ock, when he returned the box.

She glanced at Elnora who was intently searching the bushes.

"Look here, young man," said Mrs. Comstock. "You seem to find that girl
of mine about right."

"I could suggest no improvement," said Philip. "I never saw a more
attractive girl anywhere. She seems absolutely perfect to me."

"Then suppose you don't start any scheme calculated to spoil her!"
proposed Mrs. Comstock dryly. "I don't think you can, or that any man
could, but I'm not taking any risks. You asked to come here to help
in this work. We are both glad to have you, if you confine yourself to
work; but it's the least you can do to leave us as you find us."

"I beg your pardon!" said Philip. "I intended no offence. I admire her
as I admire any perfect creation."

"And nothing in all this world spoils the average girl so quickly and
so surely," said Mrs. Comstock. She raised her voice. "Elnora, fasten up
that tag of hair over your left ear. These bushes muss you so you remind
me of a sheep poking its nose through a hedge fence."

Mrs. Comstock started down the path toward the log again, when she
reached it she called sharply: "Elnora, come here! I believe I have
found something myself."

The "something" was a Citheronia Regalis which had emerged from its case
on the soft earth under the log. It climbed up the wood, its stout legs
dragging a big pursy body, while it wildly flapped tiny wings the size
of a man's thumb-nail. Elnora gave one look and a cry which brought
Philip.

"That's the rarest moth in America!" he announced. "Mrs. Comstock,
you've gone up head. You can put that in a box with a screen cover
to-night, and attract half a dozen, possibly."

"Is it rare, Elnora?" inquired Mrs. Comstock, as if no one else knew.

"It surely is," answered Elnora. "If we can find it a mate to-night,
it will lay from two hundred and fifty to three hundred eggs to-morrow.
With any luck at all I can raise two hundred caterpillars from them. I
did once before. And they are worth a dollar apiece."

"Was the one I killed like that?"

"No. That was a different moth, but its life processes were the same as
this. The Bird Woman calls this the King of the Poets."

"Why does she?"

"Because it is named for Citheron who was a poet, and regalis refers
to a king. You mustn't touch it or you may stunt wing development. You
watch and don't let that moth out of sight, or anything touch it. When
the wings are expanded and hardened we