"
"What luck!" he cried. "Are you making a collection?"
He reeled in his line, laid his rod across a bush and climbed the
embankment to Elnora's side, produced a knife and began the work of
whittling a deep groove around the cocoon.
"Yes. I paid my way through the high school in Onabasha with them. Now I
am starting a collection which means college."
"Onabasha!" said the man. "That is where I am visiting. Possibly you
know my people--Dr. Ammon's? The doctor is my uncle. My home is in
Chicago. I've been having typhoid fever, something fierce. In the
hospital six weeks. Didn't gain strength right, so Uncle Doc sent for
me. I am to live out of doors all summer, and exercise until I get in
condition again. Do you know my uncle?"
"Yes. He is Aunt Margaret's doctor, and he would be ours, only we are
never ill."
"Well, you look it!" said the man, appraising Elnora at a glance.
"Strangers always mention it," sighed Elnora. "I wonder how it would
seem to be a pale, languid lady and ride in a carriage."
"Ask me!" laughed the man. "It feels like the--dickens! I'm so proud of
my feet. It's quite a trick to stand on them now. I have to keep out
of the water all I can and stop to baby every half-mile. But with
interesting outdoor work I'll be myself in a week."
"Do you call that work?" Elnora indicated the creek.
"I do, indeed! Nearly three miles, banks too soft to brag on and never a
strike. Wouldn't you call that hard labour?"
"Yes," laughed Elnora.
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