Part 42 (1/2)
”Now what must I do?” she asked.
Elnora glanced at Philip Ammon. Their eyes met and both of them smiled; he with amus.e.m.e.nt at the tall, spare figure, with dark eyes and white crown, asking the childish question so confidingly; and Elnora with pride. She was beginning to appreciate the character of her mother.
”How would you like to sit and see her finish development? I'll get dinner,” proposed the girl.
After they had dined, Philip and Elnora carried the dishes to the kitchen, brought out boxes, sheets of cork, pins, ink, paper slips and everything necessary for mounting and cla.s.sifying the moths they had taken. When the housework was finished Mrs. Comstock with her ruffle sat near, watching and listening. She remembered all they said that she understood, and when uncertain she asked questions. Occasionally she laid down her work to straighten some flower which needed attention or to search the garden for a bug for the grosbeak. In one of these absences Elnora said to Philip: ”These replace quite a number of the moths I lost for the man of India. With a week of such luck, I could almost begin to talk college again.”
”There is no reason why you should not have the week and the luck,” said he. ”I have taken moths until the middle of August, though I suspect one is more likely to find late ones in the north where it is colder than here. The next week is hay-time, but we can count on a few double-brooders and strays, and by working the exchange method for all it is worth, I think we can complete the collection again.”
”You almost make me hope,” said Elnora, ”but I must not allow myself. I don't truly think I can replace all I lost, not even with your help. If I could, I scarcely see my way clear to leave mother this winter. I have found her so recently, and she is so precious, I can't risk losing her again. I am going to take the nature position in the Onabasha schools, and I shall be most happy doing the work. Only, these are a temptation.”
”I wish you might go to college this fall with the other girls,” said Philip. ”I feel that if you don't you never will. Isn't there some way?”
”I can't see it if there is, and I really don't want to leave mother.”
”Well, mother is mighty glad to hear it,” said Mrs. Comstock, entering the arbour.
Philip noticed that her face was pale, her lips quivering, her voice cold.
”I was telling your daughter that she should go to college this winter,”
he explained, ”but she says she doesn't want to leave you.”
”If she wants to go, I wish she could,” said Mrs. Comstock, a look of relief spreading over her face.
”Oh, all girls want to go to college,” said Philip. ”It's the only proper place to learn bridge and embroidery; not to mention midnight lunches of mixed pickles and fruit cake, and all the delights of the sororities.”
”I have thought for years of going to college,” said Elnora, ”but I never thought of any of those things.”
”That is because your education in fudge and bridge has been sadly neglected,” said Philip. ”You should hear my sister Polly! This was her final year! Lunches and sororities were all I heard her mention, until Tom Levering came on deck; now he is the leading subject. I can't see from her daily conversation that she knows half as much really worth knowing as you do, but she's ahead of you miles on fun.”
”Oh, we had some good times in the high school,” said Elnora. ”Life hasn't been all work and study. Is Edith Carr a college girl?”
”No. She is the very selectest kind of a private boarding-school girl.”
”Who is she?” asked Mrs. Comstock.
Philip opened his lips.
”She is a girl in Chicago, that Mr. Ammon knows very well,” said Elnora.
”She is beautiful and rich, and a friend of his sister's. Or, didn't you say that?”
”I don't remember, but she is,” said Philip. ”This moth needs an alcohol bath to remove the dope.”
”Won't the down come, too?” asked Elnora anxiously.
”No. You watch and you will see it come out, as Polly would say, 'a perfectly good' moth.”
”Is your sister younger than you?” inquired Elnora.