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 fed the chickens and pigs, swept two of the rooms of the
cabin, built a fire, and put on the kettle for breakfast. Then she
climbed the narrow stairs to the attic she had occupied since a
very small child, and dressed in the hated shoes and 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 am perfectly positive I shall not find them
lying beside the road wrapped in tissue paper, and tagged with my
name."
She went toward the city as on yesterday. Her perplexity as to where
tuition and books were to come from was worse but she did not feel
quite so badly. She never again would have to face all of it for
the first time. There had been times yesterday when she had prayed
to be hidden, or to drop dead, and neither had happened. "I
believe the best way to get an answer to prayer is to work for it,"
muttered Elnora grimly.
Again she followed the trail to the swamp, rearranged her hair and
left the tin pail. This time she folded a couple of sandwiches in
the napkin, and tied them in a neat light paper parcel which she
carried in her hand. Then she hurried along the road to Onabasha
and found a book-store. There she asked the prices of the list of
books that she needed, and learned that six dollars would not quite
supply them. She anxiously inquired for second-hand books, but was
told that the only way to secure them was from the last year's Freshmen.
Just then Elnora felt that she positively could not approach any
of those she supposed to be Sophomores and ask to buy their old
books. The only balm the girl could see for the humiliation of yesterday
was to appear that day with a set of new books.
"Do you wish these?" asked the clerk hurriedly, for the
store was rapidly filling 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 let me take them, and I will pay for them
on Friday, or return them as perfect as they are. Please trust me
for them a few days."
"I'll ask the proprietor," he said. When he came back
Elnora knew the answer before he spoke.
"I'm sorry," he said, "but Mr. Hann doesn't recognize
your name. You are not a customer 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 a hammer on her brain. She tried two other dealers with the same
result, and then in sick despair came into the street. What could
she do? She was too frightened to think. Should she stay from school
that day and canvass the homes appearing to belong to the wealthy,
and try to sell beds of wild ferns, as she had suggested to Wesley
Sinton? What would she dare ask for bringing in and planting a clump
of ferns? How could she carry them? Would people buy them? She slowly
moved past the hotel and then glanced around to see if there were
a clock anywhere, for she felt sure the young people passing her
constantly were on 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 herself against 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 she lives?"
"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 to school, or to the Bird Woman? Several girls passed her
walking swiftly and she remembered their faces. They were hurrying
to school. Elnora caught the infection. She would see the Bird Woman
at noon. Algebra came first, and that professor was kind. Perhaps
she could slip to the superintendent and ask him for a book for
the next lesson, and at noon--"Oh, dear Lord make it come true,"
prayed Elnora, at noon possibly she could sell some of those wonderful
shining-winged things she had been collecting all her life around
the outskirts of the Limberlost.
As she went down the long hall she noticed the professor of mathematics
standing in the door of his recitation room. When she passed him
he smiled and spoke 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 a pupil had betrayed in class that she had expected her books
to be furnished by the 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 you had expected that, you might require
a little time to secure them, and you are too fine a mathematician
to fall behind for want of supplies. So I telephoned one of our
Sophomores to bring her last year's books this morning. I am sorry
to say they are somewhat abused, but the text is all here. You can
have them for 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 reached both hands for the books, and said never a word. The
professor was silent also. At last Eleanor arose, hugging those
books to her heart as a mother clasps a baby.
"One thing more," said the professor. "You may pay
your tuition quarterly. You need not bother about the first instalment
this month. Any time in October will do."
It seemed as if Elnora's gasp of relief must have reached the soles
of her brogans.
"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 at his pupils through spectacles, no one ever had.
"No," said Professor Henley, "I've waited some time
for that; for which reason I shall appreciate it all the more. Come
now, or we shall be late for opening exercises."
So Elnora entered the auditorium a second time. Her face was like
the brightest dawn that ever broke over the Limberlost. No matter
about the lumbering shoes and skimpy dress. No matter about anything,
she had the books. She could take them home. In her garret she could
commit them to memory, if need be. She could prove that clothes
were not all. If the Bird Woman did not want any of the many different
kinds of specimens she had collected, she was quite sure now she
could sell ferns, nuts, and a great many things. Then, too, a girl
made a place for her that morning, and several smiled and bowed.
Elnora forgot everything save her books, and that she was where
she could use them intelligently--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 when she agreed to her coming.
At noon Elnora took her little parcel of lunch and started to the
home of the Bird Woman. She must know about the specimens first
and then she would walk to the suburbs somewhere and eat a few bites.
She dropped the heavy iron knocker on the door of a big red log
cabin, and her heart thumped at the resounding stroke.
"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 any one with specimens right in. Come this way."
Elnora followed down the hall and entered a long room with high
panelled wainscoting, old English fireplace with an overmantel and
closets of peculiar china filling the corners. At a bare table of
oak, yellow as gold, sat a woman Elnora often had watched and followed
covertly around the Limberlost. The Bird Woman 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. Sit down and lunch with me, while
we talk it over. From the Limberlost, did you say?"
"I live near the swamp," replied Elnora. "Since it's
so cleared I dare go around the edge in daytime, though we are all
afraid at night."
"What have you collected?" asked the Bird Woman, as she
helped Elnora to sandwiches unlike any she ever before had tasted,
salad that seemed to be made of many familiar things, and a cup
of hot chocolate that would have delighted any 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 everything outdoors, so I made friends
and playmates of them. When I learned that the moths die so soon,
I saved them especially, because there seemed no wickedness in it."
"I have thought the same thing," said the Bird Woman encouragingly.
Then because the girl could not eat until she learned about the
moths, the Bird Woman asked Elnora if she knew what kinds she had.
"Not all of them," answered Elnora. "Before Mr. Duncan
moved away he often saw me near the edge of the swamp and he showed
me the box he had fixed for Freckles, and gave me the key. There
were some books and things, so from that time on I studied and tried
to take moths right, but I am afraid they are not what 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 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.
"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 not damaged."
"What if they are not pinned right," quavered Elnora.
"If they are perfect, that does not make the slightest difference.
I know how to 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't carry 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 some specimen boxes, and a price list, and
see what you have to sell. Are they your very own? Are you free
to part with them?"
"They are mine," said Elnora. "No one but God knows
I have them. Mr. Duncan gave me the books and the box. He told Freckles
about me, and Freckles told him to give me all he left. He said
for me to stick to the swamp and be brave, and my hour would come,
and it has! I know most of them are all right, and oh, I do need
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, and pretty soon I grew desperate,
just as Freckles did. But I am better off than he was, for I have
his books, and I have a mother; even if she doesn't care for me
as 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 she was revealing. Her eyes were fixed on a black pitcher
filled with goldenrod in the 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 go further just when things were the most interesting,
so I was determined I'd come to high school and mother wouldn't
consent. You see there's plenty of land, but father was drowned
when I was a baby, and mother and I can't make money as men do.
The taxes are higher every year, and she said it was too expensive.
I wouldn't give her any rest, until at last she bought me this dress,
and these shoes and I came. It was awful!"
"Do you live in that beautiful cabin at the northwest end of
the swamp?" asked the Bird Woman.
"Yes," said Elnora.
"I remember the place and a story about it, now. You entered
the high school yesterday?"
"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 city school straight from the country. My dress was
brown calico, and my shoes were heavy."
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 one least little thing."
Then she wiped away some tears that began coursing her cheeks, and
laughed at the same time.
"Where are they now?" asked Elnora suddenly.
"They are widely scattered, but none of them have attained
heights out of range. Some of the rich are poor, and some of the
poor are rich. Some of the brightest died insane, and some of the
dullest worked out high positions; some of the very worst to bear
have gone out, and I frequently hear from others. Now I am here,
able to remember it, and mingle laughter with what used to be all
tears; for every day I have my beautiful work, and almost every
day God sends some one like you to help me. What is your name, my
girl?"
"Elnora Comstock," answered Elnora. "Yesterday on
the board it changed to Cornstock, and for a minute I thought I'd
die, but I can laugh over that already."
The Bird Woman arose and kissed her. "Finish your lunch,"
she said, "and I will bring my price lists, and make a memorandum
of what you think you have, so I will know how many boxes to prepare.
And remember this: What you are lies with you. If you are lazy,
and accept your lot, you may live in it. If you are willing to work,
you can write your name anywhere you choose, among the only ones
who live beyond the grave in this world, the people who write books
that help, make exquisite music, carve statues, paint pictures,
and work for others. Never mind the calico dress, and the coarse
shoes. Work at your books, and before long you will hear yesterday's
tormentors boasting that they were once classmates of yours. `I
could a tale unfold'----!"
She laughingly left the room and Elnora sat thinking, until she
remembered how hungry she was, so she ate the food, drank the hot
chocolate and began to feel better.
Then the Bird Woman came back and showed Elnora a long printed slip
giving a list 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 the thousand, with every colour in the
world on their wings."
"Yes," said the Bird Woman, "I will buy them, also
the big moth caterpillars that are creeping everywhere now, and
the cocoons that they will spin just about this time. I have a sneaking
impression that the mystery, wonder, and the urge of their pure
beauty, are going to force me to picture and paint our moths and
put them into a book for all the world to see and know. We Limberlost
people must not be selfish with the wonders God has given to us.
We must share with those poor cooped-up city people the best we
can. To send them a beautiful book, 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 money to 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 complete series of the moths of America
to trade with a German scientist, another with a man in India, and
another in Brazil. Others I can exchange with home collectors for
those of California and Canada, so you see I can use all you can
raise, or find. The banker will buy stone axes, arrow points, and
Indian pipes. There was a teacher from the city grade schools here
to-day for specimens. There is a fund to supply the ward buildings.
I'll help you get in touch with that. They want leaves of different
trees, flowers, grasses, moths, insects, birds' nests and anything
about birds."
Elnora's eyes were blazing. "Had I better go back to school
or open a bank account and begin being a millionaire? Uncle Wesley
and I have a bushel of arrow points gathered, a stack of axes, pipes,
skin-dressing tools, tubes and mortars. 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 at four."
After school closed Elnora, seated beside the Bird Woman, drove
to Freckles's room in the Limberlost. One at a time the beautiful
big moths were taken from the interior of the old black case. Not
a fourth of them could be moved that night 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 sixteen cents.
Elnora clasped the money closely.
"Oh you beautiful stuff!" she cried. "You are going
to buy the books, pay the tuition, and take me to high school."
Then because she was a woman, she sat on a log and looked at her
shoes. Long after the Bird Woman drove away Elnora remained. She
had her problem, and it was a big one. If she told her mother, would
she take the money to pay the taxes? If she did not tell her, how
could she account for the books, and things for which she would
spend it. At last she counted out what she needed for the next day,
placed the remainder in the farthest corner of the case, and locked
the door. She then filled the front of her skirt from a heap of
arrow points beneath the case and started home.