"I'm a big girl, and you shouldn't interrupt. Well, once Marian----" "Who's she?" "She's my sister. Well, I wanted to light the gas, but Marian said I was too small, but I'd not listen. I jumped up on a rocker to light the gas. The chair rocked and, I fell against the windowsill. Marian screamed, 'Beth's killed. She's covered with blood!'" "Were you really?" "Yes." Beth felt she was arguing her case well. "Mamma thought I just had the nose bleed, but what do you s'pose? I had two mouths." The boy's eyes grew big. "Two mouths--how jolly. How did it happen?" "The window-sill had cut me right across here," she pointed to the space just below her nose. "The doctor took five stitches, and when it healed, took them out again. It hurt very much, but I didn't cry a bit." "Didn't it leave a scar on your face?" She threw back her head. "There, do you see that little white line under my nose? You can hardly see it now." The boy examined the spot critically. Then he changed the subject. "Where did you live before you came here?" "New York." "Did you like it there?" "No, it was horrid. I hated to be dressed up and sent for a walk." He looked incredulous. "Most girls like to be dressed up." "I don't." "Don't you like to be told you are a pretty little girl with nice clothes?" "No, I don't." He sniffed disdainfully. "Oh, go long. I don't believe that." Beth grew very much in earnest, and thought of another little illustration. "Truth 'pon honor. One day a strange lady in a store put her hand on my head, and said: 'What a pretty little girl.' It made me mad, so that I just grunted and made up a face at her. My mamma said, 'Why, Beth, that is very naughty.' I said, 'Well, mamma, what business is it of hers whether I am pretty or not? It isn't my fault if I am pretty and people shouldn't bother me.'" The boy laughed. "I believe I rather like you, Beth, but I only have your word for it that you are not like other girls. I have a big mind to try you. Shall I?" She was a little afraid to consent, but she was ashamed to show it. So she delayed matters by asking "How?" The boy drew down his face until it was very long, and when he spoke it was in an awe-inspiring whisper. "Swear never to tell what I tell you. Repeat after me, 'Harvey Baker----'" "Is that your name?" "Yes--don't interrupt me. 'Harvey Baker, if I tell what you show me, I hope I may be forever doomed and tortured.'" Beth looked shocked. "I won't say that." "'Fraid-cat. 'Fraid-cat." Again she stamped her foot. "I won't be called that. It's not true. I will promise not to tell. Can't you believe me?" The boy considered. "Girls are hardly ever to be trusted, but I'll try you. In this river there is a great, big, black animal that hates fraid-cats as much as I do. He eats them up. Why, he has such fierce jaws and sharp teeth that he could gobble up a little girl like you in one mouthful."