THE EGGS OF THE SILVER MOON
In the new white marble Administration Building at Bronx Park, my private office the offices of Dr. Silas Quint and Professor Boomly; and it had been so on purpose, of the personal these two entomologists. It was very plain to me that a in this was approaching.
A had for some months on sides, of the most professional jealousy. They had been friends for years. No this as long as it was a question of collecting, preparing, and for the numbers of and which this earth. Even their in the for new and had not them enemies.
I am that my for the of a great flying-cage for of and started the trouble these and middle-aged men. That, and the Carnegie Educational Medal were the which this affair.
Various collectors, by Quint and Boomly, were always out all over the world for specimens; also, they were returning with from every of the globe.
Now, to secure and of and for the flying-cage was a and job. Such not the of months from the of Australia, India, Asia, Africa, or the of South America—nor semi-tropical the of a or days, when in the West Indies, Mexico, or Florida. Only our duller-coloured, smaller, and native and exhibition.
Therefore, the mode of which I was for our to obtain males and of the same of or moth, them, and, as soon as any female deposited her eggs, place the pearl-like eggs in cold to their hatching, which occurs, in the majority of species, ten days or two weeks.
This now was the mode of by the by Dr. Quint and Professor Boomly. And not only were the eggs of and so packed for transportation, but a store of their native food-plants was also preserved, where such food-plants not be in the United States. So when the eggs at Bronx Park, and were there in time, the had of for them in cold storage.
Might I not, legitimately, have the Carnegie Educational Medal for all this? I have it. I say this without indignation—even without sorrow. I make the statement.
Yet, my was a very system; a of eggs would arrive from Ceylon, or Sumatra, or Africa; when taken from cold and in the they would presently hatch; the were with their food-plant—a being taken from cold every day for them—they would pass through their three or four periods, in time, into the stage, and appear in all the and of or moth.
The great flying-cage was now alive with superb and butterflies, flitting, darting, among the or along the banks of the which through the flying-cage, by of flowers. And it was like looking at a of jewels, where the metallic-blue Morphos from South America and sailed, and the orange and gold and green Ornithoptera from Borneo their majestic, bird-like flight—where big, Papilios through the or to for a moments on and phlox, and where the slowly Heliconians their way the of vegetation.
Nothing like this flying-cage had been in New York; thousands and thousands of men, women, and children the lawn about the flying-cage all day long.
By night, also, the was wonderful; the electric lights among the out; the great downy-winged moths, which had been asleep all day while the through the sunshine, now came out to their or peacock-spotted wings, and the their and to for the night.
The public was enchanted, the of the Bronx proud and delighted; all was and harmony. Except that nobody offered me the Carnegie medal.
I was one in my office, which, as I have said, the offices of Dr. Quint and Professor Boomly, when there came a loud on my door, and, at my invitation, Dr. Quint in—a little, meagre, excitable, near-sighted man with pointed and a of an his lip.
"Last week," he angrily, "young Jones from Singapore me the eggs of Erebia astarte, the great Silver Moon butterfly. Attempts to them have been made. Last night I left them in a breeding-cage on my desk. Has been in there?"
"I don't know," I said. "What has happened?"
"I an in the yesterday!" he shouted; "and this the eggs have either to their size or else the eggs of another have been for them and the Silver Moon eggs stolen! Has he been in there?"
"Who?" I asked, to misunderstand.
"He!" Quint fiercely. "If he has I'll kill him some day."
He meant his one-time friend, Dr. Boomly. Alas!
"For heaven's sake, why are you two squabbling?" I asked wearily. "You used to be friends. Why can't you make up?"
"Because I've come to know him. That's why! I have this—this Borgia—this Machiavelli—this of duplicity! Matters are a point where something has got to be done of murder. I've all his and and and and that I'm going to—"
He stopped short, at the doorway, which had been by the of Professor Boomly—a but majestic—like the end of an elephant. For the rest, he had a and and a that looked damp.
"Mr. Smith," he said to me, in his thin, high, voice—a voice at with his bulk—"has had the to enter my room and nose about my desk?"
"Yes, I have!" Quint excitedly. "I've been in your room. What of it? What about it?"
Boomly permitted his heavy-lidded to on Quint for a moment, then, to me:
"I want a lock put on my door. Will you speak to Professor Farrago?"
"I want one put on mine, too!" Quint. "I want a lock put on my door which will keep envious, dull-minded, broken-down, impertinent, and people out of my office!"
Boomly heavily:
"Fat?" he repeated, at Quint. "Did you say 'fat?'"
"Yes, fat—intellectually and fat! I want that of out. I don't trust them. I'm of them. Their minds are atrophied. They are unmoral, possibly criminal! I don't want them in my room about to see what I have and what I'm doing. I don't want them to in, up with and envy, and try to the eggs of the Silver Moon the and of them would for me the Carnegie Educational Medal—"
"Why, you little, dried-up, atom!" out Boomly, his with passion, "Are you that I have any designs on your of eggs?"
"It's my belief," Quint, "that you want that yourself, and that you put an in my breeding-cage in it would the eggs of the Silver Moon."
"If you an there," Boomly, "you it in mistake for a butterfly!" And he into a of laughter, but his little, pig-like under the were furious.
"I now believe," said Quint, with rage, "that you have a of common Plexippus eggs for the Silver Moon eggs I had in my breeding-cage! I you are to do it!"
"Ha! Ha!" Boomly scornfully. "I don't you had anything in your breeding-cage a and cockroaches!"
Quint to dance:
"You did take them!" he yelled; "and you left me a of butterflies' eggs! Give me my eggs or I shall you!"
"Assault your grandmother!" Boomly, with brevity. "What do you I want of your eggs? Haven't I eggs of Heliconius to give me the Carnegie if I want it?"
"The Silver Moon eggs are unique!" Quint. "You know it! You know that if they hatch, pupate, and perfect that I shall be awarded—"
"You'll be the Matteawan medal," Boomly with venom.
Quint ran at him with a half-suppressed howl, his him up Professor Boomly's person. Then, foothold, he to the and to in the direction of Professor Boomly. It was a to see these two scientists panting, mauling, and each other around the room, tables and chairs and in every direction, and I on the window-sill horrified, speechless, trying to keep clear of the centre.
"Where are my Silver Moon eggs!" Dr. Quint. "Where are my eggs that Jones me from Singapore—you robber! You've got 'em somewhere! If you don't give 'em up I'll means to you!"
"You pair of palpi!" Professor Boomly, after Dr. Quint as he around my desk. "I'll off those antennæ you call if I can of em—"
Dr. Quint's as he the of Professor Boomly—once again around my desk, then out into the hall, where I the door of his office slam, and Boomly, gasping, panting, outside, and to Quint when he him.
It was a painful for scientists to in or to upon. Profoundly and upset, I locked up the offices and out into the Park, where the sun was and a June wind the trees.
Too to do any more work that day, I about the at hazard; sometimes I the monkeys; sometimes sadly upon the seals. They and and and their tank, or up on the rocks, their wet, necks, and barked—houp! houp! houp!
For I over to the Rolling Stone Restaurant. There was a very girl there—an girl—or it was one of those days on which every girl looked to me. There are such days.
Her voice was when she spoke. She said:
"We have, today, hash, and eggs, and bacon—" but let that pass, too.
I took my tea very weak; by that time I learned that her name was Mildred Case; that she had been a private in a store, and that her had been to ladies who to pay for objects in their reticules, bosoms, and sometimes in their stockings.
But the of work had been too much for Mildred Case, and the only job she was the position of lady in the Rolling Stone Inn.
She was very, very beautiful, or it was one of those days—but let that pass, too.
"You are the great Mr. Percy Smith, Curator of the Anthropological Department, are you not?" she asked shyly.
"Yes," I said modestly; and, to any in me, I with humility, pointing upward: "but remember, Mildred, there is One than I."
"Mr. Carnegie?" she innocently. That was true, too. I let it go at that.
We chatted: she mentioned Professor Boomly and Dr. Quint, the of their friendship. Both gentlemen, in common with the majority of the administration personnel, were daily at the Rolling Stone Inn. I took my from my boarding-house to my office, being too to go out for nourishment.
That is why I had missed Mildred Case.
"Mildred," I said, "I do not it can be for a man to eat sandwiches while taking minute of monkeys. Also, it is not a pastime. Hereafter I shall here."
"It will be a to you," said that unusually—there I go again! It was an day in June. Which careful, exact, and scientific statement, I think ought to the under consideration.
After I sadly a five-cent cigar; and, as I hesitated, over the case, still to give full to this extravagance, I looked up and her into mine.
"What are yours, Mildred?" I said softly.
"The cigar you have selected," she murmured, "is fly-specked."
Deeply touched that this girl should have cared—that she should have her so modestly, so sweetly, the condition of my cigar, I thanked her and purchased, for the same sum, a packet of cigarettes.
That was going for me. I had in all my life of a cigarette. To a reserved, thoughtful, and scientific mind there is, about a packet of cigarettes, something undignified, something frolicsome.
When I paid her for them I as though, for the time in my life, I had let myself go.
Oddly enough, in this of and abandon, a of persisted.
We had a little when I to light my cigarette and the match out, and then she another match, and we laughed, and that match was by her breath.
Instantly I quoted: "'Her was like the new-mown hay—'"
"Mr. Smith!" she said, slightly.
"'Her eyes,' I quoted, 'were like the at even!'"
"You don't my eyes, do you?"
I took a at my cigarette. It also like hay. I that I was my and toward an unknown and sea.
"What time are you free, Mildred?" I asked, my own voice in such apropos.
She me.
I a match, my cigarette, and took one puff. That was sufficient: I was adrift. I it, internally, took another puff.
"If," said I carelessly, "on your way home you should to along the path the path that leads to the path which—"
I paused, by her eyes. We blushed.
"Which way do you go home?" I asked, my ears afire.
"'Which way do you go home?' I asked."
She told me. It was a path.
So presently I thither; and seated myself under the trees in a dell.
Now, there is a quality in not to thoughts. Boskiness, cigarettes, a soft in June, the of bees, and the barking of the seals, all these were to in me a sentiment.
A of Papilio turnus, di-morphic form, Glaucus, near me; I marked its with scientific indifference. Yet it is a in Bronx Park.
A mock-orange was in me; great of over the me.
The of these two to make the more bosky.
There was an and to my step when I rose to meet Mildred, where she came along the shadow-dappled path.
She to see me.
She it late to down, but she seated herself. I talked to her about anthropology. She was so that after a while she keep still, moving her little restlessly, her lip, shifting her position—all of an in science which approached excitement.
Warmed to the by her and in the science so precious, so dear to me, I took her little hand to and her, that she might as I the and why its functions had until the itself was nearly obsolete.
So her had been that she a little tired. I to give material support to her process. It to and her. I don't that she said anything except: "Mr. Smith!" I don't what we were saying when she mentioned me by name abruptly.
The was still and calm. The month was June.