that he can't take the risk. You'll have to bring the money."
Elnora clumped out of the store, the thump of her heavy shoes beating as a hammer on her brain. She tried two other houses 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 was 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, pupæ 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."
