Miss Elliots Girls | Page 2

have stopped eating, and Sly-boots is turning pale."
"A worm turn pale!"
"Yes, indeed; look at him."
It was quite true; the green on his back had changed to gray-white, and
his pretty spots were fading.
"He looks awfully; is he going to die?"
"Yes--and no. Come this afternoon and see what will happen."
But when they came, Blacky and Sly-boots were not to be seen. Their
summer residence, empty and uncovered, stood out in the sun, and two
of the flower-pots were covered with netting.
"I couldn't keep them, boys," Miss Ruth said; "they were in such haste
to be gone. Only Greeny is above ground."
Greeny was in his flower-pot. He was creeping slowly round and round,
now and then stretching his long neck over the edge, but not trying to

get out. Soon he began to burrow. Straight down, head first, he went
into the ground. Now he was half under, now three quarters, now only
the end of his tail and the tip of his horn could be seen. When he was
quite gone, Sammy drew a long breath and Roy said, "I swanny!"
"How long will he have to stay down there?"
"All winter, Roy."
"Poor fellow!"
"Happy fellow! I say. Why, he has done being a worm. His creeping
days are over. He has only to lie snug and quiet under the ground a
while; then wake and come up to the sunshine some bright morning
with a new body and a pair of lovely wings to spread and fly away
with."
"Why, it's like--it's like"--
"What is it like, Sammy?"
"Ain't it like folks, Miss Ruth?" Grandma sings:--
'I'll take my wings and fly away In the morning,'
"Yes," she said; "it is like folks." Then glancing at her crutch, repeated,
smiling: "In the morning."
When the woodbine in the porch had turned red, and the maples in the
door-yard yellow, the flower-pots were removed to the warm cellar,
and one winter evening Sammy Ray wrote Greeny's epitaph:--
"A poor green worm, here I lie; But by-and-by I shall fly, Ever so high,
Into the sky."
He came often in the spring to ask if any thing had happened, and one
day Miss Ruth took from a box and laid in his hand a shining brown
chrysalis, with a curved handle.

"What a funny little brown jug!" said Sammy.
"Greeny is inside; close your hand gently and see if you feel him."
"How cold!" said the boy; and then: "Oh! oh! he is alive, for he kicks!"
In June Greeny and Blacky came out of their shells, but no one saw
them do it, for it was in the night; but Sly-boots was more obliging.
One morning Miss Ruth heard a rustling, and lo! what looked like a
great bug, with long, slender legs, was climbing to the top of the box.
Soon he hung by his feet to the netting, rested motionless a while, and
then slowly, slowly unfolded his wings to the sun. They were brown
and white and pink, beautifully shaded, and his body was covered with
rings of brown satin. Blacky and Greeny were not so handsome. They
had orange-spotted bodies, great wings of sober gray, and carried long
flexible tubes curled like a watch-spring, that could be stretched out to
suck honey from the flowers.
At sunset Miss Ruth sent for the boys. She placed the uncovered box
where the moths waited with folded wings, in the open window. Up
from the garden came a soft breeze sweet with the breath of the roses
and petunias. There was a stir, a rustle, a waving of dusky wings, and
the box was empty.
So Greeny and Blacky and Sly-boots "took their wings and flew away,"
and the boys saw them no more.
CHAPTER II.
THE PATCHWORK QUILT SOCIETY.
The minister's wife came home from a meeting of the sewing society
one afternoon quite discouraged.
"Only nine ladies present!" she said, "and very little accomplished; and
the barrel promised to that poor missionary out West, before cold
weather--I really don't see how it is to be done."

"What work have you on hand?" Miss Ruth inquired.
"We have just made a beginning," Mrs. Elliot answered with a sigh.
"There's half a dozen fine shirts to make, and a pile of sheets and
pillowcases, dresses and aprons for four little girls, table-cloths and
towels to hem, and I know not what else. We always have sent a
bed-quilt, but this barrel must go without it. It's a pity, too, for they
need bedding."
"Why, so it is," said Miss Ruth. "Susie,"--to a little girl sitting close
beside her,--"why can't some of you girls get together one afternoon in
the week and make a patchwork quilt to send in the barrel?"
Susie put her head