He was
closer Elnora than her mother, but Mrs. Comstock thought possibly by
hurrying she could remain unseen and yet warn the girl that a stranger
was coming. As she approached the bridge, she caught a sapling and
leaned over the water to call Elnora. With her lips parted to speak she
hesitated a second to watch a sort of insect that flashed past on the
water, when a splash from the man attracted the girl.
She was under the bridge, one knee planted in the embankment and a foot
braced to support her. Her hair was tousled by wind and bushes, her face
flushed, and she lifted her arms above her head, working to loosen a
cocoon she had found. The call Mrs. Comstock had intended to utter never
found voice, for as Elnora looked down at the sound, "Possibly I could
get that for you," suggested the man.
Mrs. Comstock drew back. He was a young man with a wonderfully
attractive face, although it was too white for robust health, broad
shoulders, and slender, upright frame.
"Oh, I do hope you can!" answered Elnora. "It's quite a find! It's one
of those lovely pale red cocoons described in the books. I suspect it
comes from having been in a dark place and screened from the weather."
"Is that so?" cried the man. "Wait a minute. I've never seen one. I
suppose it's a Cecropia, from the location."
"Of course," said Elnora. "It's so cool here the moth hasn't emerged.
The cocoon is a big, baggy one, and it is as red as fox tail.
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