Eileen looked at her friend in a most professional manner. "I do not know if you are trying to be insulting, or just amusing, but I saw those children. I was right there for three weeks only two years ago, and they were always clean, they had curls, and they were certainly not smashed or I should have noticed it." "They shout, too, Eileen," Eveley went on wretchedly, determined to prepare Eileen for the shock that was sure to follow. "They--they just whoop. And--" "If you can not be a little pleasanter, dear, suppose you go and wait for me in the car. I am too nervous. I simply can not stand it." "I do not want to be unpleasant, and I shall not say another word. I just wanted to remind you of--of the shouting--and the blood." "One would think they were savages, Eveley, instead of my own sister's little babies." "Here comes the train," cried Eveley, and added in a soft whisper that Eileen could not hear, "Oh, please, for Eileen's sake, let 'em have dimples and curls, and don't get 'em smashed before the train stops." Hand in hand, with eager shining eyes, the girls ran along the platform, and when the porter put down his stool beneath the steps, the first thing that appeared was a small dimpled girl with golden curls, and a flower-like face beneath a flower-laden bonnet. Eileen leaped upon her, catching her in her arms, and in her rapturous delight, she did not hear a small brusk voice exclaiming, "Oh, pooh, I don't need your old stool." And she did not notice Eveley's gasp,--for Eveley had seen a small sailor-clad form hurtle itself from the step and fall flat upon the gravel platform. It was not until a sudden lusty roar went up that Eileen remembered she had two babies en route. She dropped Betty like a flash, and turned. The porter very grimly picked up the child, and held him out, and Eileen saw with horror that his face was fairly sandpapered from the fall, and blood was starting from a dozen tiny pricks. "If this is yourn, for Gawd's sake, take 'im," begged the porter. "He's fell off'n everything and into everything between here and Seattle." Eileen clung desperately to Betty's moist hand. "Don't get scared, Auntie," chirped the small bright voice. "Billy always falls into things, and he ain't never broke anything yet,--himself, I mean, arms or legs or necks,--he breaks lots of dishes and vases and things like that." Eileen was stricken dumb, but Eveley took the writhing roaring boy from the porter's hand, and dusted him lightly with her handkerchief. "Why, where are your curls, Billy?" she demanded, hoping to distract his attention. And she succeeded only too well, for he stopped so suddenly in the midst of a loud wail that he almost choked. When he finally recovered his breath, he snorted derisively. "Curls! Huh! I ain't no girl. I ain't got any curls. I never did have curls." "Oh, yes, you did," she argued. "Two years ago you had beautiful, long golden curls just like Betty's."