly by its fellows, whileits bark had decayed and fallen, leaving a bare, smooth trunk.

“If we just had some grease that would make the dandiest pole to play Fourth ofJuly with!” he shouted.

The children remembered the Fourth. It had been great fun.

“Butter is grease. There is plenty in the ’frigerator,” suggested Alice,speeding away.

Billy caught the cold roll and began to rub it against the tree excitedly.

“How are you going to get it greased to the top?” inquired Terry.

Billy’s face lengthened. “That’s so!” he said. “The thing is to begin at thetop and grease down. I’ll show you!”

Billy put the butter in his handkerchief and took the corners between histeeth. He climbed the pole, greasing it as he slid down.

“Now, I got to try first,” he said, “because I’m the biggest and so I have thebest chance; only the one that goes first hasn’t hardly any chance at all,because he has to wipe off the grease on himself, so the others can get up atlast. See?”

“All right!” said Terry. “You go first and then I will and then Alice. Phew!It’s slick. He’ll never get up.”

Billy wrestled manfully, and when he was exhausted he boosted Terry, and thenboth of them helped Alice, to whom they awarded a prize of her own doll. Asthey rested Billy remembered.

“Do your folks keep cows?” he asked.

“No, we buy milk,” said Terry.

“Gee! Then what about the butter? Maybe your ma needs it for dinner!”

“No, she doesn’t!” cried Alice. “There’s stacks of it! I can have all thebutter I want.”

“Well, I’m mighty glad of it!” said Billy. “I didn’t just think. I’m afraidwe’ve greased our clothes, too.”

“That’s no difference,” said Terry. “We can play what we please in thesethings.”

“Well, we ought to be all dirty, and bloody, and have feathers on us to be realIndians,” said Billy.

Alice tried a handful of dirt on her sleeve and it streaked beautifully.Instantly all of them began smearing themselves.

“If we only had feathers,” lamented Billy.

Terry disappeared and shortly returned from the garage with a feather duster.Billy fell on it with a shriek. Around each one’s head he firmly tied a twistedhandkerchief, and stuck inside it a row of stiffly upstanding feathers.

“Now, if we just only had some pokeberries to paint us red, we’d be real, forsure enough Indians, and we could go on the warpath and fight all the othertribes and burn a lot of them at the stake.”

Alice sidled up to him. “Would huckleberries do?” she asked softly.

“Yes!” shouted Terry, wild with excitement. “Anything that’s a colour.”

Alice made another trip to the refrigerator. Billy crushed the berries in hishands and smeared and streaked all their faces liberally.

“Now are we ready?” asked Alice.

Billy collapsed. “I forgot the ponies! You got to ride ponies to go on thewarpath!”

“You ain’t neither!” contradicted Terry. “It’s the very latest style to go onthe warpath in a motor. Everybody does! They go everywhere in them. They aremuch faster and better than any old ponies.”

Billy gave one genuine whoop. “Can we take your motor?”

Terry hesitated.

“I suppose you are too little to run it?” said Billy.

“I am not!” flashed Terry. “I know how to start and stop it, and I drive lotsfor Stephens. It is hard to turn over the engine when you start.”

“I’ll turn it,” volunteered Billy. “I’m strong as anything.”

“Maybe it will start without. If Stephens has just been running it, sometimesit will. Come on, let’s try.”

Billy straightened up, lifted his chin and cried: “Houpe! Houpe! Houpe!”

The little O’Mores stared in amazement.

“Why don’t you come on and whoop?” demanded Billy. “Don’t you know how? You aregreat Indians! You got to whoop before you go on the warpath. You ought to killa bat, too, and see if the wind is right. But maybe the engine won’t run if wewait to do that. You can whoop, anyway. All together now!”

They did whoop, and after several efforts the cry satisfied Billy, so he ledthe way to the big motor, and took the front seat with Terry. Alice and LittleBrother climbed into the back.

“Will it go?” asked Billy, “or do we have to turn it?”

“It will go,” said Terry as the machine gently slid out into the avenue andstarted under his guidance.

“This is no warpath!” scoffed Billy. “We got to go a lot faster than this, andwe got to whoop. Alice, why don’t you whoop?”

Alice arose, took hold of the seat in front and whooped.

“If I open the throttle, I can’t squeeze the bulb to scare people out of ourway,” said Terry. “I can’t steer and squeeze, too.”

“We’ll whoop enough to get them out of the way. Go faster!” urged Billy.

Billy also stood, lifted his chin and whooped like the wildest little savagethat ever came out of the West. Alice and Little Brother added their voices,and when he was not absorbed with the steering gear, Terry joined in.

“Faster!” shouted Billy.

Intoxicated with the speed and excitement, Terry threw the throttle wider andthe big car leaped forward and sped down the avenue. In it four black,feather-bedecked children whooped in wild glee until suddenly Terry’s war crychanged to a scream of panic.

“The lake is coming!”

“Stop!” cried Billy. “Stop! Why don’t you stop?”

Paralyzed with fear Terry clung to the steering gear and the car sped onward.

“You little fool! Why don’t you stop?” screamed Billy, catching Terry’s arm.“Tell me how to stop!”

A bicycle shot beside them and Freckles standing on the pedals shouted: “Pullout the pin in that little circle at your feet!”

Billy fell on his knees and tugged and the pin yielded at last. Just as thewheels struck the white sand the bicycle sheered close, Freckles caught thelever and with one strong shove set the brake. The water flew as the car struckHuron, but luckily it was shallow and the beach smooth. Hub deep the big motorstood quivering as Freckles climbed in and backed it to dry sand.

Then he drew a deep breath and stared at his brood.

“Terence, would you kindly be explaining?” he said at last.

Billy looked at the panting little figure of Terry.

“I guess I better,” he said. “We were playing Indians on the warpath, and wehadn’t any ponies, and Terry said it was all the style to go in automobilesnow, so we——”

Freckles’s head went back, and he did some whooping himself.

“I wonder if you realize how nearly you came to being four drowned children?”he said gravely, after a time.

“Oh, I think I could swim enough to get most of us out,” said Billy. “Anyway,we need washing.”

“You do indeed,” said Freckles. “I will head this procession to the garage, andthere we will remove the first coat.” For the remainder of Billy’s visit thenurse, chauffeur, and every servant of the O’More household had something ofimportance on their minds, and Billy’s every step was shadowed.

“I have Billy’s consent,” said Philip to Elnora, “and all the other consent youhave stipulated. Before you think of something more, give me your left hand,please.”

Elnora gave it gladly, and the emerald slipped on her finger. Then they wenttogether into the forest to tell each other all about it, and talk it over.

“Have you seen Edith?” asked Philip.

“No,” answered Elnora. “But she must be here, or she may have seen me when wewent to Petoskey a few days ago. Her people have a cottage over on the bluff,but the Angel never told me until to-day. I didn’t want to make that trip, butthe folks were so anxious to entertain me, and it was only a few days until Iintended to let you know myself where I was.”

“And I was going to wait just that long, and if I didn’t hear then I wasgetting ready to turn over the country. I can scarcely realize yet that Edithsent me that telegram.”

“No wonder! It’s a difficult thing to believe. I can’t express how I feel forher.”

“Let us never speak of it again,” said Philip. “I came nearer feeling sorry forher last night than I have yet. I couldn’t sleep on that boat coming over, andI couldn’t put away the thought of what sending that message cost her. I neverwould have believed it possible that she would do it. But it is done. We willforget it.”

“I scarcely think I shall,” said Elnora. “It is something I like to remember.How suffering must have changed her! I would give anything to bring her peace.”

“Henderson came to see me at the hospital a few days ago. He’s gone a ratherwild pace, but if he had been held from youth by the love of a good woman hemight have lived differently. There are things about him one cannot helpadmiring.”

“I think he loves her,” said Elnora softly.

“He does! He always has! He never made any secret of it. He will cut in now anddo his level best, but he told me that he thought she would send him away. Heunderstands her thoroughly.”

Edith Carr did not understand herself. She went to her room after her good-byeto Henderson, lay on her bed and tried to think why she was suffering as shewas.

“It is all my selfishness, my unrestrained temper, my pride in my looks, myambition to be first,” she said. “That is what has caused this trouble.”

Then she went deeper.

“How does it happen that I am so selfish, that I never controlled my temper,that I thought beauty and social position the vital things of life?” shemuttered. “I think that goes a little past me. I think a mother who allows achild to grow up as I did, who educates it only for the frivolities of life,has a share in that child’s ending. I think my mother has some responsibilityin this,” Edith Carr whispered to the night. “But she will recognize none. Shewould laugh at me if I tried to tell her what I have suffered and the bitter,bitter lesson I have learned. No one really cares, but Hart. I’ve sent himaway, so there is no one! No one!”

Edith pressed her fingers across her burning eyes and lay still.

“He is gone!” she whispered at last. “He would go at once. He would not see meagain. I should think he never would want to see me any more. But I will wantto see him! My soul! I want him now! I want him every minute! He is all I have.And I’ve sent him away. Oh, these dreadful days to come, alone! I can’t bearit. Hart! Hart!” she cried aloud. “I want you! No one cares but you. No oneunderstands but you. Oh, I want you!”

She sprang from her bed and felt her way to her desk.

“Get me some one at the Henderson cottage,” she said to Central, and waitedshivering.

“They don’t answer.”

“They are there! You must get them. Turn on the buzzer.”

After a time the sleepy voice of Mrs. Henderson answered.

“Has Hart gone?” panted Edith Carr.

“No! He came in late and began to talk about starting to California. He hasn’tslept in weeks to amount to anything. I put him to bed. There is time enough tostart to California when he awakens. Edith, what are you planning to do nextwith that boy of mine?”

“Will you tell him I want to see him before he goes?”

“Yes, but I won’t wake him.”

“I don’t want you to. Just tell him in the morning.”

“Very well.”

“You will be sure?”

“Sure!”

Hart was not gone. Edith fell asleep. She arose at noon the next day, took acold bath, ate her breakfast, dressed carefully, and leaving word that she hadgone to the forest, she walked slowly across the leaves. It was cool and quietthere, so she sat where she could see him coming, and waited. She was thinkingdeep and fast.

Henderson came swiftly down the path. A long sleep, food, and Edith’s messagehad done him good. He had dressed in new light flannels that were becoming.Edith arose and went to meet him.

“Let us walk in the forest,” she said.

They passed the old Catholic graveyard, and entered the deepest wood of theIsland, where all shadows were green, all voices of humanity ceased, and therewas no sound save the whispering of the trees, a few bird notes and squirrelrustle. There Edith seated herself on a mossy old log, and Henderson studiedher. He could detect a change. She was still pale and her eyes tired, but thedull, strained look was gone. He wanted to hope, but he did not dare. Any otherman would have forced her to speak. The mighty tenderness in Henderson’s heartshielded her in every way.

“What have you thought of that you wanted yet, Edith?” he asked lightly as hestretched himself at her feet.

“You!”

Henderson lay tense and very still.

“Well, I am here!”

“Thank Heaven for that!”

Henderson sat up suddenly, leaning toward her with questioning eyes. Notknowing what he dared say, afraid of the hope which found birth in his heart,he tried to shield her and at the same time to feel his way.

“I am more thankful than I can express that you feel so,” he said. “I would beof use, of comfort, to you if I knew how, Edith.”

“You are my only comfort,” she said. “I tried to send you away. I thought Ididn’t want you. I thought I couldn’t bear the sight of you, because of whatyou have seen me suffer. But I went to the root of this thing last night, Hart,and with self in mind, as usual, I found that I could not live without you.”

Henderson began breathing lightly. He was afraid to speak or move.

“I faced the fact that all this is my own fault,” continued Edith, “and camethrough my own selfishness. Then I went farther back and realized that I am asI was reared. I don’t want to blame my parents, but I was carefully trainedinto what I am. If Elnora Comstock had been like me, Phil would have come backto me. I can see how selfish I seem to him, and how I appear to you, if youwould admit it.”

“Edith,” said Henderson desperately, “there is no use to try to deceive you.You have known from the first that I found you wrong in this. But it’s thefirst time in your life I ever thought you wrong about anything—and it’sthe only time I ever shall. Understand, I think you the bravest, most beautifulwoman on earth, the one most worth loving.”

“I’m not to be considered in the same class with her.”

“I don’t grant that, but if I did, you, must remember how I compare with Phil.He’s my superior at every point. There’s no use in discussing that. You wantedto see me, Edith. What did you want?”

“I wanted you to not go away.”

“Not at all?”

“Not at all! Not ever! Not unless you take me with you, Hart.”

She slightly extended one hand to him. Henderson took that hand, kissing itagain and again.

“Anything you want, Edith,” he said brokenly. “Just as you wish it. Do you wantme to stay here, and go on as we have been?”

“Yes, only with a difference.”

“Can you tell me, Edith?”

“First, I want you to know that you are the dearest thing on earth to me, rightnow. I would give up everything else, before I would you. I can’t honestly saythat I love you with the love you deserve. My heart is too sore. It’s too soonto know. But I love you some way. You are necessary to me. You are my comfort,my shield. If you want me, as you know me to be, Hart, you may consider meyours. I give you my word of honour I will try to be as you would have me, justas soon as I can.”

Henderson kissed her hand passionately. “Don’t, Edith,” he begged. “Don’t saythose things. I can’t bear it. I understand. Everything will come right intime. Love like mine must bring a reward. You will love me some day. I canwait. I am the most patient fellow.”

“But I must say it,” cried Edith. “I—I think, Hart, that I have been onthe wrong road to find happiness. I planned to finish life as I started it withPhil; and you see how glad he was to change. He wanted the other sort of girlfar more than he ever wanted me. And you, Hart, honest, now—I’ll know ifyou don’t tell me the truth! Would you rather have a wife as I planned to livelife with Phil, or would you rather have her as Elnora Comstock intends to livewith him?”

“Edith!” cried the man, “Edith!”

“Of course, you can’t say it in plain English,” said the girl. “You are far toochivalrous for that. You needn’t say anything. I am answered. If you could haveyour choice you wouldn’t have a society wife, either. In your heart you’d likethe smaller home of comfort, the furtherance of your ambitions, the palatablemeals regularly served, and little children around you. I am sick of all wehave grown up to, Hart. When your hour of trouble comes, there is no comfortfor you. I am tired to death. You find out what you want to do, and be, that isa man’s work in the world, and I will plan our home, with no thought save yourcomfort. I’ll be the other kind of a girl, as fast as I can learn. I can’tcorrect all my faults in one day, but I’ll change as rapidly as I can.”

“God knows, I will be different, too, Edith. You shall not be the only generousone. I will make all the rest of life worthy of you. I will change, too!”

“Don’t you dare!” said Edith Carr, taking his head between her hands andholding it against her knees, while the tears slid down her cheeks. “Don’t youdare change, you big-hearted, splendid lover! I am little and selfish. You arethe very finest, just as you are!”

Henderson was not talking then, so they sat through a long silence. At last heheard Edith draw a quick breath, and lifting his head he looked where shepointed. Up a fern stalk climbed a curious looking object. They watchedbreathlessly. By lavender feet clung a big, pursy, lavender-splotched, yellowbody. Yellow and lavender wings began to expand and take on colour. Everyinstant great beauty became more apparent. It was one of those double-broodedfreaks, which do occur on rare occasions, or merely an Eacles Imperialis moththat in the cool damp northern forest had failed to emerge in June. Edith Carrdrew back with a long, shivering breath. Henderson caught her hands and grippedthem firmly. Steadily she looked the thought of her heart into his eyes.

“By all the powers, you shall not!” swore the man. “You have done enough. Iwill smash that thing!”

“Oh no you won’t!” cried the girl, clinging to his hands. “I am not big enoughyet, Hart, but before I leave this forest I shall have grown to breadth andstrength to carry that to her. She needs two of each kind. Phil only sent herone!”

“Edith I can’t bear it! That’s not demanded! Let me take it!”

“You may go with me. I know where the O’More cottage is. I have been thereoften.”

“I’ll say you sent it!”

“You may watch me deliver it!”

“Phil may be there by now.”

“I hope he is! I should like him to see me do one decent thing by which toremember me.”

“I tell you that is not necessary!”

“‘Not necessary!’” cried the girl, her big eyes shining. “Not necessary? Thenwhat on earth is the thing doing here? I just have boasted that I would change,that I would be like her, that I would grow bigger and broader. As the wordsare spoken God gives me the opportunity to prove whether I am sincere. This ismy test, Hart! Don’t you see it? If I am big enough to carry that to her, youwill believe that there is some good in me. You will not be loving me in vain.This is an especial Providence, man! Be my strength! Help me, as you alwayshave done!”

Henderson arose and shook the leaves from his clothing. He drew Edith Carr toher feet and carefully picked the mosses from her skirts. He went to the waterand moistened his handkerchief to bathe her face.

“Now a dust of powder,” he said when the tears were washed away.

From a tiny book Edith tore leaves that she passed over her face.

“All gone!” cried Henderson, critically studying her. “You look almost half aslovely as you really are!”

Edith Carr drew a wavering breath. She stretched one hand to him.

“Hold tight, Hart!” she said. “I know they handle these things, but I wouldquite as soon touch a snake.”

Henderson clenched his teeth and held steadily. The moth had emerged toorecently to be troublesome. It climbed on her fingers quietly and obliginglyclung there without moving. So hand in hand they went down the dark forestpath. When they came to the avenue, the first person they met paused with anejaculation of wonder. The next stopped also, and every one following. Theycould make little progress on account of marvelling, interested people. Astrange excitement took possession of Edith. She began to feel proud of themoth.

“Do you know,” she said to Henderson, “this is growing easier every step. Itsclinging is not disagreeable as I thought it would be. I feel as if I weresaving it, protecting it. I am proud that we are taking it to be put into acollection or a book. It seems like doing a thing worth while. Oh, Hart, I wishwe could work together at something for which people would care as they seem tofor this. Hear what they say! See them lift their little children to look atit!”

“Edith, if you don’t stop,” said Henderson, “I will take you in my arms here onthe avenue. You are adorable!”

“Don’t you dare!” laughed Edith Carr. The colour rushed to her cheeks and a newlight leaped in her eyes.

“Oh, Hart!” she cried. “Let’s work! Let’s do something! That’s the way shemakes people love her so. There’s the place, and thank goodness, there is acrowd.”

“You darling!” whispered Henderson as they passed up the walk. Her face wasrose-flushed with excitement and her eyes shone.

“Hello, everyone!” she cried as she came on the wide veranda. “Only see what wefound up in the forest! We thought you might like to have it for some of yourcollections.”

She held out the moth as she walked straight to Elnora, who arose to meet her,crying: “How perfectly splendid! I don’t even know how to begin to thank you.”

Elnora took the moth. Edith shook hands with all of them and asked Philip if hewere improving. She said a few polite words to Freckles and the Angel, declinedto remain on account of an engagement, and went away, gracefully.

“Well bully for her!” said Mrs. Comstock. “She’s a little thoroughbred afterall!”

“That was a mighty big thing for her to be doing,” said Freckles in a hushedvoice.

“If you knew her as well as I do,” said Philip Ammon, “you would have a betterconception of what that cost.”

“It was a terror!” cried the Angel. “I never could have done it.”

“‘Never could have done it!’” echoed Freckles. “Why, Angel, dear, that is theone thing of all the world you would have done!”

“I have to take care of this,” faltered Elnora, hurrying toward the door tohide the tears which were rolling down her cheeks.

“I must help,” said Philip, disappearing also. “Elnora,” he called, catching upwith her, “take me where I may cry, too. Wasn’t she great?”

“Superb!” exclaimed Elnora. “I have no words. I feel so humbled!”

“So do I,” said Philip. “I think a brave deed like that always makes one feelso. Now are you happy?”

“Unspeakably happy!” answered Elnora.

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