Then There Were Five by Elizabeth Enright Page B

out of sight the mysterious one bumped gently against the eaves. Oliver held the light temptingly close to the screen, willing the stranger to appear. And presently he was rewarded.
    Floating out of the dark, knocking against the overhang, came something so beautiful, so fairylike that Oliver hardly dared to breathe. The thing was a moth, but like no other moth that he had seen. Its wings were as wide as his two hands opened out, as frail as a pair of petals, and colored a pale, pale green: a moonlit silvery green.
    â€œGee,” whispered Oliver. He sat there staring. “A luna! I never thought I’d see a real luna!”
    It came close, hovered against the screen, and paused there. He could see the long curved tails on its wings, the delicate white fur on its body and legs. Oliver thought he had never seen anything so perfect. He and the moth watched each other for a long moment; neither moved.
    Then suddenly, sharp, quick, dark against darkness, up came the bat. Oliver jumped to his feet, clapping his hands, and shouting.
    â€œGet out of here, bat! You get away, you get away!”
    With a sound like the flutter of a candle flame the bat departed. But Oliver knew it would be back again. With his finger he tapped gently against the screen where the moth was clinging.
    â€œGo away now, luna,” he said to it. “Go away fast, go home to the jungle where the panther won’t get you.”
    The moth fluttered away from the screen, reluctant and bewildered. Oliver put out the light so that it would go back where it belonged: back to the mysterious, leafy place from which it had come.
    Pat, pat, pat went the little felt slipper under the eaves. Pat, pat, pat, and then silence. Oliver looked out. He could just see the great, pale creature floating toward the woods, drifting away on the tides of darkness like a flower on a pool.
    There was a sudden sound. Light came into the room; Oliver turned guiltily.
    â€œOliver Melendy!” Cuffy’s voice sounded queer without her teeth. “What are you doing? Was that you a minute ago, clappin’ and hollerin’?”
    â€œIt was me,” admitted Oliver, climbing back into bed and pulling the sheet up over himself and the hundred-odd little midges that had crept in through the meshes of the screen. “I was just scaring away a black panther.”
    â€œBlack panther!” scoffed Cuffy. “It’s all them doughnuts you ate. Milk of mag for you tomorrow, young man.”
    Even the thought of Milk of Magnesia failed to diminish the triumphant joy of the last few minutes. Instead of the usual groans of protest which met such an announcement, Oliver turned upon Cuffy a smile of radiant good will. “Okay, thanks. Good night,” said he, and Cuffy left the room with a puzzled look.
    For a long time after that whenever he thought about the luna moth he felt happy. He was careful not to think of it too often. Just once in a while he would look into his own mind and let himself see it again: his discovery, his beautiful guest, his secret. Seeming more than a moth, it paused there at his window: rarest green, fragile, perfect, living. The thought of it made Oliver happy all over again.
    This is what he was remembering that day at lunch, with the mashed potato on his chin, the dash of jelly on his cheek, and the wondering contentment in his eyes.

CHAPTER VI
    The Citronella Peril
    One day Rush went to see Mark by himself. Randy couldn’t come; she had to go to the dentist in Braxton, and had departed glowering with rage, disappointment, and apprehension. Also she clung to the unreasonable conviction that Rush shouldn’t have gone to see Mark without her. He should have stayed home.
    But Rush couldn’t see it that way. He’d only have half a day with Mark anyhow, as the morning had all been squandered mowing the lawn.
    Isaac wanted to go too, but Rush wouldn’t let him. “Meeker’s dogs would make hamburger out of