The formidable larvae of dragon-flies occupied Kathleen's bath; turtles peered at them from vantage points under the modern plumbing; an enormous frog regarded Kathleen solemnly from the wet, tiled floor.

"Oh, dear," she said as Scott greeted her rapturously, "have I got to move all these horrid creatures ?" "For Heaven's sake don't touch a thing," protested Scott, welcoming his sister with a perfunctory kiss; "I'll find places for them in a minute." "How _could_ you, Scott!" exclaimed Geraldine, backing hastily away from a branch of green leaves on which several gigantic horned caterpillars were feeding.

"I don't feel like ever sleeping in this room again," she added, exasperated.
"Why, Sis," he explained mildly, "those are the caterpillars of the magnificent Regal moth! They're perfectly harmless, and it's jolly to watch them tuck away walnut leaves.

You'll like to have them here in your room when you understand how to weigh them on these bully little scales I've just had sent up from Tiffany's." But his sister was too annoyed and too tired to speak.

She stood limply leaning against Kathleen while her brother disposed of his uncanny menagerie, talking away very cheerfully all the while absorbed in his grewsome pets.
But it was not to his sister, it was to Kathleen that his pride in his achievements was naively displayed; his running accompaniment of chatter was for Kathleen's benefit, his appeals were to her sympathy and understanding, not to his sister's.
Geraldine watched him in silence.