"Oh, it's something Father invented," said little Eve Edgarton. Altogether emphatically Barton pushed back his chair. "Well, I call it a shame!" he said. "For a nice live little girl like you to be packed off like so much baggage--to marry some great gray-bearded clout who hasn't got an idea in his head except--except--" squintingly he stared down at the scattered sheets on the floor--"except--'Amphichelydia,'" he asserted with some feeling. "Yes--isn't it?" sighed little Eve Edgarton. "For Heaven's sake!" said Barton. "Where is Nunko-Nono?" "Nunko-Nono?" whispered little Eve Edgarton. "Where is it? Why, it's an island! In an ocean, you know! Rather a hot--green island! In rather a hot--blue-green ocean! Lots of green palms, you know, and rank, rough, green grass--and green bugs--and green butterflies--and green snakes. And a great crawling, crunching collar of white sand and hermit-crabs all around it. And then just a long, unbroken line of turquoise-colored waves. And then more turquoise-colored waves. And then more turquoise-colored waves. And then more turquoise-colored waves. And then--and then--" "And then what?" worried Barton. With a vaguely astonished lift of the eyebrows little Eve Edgarton met both question and questioner perfectly squarely. "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. "If you'd like me to," said Eve, "I'll show you how the turquoise-colored waves sound--when they strike the hermit-crabs." "Do!" urged Barton. Listlessly the girl pushed back into her pillows, slid down a little farther into her blankets, and closed her eyes. "Mmmmmmmmm," she began, "Mmm-mmmmmmm--Mmmmm--Mmmmmmm, W-h-i-s-h-h-h! Mmmmmmmmm--Mmmmmmmm--Mmmmmmmm--Mmmmmm--W-h-i-s-h-h-h!--Mmmmmmmm--Mmmmmmm--" "After a while, of course, I think you might stop," suggested Barton a bit creepishly. Again the big eyes opened at him with distinct surprise. "Why--why?" said Eve Edgarton. "It--never stops!" "Oh, I say," frowned Barton, "I do feel awfully badly about your going away off to a place like that to live! Really!" he stammered. "We're going--Thursday," said little Eve Edgarton. "THURSDAY?" cried Barton. For some inexplainable reason the whole idea struck him suddenly as offensive, distinctly offensive, as if Fate, the impatient waiter, had snatched away a yet untasted plate. "Why--why, Eve!" he protested, "why, we're only just beginning to get acquainted." "Yes, I know it," mused little Eve Edgarton.