“May I have a leaf?” he asked, reaching for one as he sat on the bank, looking from the little creek at his feet, away through the dim cool spaces of the June forest on the opposite side.  He drew a deep breath.  “Glory, but this is good after almost two months inside hospital walls!”

He stretched on the grass and lay gazing up at the leaves, occasionally asking the interpretation of a bird note or the origin of an unfamiliar forest voice.  Elnora began helping with the dandelions.

“Another, please,” said the young man, holding out his hand.

“Do you suppose this is the kind of grass Nebuchadnezzar ate?” Elnora asked, giving the leaf.

“He knew a good thing if it is.”

“Oh, you should taste dandelions boiled with bacon and served with mother’s cornbread.”

“Don’t!  My appetite is twice my size now.  While it is—­how far is it to Onabasha, shortest cut?”

“Three miles.”

The man lay in perfect content, nibbling leaves.

“This surely is a treat,” he said.  “No wonder you find good hunting here.  There seems to be foliage for almost every kind of caterpillar.  But I suppose you have to exchange for northern species and Pacific Coast kinds?”

“Yes.  And every one wants Regalis in trade.  I never saw the like.  They consider a Cecropia or a Polyphemus an insult, and a Luna is barely acceptable.”

“What authorities have you?”

Elnora began to name text-books which started a discussion.  Mrs. Comstock listened.  She cleaned dandelions with greater deliberation than they ever before were examined.  In reality she was taking stock of the young man’s long, well-proportioned frame, his strong hands, his smooth, fine-textured skin, his thick shock of dark hair, and making mental notes of his simple manly speech and the fact that he evidently did know much about moths.  It pleased her to think that if he had been a neighbour boy who had lain beside her every day of his life while she worked, he could have been no more at home.  She liked the things he said, but she was proud that Elnora had a ready answer which always seemed appropriate.

At last Mrs. Comstock finished the greens.

“You are three miles from the city and less than a mile from where we live,” she said.  “If you will tell me what you dare eat, I suspect you had best go home with us and rest until the cool of the day before you start back.  Probably some one that you can ride in with will be passing before evening.”

“That is mighty kind of you,” said Philip.  “I think I will.  It doesn’t matter so much what I eat, the point is that I must be moderate.  I am hungry all the time.”

“Then we will go,” said Mrs. Comstock, “and we will not allow you to make yourself sick with us.”

Philip Ammon arose:  picking up the pail of greens and his fishing rod, he stood waiting.  Elnora led the way.  Mrs. Comstock motioned Philip to follow and she walked in the rear.  The girl carried the cocoon and the box of moths she had taken, searching every step for more.  The young man frequently set down his load to join in the pursuit of a dragonfly or moth, while Mrs. Comstock watched the proceedings with sharp eyes.  Every time Philip picked up the pail of greens she struggled to suppress a smile.