"Nothing ungodly about it," answered Linda. "It's funny.
Gallito is the Spanish name for these violets, and it means
'little rooster.' "
Linda set the violets as carefully as they had been lifted and
rinsed her hands at the hydrant.
"Now bring on the remainder of the exhibit," she ordered.
"It's there on the top of the rock pile, which you notice has
incrased since ye last saw it."
"So it has!" said Linda. "So it has! And beautifully colored
specimens those are too. My fern bed will lift up its voice and
rejoice in them. And rocks mean Henry Anderson. The box I do
not understand."
Linda picked it up, untied the string, and slipped off the
wrapping. Katy stared in wide-mouthed amazement.
"I was just tickled over that because Miss Eileen saw a good-
looking and capable young man leave a second package, right on
the heels of young Whiting," she said. "Whatever have ye got,
lambie? What does that mean?"
Linda held up a beautiful box of glass, inside of which could be
seen swarming specimens of every bug, beetle, insect, and worm
that Henry Anderson had been able to collect in Heaven only knew
what hours of search. Linda opened the box. The winged
creatures flew, the bettles tumbled, the worms went over the top.
She set it on the ground and laughed to exhaustion. Her eyes
were wet as she looked up at Katy.
"That first night Henry Anderson and Peter Morrison were here to
dinner, Katy," she said, "Anderson made a joke about being my
bug-catcher when I built my home nest, and several times since he
has tried to be silly about it, but the last time I told him it
was foolishness to which I would listen no more, so instead of
talking, he has taken this way of telling me that he is fairly
expert as a bug-catcher.
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