“Why, isn’t that——?” she began excitedly.

“It’s a Yellow Emperor!  This is fate!” cried Philip.  “The last one Elnora needs for her collection.  I must have it!  Excuse me!”

He ran toward the light.  “Hats!  Handkerchiefs!  Fans!  Anything!” he panted.  “Every one hold up something and stop that!  It’s a moth; I’ve got to catch it!”

“It’s yellow!  He wants it for Edith!” ran in a murmur around the hall.  The girl’s face flushed, while she bit her lips in vexation.

Instantly every one began holding up something to keep the moth from flying back into the night.  One fan held straight before it served, and the moth gently settled on it.

“Hold steady!” cried Philip.  “Don’t move for your life!” He rushed toward the moth, made a quick sweep and held it up between his fingers.  “All right!” he called.  “Thanks, every one!  Excuse me a minute.”

He ran to the office.

“An ounce of gasolene, quick!” he ordered.  “A cigar box, a cork, and the glue bottle.”

He poured some glue into the bottom of the box, set the cork in it firmly, dashed the gasolene over the moth repeatedly, pinned it to the cork, poured the remainder of the liquid over it, closed the box, and fastened it.  Then he laid a bill on the counter.

“Pack that box with cork around it, in one twice its size, tie securely and express to this address at once.”

He scribbled on a sheet of paper and shoved it over.

“On your honour, will you do that faithfully as I say?” he asked the clerk.

“Certainly,” was the reply.

“Then keep the change,” called Philip as he ran back to the pavilion.

Edith Carr stood where he left her, thinking rapidly.  She heard the murmur that arose when Philip started to capture the exquisite golden creature she was impersonating.  She saw the flash of surprise that went over unrestrained faces when he ran from the room, without even showing it to her.  “The last one Elnora needs,” rang in her ears.  He had told her that he helped collect moths the previous summer, but she had understood that the Bird Woman, with whose work Miss Carr was familiar, wanted them to put in a book.

He had spoken of a country girl he had met who played the violin wonderfully, and at times, he had shown a disposition to exalt her as a standard of womanhood.  Miss Carr had ignored what he said, and talked of something else.  But that girl’s name had been Elnora.  It was she who was collecting moths!  No doubt she was the competent judge who was responsible for the yellow costume Philip had devised.  Had Edith Carr been in her room, she would have torn off the dress at the thought.

Being in a circle of her best friends, which to her meant her keenest rivals and harshest critics, she grew rigid with anger.  Her breath hurt her paining chest.  No one thought to speak to the musicians, and seeing the floor filled, they began the waltz.  Only part of the guests could see what had happened, and at once the others formed and commenced to dance.  Gay couples came whirling past her.