CHAPTER XV
WHEREIN MRS. COMSTOCK FACES THE ALMIGHTY, AND PHILIP AMMON WRITES
A LETTER
Mrs. Comstock and Elnora were finishing breakfast the following
morning when they heard a cheery whistle down the road. Elnora with
surprised eyes looked at her mother.
"Could that be Mr. Ammon?" she questioned.
"I did not expect him so soon," commented Mrs. Comstock.
It was sunrise, but the musician was Philip Ammon. He appeared stronger
than on yesterday.
"I hope I am not too early," he said. "I am consumed
with anxiety to learn if we have made a catch. If we have, we should
beat the birds to it. I promised Uncle Doc to put on my waders and
keep dry for a few days yet, when I go to the woods. Let's hurry!
I am afraid of crows. There might be a rare moth."
The sun was topping the Limberlost when they started. As they neared
the place Philip stopped.
"Now we must use great caution," he said. "The lights
and the odours always attract numbers that don't settle on the baited
trees. Every bush, shrub, and limb may hide a specimen we want."
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 that will escape. The grasses are dripping, and I have
boots, so you look beside the path while I take the outside,"
suggested Ammon.
Mrs. Comstock wanted to hunt moths, but she was timid about making
a wrong movement, so she wisely sat on a log and watched Philip
and Elnora to learn how they proceeded. Back in the deep woods a
hermit thrush was singing his chant to the 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 morning songs
had awakened all the other birds an hour ago. Scolding red-wings
tilted on 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, recently from a hospital, they
seemed too good to miss. He frequently stooped to examine a flower
face, paused to listen intently to the thrush or lifted his head
to see the gold flash which accompanied the oriole's trailing notes.
So Elnora uttered the first cry, as she softly lifted branches and
peered among the grasses.
"My find!" she called. "Bring the box, mother!"
Philip came hurrying also. When they reached her she stood on the
path holding a pair of moths. Her eyes were wide with excitement,
her cheeks pink, her red lips parted, and on the hand she held out
to them clung a pair of delicate blue-green moths, with white bodies,
and touches of lavender and straw colour. All around her lay flower-brocaded
grasses, behind the deep green background of the 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 and altogether 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 box carefully, but the watching mother saw that his eyes
were following the girl's face. 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 Luna moths 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 mine about right."
"I could suggest no improvement," said Philip. "I
never saw a more attractive girl anywhere. She seems absolutely
perfect to me."
"Then suppose you don't start any scheme calculated to spoil
her!" proposed Mrs. Comstock dryly. "I don't think you
can, or that any man could, but I'm not taking any risks. You asked
to come here to help in this work. We are both glad to have you,
if you confine yourself to work; but it's the least you can do to
leave us as you find us."
"I beg your pardon!" said Philip. "I intended no
offence. I admire her as I admire any perfect creation."
"And nothing in all this world spoils the average girl so quickly
and so surely," said Mrs. Comstock. She raised her voice. "Elnora,
fasten up that tag of hair over your left ear. These bushes muss
you so you remind me of a sheep poking its nose through a hedge
fence."
Mrs. Comstock started down the path toward the log again, when she
reached it she called sharply: "Elnora, come here! I believe
I have found something myself."
The "something" was a Citheronia Regalis which had emerged
from its case on the soft earth under the log. It climbed up the
wood, its stout legs dragging a big pursy 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 gone up head. You can put that in a box with a
screen cover to-night, and attract half 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 will lay from two hundred and fifty to three
hundred eggs to-morrow. With any luck at all I can raise two hundred
caterpillars from them. I did once before. And they 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 let that moth out of sight, or anything touch
it. When the wings are expanded and hardened 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. When the right moment comes, it will stop
and expand its wings. If you watch closely you 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 tiny wings were gray, striped with the red and splotched
here and there with markings of canary yellow. Mrs. Comstock watched
breathlessly. Presently she slipped 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 gay wings, wider they spread, brighter grew the markings as
if laid off in geometrical patterns. They could hear Mrs. Comstock's
tense breath and see her absorbed expression.
"Young people," she said solemnly, "if your studying
science and the elements has ever led you to feel that things just
happen, kind of evolve by chance, as it were, this sight will be
good for you. Maybe earth and air accumulate, but it takes the wisdom
of the Almighty God to devise the wing of a moth. If there ever
was a miracle, this whole process is one. Now, as I understand it,
this creature is going to keep on spreading those wings, until they
grow to size and harden to strength sufficient to bear its body.
Then it flies away, mates with its kind, lays its eggs on the leaves
of a certain tree, and the eggs hatch tiny caterpillars which eat
just that kind of leaves, and the worms grow and grow, and take
on different forms and colours until at last they are big caterpillars
six inches long, with large horns. Then they burrow into the earth,
build a water-proof house around themselves from material which
is inside them, and lie through rain and freezing cold for months.
A year from egg laying they come out like this, and begin the process
all over again. They don't eat, they don't see distinctly, they
live but a few days, and fly only at night; 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 the Presence, 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, if I dared. I feel like saying
to Him: `To the extent of my brain power I realize Your presence,
and all it is in me to comprehend of Your power. Help me to learn,
even this late, the lessons of Your wonderful creations. Help me
to unshackle 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,
then suddenly reversed its wings, turned the hidden sides out and
dropped them beside its abdomen, like a large fly. The upper side
of the wings, thus exposed, was far richer colour, more exquisite
texture than the under, and they slowly 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 them rapidly. 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's mine. She's the first one I ever found
this way. Can't you put her in a big box, and let her live, without
hurting her? I can't bear to let her go. I want to learn all about
her."
"Then watch while we gather these on the trees," said
Elnora. "We will take her home until night and then decide
what to do. She won't fly for a long time yet."
Mrs. Comstock settled on the ground, gazing at the moth. Elnora
and Philip went to the baited trees, placing several large moths
and a number of smaller ones in the cyanide jar, and searching the
bushes beyond where they found several paired specimens of differing
families. When they returned Elnora showed her mother how to hold
her hand before the moth so that it would climb upon her fingers.
Then they started back to the cabin, Elnora and Philip leading the
way; Mrs. Comstock followed slowly, stepping with great care lest
she stumble and injure the moth. Her face wore a look of comprehension,
in her eyes was an exalted 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-wing shouted, "O-ka-lee!" to her. Mrs. Comstock
paused and looked intently at the slime- covered quagmire, framed
in a flower riot and homed over by sweet-voiced birds. Then she
gazed at the thing of incomparable beauty clinging to her fingers
and said softly: "If you had known about wonders like these
in the days of 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 beside the 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 hand over her for shelter. Carrying her
through this air and in the hot sunshine will dry her wings and
make them ready for flight very quickly. You can't trust her 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 a pitiful little smile that Mrs. Comstock understood. Philip
set his load at the back 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 mother bent swiftly
and kissed the girl on the lips. Philip turned and was busily hunting
moths on the raspberry bushes when they reached the gate. And so
excellent are the rewards of attending your own business, that he
found a Promethea on a lilac in a corner; a moth of such rare wine-coloured,
velvety shades that it almost sent Mrs. Comstock to her knees again.
But this one was fully 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 with amusement at the tall, spare figure, with dark eyes
and white crown, asking the childish question so confidingly; and
Elnora with pride. She was beginning to appreciate 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 everything necessary for mounting and classifying the moths
they had taken. When the housework was finished Mrs. Comstock with
her ruffle sat near, watching and listening. She remembered all
they said that she understood, and when uncertain she asked questions.
Occasionally she laid down her work to straighten some flower which
needed attention or to search the garden for a bug for the grosbeak.
In one of these absences Elnora said to Philip: "These replace
quite a number of the moths I lost for the man of India. With a
week of such luck, I could almost begin to talk college again."
"There is no reason why you should not have the week and the
luck," said he. "I have taken moths until the middle of
August, though I suspect one is more likely to find late ones in
the north where it is colder than here. The next week is hay-time,
but we can count on a few double-brooders and strays, and by working
the exchange method for all it is worth, I think we can complete
the collection again."
"You almost make me hope," said Elnora, "but I must
not allow myself. I don't truly think I can replace all I lost,
not even with your help. If I could, I scarcely see my way clear
to leave mother this winter. I have found her so recently, and she
is so precious, I can't risk losing her again. I am going to take
the nature position in the Onabasha schools, and I shall be most
happy doing 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 the arbour.
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," he explained, "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 relief spreading over her face.
"Oh, all girls want to go to college," said Philip. "It's
the only proper place to learn bridge and embroidery; not to mention
midnight lunches of mixed pickles and fruit cake, and all the delights
of the sororities."
"I have thought for years of going to college," said Elnora,
"but I never thought 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! Lunches and 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
she knows half as much really worth knowing as you do, but she's
ahead of you miles on fun."
"Oh, we had some good times in the high school," said
Elnora. "Life hasn't been all 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. "She is 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 bath to 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 perfectly good' moth."
"Is your sister younger than you?" inquired Elnora.
"Yes," said Philip, "but she is three years older
than you. She is the dearest sister 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 us catch moths."
"Yes, I think Polly in a Virot hat, Picot embroidered frock
and three-inch heels 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 the country. He trained me his way and mother took
charge of Polly. I don't quite understand it. Mother is a great
home body herself, but she did succeed in making Polly strictly
ornamental."
"Does Tom Levering need a `strictly ornamental' girl?"
"You are too matter of fact! Too `strictly' material. He needs
a darling girl who 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 changed my mind. I don't want Polly here.
She would not enjoy catching moths, or anything we do."
"She might," persisted Elnora. "You are her brother,
and surely you care for these things."
"The argument does not hold," said Philip. "Polly
and I do not like the same things when we are at home, but we are
very fond of each other. The member of my family who would go crazy
about this is my father. I wish he could come, if only for a week.
I'd send for him, but he is tied up in preparing some papers for
a great corporation case this summer. He likes the country. It was
his vote that brought me here."
Philip leaned back against the arbour, watching the grosbeak as
it hunted food between a tomato vine and a day lily. Elnora set
him to making labels, and when he finished them he asked permission
to write a letter. He took no pains to conceal his page, and from
where she sat opposite him, Elnora could not look his way without
reading: "My dearest Edith." He wrote busily for a time
and then 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 rapidly as possible, that the air is fine,
the folks at Uncle Doc's all well, and entirely too good to me;
that I am spending most of my time in the country helping catch
moths for a collection, which is splendid exercise; now I can't
think 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 him you 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 a large nose. She'd never dream that
it was a black-robed lover, with a breast of snow and a crimson
heart. She doesn't care for hungry babies and potato bugs. I shall
write that to father. He will find it delightful."
Elnora deftly picked up a moth, pinned it and placed its wings.
She straightened the antennae, drew each leg into position and set
it in perfectly lifelike manner. As she lifted her work to see if
she had it right, she glanced at 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 a log cabin where I had my dinner. From
where I sit I can see directly into the home of the next-door neighbour
on the west. His name is R. B. Grosbeak. From all I have seen of
him, he is a gentleman of the old school; the oldest school there
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 some ancient order. I have been here a number of times, and I
never have seen him wear anything else, or his wife appear in other
than a brown dress with touches of white.
"It has appealed to me at times that she was a shade neglectful
of her home duties, but he does not seem to feel that way. He cheerfully
stays in the sitting-room, while she is away having a good time,
and sings while he cares for the four small children. I must tell
you about his music. I am sure he never saw inside a conservatory.
I think he merely picked up what he knows by ear and without vocal
training, but there is a tenderness in his tones, a depth of pure
melody, that I never have heard surpassed. It may be that I think
more of his music than that of some other good vocalists hereabout,
because I see more 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 a small 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 almost persuaded to-- Now this is going
to be poetry," said Elnora. "Move your pen over here and
begin with a quote and a cap."
Philip's face had been an interesting study while he wrote her sentences.
Now he 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. Go on!"
"That's all," said Elnora. "You can finish. The moths
are done. I am going hunting 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 the bargain. Maybe you won't send the letter when you hear
that. The remainder is that you show me the reply to my part of
it."
"Oh, that's easy! I wouldn't have the slightest objection to
showing you the whole 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 you spare me? Where do you want to go?"
"We will go down to Aunt Margaret's and see her a few minutes
and get Billy. We will be back in time for supper."
Mrs. Comstock smiled as she watched them down the road. What a splendid-looking
pair of young creatures they were! How finely proportioned, how
full of vitality! 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 a stranger, she saw Elnora stoop
to lift a branch and peer under. The mother grew content. Elnora
was thinking only of her work. She was to be trusted utterly.