Part 18 (1/2)

”Yes, I know it,” mused little Eve Edgarton.

”Why--if we'd have had half a chance--” began Barton, and then didn't know at all how to finish it. ”Why, you're so plucky--and so odd--and so interesting!” he began all over again. ”Oh, of course, I'm an awful duffer and all that! But if we'd had half a chance, I say, you and I would have been great pals in another fortnight!”

”Even so,” murmured little Eve Edgarton, ”there are yet--fifty-two hours before I go.”

”What are fifty-two hours?” laughed Barton.

Listlessly like a wilting flower little Eve Edgarton slid down a trifle farther into her pillows. ”If you'd have an early supper,” she whispered, ”and then come right up here afterward, why, there would be two or three hours. And then to-morrow if you got up quite early, there would be a long, long morning, and--we--could get acquainted--some,” she insisted.

”Why, Eve!” said Barton, ”do you really mean that you would like to be friends with me?”

”Yes--I do,” nodded the crown of the white-bandaged head.

”But I'm so stupid,” confided Barton, with astonis.h.i.+ng humility. ”All these botany things--and geology--and--”

”Yes, I know it,” mumbled little Eve Edgarton. ”That's what makes you so restful.”

”What?” queried Barton a bit sharply. Then very absent-mindedly for a moment he sat staring off into s.p.a.ce through a gray, pungent haze of cigarette smoke.

”Eve,” he ventured at last.

”What?” mumbled little Eve Edgarton.

”Nothing,” said Barton.

”Mr. Jim Barton,” ventured Eve.

”What?” asked Barton.

”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.

Then quite abruptly little Eve Edgarton emerged from her cozy cus.h.i.+ons, sitting bolt upright like a doughty little warrior.

”Mr. Jim Barton!” said little Eve Edgarton. ”If I stayed here two weeks longer--I know you'd like me! I know it! I just know it!”

Quizzically for an instant, as if to acc.u.mulate further courage, she c.o.c.ked her little head on one side and stared blankly into Barton's astonished eyes. ”But you see I'm not going to be here two weeks!” she resumed hurriedly. Again the little head c.o.c.ked appealingly to one side. ”You--you wouldn't be willing to take my word for it, would you?

And like me--now?”

”Why--why, what do you mean?” stammered Barton.

”What do I mean?” quizzed little Eve Edgarton. ”Why, I mean--that just once before I go off to Nunko-Nono--I'd like to be--attractive!”

”Attractive?” stammered Barton helplessly.

With all the desperate, indomitable frankness of a child, the girl's chin thrust itself forward.

”I could be attractive!” she said. ”I could! I know I could! If I'd ever let go just the teeniest--tiniest bit--I could have--beaux!” she a.s.serted triumphantly. ”A thousand beaux!” she added more explicitly.

”Only--”

”Only what?” laughed Barton.