"There is one poor little firefly left," said Nan suddenly observing a faint glimmer still coming from the tiny cage. "I am afraid he is hurt. If I knew what to feed him on I would take him home and keep him till he is able to fly."
"They feed the crickets on eggplant and melon rind. We can get some on the way back, or we can find out what to give this little fellow."
"Then that is what we must do, though I wonder if we take him so far away if he can find his way back to his companions. Do you suppose he will want to? Or does it make no difference to a vital spark where it is liberated?"
"I don't imagine it will make any difference. I know my soul could find its way to——" He stopped short fearing he was growing too bold.
"To where?" asked Nan.
"To its kindred soul," was the reply which was not exactly what was first intended.
Nan sighed. It was all so dreamily mysterious out there in the mild warm air under the trees. It was a great temptation to stay and listen to perhaps more daring speeches. They were both silent for a little while, Nan watching the feeble glimmer of the imprisoned insect, and Mr. Harding watching her in the light of the lantern hung before the shrine. "It is very lovely here," said Nan at last, "but I think we should go back."
"Must we? I could stay forever."
"It is very lovely," repeated Nan, but she began to move away from the spot.