章节正文
bees, beetles, and flies. When it grew dusk, Mrs. Comstock
and Philip went to prepare supper. Elnora and Billy
remained until the butterflies disappeared. Then they
lighted the lanterns, repainted the trees and followed
the home trail.
"Do you 'spec you'll get just a lot of moths?" asked
Billy, as he walked beside Elnora.
"I am sure I hardly know," said the girl. "This is a
new way for me. Perhaps they will come to the lights, but
few moths eat; and I have some doubt about those which
the lights attract settling on the right trees. Maybe the
smell of that dope will draw them. Between us, Billy, I
think I like my old way best. If I can find a hidden moth,
slip up and catch it unawares, or take it in full flight,
it's my captive, and I can keep it until it dies naturally.
But this way you seem to get it under false pretences, it has no
chance, and it will probably ruin its wings struggling for
freedom before morning."
"Well, any moth ought to be proud to be taken anyway,
by you," said Billy. "Just look what you do! You can
make everybody love them. People even quit hating
caterpillars when they see you handle them and hear you
tell all about them. You must have some to show people
how they are. It's not like killing things to see if you
can, or because you want to eat them, the way most men
kill birds. I think it is right for you to take enough for
collections, to show city people, and to illustrate the
Bird Woman's books. You go on and take them! The moths
don't care. They're glad to have you. They like it!"
"Billy, I see your future," said Elnora. "We will
educate you and send you up to Mr. Ammon to make a
great lawyer. You'd beat the world as a special pleader.
You actually make me feel that I am doing the moths a
kindness to take them."
"And so you are!" cried Billy. "Why, just from what
you have taught them Uncle Wesley and Aunt Margaret
never think of killing a caterpillar until they look whether
it's the beautiful June moth kind, or the horrid tent ones.
That's what you can do. You go straight ahead!"
"Billy, you are a jewel!" cried Elnora, throwing her arm
across his shoulders as they came down the path.
"My, I was scared!" said Billy with a deep breath.
"Scared?" questioned Elnora.
"Yes sir-ee! Aunt Margaret scared me. May I ask
you a question?"
"Of course, you may!"
"Is that man going to be your beau?"
"Billy! No! What made you think such a thing?"
"Aunt Margaret said likely he would fall in love with
you, and you wouldn't want me around any more. Oh, but
I was scared! It isn't so, is it?"
"Indeed, no!"
"I am your beau, ain't I?"
"Surely you are!" said Elnora, tightening her arm.
"I do hope Aunt Kate has ginger cookies," said Billy
with a little skip of delight.
CHAPTER XV
WHEREIN MRS. COMSTOCK FACES THE ALMIGHTY,
AND PHILIP AMMON WRITES A LETTER
Mrs. Comstock and Elnora were finishing breakfast
the following morning when they heard a cheery whistle
down the road. Elnora with surprised eyes looked at
her mother.
"Could that be Mr. Ammon?" she questioned.
"I did not expect him so soon," commented Mrs. Comstock.
It was sunrise, but the musician was Philip Ammon.
He appeared stronger than on yesterday.
"I hope I am not too early," he said. "I am consumed
with anxiety to learn if we have made a catch. If we
have, we should beat the birds to it. I promised Uncle
Doc to put on my waders and keep dry for a few days yet,
when I go to the woods. Let's hurry! I am afraid of crows.
There might be a rare moth."
The sun was topping the Limberlost when they started.
As they neared the place Philip stopped.
"Now we must use great caution," he said. "The lights
and the odours always attract numbers that don't settle
on the baited trees. Every bush, shrub, and limb may
hide a specimen we want."
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 hermitthrush
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
and Philip went to prepare supper. Elnora and Billy
remained until the butterflies disappeared. Then they
lighted the lanterns, repainted the trees and followed
the home trail.
"Do you 'spec you'll get just a lot of moths?" asked
Billy, as he walked beside Elnora.
"I am sure I hardly know," said the girl. "This is a
new way for me. Perhaps they will come to the lights, but
few moths eat; and I have some doubt about those which
the lights attract settling on the right trees. Maybe the
smell of that dope will draw them. Between us, Billy, I
think I like my old way best. If I can find a hidden moth,
slip up and catch it unawares, or take it in full flight,
it's my captive, and I can keep it until it dies naturally.
But this way you seem to get it under false pretences, it has no
chance, and it will probably ruin its wings struggling for
freedom before morning."
"Well, any moth ought to be proud to be taken anyway,
by you," said Billy. "Just look what you do! You can
make everybody love them. People even quit hating
caterpillars when they see you handle them and hear you
tell all about them. You must have some to show people
how they are. It's not like killing things to see if you
can, or because you want to eat them, the way most men
kill birds. I think it is right for you to take enough for
collections, to show city people, and to illustrate the
Bird Woman's books. You go on and take them! The moths
don't care. They're glad to have you. They like it!"
"Billy, I see your future," said Elnora. "We will
educate you and send you up to Mr. Ammon to make a
great lawyer. You'd beat the world as a special pleader.
You actually make me feel that I am doing the moths a
kindness to take them."
"And so you are!" cried Billy. "Why, just from what
you have taught them Uncle Wesley and Aunt Margaret
never think of killing a caterpillar until they look whether
it's the beautiful June moth kind, or the horrid tent ones.
That's what you can do. You go straight ahead!"
"Billy, you are a jewel!" cried Elnora, throwing her arm
across his shoulders as they came down the path.
"My, I was scared!" said Billy with a deep breath.
"Scared?" questioned Elnora.
"Yes sir-ee! Aunt Margaret scared me. May I ask
you a question?"
"Of course, you may!"
"Is that man going to be your beau?"
"Billy! No! What made you think such a thing?"
"Aunt Margaret said likely he would fall in love with
you, and you wouldn't want me around any more. Oh, but
I was scared! It isn't so, is it?"
"Indeed, no!"
"I am your beau, ain't I?"
"Surely you are!" said Elnora, tightening her arm.
"I do hope Aunt Kate has ginger cookies," said Billy
with a little skip of delight.
CHAPTER XV
WHEREIN MRS. COMSTOCK FACES THE ALMIGHTY,
AND PHILIP AMMON WRITES A LETTER
Mrs. Comstock and Elnora were finishing breakfast
the following morning when they heard a cheery whistle
down the road. Elnora with surprised eyes looked at
her mother.
"Could that be Mr. Ammon?" she questioned.
"I did not expect him so soon," commented Mrs. Comstock.
It was sunrise, but the musician was Philip Ammon.
He appeared stronger than on yesterday.
"I hope I am not too early," he said. "I am consumed
with anxiety to learn if we have made a catch. If we
have, we should beat the birds to it. I promised Uncle
Doc to put on my waders and keep dry for a few days yet,
when I go to the woods. Let's hurry! I am afraid of crows.
There might be a rare moth."
The sun was topping the Limberlost when they started.
As they neared the place Philip stopped.
"Now we must use great caution," he said. "The lights
and the odours always attract numbers that don't settle
on the baited trees. Every bush, shrub, and limb may
hide a specimen we want."
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 hermitthrush
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
- hidden [´hid(ə)n]
hide 的过去分词 (初中英语单词) - captive [´kæptiv] n.俘虏；捕获物 (初中英语单词)
- illustrate [´iləstreit] vt.加插图；举例说明 (初中英语单词)
- lawyer [´lɔ:jə] n.律师；法学家 (初中英语单词)
- actually [´æktʃuəli] ad.事实上；实际上 (初中英语单词)
- anxiety [æŋ´zaiəti] n.挂念；渴望；焦虑的事 (初中英语单词)
- movement [´mu:vmənt] n.活动；运动；动作 (初中英语单词)
- eagerly [´i:gəli] ad.渴望地，急切地 (初中英语单词)
- softly [´sɔftli] ad.软化地；柔和地 (初中英语单词)
- excitement [ik´saitmənt] n.兴奋；骚动；煽动 (初中英语单词)
- delicate [´delikət] a.精美的；微妙的 (初中英语单词)
- background [´bækgraund] n.背景；经历；幕后 (初中英语单词)
- breath [breθ] n.呼吸；气息 (初中英语单词)
- absolutely [´æbsəlu:tli] ad.绝对地；确实 (初中英语单词)
- altogether [,ɔ:ltə´geðə] ad.完全；总而言之 (初中英语单词)
- advanced [əd´vɑ:nst] a.先进的；高级的 (初中英语单词)
- conceal [kən´si:l] vt.藏；隐瞒 (初中英语单词)
- attractive [ə´træktiv] a.有吸引力；诱人的 (初中英语单词)
- anywhere [´eniweə] ad.无论何处；任何地方 (初中英语单词)
- scheme [ski:m] n.计划；阴谋，诡计 (初中英语单词)
- confine [kən´fain] vt.限制 n.边界；境界 (初中英语单词)
- fasten [´fɑ:sən] v.扎牢；闩住；钉牢 (初中英语单词)
- remind [ri´maind] vt.提醒；使记(想)起 (初中英语单词)
- sharply [´ʃɑ:pli] ad.锋利地；剧烈地 (初中英语单词)
- screen [skri:n] n.银幕 vt.遮蔽 (初中英语单词)
- unusual [ʌn´ju:ʒuəl] a.不平常的；异常的 (初中英语单词)
- presently [´prezəntli] ad.不久；目前 (初中英语单词)
- caterpillar [´kætə,pilə] n.毛虫；履带 (高中英语单词)
- horrid [´hɔrid] a.令人讨厌的；极糟的 (高中英语单词)
- ginger [´dʒindʒə] n.姜；精神，元气 (高中英语单词)
- sunrise [´sʌnraiz] n.日出，黎明 (高中英语单词)
- musician [mju:´ziʃən] n.音乐家，作曲家 (高中英语单词)
- specimen [´spesimən] n.标本，样品；抽样 (高中英语单词)
- hermit [´hə:mit] n.隐士 (高中英语单词)
- species [´spi:ʃi:z] n.(生物的)种，类 (高中英语单词)
- lavender [´lævində] n.熏衣草；淡紫色 (高中英语单词)
- faithfully [´feiθfəli] ad.忠实地；诚恳地 (高中英语单词)
- expand [ik´spænd] vt.张开；膨胀；扩大 (高中英语单词)
- solemnly [´sɔləmli] ad.严肃地，庄严地 (高中英语单词)
- cheery [´tʃiəri] a.愉快的；活泼的 (英语四级单词)
- thrush [θrʌʃ] n.画眉鸟 (英语四级单词)
- intently [in´tentli] ad.专心地 (英语四级单词)
- striped [´straipt] a.有条纹的 (英语四级单词)
- canary [kə´neəri] n.金丝雀 (英语四级单词)
- holding [´həuldiŋ] n.保持，固定，存储 (英语六级单词)
- burnish [´bə:niʃ] vt.磨；抛光 n.光泽 (英语六级单词)
- projection [prə´dʒekʃən] n.设计；发射；放映 (英语六级单词)
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