you can write your name anywhere you choose, among the only ones who live past 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. Dig into the 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 the process of getting a grip on herself.
Then the Bird Woman came back and showed Elnora a long printed slip giving a list of graduated prices for moths, butterflies and dragon-flies.
"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?"
