Веснянки

           Apeculiarmovementbeneathasmallwalnuttreecaughthisattention.Hestoppedtoinvestigate.TherewasanunusuallylargeLunacocoon,andthemothwasburstingtheupperendinitsstrugglestoreachlightandair.Frecklesstoodandstared.

           “There’ssomethingintheretryingtogetout,”hemuttered.“WonderifIcouldhelpit?GuessIbestnotbetrying.IfIhadn’thappenedalong,therewouldn’thavebeenanyonetodoanything,andmaybeI’donlybehurtingit.It’s—it’s——Oh,skaggany!It’sjustbeingborn!”

           Frecklesgaspedwithsurprise.Themothclearedtheopening,andwithmanywabblingsandcontortionsclimbedupthetree.Hestaredspeechlesswithamazementasthemothcreptaroundalimbandclungtotheunderside.Therewasabigpursybody,almostaslargeashisthumb,andoftheverysnowiestwhitethatFreckleseverhadseen.Therewasabandofdelicatelavenderacrossitsforehead,anditsfeetwereofthesamecolour;therewereantlers,liketiny,straw-coloredferns,onitshead,andfromitsshouldershungthecrumpledwetwings.AsFrecklesgazed,tensewithastonishment,hesawthatthesewereexpanding,drooping,takingoncolor,andsmall,ovalmarkingswerebeginningtoshow.

           Theminutespassed.Freckles’steadygazeneverwavered.Withoutrealizingit,hewastremblingwitheagernessandanxiety.Ashesawwhatwastakingplace,“It’sgoingtofly,”hebreathedinhushedwonder.Themorningsunfellonthemothanddrieditsvelvetdown,whilethewarmairmadeitfluffy.