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Stratton-Porter, Gene, 1863-1924

"A Girl of the Limberlost"

How I wish all the sick folks could come here to grow
strong!"
The grosbeak sang on, a big Turnus butterfly sailed through the arbour
and poised over the table. Elnora held up a lump of sugar and the
butterfly, clinging to her fingers, tasted daintily. With eager eyes and
parted lips, the girl held steadily. When at last it wavered away, "That
made a picture!" said Philip. "Ask me some other time how I lost my
illusions concerning butterflies. I always thought of them in connection
with sunshine, flower pollen, and fruit nectar, until one sad day."
"I know!" laughed Elnora. "I've seen that, too, but it didn't destroy
any illusion for me. I think quite as much of the butterflies as ever."
Then they talked of flowers, moths, dragonflies, Indian relics, and all
the natural wonders the swamp afforded, straying from those subjects
to books and school work. When they cleared the table Philip assisted,
carrying several tray loads to the kitchen. He and Elnora mounted
specimens while Mrs Comstock washed the dishes. Then she came out with a
ruffle she was embroidering.
"I wonder if I did not see a picture of you in Onabasha last night,"
Philip said to Elnora. "Aunt Anna took me to call on Miss Brownlee. She
was showing me her crowd--of course, it was you! But it didn't half
do you justice, although it was the nearest human of any of them. Miss
Brownlee is very fond of you. She said the finest things."
Then they talked of Commencement, and at last Philip said he must go or
his friends would become anxious about him.


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