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Updated: May 7, 2025
"Oh, just to put it on," acknowledged little Eve Edgarton. "But what in creation are you putting on your coat for?" he demanded tartly. "Oh, just to smooth it," acknowledged little Eve Edgarton. With a sniff of disgust Edgarton turned on his heel and strode off into his own room. For five minutes by the little traveling-clock, she heard him pacing monotonously up and down up and down.
And she burrowed with her face between my cheek and shoulder, and whispered back, "And I don't see how I can wait." There was a little space of very tense silence, during which my eyes roved to the little silver traveling-clock on the mantel, and then I said in a voice that shook: "I'd better get out before he comes back." My parents, loafing North, via Hot Springs, were delighted to see me.
The hands of the traveling-clock in purple leather on the dressing-table moved deliberately around to eleven. A ringing of ice in one of the metal pitchers carried by the bell boys sounded from the corridor. There was the faint wail of a baby. Suddenly and acutely Linda was lonely a new kind of loneliness that had nothing to do with the fact that she was by herself.
This room, which no one had been allowed to enter since the discovery of the crime, differed from the drawing room inasmuch as it presented a scene of the greatest disorder. Two chairs were overturned, one of the tables smashed to pieces and several objects a traveling-clock, a portfolio, a box of stationery lay on the floor. And there was blood on some of the scattered pieces of note-paper.
"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.
"Because Mother's dead," she answered simply. Noisily, like an over conscious throat, the tiny traveling-clock on the mantelpiece began to swallow its moments.
Once in her room her little traveling-clock told her it was a quarter of three. "Whew!" she said. Just "Whew!" Very furiously at the big porcelain washbowl she began to splash and splash and splash. "If I've got to make four hundred muffins," she said, "I surely have got to be whiter than snow!" Roused by the racket, her father came irritably and stood in the doorway.
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