Pete stood tense and ready. Mrs.
Comstock stepped into the light and watched the moth's course. Then a
second appeared in pursuit of the first. The larger one wavered into the
radius of light once more. The perspiration rolled down the man's face.
He half lifted the hat.
"Pray, woman! Pray now!" he panted.
"I guess I best get over by that lard oil light and go to work,"
breathed Mrs. Comstock. "The Lord knows this is all in prayer, but it's
no time for words just now. Ready, Pete! You are going to get a chance
first!"
Pete made another long, steady sweep, but the moth darted beneath the
hat. In its flight it came straight toward Mrs. Comstock. She snatched
off the remnant of apron she had tucked into her petticoat band and held
the calico before her. The moth struck full against it and clung to the
goods. Pete crept up stealthily. The second moth followed the first, and
the spray showered the apron.
"Wait!" gasped Mrs. Comstock. "I think they have settled. The books say
they won't leave now."
The big pale yellow creature clung firmly, lowering and raising its
wings. The other came nearer. Mrs. Comstock held the cloth with rigid
hands, while Pete could hear her breathing in short gusts.
"Shall I try now?" he implored.
"Wait!" whispered the woman. "Something seems to say wait!"
The night breeze stiffened and gently waved the apron. Locusts rasped,
mosquitoes hummed and frogs sang uninterruptedly.
Pages:
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243