He told of a friend he once had who was
"daffy" along that line, and would rather capture some queer looking old
night-flying hairy moth, with a death's-head sign on his front, than
enjoy the finest supper, or listen to the best play.
That allowed Andy to venture the suggestion that he had taken
considerable interest in butterflies himself, and always wanted to see a
collection that was worth while. Of course he did not have to explain
that the only interest he ever did have in the matter was when, as a
very small boy, he used to chase after the fluttering insects as they
went from flower to flower, until shown by his mother how cruel it was
to destroy the life of such wonderfully beautiful things, that he could
not restore again.
Sallie took the bait, Andy knew from the eager light that flashed upon
her face. And when he saw her step over to a window, and look quickly
down the lane, he turned to his cousin, and made a grimace as much as to
say, "See how she fell to my little game, will you, old fellow?"
"Well," said Sallie, flitting back again, "Professor Whitesides hasn't
got a very large collection; and the new specimens he gathers day after
day he kept in some place, because he has no time just now to do
anything with them, he says; but come up with me, and I'll show you the
little case he brought with him.
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