“I have thought the same thing,” said the Bird Woman encouragingly.  Then because the girl could not eat until she learned about the moths, the Bird Woman asked Elnora if she knew what kinds she had.

“Not all of them,” answered Elnora.  “Before Mr. Duncan moved away he often saw me near the edge of the swamp and he showed me the box he had fixed for Freckles, and gave me the key.  There were some books and things, so from that time on I studied and tried to take moths right, but I am afraid they are not what you want.”

“Are they the big ones that fly mostly in June nights?” asked the Bird Woman.

“Yes,” said Elnora.  “Big gray ones with reddish markings, pale blue-green, yellow with lavender, and red and yellow.”

“What do you mean by ‘red and yellow?’” asked the Bird Woman so quickly that the girl almost jumped.

“Not exactly red,” explained Elnora, with tremulous voice.  “A reddish, yellowish brown, with canary-coloured spots and gray lines on their wings.”

“How many of them?” It was the same quick question.

“I had over two hundred eggs,” said Elnora, “but some of them didn’t hatch, and some of the caterpillars died, but there must be at least a hundred perfect ones.”

“Perfect!  How perfect?” cried the Bird Woman.

“I mean whole wings, no down gone, and all their legs and antennae,” faltered Elnora.

“Young woman, that’s the rarest moth in America,” said the Bird Woman solemnly.  “If you have a hundred of them, they are worth a hundred dollars according to my list.  I can use all that are not damaged.”

“What if they are not pinned right,” quavered Elnora.

“If they are perfect, that does not make the slightest difference.  I know how to soften them so that I can put them into any shape I choose.  Where are they?  When may I see them?”

“They are in Freckles’s old case in the Limberlost,” said Elnora.  “I couldn’t carry many for fear of breaking them, but I could bring a few after school.”

“You come here at four,” said the Bird Woman, “and we will drive out with some specimen boxes, and a price list, and see what you have to sell.  Are they your very own?  Are you free to part with them?”

“They are mine,” said Elnora.  “No one but God knows I have them.  Mr. Duncan gave me the books and the box.  He told Freckles about me, and Freckles told him to give me all he left.  He said for me to stick to the swamp and be brave, and my hour would come, and it has!  I know most of them are all right, and oh, I do need the money!”

“Could you tell me?” asked the Bird Woman softly.

“You see the swamp and all the fields around it are so full,” explained Elnora.  “Every day I felt smaller and smaller, and I wanted to know more and more, and pretty soon I grew desperate, just as Freckles did.  But I am better off than he was, for I have his books, and I have a mother; even if she doesn’t care for me as other girls’ mothers do for them, it’s better than no one.”