"Next week Berta arrived and swept in like a whirlwind, bringing her trunks, suitcases, joyful hopes for a fun season, and the freshly awakened awareness of the charms she cast on the world. Mrs. Gerrick involved herself in all the pleasures her daughter was about to enjoy, and even the servants took part in the general commotion that engulfed the whole house. And finally, it reached the professor’s office, waking him from his entomological dreams.
… during dinner he stared intently at his daughter through his spectacles, and she finally exclaimed cheerfully:
— I hope you’ll love me, Daddy, once you classify me.
— What? the professor stammered, embarrassed.
— Yes. I’m waiting every minute for you to gently turn me onto my back, and while I wriggle, to describe in detail all my features—then you’ll chloroform me and pin me with a pin that has a label. I know I won’t like the chloroform and the pin, but the label makes my curiosity flare. Can’t it be just one label, Daddy—without the pin?"