“I object!” repeated the man. “When I work I want to see results. I’d rather exercise sawing wood, making one pile grow little and the other big than to cast all day and catch nothing because there is not a fish to take. Work for work’s sake doesn’t appeal to me.”
He digged the groove around the cocoon with skilled hand. “Now there is some fun in this!” he said. “It’s going to be a fair job to cut it out, but when it comes, it is not only beautiful, but worth a price; it will help you on your way. I think I’ll put up my rod and hunt moths. That would be something like! Don’t you want help?”
Elnora parried the question. “Have you ever hunted moths, Mr. Ammon?”
“Enough to know the ropes in taking them and to distinguish the commonest ones. I go wild on Catocalae. There’s too many of them, all too much alike for Philip, but I know all these fellows. One flew into my room when I was about ten years old, and we thought it a miracle. None of us ever had seen one so we took it over to the museum to Dr. Dorsey. He said they were common enough, but we didn’t see them because they flew at night. He showed me the museum collection, and I was so interested I took mine back home and started to hunt them. Every year after that we went to our cottage a month earlier, so I could find them, and all my family helped. I stuck to it until I went to college. Then, keeping the little moths out of the big ones was too much for the mater, so father advised that I donate mine to the museum. He bought a fine case for them with my name on it, which constitutes my sole contribution to science. I know enough to help you all right.”
“Aren’t you going north this year?”
“All depends on how this fever leaves me. Uncle says the nights are too cold and the days too hot there for me. He thinks I had better stay in an even temperature until I am strong again. I am going to stick pretty close to him until I know I am. I wouldn’t admit it to any one at home, but I was almost gone. I don’t believe anything can eat up nerve much faster than the burning of a slow fever. No, thanks, I have enough. I stay with Uncle Doc, so if I feel it coming again he can do something quickly.”
“I don’t blame you,” said Elnora. “I never have been sick, but it must be dreadful. I am afraid you are tiring yourself over that. Let me take the knife awhile.”
“Oh, it isn’t so bad as that! I wouldn’t be wading creeks if it were. I only need a few more days to get steady on my feet again. I’ll soon have this out.”
“It is kind of you to get it,” said Elnora. “I should have had to peel it, which would spoil the cocoon for a specimen and ruin the moth.”
“You haven’t said yet whether I may help you while I am here.”
Elnora hesitated.
“You better say ‘yes,’” he persisted. “It would be a real kindness. It would keep me outdoors all day and give an incentive to work. I’m good at it. I’ll show you if I am not in a week or so. I can ‘sugar,’ manipulate lights, and mirrors, and all the expert methods. I’ll wager, moths are numerous in the old swamp over there.”
“They are,” said Elnora. “Most I have I took there. A few nights ago my mother caught a number, but we don’t dare go alone.”
“All the more reason why you need me. Where do you live? I can’t get an answer from you, I’ll go tell your mother who I am and ask her if I may help you. I warn you, young lady, I have a very effective way with mothers. They almost never turn me down.”
“Then it’s probable you will have a new experience when you meet mine,” said Elnora. “She never was known to do what any one expected she surely would.”
The cocoon came loose. Philip Ammon stepped down the embankment turning to offer his hand to Elnora. She ran down as she would have done alone, and taking the cocoon turned it end for end to learn if the imago it contained were alive. Then Ammon took back the cocoon to smooth the edges. Mrs. Comstock gave them one long look as they stood there, and returned to her dandelions. While she worked she paused occasionally, listening intently. Presently they came down the creek, the man carrying the cocoon as if it were a jewel, while Elnora made her way along the bank, taking a lesson in casting. Her face was flushed with excitement, her eyes shining, the bushes taking liberties with her hair. For a picture of perfect loveliness she scarcely could have been surpassed, and the eyes of Philip Ammon seemed to be in working order.
“Moth-er!” called Elnora.
There was an undulant, caressing sweetness in the girl’s voice, as she sung out the call in perfect confidence that it would bring a loving answer, that struck deep in Mrs. Comstock’s heart. She never had heard that word so pronounced before and a lump arose in her throat.
“Here!” she answered, still cleaning dandelions.
“Mother, this is Mr. Philip Ammon, of Chicago,” said Elnora. “He has been ill and he is staying with Dr. Ammon in Onabasha. He came down the creek fishing and cut this cocoon from under the bridge for me. He feels that it would be better to hunt moths than to fish, until he is well. What do you think about it?”
Philip Ammon extended his hand. “I am glad to know you,” he said.
“You may take the hand-shaking for granted,” replied Mrs. Comstock. “Dandelions have a way of making fingers sticky, and I like to know a man before I take his hand, anyway. That introduction seems mighty comprehensive on your part, but it still leaves me unclassified. My name is Comstock.”
Philip Ammon bowed.
“I am sorry to hear you have been sick,” said Mrs. Comstock. “But if people will live where they have such vile water as they do in Chicago, I don’t see what else they are to expect.”
Philip studied her intently.
“I am sure I didn’t have a fever on purpose,” he said.
“You do seem a little wobbly on your legs,” she observed. “Maybe you had better sit and rest while I finish these greens. It’s late for the genuine article, but in the shade, among long grass they are still tender.”
“May I have a leaf?” he asked, reaching for one as he sat on the bank, looking from the little creek at his feet, away through the dim cool spaces of the June forest on the opposite side. He drew a deep breath. “Glory, but this is good after almost two months inside hospital walls!”
He stretched on the grass and lay gazing up at the leaves, occasionally asking the interpretation of a bird note or the origin of an unfamiliar forest voice. Elnora began helping with the dandelions.
“Another, please,” said the young man, holding out his hand.
“Do you suppose this is the kind of grass Nebuchadnezzar ate?” Elnora asked, giving the leaf.
“He knew a good thing if it is.”
“Oh, you should taste dandelions boiled with bacon and served with mother’s cornbread.”
“Don’t! My appetite is twice my size now. While it is—how far is it to Onabasha, shortest cut?”
“Three miles.”
The man lay in perfect content, nibbling leaves.
“This surely is a treat,” he said. “No wonder you find good hunting here. There seems to be foliage for almost every kind of caterpillar. But I suppose you have to exchange for northern species and Pacific Coast kinds?”
“Yes. And every one wants Regalis in trade. I never saw the like. They consider a Cecropia or a Polyphemus an insult, and a Luna is barely acceptable.”
“What authorities have you?”
Elnora began to name text-books which started a discussion. Mrs. Comstock listened. She cleaned dandelions with greater deliberation than they ever before were examined. In reality she was taking stock of the young man’s long, well-proportioned frame, his strong hands, his smooth, fine-textured skin, his thick shock of dark hair, and making mental notes of his simple manly speech and the fact that he evidently did know much about moths. It pleased her to think that if he had been a neighbour boy who had lain beside her every day of his life while she worked, he could have been no more at home. She liked the things he said, but she was proud that Elnora had a ready answer which always seemed appropriate.
At las
t Mrs. Comstock finished the greens.
“You are three miles from the city and less than a mile from where we live,” she said. “If you will tell me what you dare eat, I suspect you had best go home with us and rest until the cool of the day before you start back. Probably some one that you can ride in with will be passing before evening.”
“That is mighty kind of you,” said Philip. “I think I will. It doesn’t matter so much what I eat, the point is that I must be moderate. I am hungry all the time.”
“Then we will go,” said Mrs. Comstock, “and we will not allow you to make yourself sick with us.”
Philip Ammon arose: picking up the pail of greens and his fishing rod, he stood waiting. Elnora led the way. Mrs. Comstock motioned Philip to follow and she walked in the rear. The girl carried the cocoon and the box of moths she had taken, searching every step for more. The young man frequently set down his load to join in the pursuit of a dragonfly or moth, while Mrs. Comstock watched the proceedings with sharp eyes. Every time Philip picked up the pail of greens she struggled to suppress a smile.
Elnora proceeded slowly, chattering about everything beside the trail. Philip was interested in all the objects she pointed out, noticing several things which escaped her. He carried the greens as casually when they took a short cut down the roadway as on the trail. When Elnora turned toward the gate of her home Philip Ammon stopped, took a long look at the big hewed log cabin, the vines which clambered over it, the flower garden ablaze with beds of bright bloom interspersed with strawberries and tomatoes, the trees of the forest rising north and west like a green wall and exclaimed: “How beautiful!”
Mrs. Comstock was pleased. “If you think that,” she said, “perhaps you will understand how, in all this present-day rush to be modern, I have preferred to remain as I began. My husband and I took up this land, and enough trees to build the cabin, stable, and outbuildings are nearly all we ever cut. Of course, if he had lived, I suppose we should have kept up with our neighbours. I hear considerable about the value of the land, the trees which are on it, and the oil which is supposed to be under it, but as yet I haven’t brought myself to change anything. So we stand for one of the few remaining homes of first settlers in this region. Come in. You are very welcome to what we have.”
Mrs. Comstock stepped forward and took the lead. She had a bowl of soft water and a pair of boots to offer for the heavy waders, for outer comfort, a glass of cold buttermilk and a bench on which to rest, in the circular arbour until dinner was ready. Philip Ammon splashed in the water. He followed to the stable and exchanged boots there. He was ravenous for the buttermilk, and when he stretched on the bench in the arbour the flickering patches of sunlight so tantalized his tired eyes, while the bees made such splendid music, he was soon sound asleep. When Elnora and her mother came out with a table they stood a short time looking at him. It is probable Mrs. Comstock voiced a united thought when she said: “What a refined, decent looking young man! How proud his mother must be of him! We must be careful what we let him eat.”
Then they returned to the kitchen where Mrs. Comstock proceeded to be careful. She broiled ham of her own sugar-curing, creamed potatoes, served asparagus on toast, and made a delicious strawberry shortcake. As she cooked dandelions with bacon, she feared to serve them to him, so she made an excuse that it took too long to prepare them, blanched some and made a salad. When everything was ready she touched Philip’s sleeve.
“Best have something to eat, lad, before you get too hungry,” she said.
“Please hurry!” he begged laughingly as he held a plate toward her to be filled. “I thought I had enough self-restraint to start out alone, but I see I was mistaken. If you would allow me, just now, I am afraid I should start a fever again. I never did smell food so good as this. It’s mighty kind of you to take me in. I hope I will be man enough in a few days to do something worth while in return.”
Spots of sunshine fell on the white cloth and blue china, the bees and an occasional stray butterfly came searching for food. A rose-breasted grosbeak, released from a three hours’ siege of brooding, while his independent mate took her bath and recreation, mounted the top branch of a maple in the west woods from which he serenaded the dinner party with a joyful chorus in celebration of his freedom. Philip’s eyes strayed to the beautiful cabin, to the mixture of flowers and vegetables stretching down to the road, and to the singing bird with his red-splotched breast of white and he said: “I can’t realize now that I ever lay in ice packs in a hospital. How I wish all the sick folks could come here to grow strong!”
The grosbeak sang on, a big Turnus butterfly sailed through the arbour and poised over the table. Elnora held up a lump of sugar and the butterfly, clinging to her fingers, tasted daintily. With eager eyes and parted lips, the girl held steadily. When at last it wavered away, “That made a picture!” said Philip. “Ask me some other time how I lost my illusions concerning butterflies. I always thought of them in connection with sunshine, flower pollen, and fruit nectar, until one sad day.”
“I know!” laughed Elnora. “I’ve seen that, too, but it didn’t destroy any illusion for me. I think quite as much of the butterflies as ever.”
Then they talked of flowers, moths, dragonflies, Indian relics, and all the natural wonders the swamp afforded, straying from those subjects to books and school work. When they cleared the table Philip assisted, carrying several tray loads to the kitchen. He and Elnora mounted specimens while Mrs. Comstock washed the dishes. Then she came out with a ruffle she was embroidering.
“I wonder if I did not see a picture of you in Onabasha last night,” Philip said to Elnora. “Aunt Anna took me to call on Miss Brownlee. She was showing me her crowd—of course, it was you! But it didn’t half do you justice, although it was the nearest human of any of them. Miss Brownlee is very fond of you. She said the finest things.”
Then they talked of Commencement, and at last Philip said he must go or his friends would become anxious about him.
Mrs. Comstock brought him a blue bowl of creamy milk and a plate of bread. She stopped a passing team and secured a ride to the city for him, as his exercise of the morning had been too violent, and he was forced to admit he was tired.
“May I come to-morrow afternoon and hunt moths awhile?” he asked Mrs. Comstock as he arose. “We will ‘sugar’ a tree and put a light beside it, if I can get stuff to make the preparation. Possibly we can take some that way. I always enjoy moth hunting, I’d like to help Miss Elnora, and it would be a charity to me. I’ve got to remain outdoors some place, and I’m quite sure I’d get well faster here than anywhere else. Please say I may come.”
“I have no objections, if Elnora really would like help,” said Mrs. Comstock.
In her heart she wished he would not come. She wanted her newly found treasure all to herself, for a time, at least. But Elnora’s were eager, shining eyes. She thought it would be splendid to have help, and great fun to try book methods for taking moths, so it was arranged. As Philip rode away, Mrs. Comstock’s eyes followed him. “What a nice young man!” she said.
“He seems fine,” agreed Elnora.
“He comes of a good family, too. I’ve often heard of his father. He is a great lawyer.”
“I am glad he likes it here. I need help. Possibly—”
“Possibly what?”
“We can find many moths.”
“What did he mean about the butterflies?”
“That he always had connected them with sunshine, flowers, and fruits, and thought of them as the most exquisite of creations; then one day he found some clustering thickly over carrion.”
“Come to think of it, I have seen butterflies—”
“So had he,” laughed Elnora. “And that is what he meant.”
Chapter 14
Wherein a New Position Is Tendered Elnora, and Philip Ammon Is Shown Limberlost Violets
The next morning Mrs. Comstock called to Elnora, “The mail carrier stopped at our box.”
Elnora ran down the walk and came back carrying an official letter. She tore it open and read:
MY DEAR MISS COMSTOCK:
At the weekly meeting of the Onabasha School Board last night, it was decided to add the position of Lecturer on Natural History to our corps of city teachers. It will be the duty of this person to spend two hours a week in each of the grade schools exhibiting and explaining specimens of the most prominent objects in nature: animals, birds, insects, flowers, vines, shrubs, bushes, and trees. These specimens and lectures should be appropriate to the seasons and the comprehension of the grades. This position was unanimously voted to you. I think you will find the work delightful and much easier than the routine grind of the other teachers. It is my advice that you accept and begin to prepare yourself at once. Your salary will be $750 a year, and you will be allowed $200 for expenses in procuring specimens and books. Let us know at once if you want the position, as it is going to be difficult to fill satisfactorily if you do not.
Very truly yours,
DAVID THOMPSON, President, Onabasha Schools.
“I hardly understand,” marvelled Mrs. Comstock.
“It is a new position. They never have had anything like it before. I suspect it arose from the help I’ve been giving the grade teachers in their nature work. They are trying to teach the children something, and half the instructors don’t know a blue jay from a king-fisher, a beech leaf from an elm, or a wasp from a hornet.”
“Well, do you?” anxiously inquired Mrs. Comstock.
“Indeed, I do!” laughed Elnora. “And several other things beside. When Freckles bequeathed me the swamp, he gave me a bigger inheritance than he knew. While you have thought I was wandering aimlessly, I have been following a definite plan, studying hard, and storing up the stuff that will earn these seven hundred and fifty dollars. Mother dear, I am going to accept this, of course. The work will be a delight. I’d love it most of anything in teaching. You must help me. We must find nests, eggs, leaves, queer formations in plants and rare flowers. I must have flower boxes made for each of the rooms and filled with wild things. I should begin to gather specimens this very day.”
The Best of Gene Stratton-Porter Page 45