So I went out and explained to Mr. Pettis
what efforts I had made to secure this yellow moth, comforted him
for allowing the male to escape by telling him I could raise all I
wanted from the eggs of the female, showed him my entire collection,
and sent him from the Cabin such a friend to my work, that it was he
who brought me an oil-coated lark a few days later.
On rising early the next morning, I found my moth had deposited
some eggs on the dining-room floor, before the conservatory doors,
more on the heavy tapestry that covered them, and she was clinging
to a velvet curtain at a library window, liberally dotting it with
eggs, almost as yellow as her body. I turned a tumbler over those
on the floor, pinned folds in the curtains, and as soon as the light
was good, set up a camera and focused on a suitable location.
She climbed on my finger when it was held before her, and was carried,
with no effort to fly, to the place I had selected, though Molly-Cotton
walked close with a spread net, ready for the slightest impulse toward
movement.
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