As Elnora left the room, Mrs. Comstock took one step after her.

“You little huzzy!” she gasped.

But Elnora was gone.  Her mother stood staring.

“She never did lie to me,” she muttered.  “I guess it was a moth.  And the only one she needed to get three hundred dollars, she said.  I wish I hadn’t been so fast!  I never saw anything like it.  I thought it was some deadly, stinging, biting thing.  A body does have to be mighty careful here.  But likely I’ve spilt the milk now.  Pshaw!  She can find another!  There’s no use to be foolish.  Maybe moths are like snakes, where there’s one, there are two.”

Mrs. Comstock took the broom and swept the moth out of the door.  Then she got down on her knees and carefully examined the steps, logs and the earth of the flower beds at each side.  She found the place where the creature had emerged from the ground, and the hard, dark-brown case which had enclosed it, still wet inside.  Then she knew Elnora had been right.  It was a moth.  Its wings had been damp and not expanded.  Mrs. Comstock never before had seen one in that state, and she did not know how they originated.  She had thought all of them came from cases spun on trees or against walls or boards.  She had seen only enough to know that there were such things; as a flash of white told her that an ermine was on her premises, or a sharp “buzzzzz” warned her of a rattler.

So it was from creatures like that Elnora had secured her school money.  In one sickening sweep there rushed into the heart of the woman a full realization of the width of the gulf that separated her from her child.  Lately many things had pointed toward it, none more plainly than when Elnora, like a reincarnation of her father, had stood fearlessly before a large city audience and played with even greater skill than he, on what Mrs. Comstock felt very certain was his violin.  But that little crawling creature of earth, crushed by her before its splendid yellow and lavender wings could spread and carry it into the mystery of night, had performed a miracle.

“We are nearer strangers to each other than we are with any of the neighbours,” she muttered.

So one of the Almighty’s most delicate and beautiful creations was sacrificed without fulfilling the law, yet none of its species ever served so glorious a cause, for at last Mrs. Comstock’s inner vision had cleared.  She went through the cabin mechanically.  Every few minutes she glanced toward the back walk to see if Elnora were coming.  She knew arrangements had been made with Margaret to go to the city some time that day, so she grew more nervous and uneasy every moment.  She was haunted by the fear that the blow might discolour Elnora’s cheek; that she would tell Margaret.  She went down the back walk, looking intently in all directions, left the garden and followed the swamp path.  Her step was noiseless on the soft, black earth, and soon she came close enough to see Elnora.  Mrs. Comstock stood looking at the girl in troubled uncertainty.  Not knowing what to say, at last she turned and went back to the cabin.