something and stop that! It's a moth; I've got to catch it!"
"He wants it for Edith!" ran in a murmur around the hall. The girl's face flushed, while she bit her lip in vexation.
Instantly every one began holding up something to keep the moth from flying back into the night. One fan held straight before it served, and the moth gently settled on it.
"Hold steady!" cried Ammon. "Don't move for your life!" He rushed toward the moth, made a quick sweep and held it up between his fingers. "All right!" he called. "Thanks, every one! Excuse me a minute."
He ran to the office.
"An ounce of gasolene, quick!" he ordered. "A cigar box, a cork, and the glue bottle."
He poured some glue into the bottom of the box, set the cork in it firmly, dashed the gasolene over the moth repeatedly, pinned it to the cork, poured the remainder of the liquid over it, closed the box, and fastened it. Then he laid a bill on the counter.
"Pack that box with cork around it, in one twice its size, tie securely and express to this address at once."
He scribbled on a sheet of paper and shoved it over.
"On your honour, will you do that faithfully as I say? he asked the clerk.
"Certainly," was the reply.
"Then keep the change," called Ammon as he ran back to the pavilion.
