Elnora ran into the sitting-room and thrust the heavy kitchen towel into her mother’s hand.  Mrs. Comstock swung open the screen door and struck at some object, Elnora tossed the hair from her face so that she could see past her mother.  The girl screamed wildly.

“Don’t!  Mother, don’t!”

Mrs. Comstock struck again.  Elnora caught her arm.  “It’s the one I want!  It’s worth a lot of money!  Don’t!  Oh, you shall not!”

“Shan’t, missy?” blazed Mrs. Comstock.  “When did you get to bossing me?”

The hand that held the screen swept a half-circle and stopped at Elnora’s cheek.  She staggered with the blow, and across her face, paled with excitement, a red mark arose rapidly.  The screen slammed shut, throwing the creature on the floor before them.  Instantly Mrs. Comstock crushed it with her foot.  Elnora stepped back.  Excepting the red mark, her face was very white.

“That was the last moth I needed,” she said, “to complete a collection worth three hundred dollars.  You’ve ruined it before my eyes!”

“Moth!” cried Mrs. Comstock.  “You say that because you are mad.  Moths have big wings.  I know a moth!”

“I’ve kept things from you,” said Elnora, “because I didn’t dare confide in you.  You had no sympathy with me.  But you know I never told you untruths in all my life.”

“It’s no moth!” reiterated Mrs. Comstock.

“It is!” cried Elnora.  “It’s from a case in the ground.  Its wings take two or three hours to expand and harden.”

“If I had known it was a moth——­” Mrs. Comstock wavered.

“You did know!  I told you!  I begged you to stop!  It meant just three hundred dollars to me.”

“Bah!  Three hundred fiddlesticks!”

“They are what have paid for books, tuition, and clothes for the past four years.  They are what I could have started on to college.  You’ve ruined the very one I needed.  You never made any pretence of loving me.  At last I’ll be equally frank with you.  I hate you!  You are a selfish, wicked woman!  I hate you!”

Elnora turned, went through the kitchen and from the back door.  She followed the garden path to the gate and walked toward the swamp a short distance when reaction overtook her.  She dropped on the ground and leaned against a big log.  When a little child, desperate as now, she had tried to die by holding her breath.  She had thought in that way to make her mother sorry, but she had learned that life was a thing thrust upon her and she could not leave it at her wish.

She was so stunned over the loss of that moth, which she had childishly named the Yellow Emperor, that she scarcely remembered the blow.  She had thought no luck in all the world would be so rare as to complete her collection; now she had been forced to see a splendid Imperialis destroyed before her.  There was a possibility that she could find another, but she was facing the certainty that the one she might have had and with which she undoubtedly could have attracted others, was spoiled by her mother.  How long she sat there Elnora did not know or care.  She simply suffered in dumb, abject misery, an occasional dry sob shaking her.  Aunt Margaret was right.  Elnora felt that morning that her mother never would be any different.  The girl had reached the place where she realized that she could endure it no longer.