Philip Ammon walked from among his friends a humiliated and a wounded man.  Never before had Edith Carr appeared quite so beautiful.  All evening she had treated him with unusual consideration.  Never had he loved her so deeply.  Then in a few seconds everything was different.  Seeing the change in her face, and hearing her meaningless accusations, killed something in his heart.  Warmth went out and a cold weight took its place.  But even after that, he had offered the ring to her again, and asked her before others to reconsider.  The answer had been further insult.

He walked, paying no heed to where he went.  He had traversed many miles when he became aware that his feet had chosen familiar streets.  He was passing his home.  Dawn was near, but the first floor was lighted.  He staggered up the steps and was instantly admitted.  The library door stood open, while his father sat with a book pretending to read.  At Philip’s entrance the father scarcely glanced up.

“Come on!” he called.  “I have just told Banks to bring me a cup of coffee before I turn in.  Have one with me!”

Philip sat beside the table and leaned his head on his hands, but he drank a cup of steaming coffee and felt better.

“Father,” he said, “father, may I talk with you a little while?”

“Of course,” answered Mr. Ammon.  “I am not at all tired.  I think I must have been waiting in the hope that you would come.  I want no one’s version of this but yours.  Tell me the straight of the thing, Phil.”

Philip told all he knew, while his father sat in deep thought.

“On my life I can’t see any occasion for such a display of temper, Phil.  It passed all bounds of reason and breeding.  Can’t you think of anything more?”

“I cannot!”

“Polly says every one expected you to carry the moth you caught to Edith.  Why didn’t you?”

“She screams if a thing of that kind comes near her.  She never has taken the slightest interest in them.  I was in a big hurry.  I didn’t want to miss one minute of my dance with her.  The moth was not so uncommon, but by a combination of bad luck it had become the rarest in America for a friend of mine, who is making a collection to pay college expenses.  For an instant last June the series was completed; when a woman’s uncontrolled temper ruined this specimen and the search for it began over.  A few days later a pair was secured, and again the money was in sight for several hours.  Then an accident wrecked one-fourth of the collection.  I helped replace those last June, all but this Yellow Emperor which we could not secure, and we haven’t been able to find, buy or trade for one since.  So my friend was compelled to teach this past winter instead of going to college.  When that moth came flying in there to-night, it seemed to me like fate.  All I thought of was, that to secure it would complete the collection and secure the money.  So I caught the Emperor and started it to Elnora.  I declare to you that I was not out of the pavilion over three minutes at a liberal estimate.  If I only had thought to speak to the orchestra!  I was sure I would be back before enough couples gathered and formed for the dance.”