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Updated: May 8, 2025
Now when you send to England for eleven pieces of furniture because they are white," sighed little Eve Edgarton, "and have them crated because they're white and sent to sea because they're white and then carried overland miles and miles and miles on Indians' heads because they're white, you sort of want 'em to stay white. Oh, of course it's all right," she acknowledged patiently.
"Surely nothing has happened to make you change your mind about Nunko-Nono? And good old John Ellbertson?" "Oh no Father," said little Eve Edgarton. Indolently she withdrew her eyes from her father's and stared off Nunko-Nonoward in a hazy, geographical sort of a dream. "Good old John Ellbertson good old John Ellbertson," she began to croon very softly to herself. "Good old John Ellbertson.
Barton," singsonged the girl monotonously. "But the extra horse?" cried Barton. With a sudden little chuckle of relief he pointed to the chunky gray. There was a side-saddle on the chunky gray. "Who's going with us?" Almost insolently little Eve Edgarton narrowed her sleepy eyes. "I always taken an extra horse with me, Mr.
As if fairly overwhelmed with embarrassment he sat staring silently off into space for several seconds. Then "Speaking of this Miss Edgarton," he resumed genially, "have you ever exactly sought her out as it were and actually tried to get acquainted with her?" "No," said Barton shortly. "Why, the girl must be thirty years old!" "S o?" mused the Older Man. "Just about your age?"
"Hush!" snapped her father with a great gust of resentment that he took to be a gust of propriety. "Hush, I say! I tell you it isn't delicate for a for a girl to talk about a man's skin!" "Oh but his skin was very delicate," mused little Eve Edgarton persistently. "There in the lantern light " "What lantern light?" demanded her father. "And the moonlight," murmured little Eve Edgarton.
"I said if there was ever anything that I could do for you, anything " "Would you rent me your attic?" asked little Eve Edgarton. "Would I rent you my attic?" stammered Barton. "Why in the world should you want to hire my attic?" "So I could buy pretty things in Siam or Ceylon or any other queer country and have some place to send them," said little Eve Edgarton. "Oh, I'd pay the express, Mr.
"It was about a person, a sleeping person, a lady, I mean, who couldn't wake up until a prince kissed her. Well, that was all right, of course," conceded little Eve Edgarton, "because, of course, any prince would have been willing to kiss the lady just as a mere matter of accommodation.
Obediently from the tousled top of the steamer trunk her father returned with the great batch of rough manuscript. "And my pencil, please," persisted little Eve Edgarton. "And my eraser. And my writing-board. And my ruler. And my "
"THURSDAY?" cried Barton. For some inexplainable reason the whole idea struck him suddenly as offensive, distinctly offensive, as if Fate, the impatient waiter, had snatched away a yet untasted plate. "Why why, Eve!" he protested, "why, we're only just beginning to get acquainted." "Yes, I know it," mused little Eve Edgarton.
Moving eternally on on on from one ravaged lure to another? Eve! Would I deliver over you your mother's reincarnated body to to such as that?" "O h," said little Eve Edgarton. Her eyes were quite wide with horror. "How careful I shall have to be with Henrietta." "Eh?" snapped her father. Ting-a-ling ling ling ling! trilled the telephone from the farther side of the room.
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