At
Philip's entrance the father scarcely glanced up.
"Come on!" he called. "I have just told Banks to bring me a cup of
coffee before I turn in. Have one with me!"
Philip sat beside the table and leaned his head on his hands, but he
drank a cup of steaming coffee and felt better.
"Father," he said, "father, may I talk with you a little while?"
"Of course," answered Mr. Ammon. "I am not at all tired. I think I
must have been waiting in the hope that you would come. I want no one's
version of this but yours. Tell me the straight of the thing, Phil."
Philip told all he knew, while his father sat in deep thought.
"On my life I can't see any occasion for such a display of temper, Phil.
It passed all bounds of reason and breeding. Can't you think of anything
more?"
"I cannot!"
"Polly says every one expected you to carry the moth you caught to
Edith. Why didn't you?"
"She screams if a thing of that kind comes near her. She never has taken
the slightest interest in them. I was in a big hurry. I didn't want to
miss one minute of my dance with her. The moth was not so uncommon, but
by a combination of bad luck it had become the rarest in America for a
friend of mine, who is making a collection to pay college expenses.
For an instant last June the series was completed; when a woman's
uncontrolled temper ruined this specimen and the search for it began
over. A few days later a pair was secured, and again the money was in
sight for several hours.
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