"No. Leave them alone. They are safe now. They are mine. They are my
salvation. God and the Limberlost gave them to me! They won't move for
hours. The books all say so. O Heavenly Father, I am thankful to You,
and you, too, Pete Corson! You are a good man to help me. Now, I can go
home and face my girl."

Instead, Mrs. Comstock dropped suddenly. She spread the apron across
her knees. The moths remained undisturbed. Then her tired white head
dropped, the tears she had thought forever dried gushed forth, and she
sobbed for pure joy.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that now, you know!" comforted Pete. "Think of
getting two! That's more than you ever could have expected. A body would
think you would cry, if you hadn't got any. Come on, now. It's almost
morning. Let me help you home."

Pete took the bag and the two old lanterns. Mrs. Comstock carried her
moths and the best lantern and went ahead to light the way.

Elnora had sat beside her window far into the night. At last she
undressed and went to bed, but sleep would not come. She had gone to
the city to talk with members of the School Board about a room in the
grades. There was a possibility that she might secure the moth, and
so be able to start to college that fall, but if she did not, then she
wanted the school. She had been given some encouragement, but she was
so unhappy that nothing mattered. She could not see the way open to
anything in life, save a long series of disappointments, while she
remained with her mother. Yet Margaret Sinton had advised her to go home
and try once more. Margaret had seemed so sure there would be a change
for the better, that Elnora had consented, although she had no hope