for the Limberlost. I have changed my mind. I don't want Polly here. She would not enjoy catching moths, or anything we do."
"She might," persisted Elnora. "You are her brother, and surely you care for these things."
"The argument does not hold," said Ammon. "Polly and I do not like the same things when we are at home, but we are very fond of each other. The member of my family who would go crazy about this is my father. I wish he could come, if only for a week. I'd send for him, but he is tied up in preparing some papers for a great corporation case this summer. He likes the country. It was his vote that brought me here."
Ammon leaned back in the arbour, watching the grosbeak as it hunted food between a tomato vine and a day lily. Elnora set him to making labels, and when he finished them he asked permission to write a letter. He took no pains to conceal his page, and from where she sat opposite him, Elnora could not look his way without reading, "My dearest Edith." He wrote busily for a time and then sat staring out across the garden.
"Have you run out of material so quickly?" asked Elnora.
"That's about it," said Ammon. "I have said that I am getting well as rapidly as possible, that the air is line, the folks at Uncle Doc's all well, and entirely too good to me; that I am spending most of my time in the country helping catch moths for a collection, which is splendid
