will put it in a box."

"I am afraid it will race itself to death," objected Mrs. Comstock.

"That's a part of the game," said Philip. "It is starting circulation
now. When the right moment comes, it will stop and expand its wings. If
you watch closely you can see them expand."

Presently the moth found a rough projection of bark and clung with its
feet, back down, its wings hanging. The body was an unusual orange red,
the tiny wings were gray, striped with the red and splotched here
and there with markings of canary yellow. Mrs. Comstock watched
breathlessly. Presently she slipped from the log and knelt to secure a
better view.

"Are its wings developing?" called Elnora.

"They are growing larger and the markings coming stronger every minute."

"Let's watch, too," said Elnora to Philip.

They came and looked over Mrs. Comstock's shoulder. Lower drooped the
gay wings, wider they spread, brighter grew the markings as if laid off
in geometrical patterns. They could hear Mrs. Comstock's tense breath
and see her absorbed expression.

"Young people," she said solemnly, "if your studying science and the
elements has ever led you to feel that things just happen, kind of
evolve by chance, as it were, this sight will be good for you. Maybe
earth and air accumulate, but it takes the wisdom of the Almighty God
to devise the wing of a moth. If there ever was a miracle, this whole
process is one. Now, as I understand it, this creature is going to keep
on spreading those wings, until they grow to size and harden to strength
sufficient to bear its body. Then it flies away, mates with its kind,
lays its eggs on the leaves of a certain tree, and the eggs hatch tiny
caterpillars which eat just that kind of leaves, and the worms grow and
grow, and take on different forms and colours until at last they are big
caterpillars six inches long, with large horns. Then they burrow into
the earth, build a water-proof house around themselves from material
which is inside them, and lie through rain and freezing cold for months.
A year from egg laying they come out like this, and begin the process
all over again. They don't eat, they don't see distinctly, they live
but a few days, and fly only at night; then they drop off easy, but the
process goes on."

A shivering movement went over the moth. The wings drooped and spread
wider. Mrs. Comstock sank into soft awed tones.

"There never was a moment in my life," she said, "when I felt so in t