doors, and 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 June nights?" asked the Bird Woman.
"Yes," said Elnora. "Great 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.
"Well, 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.
