"A few, father. Some Swallowtails, some Brush-footed ones, a number of Blues, Coppers and Hair-streaks."
"Why! you are quite a lepidopterist," exclaimed Doctor Raymond. "And the eggs, the larvæ and the chrysalids; do you have them too?"
The girl hung her head.
"N-no; I know one has to have those things as well as the butterflies to study the science properly, but I have none. I think the butterflies are beautiful. Just like flying flowers!"
"Ah! you are like all amateurs, Beatrice." Doctor Raymond shook his head gravely. "They are taken by the beauty of the butterfly, and so confine themselves to the imago state entirely. Whereas, to know the insect thoroughly, one should study it from the egg through all its stages to the perfected form. But you are not alone in it, my daughter. There are many men of wealth who make collections of the butterfly, as they do of gems and other things. They, too, care only for the perfected insect. In your case, you are young, and may be taught the proper manner of study. I am glad that you are interested in such things. It will afford me great pleasure to continue your instruction in the subject this summer. That is, if you would like it?"
"Like it?" cried Beatrice, looking up at him with unfeigned delight. "I should love it."
"Then we will consider that matter settled," he said with approval. "Here are some wild cherry trees. Be careful, child! There are some wasps."
But Beatrice, intent upon making herself useful, rushed forward eagerly and began stripping off the leaves from the low hanging limbs.
"Do you want some of the twigs, father? There is a fine branch here filled with leaves."
"Yes; but let me cut it for you." Doctor Raymond drew out a clasp knife and started to open it.