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Updated: May 8, 2025
"Why why I think you look nice," said little Eve Edgarton. With a really desperate effort Barton tried to clothe himself in facetiousness, if in nothing else. "Oh, very well," he grinned feebly. "If you don't mind there's no special reason, I suppose, why I should." Vaguely, blurrishly, like a figure on the wrong side of a stained-glass window, he began to loom up again into the lantern light.
"Why in Russia!" said little Eve Edgarton with some surprise. "And Australia! And Africa! Were you never there?" "I've been in Jersey City," babbled Barton with a desperate attempt at facetiousness. "I was never there!" admitted little Eve Edgarton regretfully.
Snortingly the chunky gray went tearing after her. A trifle sulkily Barton's roan took up the chase. Shade? Oh, ye gods! If Eve Edgarton knew shade when she saw it she certainly gave no possible sign of such intelligence. Wherever the galloping, grass-grown road hesitated between green-roofed forest and devastated wood-lot, she chose the devastated wood-lot!
Fantastically the procession started upward little Eve Edgarton white as a ghost now in Barton's arms, except for that one persistent trickle of red from under the loosening edge of her huge Oriental-like turban of ribbon and petticoat; the hotel proprietor still worrying eternally how to explain everything; two or three well-intentioned women babbling inconsequently of other broken heads.
"Why why, Eve!" stammered her father. "Why, my little little girl! Why, you haven't kissed me before since you were a baby!" "Yes, I have!" nodded little Eve Edgarton. "No, you haven't!" snapped her father. "Yes, I have!" insisted Eve. Tighter and tighter their arms clasped round each other. "You're all I've got," faltered the man brokenly.
As sluggishly determinate as two black turtles trailing along a white sand beach, her great dark eyes in her little pale face seemed headed suddenly toward some Far-Away Idea. "Oh go right on reading, Mr. Barton," nodded little Eve Edgarton. "Three superfamilies of turtles," began Barton all over again.
"Social?" snapped her father. "Oh, of course if you got killed in a fire or anything, saving people's lives, you'd sort of expect them to send you candy or make you some sort of a memorial," conceded little Eve Edgarton unemotionally. "But when you break your head just amusing yourself?
"Why, of course!" said little Eve Edgarton. "Well, I must say it was an exceedingly clumsy one!" growled her father irritably. "Maybe so," droned little Eve Edgarton with unruffled serenity. "It was the first joke, you see, that I ever made." Slowly again her eyes began to widen. "All the same, Father," she said, "his " "Hush!" he ordered, and slammed the door conclusively behind him.
"Nothing," mumbled little Eve Edgarton. Out of some emotional or purely social tensities of life it seems rather that Time strikes the clock than that anything so small as a clock should dare strike the Time. One two three four five! winced the poor little frightened traveling-clock on the mantelpiece.
Nervously the girl crossed her hands in her lap. She suddenly didn't look like a doughty little soldier any more, but just like a worried little girl. "Did you ever read any fairy stories?" she asked with apparent irrelevance. "Why, of course," said Barton. "Millions of them when I was a kid." "I read one once," said little Eve Edgarton.
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