MOTHS OF THE LIMBERLOST 



"Guilty!" he responded. "Name it." 



For one fleeting instant Molly-Cotton measured the 

 company. There was no one present who was not the 

 graduate of a commissioned high school. There were 

 girls who were students at The Castle, Smith, Vassar, and 

 Bryn Mawr. The host was a Cornell junior, and there 

 were men from Harvard and Yale. 



"It is an Eacles Imperialis lo Polyphemus Cecropia Re- 

 galis," she said. Then in breathless suspense she waited. 



"Shades of Homer!" cried the host. "Where did you 

 learn it.'^" 



"They are flying all through the Cabin at home," she 

 replied. "There was a tumbler turned over their eggs 

 on the dining-room floor, and you dared not sit on the 

 right side of the library window seat because of them 

 when I left." 



"What do you w^ant with their eggs.^^" asked a girl. 



"Want to hatch their caterpillars, and raise them until 

 they transform into these moths," answered poor Molly- 

 Cotton, who had been taught to fear so few living things 

 that at the age of four she had carried a garter snake into 

 the house for a playmate. 



" Caterpillars ! ' ' The chorus arose to a shriek. " Don't 

 they sting you? Don't they bite you.'^" 



"No, they don't!" replied Molly-Cotton. "They 

 don't bite anything except leaves; they are fine big fel- 

 lows; their colouring is exquisite; and they evolve these 



150 



