THE LIVES OF THE OBSCURE
over the blade of an oar, captured it alive and presented it to a highly respectable elderly gentleman who now came puffing upon the scene—Samuel Budge, doctor, of Chepstow. By Samuel Budge it was presented to Miss Ormerod; by her sent to a professor at Oxford. And he, declaring it “a fine specimen of the rose under-winged locust” added the gratifying information that it “was the first of the kind to be captured so far west.”
And so, at the age of twenty-four Miss Eleanor Ormerod was thought the proper person to receive the gift of a locust.
When Eleanor Ormerod appeared at archery meetings and croquet tournaments young men pulled their whiskers and young ladies looked grave. It was so difficult to make friends with a girl who could talk of nothing but black beetles and earwigs—“Yes, that’s what she likes, isn’t it queer?—Why, the other day Ellen, Mama’s maid, heard from Jane, who’s under-kitchenmaid at Sedbury House, that Eleanor tried to boil a beetle in the kitchen saucepan and he wouldn’t die, and swam round and round, and she got into a terrible state and sent the groom all the way to Gloucester to fetch chloroform—all for an insect, my dear!—and she gives the cottagers shillings to collect beetles for her—and she spends hours in her bedroom cutting them up—and she climbs trees like a boy to find wasps’ nests—oh, you can’t think what they don’t say about her in the village—for she does look so odd, dressed anyhow, with that great big nose and those bright little eyes,
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