The soft night air
stirred the wet hair around her temples, the flickering lanterns made
her face a ghastly green. She would stop at nothing, that was evident.
Pete suddenly began catching moths with exemplary industry. In putting
one into the bag, another escaped.
"We must not try that again," said Mrs. Comstock. "Now, what will we
do?"
"We are close to the old case," said Pete. "I think I can get into it.
Maybe we could slip the rest in there."
"That's a fine idea!" said Mrs. Comstock. "They'll have so much room
there they won't be likely to hurt themselves, and the books say they
don't fly in daytime unless they are disturbed, so they will settle when
it's light, and I can come with Elnora to get them."
They captured two more, and then Pete carried them to the case.
"Here comes a big one!" he cried as he returned.
Mrs. Comstock looked up and stepped out with a prayer on her lips.
She could not tell the colour at that distance, but the moth appeared
different from the others. On it came, dropping lower and darting from
light to light. As it swept near her, "O Heavenly Father!" exulted Mrs.
Comstock, "it's yellow! Careful Pete! Your hat, maybe!"
Pete made a long sweep. The moth wavered above the hat and sailed
away. Mrs. Comstock leaned against a tree and covered her face with her
shaking hands.
"That is my punishment!" she cried. "Oh, Lord, if you will give a moth
like that into my possession, I'll always be a better woman!"
The Emperor again came in sight.
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