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Stratton-Porter, Gene, 1863-1924

"A Girl of the Limberlost"


When they returned Elnora showed her mother how to hold her hand before
the moth so that it would climb upon her fingers. Then they started back
to the cabin, Elnora and Philip leading the way; Mrs. Comstock followed
slowly, stepping with great care lest she stumble and injure the moth.
Her face wore a look of comprehension, in her eyes was an exalted light.
On she came to the blue-bordered pool lying beside her path.
A turtle scrambled from a log and splashed into the water, while a
red-wing shouted, "O-ka-lee!" to her. Mrs. Comstock paused and looked
intently at the slime-covered quagmire, framed in a flower riot and
homed over by sweet-voiced birds. Then she gazed at the thing of
incomparable beauty clinging to her fingers and said softly: "If you
had known about wonders like these in the days of your youth, Robert
Comstock, could you ever have done what you did?"
Elnora missed her mother, and turning to look for her, saw her standing
beside the pool. Would the old fascination return? A panic of fear
seized the girl. She went back swiftly.
"Are you afraid she is going?" Elnora asked. "If you are, cup your other
hand over her for shelter. Carrying her through this air and in the hot
sunshine will dry her wings and make them ready for flight very quickly.
You can't trust her in such air and light as you can in the cool dark
woods."
While she talked she took hold of her mother's sleeve, anxiously smiling
a pitiful little smile that Mrs.


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