United States or Bahrain ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
All the same," she affirmed definitely, "good old John Ellbertson will have to have his beard cut." Quizzically for an instant she stared off into space, then quite abruptly she gave a quick, funny little sniff. "Anyway, I'll have a garden, won't I?" she said. "And always, of course, there will be Henrietta." "Henrietta?" frowned her father.
"But, Father! my tragedy lies in the fact that at thirty I've never yet had even my first-hand glimpse of happiness! And now apparently, unless I'm willing to relinquish all hope of ever having it, and consent to 'settle down, as you call it, with 'good old John Ellbertson' I'll never even get a gamble probably at sighting Happiness second-hand through another person's eyes!"
"Surely you're not blaming me any in your heart because I want to see you safely married and settled with with John Ellbertson?" Vaguely, like a child repeating a dimly understood lesson, little Eve Edgarton repeated the phrases after him. "Oh, no, Father," she said, "I surely am not blaming you in my heart for wanting to see me married and settled with John Ellbertson.
Good old John Ellbertson," she corrected painstakingly. With his hand still holding her little chin like a vise, the man's eyes narrowed to his further probing. "Eve," he frowned, "I'm not as well as I used to be! I've got pains in my arms! And they're not good pains! I shall live to be a thousand! But I I might not!
"Well, then, good old John Ellbertson good old John Ellbertson how I do love his kind gray eyes," she began all over again. Palpably Edgarton shifted his standing weight from one foot to the other. "I understood your mother," he asserted a bit defiantly. "Did you, dear? I wonder?" mused little Eve Edgarton. "Eh?" jerked her father.
"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.
Except for the scarcely perceptible hound-like flicker of his nostrils, his own face held not a whit more expression than the girl's. "Eve," he asked casually, "Eve, you're not changing your mind, are you, about Nunko-Nono? And John Ellbertson? Good old John Ellbertson," he repeated feelingly. "Eve!" he quickened with sudden sharpness.
"Why then more turquoise-colored waves, of course," chanted little Eve Edgarton. "It sounds rotten to me," confided Barton. "It is," said little Eve Edgarton. "And, oh, I forgot to tell you: John Ellbertson is sort of green, too. Geologists are apt to be, don't you think so?" "I never saw one," admitted Barton without shame.
Word Of The Day