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Stratton-Porter, Gene, 1863-1924

"A Girl of the Limberlost"

Mrs. Comstock's
expression was peculiar as she looked at Elnora.
"I forgot that you were making sun-preserves and they didn't require
much cooking," she said. "We should have waited for you."
"Not at all!" answered Mrs. Comstock. "Have you found anything yet?"
"Nothing that I can show you," said Elnora. "I am almost sure I have
found an idea that will revolutionize the whole course of my work,
thought, and ambitions."
"'Ambitions!' My, what a hefty word!" laughed Mrs. Comstock. "Now who
would suspect a little red-haired country girl of harbouring such a
deadly germ in her body? Can you tell mother about it?"
"Not if you talk to me that way, I can't," said Elnora.
"Well, I guess we better let ambition lie. I've always heard it was
safest asleep. If you ever get a bona fide attack, it will be time to
attend it. Let's hunt specimens. It is June. Philip and I are in the
grades. You have an hour to put an idea into our heads that will stick
for a lifetime, and grow for good. That's the way I look at your job.
Now, what are you going to give us? We don't want any old silly stuff
that has been hashed over and over, we want a big new idea to plant
in our hearts. Come on, Miss Teacher, what is the boiled-down,
double-distilled essence of June? Give it to us strong. We are large
enough to furnish it developing ground. Hurry up! Time is short and we
are waiting. What is the miracle of June? What one thing epitomizes the
whole month, and makes it just a little different from any other?"
"The birth of these big night moths," said Elnora promptly.


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