Come this way."
Elnora followed down the hall and entered a long room with high panelled
wainscoting, old English fireplace with an overmantel and closets of
peculiar china filling the corners. At a bare table of oak, yellow as
gold, sat a woman Elnora often had watched and followed covertly around
the Limberlost. The Bird Woman was holding out a hand of welcome.
"I heard!" she laughed. "A little pasteboard box, or just the mere
word 'specimen,' passes you at my door. If it is moths I hope you have
hundreds. I've been very busy all summer and unable to collect, and I
need so many. Sit down and lunch with me, while we talk it over. From
the Limberlost, did you say?"
"I live near the swamp," replied Elnora. "Since it's so cleared I dare
go around the edge in daytime, though we are all afraid at night."
"What have you collected?" asked the Bird Woman, as she helped Elnora to
sandwiches unlike any she ever before had tasted, salad that seemed to
be made of many familiar things, and a cup of hot chocolate that would
have delighted any hungry schoolgirl.
"I am afraid I am bothering you for nothing, and imposing on you," she
said. "That 'collected' frightens me. I've only gathered. I always loved
everything outdoors, 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.
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