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

“Yes,” said Elnora. “Great 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 that the 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.

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

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

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

“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 to my list. I can use all that are whole.” (46-47)