“We will be very careful at first,” said the Harvester. “It only left its case in the night and may fly. When the weather is so warm the wings develop rapidly. Perhaps if I remove the lid——”
He took off the cover, exposing a big moth, its lovely, pale yellow wings, flecked with heliotrope, outspread as it clung to a twig in the box. The Girl leaned forward.
“What is it?” she asked.
“One of the big night moths that emerge and fly a few hours in June.”
“Is this what you want for your candlestick?”
“If I can't do better. There is one other I prefer, but it may not come at a time that you can get it right.”
“What do you mean by 'right'?”
“So that you can copy it before it wants to fly.”
“Why don't you chloroform and pin it until I am ready?”
“I am not in the business of killing and impaling exquisite creatures like that.”