sion pieces he admired on display in the store
windows of the city. To him, chairs and tables made from trees that grew
on land that had belonged for three generations to his ancestors, trees
among which he had grown, played, and worked, trees that were so much
his friends that he carefully explained the situation to them before
using an ax or saw, trees that he had cut, cured, and fashioned into
designs of his own, would make vastly more valuable furnishings in his
home than anything that could be purchased in the city.

As he drove back and forth he watched constantly for her. He was working
so desperately, planning far ahead, doubling and trebling tasks, trying
to do everything his profession demanded in season, and to prepare
timber and make plans for the new cabin, as well as to start a pair
of candlesticks of marvellous design for her, that night was one
long, unbroken sleep of the thoroughly tired man, but day had become a
delightful dream.

He fed the chickens to produce eggs for her. He gathered barks and
sluiced roots on the raft in the lake, for her. He grubbed the spice
thicket before the door and moved it into the woods to make space for a
lawn, for her. His eyes were wide open for every woven case and dangling
cocoon of the big night moths that propagated around him, for her. Every
night when he left the woods from one to a dozen cocoons, that he had
detected with remarkable ease while the trees were bare, were stuck
in his hat band. As he arranged them in a cool, dry place he talked to
them.

"Of course I know you are valuable and there are collectors who would
pay well for you, but I think not. You are the prettiest thing God made
that I ever saw, and those of you that home with me have no price on
your wings. You are much safer here than among the crows and jays of the
woods. I am gathering you to protect you, and to show to her. If I don't
find her by June, you may go scot free. All I want is the best pattern
I can get from some of you for candlestick designs. Of everything in the
whole world a candlestick should be made of wood. It should be carved
by hand, and of all ornamentations on earth the moth that flies to the
night light is the most appropriate. Owls are not so bad. They are of
the night, and they fly to light, too, but they are so old. Nobody I
ever have known used a moth. They missed the best when they neglected
them. I'll make her sticks over an original pattern; I'll twine
nightshade v