I would like to welcome Travis Rivers to the Haydash Ferry Video Oral History Project, welcome Travis. My name is Rebecca Nichols and I'll be moderating this interview. We're so pleased to have you here today. We are doing a piece on the Oracle. We would love to know more about you and even to take it further and find out what you're doing now and what your hope for the future would be. But at the moment I'd like to learn a little bit about you, Travis. Where were you born? Texas, Austin.  Also. What are your parents' names? Kenny Elizabeth and Lauren Travis Rivers. Do you have any brothers and sisters? David, James. And do you have any children? Yes, Lauren Travis Rivers. Lauren Travis Rivers. I know that you are a writer and a publisher and a manager and I'd like to know a little bit more about where you got interested in maybe managing or writing or any of the things. I would love to get on this tape to get to know you a little bit better. Well, I was writing poetry when I was a kid and I went to the University of Texas. I recorded some Texas blues artists for their folk library. I like to jokingly say I left Texas to not further embarrass my grandparents. It was at a time that was full of hope in the early 60s, an entire generation dashed with the assassination of John Fitzgerald Kennedy. The entire country went through a year or so of deep depression and it affected me a great deal. I spent probably an entire year drunk and one day I was walking down the street in Austin and the newspaper flew down the street and wrapped around my leg and I could not kick it off. So I reached down and picked it up and it was a full page ad for a movie called Help. So I said, well, I could certainly use that. So I went to the flick. I sat through it three times. I saw almost everyone I knew that afternoon come into that theater. Austin used to be on a circuit of not nationally released films where you'd fill up a little card at the end of it. And halfway through the third sitting I realized that what I thought was there was there. You didn't have to. The world was yours to change. You could do anything you wished.  And I sold everything I had. I bought an old TR-10 which was an English touring car. Only a few hundred of them in the United States for 40 bucks. And I drove to San Francisco. It cost $18 to get here. About what year was this? Oh, 65. And at that same time I think Janice came back to Texas. I lived in Berkeley for a while. I heard that Margaret Mead's house was open in Big Sur. So I wrote him a note and she said that I could stay there. So I went down to Big Sur. And when I got there there was a family with three kids living in the house. I'm only going to kick them out. I asked around. The only place anyone knew that there was empty was owned by the witch, Amelia Newell. But you don't want to see her. So I went up to see Amelia. She was quite lovely. And she let me have a cabin she had on the west side of Highway 1. It's been about a year there. There were lots of interesting folks living in the rocks and hills near Gorda, the Blue Town Club. And Rodigan had just left. He'd written trout fishing in America in the next property over. One day I woke up and said, you know, I've been out here long enough. I think I'll go back to town. So I came up to San Francisco and went over to see my friend Moe at Moe's Books. Where was Moe's Books? In Berkeley. Okay. Part of what I did at the University of Texas is I had a bookstore called Travis Books. Go figure. And we sell antiquarian books. Texiana, Americana. And lefty stuff. Comic books. And one of the things that happened when I first got here was I needed to have some more money. So I took some of my books and I went around to the store, Shakespeare, Blacko, etc. And they offered me 10 cents a pound. Well, I wasn't going to sell the first edition of Elvis Huxley's Chrome Yellow for 10 cents a pound. But when Moe saw it, he offered me 600 bucks. So I knew I liked Moe. And over the fullness of time, I became kind of... I adopted him as my dad locally. So I walked in and he says, so God, I'm so glad to see you. I don't have time here. Go see this place and come back and tell me about it.  This address is in a place I have never heard of called Haydashbury. And so I figure out how to get there on the bus from Berkeley and come to Haight Street. It's all boarded up. Ron and Jay Thalen have the psychedelic shop. That's about it on the whole street. There was a bowling alley. There was a movie theater. There was the Habadashbury, which is where the drug story adventure was. On the sonic. And there was a jewel work across the street, very grumpy guy. And I liked the ladies at the Habadashbury. And so I went to the address. And it was the old Woolworths on Haight Street. Do you remember the address? Well, no, 17 something. But if you look in the early oracles, that was our office. Okay. And then I went back and Mo said, So what did you think? I said, it's a beautiful store. It looks like an old Woolworths. He said it is. I said, why did you send me over there? He said, I think I'm going to open a bookstore. I said, why? The place is boarded up. He says, well, they're students. I said, no, they're not. He said, well, there's San Francisco State, which is like three miles away. And San Francisco Community College up on the hill. And I am San Francisco College, whatever it's called. And I said, well, you know, it's not like you're two blocks from Sather Gate. I mean, they're students. They're not going to come to the store. He said, I already bought the building. It'd be a beautiful bookstore. Now, why did you send me? He says, I want you to run it. So we went about looking into that. We'd take about 60 days to get a permit. We'd have a rag dealers permit. We had to have a secondhand dealers permit to sell used books in San Francisco. So I said to Moe that maybe I should go to Texas for a few days. And because you could still borrow cars, then I borrowed a car. And I heard that Big Brother was auditioning singers. So I went over to Sea Chat. We've known each other since we were kids in Texas. And I said, I'm going to go, are you really thinking about having a girl singer in the band now? Because at one point I'd suggested that they get a girl that we do in common, Janice, to come. He said, we don't want no girl singers in the band. And he said, yeah. And I said, well, I'll check on her. I know she's doing better. So I went back to Austin to see my family. Janice decided that she wanted to come out here. So we drove back out. She auditioned two weeks later. She got a 30 minute standing ovation at the Evelyn Ballroom. I went before the council, the Board of Permits, and the promotion that had the jewelry store objected to Morris Moskowitz getting a used dealer's license for Hate Street because the next thing you know he'll be selling rags there. Well, I was shocking and upsetting to me. So Speestrock had opened a little beach shop, a couple of other people, a girl named Amy Madigan or something like that had opened a little store. Things were beginning to bubble a little bit. What year are we talking? It's still late 65. And I had this brilliant idea. We went to talk to Ron and Jay about it. They loved it. We had put together an argument that we couldn't get into the Hate Ashbury Merchants Association and association that their grandparents had actually started because of this guy at the jewelry store. So we started the Hate Ashbury Independent Proprietors. And we put little signs in people's windows by hip. And like, you know, built some ferment and they all went down for the second hearing and lots of people were there supporting them. But we were still denied a permit. We couldn't then have a permit to have a used bookstore there for a year. We couldn't go back for a year with one appeal. So we couldn't open a used store. We decided we'd open a new store. So we opened the print mint. By now the word had spread through the upper echelons of the social water in San Francisco. And we had lines of limos out front where grandmas were coming down from the hill to buy posters for all their grandchildren in college. We did more business the first month in business than the original print mint had done in its first year. In six months we had outstripped five years of their income. Wow. And... Where were the posters coming from? Oh, these were art prints, photographs. Were you producing them there? No, there was a burgeoning poster business out of New York basically. Lots of people were going in and getting the rights to some of the great photo libraries and pulling interesting shots out. Guys like Jim Marshall, for instance, the photographer, did one of my more favorite posters of the Jonian and her sister. Girls say yes to boys who say no. What's a wonderful poster. So these things... You think it's very long? Yeah. And so it became... It was a fad, but it became widespread because these posters were often graphically arresting and so one kid would see them and, where did you get that? Exactly. And so anyway. So your market didn't have to be when the people lived around the corner, people were coming from all over? Well, these women that lived up in the Pacific Heights who were very well off and had lots of grandkids, they were in their rooms in their daughters and sons' rooms in college and that, of course. I assume add some panache to the stuff. At any rate, Ron and Jay put out a little paper called The Psychedelic Oracle of San Francisco. They did about 5,000 pages. It looked like, to my eye anyway, it looked like a national inquire for long hairs. And at this time I'd already been approached by two groups of folks to start a newspaper. I'm a very busy boy. And both of them basically had this same sort of Berkeley bar kind of national inquires here. Thoughts about East Village Other Look, which I wasn't interested in doing at all. And so Ron came and asked me what I would do with if I were going to do a newspaper because he'd just done this one. So I said, well, I don't mean I like the name Oracle. It would be interesting to do something that would have the voice of the people in it as opposed to the voice of journalists. And so nothing happened. A few days later it came back and he said, why don't you call a, why don't we put up some papers and let's see if we can get some people to volunteer.  He said, we can't use the entire back of the building because we can't put the bookstore in yet. So maybe I could call a meeting back there and we could see if there was some interest in doing this newspaper. And he said, sure. So we had a meeting and literally... Do you know who was at that meeting? Ron, Jay, Steve Levine, Alam, Len Farrar. I think maybe Leeper was there. So at one point I said, so anybody interested in doing this and a bunch of people raised their hands and said, well, let's be here tomorrow. And Ron then left and came back with one of those... I remember there was a time when fire extinguishers in inexpensive apartments were a red can that said fire on the side and had sand in it.  And these were folks who had asked for a subscription and the assets from the first sale. So we put that in the bank and we did the human being issue. That's the first issue. After that. Do you know who did the cover? That was Bowen and Malus. And Salem Malus, yes. So at this point, first issue, you're a family of people putting this on. Was it strictly business for you guys? Friends, you were young... So this is a new meeting for these people. Who were the names of the people that were involved at this state of the game for this first issue to come out? Basically the ones that you just mentioned. Okay, and then did everybody have a job to do? Was there some? No, it was pretty loose. Absolutely no one wanted to do the money part of it. I mean, that's always the most thankless. The creative end is a lot more rewarding. Yeah, it requires you to keep books and stuff. So I just did that. And I gave the money to Ron. And then one day Ron came over and he had heard something. I was about to be canned from the printment. Because there was this youngster. One of the things I did was distribution was going to be a problem. So I saw all these kids who were showing up with no place to live, living in doorways and stuff. So I had this idea a few weeks before the first issue came out. And so I went around when I got back from Howard Quinn's printing presses with piles of newspapers. I went around to all the doorways and I gave the kids if they were willing to do it, 100 papers and told them that they would go out and sell these papers. They could keep the quarters or they could come back and buy more with... I was one of those kids but I wasn't in a doorway. I used to live. But the money from that bought our whole house dinner. We figured we put about $60,000 in the pockets of the kids on H-Street. One of the kids was a kid named Dangerfield Ashton who later became an artist with the operation. And my most favorite one was one of the first kids I recruited to sell the paper at the 5th issue. I saw him walking down the street. He had on shoes. He had on clean jeans. He had on a clean shirt. He was carrying two bags of groceries. You can only do that if you have a department and that made you probably have a girlfriend as well. It probably touched many more people than you, Eliza. Well, I was moved by that. At a certain point with the Oracle I remember from my end we knew when to go and get them these papers and others so your distribution was starting to move. So how many issues were there totally of the Oracle? There were at least 12. From when did it start and when did it start? 60, 60, 60, 80. About how often did they come out? Not enough. That was a huge problem. Production. Where were they getting printed? I did them all at Quinn's. Where did all the articles come from? The really big stuff you can't just fill in the issue. Some people have to write some things. The really big stuff came from large interviews taped and then transcribed. Probably the two most important ones were a conversation between Alan Watts, Ginsburg and Leary about what's going on. Just after the BN. And that was a big seller. And then we had this idea in 2008 in 1968. 32 years in the future. What do you think would be happening? We got the Esslin Institute involved. So it was Watts and non-directed psychology. He was one of the founders of the Esslin with Fitzboro but it's not Fitzboro. And and Herman Kahn. Herman Kahn created the incredible 50s.  He published a book in the late 50s called Thinking the Unthinkable which chronicled and quantified an atomic holocaust. And what will it do? And this brought about the backyard bomb shelter praise. He had just read the book called 2008. He was a very, very dark and sociopathic personality. He had been an original hire at the Hudson Institute. No, the Rand Institute and the Esslin Institute both arched and served with think tanks. And he was the only person we ever had to edit. He this was by the way our last issue. He What way did you edit? He had this unfortunate tick that said something socially reprehensible. He would go and we removed all the points. Because no one would believe that that was true. That he would actually do that on stage at the Long Sherman's Hall in front of three or four Tennessee people. Which is where it happened. And he suggested that we were already doing experiments being the scientific community in America with the pleasure zones of the brain. They were putting electrodes in watching monkeys zap themselves into starvation. Later that was let them have cocaine and get the same effect. You can also do that with small electrical impulses. He suggested that social malcontents might want to just sit about in the park with a little photoelectric cell on their helmet and just be an oblivion. And then he would go and go in. That I thought was our best issue ever. In the community where you realize it's not the oracles considered a capsule. A capsule in time of a way of thinking a way of looking at the news a way of looking at expression in a different way. Who would you want to think if you could grab a net and say well this we created this who in your world at that time would you want to think who you think contributed worked hard to have that unique creativity that would happen with the oracle besides yourself obviously who do you think had the passion and the motivation to keep this thing going. Well, Lynn Farrar Stephen Byn Lynn was there's a photograph of three kids standing at Haighton Ashbury that Jean Anthony did poster. That's me, Lynn, and the other girl is that's why Lynn has the portfolio or the young lady has the portfolio under her arm because we're actually out doing some stuff. Very famous shots in Jean Anthony's book Someone Love, yes. And the other girl lives above the Arctic Circle and has only been back once Wow, that's amazing. Well I asked you a question as you told the story about you know, 2000 back in 1965 66. If somebody was watching this video now 50 years from now that we are filming here in 2005 and looking to the future what would you hope? You're a very creative man I can tell you make big things happen and from your own vision where would you say people looking at this video or a history project as well as this tape how in the future somebody watching this tape how would you see the future 1500 years from now people taking whatever we did here and maybe being inspired by it in some way. How can you see what you hope in people in the future? Well every generation has the same aspirations, every generation has the same questions, every generation has the same real problems they have to make a living they have to live with their neighbors we can only hope that folks continue to get along and and remember you didn't just live quietly you stood up and took action Well it was a disturbing time just in closing the most two most horrible things that I witnessed as a youngster was the assassination of Kennedy followed in a few months by this youngster walking up to me and I mean he was clearly a country boy and I don't know what it was about me that made him ask me but I was near the undergraduate library at the University of Texas and he wanted where Vietnam was and I knew there was a big globe in the lobby and so I took him there and I showed him and he said I said it's here he says it's so small and I said yeah I said why are you interested because my brother was killed there last week so I said well you know it looks like the Gulf of Mexico I have assumed that there's oil there, there's always a real reason but after he left I vowed not to cut my hair until we were out huge money saving for you I didn't have to get a haircut until 71 well I want to thank you for being here Travis you've added so much we're going to have a discussion later with you and your colleagues on the article and my belief is that young people when they see this in the future will feel a little bit better about taking action when they see things that need to be changed and though there may be just one person's thought and belief and taking that first step is how you get from here to there and I want to thank you for being here


Why not? Why not being Tic-Tac? I mean this is the largest conference that uses technology to talk about civic good and that is the heart of what we do. I come to Tic-Tac. It's my favorite conference of the year because actually it's the conversations that you have here are so inspiring. I try to come to Tic-Tac every year because this is the place where the civic tech community talks about research and evidence to the extent that it does. So I'm very happy to be here. It's always a place to meet very engaged and passionate people and to have concrete examples of what can be done. I'm hoping that as we come to these meetings we will go back with new ideas and new issues that we can look at in our country. It's like a different different caliber of conversation that you have at Tic-Tac. Everybody has similar motivations. Everybody is doing similar research or similar work and it just means that you can go quite a lot deeper into what it means to be working in civic tech. Well I come to Tic-Tac for two reasons. I come to Tic-Tac both to learn from my peers and also to both revive and maintain important friendships and relationships and always looking for new ones. So I'm not familiar with this field at all so really interested just to learn what is happening and what's on the research agenda. I'm here to learn, to network, to speak to people who are doing similar work, find out innovative ways that would help me do my work better back home in Nigeria. It's absolutely invaluable.


Part 2 of Chapter 2, Little Eve Edgerton. As if some moat of dust disturbed her, suddenly she rubbed the knuckles of one hand across her eyes. But maybe we'll have daughters, she persisted undauntedly, and maybe they'll have houses. Oh, shucks! said Barton uneasily. Ah, a house isn't so much. It isn't, asked Little Eve Edgerton incredulously. Why? Why, you don't mean? Don't mean what? huzzled Barton. Do you live in a house? asked Little Eve Edgerton abruptly. Her hands were suddenly quiet in her lap. Her tuzzled head cocked ever so slightly to one side. Her sluggish eyes incredibly dilated. Why, of course, I live in a house. laughed Barton. Oh, breathed Little Eve Edgerton. Really? It must be wonderful. Wiltingly, her eyes, her hands, drooped back to her scrapbook again. In all my life, she resumed monotonously. I've never spent a single night in a real house. What? questioned Barton. Oh, of course, explained the girl deli. Of course, I've spent no end of nights in hotels and camps and huts and trains and steamers and, but what color is your house? She asked casually. Why, brown, I guess, said Barton. Brown, you guess? whispered the girl pitifully. Don't you know? No, I wouldn't exactly like to swear to it, grinned Barton a bit sheepishly. Again, the girl's eyes lifted just a bit over intently from the work in her lap. What color is the wallpaper in your own room? She asked casually. Is it, is it a deer pink posey sort of effect or just plain shaded stripes? Why, I'm sure I don't remember, acknowledged Barton wordly. Why, it's just paper, you know. Paper? He floundered helplessly. Red, green, brown, white, maybe it's white, he asserted experimentally. Oh, for goodness sake, how should I know? He collapsed at last. When my sisters were home from Europe last year, they fixed the whole blooming place over for some kind of a party, but I don't know that I ever especially noticed just what it was that they did to it. Oh, it's all right, you know, he attested with some emphasis. Oh, it's all right enough, early Jacobian or something like that. Perfectly corking everybody calls it. But it's so everlasting big and it costs so much to run it and I've lost such a wicked lot of money this year that I'm not going to keep it after this autumn. If my sisters ever send me their Paris address so I'll know what to do with their things. Browningly, little Eve Edgerton bent forward. Some kind of a party? She repeated in unconscious mimicry.  And you can't even remember what kind of a party it was? Something in her slender brown throat fluttered ever so slightly. Why, I've never even been to a Christian party in all my life, she said, though I can dance in every language of Asia. And you've got sisters? She stammered. Live, silk, and muslin sisters? And you don't even know where they are?  Incredibly, she lifted her puzzled eyes to his. And you've got a house, she faltered. And you're not going to keep it, a real, truly house. And you don't even know what color it is. And I know the name of every house paint there is in the world, she muttered, and the name of every wallpaper there is in the world, and the name of every carpet, and the name of every curtain, and the name of everything, and I haven't got any house at all. Then, startingly, without the slightest warning, she pitched forward suddenly on her face, and lay clutching into the turf, a little dust-colored wisp of a boy figure, sobbing at starved heart out against a dust-colored earth. Why, what's the matter, gas-portion? Why, why kid? Very laboriously, with his numbed hands, with his strange unresponsive legs, he edged himself forward a little till he could just reach her shoulder. Why, kid, he patted her rather clumsily. Why, kid, do you mean? Slowly through the darkness, Eve-Edgerton came crawling to his side. Solemnly, she lifted her eyes to Barton's. I'll tell you something that Mother told me, she murmured. This is it. Your father is the most wonderful man that ever lived. My mother whispered to me quite distinctly, but he'll never make any home for you, except in his arms, and that is plenty home enough for a wife, but not nearly home enough for a daughter. And why, you say it as if you knew it by heart, interrupted Barton. Why, of course I know it by heart, creditle Eve-Edgerton almost eagerly.  But the things that people whisper to you, you remember to your dying day. If I whisper something to you, said Barton, quite impulsively, will you promise to remember it to your dying day? Oh, yes, Mr. Barton, droned little Eve-Edgerton, abruptly Barton reached out and tilted her chin up widely toward him.  You look like an elf, a bronze and gold elf. You're wonderful. You're magical. You ought always to dress like that. Somebody ought to tell you about it. You would see storm-colored clothes with little quick glints of light in them. Packiness of those people could make you famous.  From one brief instant her hand went creeping up to the tip of her chin. Then, very soberly, like a child with a lesson, she began to repeat Barton's impulsive phrases. In this light she droned, with your head pushed back like that, and your hair fluffed up like that, and the—the more unexpectedly then than anything that could possibly have happened, she burst out laughing. A little low, giggly, school-curly sort of laugh. Oh, that's easy to remember, she announced. Then all one narrow, black silhouette again, she crouched down into the semi-darkness. For a lady, she resumed listlessly, who rode side-saddle and really enjoyed hiking around all over the sticky face of the globe. My mother certainly did guess pretty keenly just how things were going to be with her. I'll tell you what she said to sustain me, she repeated dreamily. Any foolish woman can keep house, but the woman who travels with your father has got to be able to keep the whole wide world for him. It's nations that you'll have to put to bed, and suns and moons and stars that you'll have to keep scoured and bright. But with the whole green earth for your carpet, and shuddering, and shuddering, and shuddering with the whole green earth for your carpet, and shining heaven for your roof-free, and God himself for your landlord, now wouldn't you be a fool if you weren't quite satisfied? If you weren't quite satisfied, finished Barton mumblingly. Little Eve Edgerton lifted her great eyes, soft with sorrow, sharp with tears, almost defiantly to Barton's. That's what mother said, she faltered, but all the same. I'd rather have a house.  It's a beastly shame. It's a very softly in the darkness his hand grazed hers. Did you touch my head on purpose or just accidentally? Asked Eve Edgerton, without a flicker of expression turned gold-colored face. Why, I'm sure I don't know, laughed Barton, maybe, maybe was a little of each. With absolute gravity little Eve Edgerton kept right on staring at him. I don't know whether I should ever specially like you or not, Mr. Barton, she drawled, but you are certainly very beautiful. Oh, I say, cried Barton wretchedly. With a really desperate effort he pulled almost to his feet, tottered for an instant and then came sagging down to the soft earth again, a great sprawling, spineless heat at little Eve Edgerton's feet. Unflinchingly, as if her wrists were built of steel wires, the girl jumped up and pulled and tugged and yanked his almost dead weight into a sitting posture again. My, but you're chock-full of lightning. She commiserated with him. With utter rage and mortification of his helplessness, Barton could almost have cursed her for her sympathy. Then suddenly, without warning, a little gasp of sheer tenderness escaped him.  You must have been invented just for the sole purpose of saving people's lives. Oh, you've saved mine all right, he acknowledged soberly. He nursed me and fed me and jollied me without a whimper about yourself, without a impulsively. He reached out his numb-palmed hand to her and her own hand came so cold to it that it might have been the caress of one ghost to another.  But there's ever anything I can do for you. What did you say? I watched her little Eve Edgerton.  Oh no, I didn't mean that, used the grove, but what was the last thing you said? Oh, greened Barton more cheerfully. I said, if there was ever anything I could do for you, anything. Would you rent me your attic? I asked little Eve Edgerton. Would I rent you my attic, stammered Barton? Why in the world should you want to hire my attic? So I could buy pretty things in Siam or Ceylon or any other queer country and have some place to send them. Said little Eve Edgerton. Oh, I'd pay the express, Mr. Barton. She hastened to assure him. Oh, I promised you there never would be any trouble about the express. Or about the rent. Expeditiously, as she spoke, she reached for her hip pocket and brought out a roll of bills that fairly took Barton's breath away. If there's one thing in the world you know that I've got, it's money. She confided perfectly simply. So he's seen Mr. Barton. She added with sudden wistfulness. There's almost nothing on the face of the globe that I couldn't have if I only had some place to put it. Without further paroling, she proffered the roll of bills to him.  Barton asked again quite precipitously. Again, the girl answered his question equally frankly and without a fence. Oh no, she said, only very determined. Determined about what? Greened Barton in spite of himself. Determined about an attic. Draught little Eve Edgerton. With an unwanted touch of evacity, she threw out one hand in a little sharp gesture of appeal. But not a tone of her voice either quickened or deepened. Why, Mr. Barton, she drawn. I'm thirty years old and ever since I was born I've been travelling all over the world in a steamer trunk. In a steamer trunk, mind you. With father always standing over every packing to make sure that we never carry anything that isn't necessary. With father, I said. I was despised by a sudden distinctness. You know, father, she added significantly. Yes, I know, father. A scented Barton with astonishing glibness. Once again the girl threw out her hand in it in Congress' gesture of appeal. The things that father thinks are necessary, she exclaimed softly. Noiselessly, as a shadow she edged herself forward into the full light till she faced Barton almost squarely. Maybe you think it's fun, Mr. Barton, she whispered.  Very painstakingly on the fingers of one hand she began to enumerate the articles in question. Just your writing talks, she said, and six suits of underwear and all the United States consular reports and two or three washed dresses and two good enough dresses and a lot of quinine and a squashed hat and and very faintly the ghost of a smile went flickering over her lips and whatever microscope and specimen cases get crowded out of father's trunk. What's the use, Mr. Barton, she questioned, of spending a whole year investigating the silk industry of China if you can't take any of the silk's home? What's the use, Mr. Barton, of rolling up your sleeves and working six months in a heathen porcelain factory just to study glaze if you don't own a China closet in any city on the face of the earth? Why, sometimes, Mr. Barton confided, it seems as if I'd die a horrible death if I couldn't buy things the way other people do and send them somewhere even if it wasn't home.  You could, I suppose, he ventured not too intelligently buy the things and give them to other people. Oh, yes, of course, conceded little Evette Gritton without enthusiasm. Oh, yes, of course, you can always buy the people the things they want, but understand, she said, there's very little satisfaction in buying the things you want to give to people who don't want them. I tried it once, she confided, and it didn't work. The winter we were in Paraguay, she went on in some stale old English newspaper I saw an advertisement of a white bedroom set. There were eleven pieces, and it was adorable and it cost 82 pounds and I thought after I had the fun of unpacking it, I could give it to a woman I knew who had a tea plantation. But the instant she got it, she painted it green. Now, when you sent to England for eleven pieces of furniture because they are white, beside little Evette Gritton, and have them graded because they are white and sent to sea and then carried over land miles and miles and miles on Indians heads because they are white, you sort of want them to stay white. Oh, of course it's alright, she acknowledged patiently. The tea woman was nice and the green paint by no means altogether bad, only looking back now on our winter in Paraguay, I seem to have missed somehow the particular thrill that I paid 82 pounds and all that freightage for. Yes, of course, agreed Barton, he could see that. So, if you could rant me your attic, she resumed almost blithely. But my dear child, interrupted Barton, what possible why I'd have a place then to send things to argue little Evette Gritton. But you're off on the high seas Saturday you say, laughed Barton.  But the high seas are so dull, Mr Barton, and then we sail so long, she complained.  Why, it'll be months and months before we ever reach Melbourne. And of course on every steamer. She began to monotone. Of course on every steamer there'll be someone with a mixed-up collection of shells or coins. And that will take all my mornings. And of course on every steamer there'll be somebody struggling with a Chinese alphabet or the Burmese accents. And that will take all my afternoons. But in the evenings when people are just having fun she kindled again. And nobody wants me for anything. Why then, you see, I could still weigh up in the bell where you're not allowed to go to the attic. It's pretty lonesome. She whispered all snuggled up there alone with the night, and the spray and the sailors shouts, if you haven't got anything at all to think about except just what's ahead, what's ahead, what's ahead. And even that belongs to God. She sighed a bit ruefully.   Because after Saturday, you know, I'll probably never, never be in America again. Then what satisfaction left Barton, could you possibly get in filling up an attic with things that you will never see again? What satisfaction? Repeatedly, Eve at Gretchen What satisfaction? Between her placid brows a very black frown deepened.  Eh, said Barton, what? For heaven's sake, say it again. Why, just the satisfaction we can, Eve, at Gretchen, then abruptly the sullen lines grayed down again around her mouth. It seems funny to me, Mr. Barton, that anybody as big as you are shouldn't be able to understand anybody as little as I am. But if I only had an attic, she cried out with apparent irrelevance. Oh, if just once in my whole life I could have even so much as an attic full of home. Oh, please, please, please, Mr. Barton, she pleaded. Oh, please!  A little fleeting expression so sweet, so shy, so transcendently lovely that if it had ever lived to reach her frowning brow, it was her. Then, startingly, into his stare, into his amazement broke a great white glare through the opening of the cave.  Why, it isn't lightning, laughed little Eve Edgerton. It's the moon. Quick as a spread she flashed her feet and ran out into the moonlight. We can go home now, she called back triumphantly over her shoulder. Oh, we can, can we? snapped Barton. His nerves were strangely raw. He struggled to his knees and tottered there watching the cheeky little moonbeams lap up the mystery of the cave and scare the yellow lantern flame into a mere sallow glow. Poignantly, from the forest we heard Eve Edgerton's voice calling out into the night. Come, mother's horse! Come, mother's horse! Woo-hoo! Come! Come! Come! Softly, above the crackle of twigs, the thought of a hoof, the creak of a saddle, he sensed the long, tremulous answering whinny. Then almost like a silver apparition, the girl's figure and the horses seemed to merge together before him in the moonlight. Well, of all things, stammered Barton. Oh, the horse is all right. I thought he'd stay round, called the girl, but he's wild as a hawk and it's going to be the dickens of a job, I'm afraid, to get you up. Half walking, half crawling, Barton emerged from the cave. To get me up, he scoffed. Well, what do you think you're going to do? Limply, as he asked, he sank back against the support of a tree. Why, I think, drawled Eve Edgerton. I think very naturally that you're going to ride and I'm going to walk back to the hotel. Well, I am not, snapped Barton. Well, you are not, he protested vehemently. For heaven's sake, Miss Edgerton, why don't you go scooting back on the grey and send a wagon or something for me? Why, because it would make this droned little Eve Edgerton drearily. Doors would bang and lights would blaze and somebody would scream and you make so much fuss when you're born, she said, and so much fuss when you die. Don't you think it's sort of nice to keep things as quietly to yourself as you can all the rest of your days? Yes, of course, acknowledged Barton, but nothing stamped little Eve Edgerton with sudden passion.  Oh, confounded, said Barton, stumblingly he reached the big grey side.   Most specially, thank you Mr. Barton, I walk with my big wanting to walk. Oh, said Barton. Oh, the bones in his knees began suddenly to slump like so many knots of tissue paper. Oh, alright, Eve, he called out a bit hazely. Then slowly and laboriously, with a very good imitation of meagerness, he allowed himself to be pulled and pushed and jerked to the top of an old tree stump and from there at last, with many tricks and tugs and sutterfuges, to the cramping side saddle of the rest of rearing grey. Helplessly in the clear white moonlight he heard the girl's breath rip and tear like a dry sob out of her gasping lungs. And then at last, blinded with sweat, dizzy with weakness, as breathless as herself, as wrenched, as triumphant, he found himself clinging fast to a worn, sweet pommel, jogging jerkily down the mountainside with Eve Edgerton's dull-sized hand dragging hard on the brim of the tree stump. And then at last, blinded with sweat, dizzy with weakness, as breathless with a sized hand dragging hard on the big grey's curb. And her whole tiny weight shoved back a slant and a strain against the big grey's two-eager shoulder. Little Droll, colorless, meek Eve Edgerton, after her night of stress and terror with her precious scrapbook still hugged tight under one arm striding staunchly home through the rough-footed Woodsea night to make four hundred muffins for breakfast. At the first crook in the trail she glanced back hastily over her shoulder into the rustling shadows. Good-bye, Cave, she called softly. Good-bye, Cave. And once when some tiny Wood's animal scuttled out from under her feet she smiled up a bit appealingly at Barton. Several times they stopped for water at some sudden noisy brook. And once or twice, or even three times perhaps, finding days of dizziness overwhelmed him. She climbed up with one foot into the room's stirrup and steadied his swaying, unfeeling body against her own little harsh, reassuring flannel-shirted breast. Mile after mile through the jet-black latticework of the treetops the august moon spotted brightly down on them. Mile after mile through rolling pastures the moon plated stubble crackled and sucked like a sheet of wet ice under their feet. Then roads began mere molten bogs of mud and moonlight and little frail roadside bushes drunk with rain lay wallowing helplessly in every hollow. Out of this pristine, uninhabited wilderness the hotel buildings loomed at last with startling conventionality. Even before their discreetly shuttered windows, Barton whined back again with a sudden horrid new realization of his half-nakedness. For heaven's sake, he cried, let's sneak in the back way somewhere. O lordy, what a sight I am to meet your father.  O please, don't insist on waking up father, she begged. He hates so to be waked up. Oh of course if I'd been hurt it would have been courteous of you to tell him.  Softly under her breath she began to whistle toward a shadow in the stable yard.  Oh Bob, she summoned. Rollingly the shadow named Bob struggled to his very real feet. Here Bob, she ordered, come help Mr. Barton. He's pretty badly off. We got sort of struck by lightning. And two of us got killed. Go help him upstairs. Do anything he wants. Don't make any fuss. He'll be all right in the morning. Gravely she put out her hand to Barton and nodded to the boy. Good night, she said, and good night Bob. He took them out of sight. She heard a little at the clatter of a box kicked over in some remote shed and then swinging around quickly ripped the hot saddle from the big grey's back slipped the bit from his tortured tongue and turning him loose with one sharp slap on his gleaming flank yanked off her own riding boots and went scutting off in her stocking feet through innumerable doors and else till reaching the great empty office and finally up three flights of stairs to her own apartment. Once in her room her little travelling clock told her it was a quarter of three. Phew! she said. Just Phew! 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 water than snow. Roused by the racket her father came irritably and stood in the doorway. Oh my dear Eve! he complained. Didn't you get wet enough in the storm and for Merce's sake where have you been? Out of the depths of her dripping hair and her big plushy bath towel little Eve Edgerton considered her father only casually. Don't delay me! she said. I've got to make four hundred muffins and I'm so late I haven't even time to change my clothes. We got struck by lightning. She added purely incidentally. That is, sort of struck by lightning. That is, Mr. Barton got sort of struck by lightning. And oh glory father! her voice kindled a little. And oh glory father! I thought he was gone. Twice in the hours I was working over him he stopped breathing all together. Palpably the vigour died out of her voice again. Father! she drawled mumblingly through intermittent flops of bath towel. Father! you said I could keep the next thing I saved. Do you think I could keep him? End of Part 2, Chapter 2 Part 1 of Chapter 3 of Little Eve Edgerton This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Little Eve Edgerton by Elinor Hallowell Abbott Part 1 of Chapter 3 What? Demanded her father.  Oh father! she cheered. Can't you take a joke? I don't know as you ever offered me one before. Grilled her father a bit ungraciously. All the same asserted Little Eve Edgerton with sudden seriousness. All the same father he did stop breathing twice. And I worked and I worked and I worked over him. Slowly her great eyes widened. And oh father! His skin! she whispered simply. Hush! snapped her father with a great gust of resentment and a great gust of propriety. Hush! I say! I tell you it isn't delicate for a girl to talk about a man's skin. Oh! but his skin was very delicate! mused Little Eve Edgerton persistently. There in the lantern light what lantern light demanded her father? And the moonlight murmured Little Eve Edgerton. What moonlight demanded her father? A trifle quizzically he stepped forward and peered into his daughter's face. Personally Eve he said I don't care for the young man and I certainly don't wish to hear anything about his skin. Not anything.  I'm very glad you saved his life he hastened to affirm. It was very commendable of you I'm sure and someone doubtless will be very much relieved. But for me personally the incident is closed. What he said?  Brusquely he turned back toward his own room and then swung around again suddenly in the doorway. Eve he frowned. That was a joke wasn't it? What you said about wanting to keep that young man? Why of course! said Little Eve Edgerton. Well I must say it was an exceedingly clumsy one growled her father irritably. Maybe so it was the first joke you see that I ever made.  All the same father she said his hush he ordered and slammed the door conclusively behind him. Very thoughtfully for a moment Little Eve Edgerton kept right on standing there in the middle of the room. In her eyes was just the faintest possible suggestion of a smile but there was no smile ever about her lips. Her lips indeed were quite drawn and most flagrantly set with her expression of one who having something determinate to say will yet say it somewhere some time somehow though the skies fall and all the waters of the earth dry up. Then like the dart of a bird she flashed to her father's door and opened it. Father she whispered yes answer the huff muffled pillowy voice what is it oh I forgot to tell you something that happened once down in Indochina whispered Little Eve Edgerton once you were away she confided breathlessly I pulled a half-drowned coulee out of a canal well what of it asked her father bit heartily oh nothing special said Little Eve Edgerton except that his skin was like yellow parchment and sandpaper and old plaster without further ado then she turned away and except for the single ecstatic episode of making the 400 muffins for breakfast resumed her pulseness at role of being just Little Eve Edgerton as for Barton the subsequent morning hours brought sleep and sleep only the sort of sleep that barely sows as a senses in oblivion weighing the limbs with lead and stupor till the sleeper rolls out from under the load at last like one half paralyzed with cramp and helplessness certainly it was long after noon time before Barton actually rallied his aching bones his dizzy head his refractory inclinations to meet the fluctuent sympathy and shaft that awaited him downstairs in every nook and corner of the great idle minded hotel conscientiously but without enthusiasm from the temporary retreat of the men's waiting room he sent up his card at last to Mr. Edgerton and was duly informed that that gentleman and his daughter were mountain climbing in an absurd flair of disappointment then he edged his way out through their prattling piazza groups to the shouting tennis players and on from the shouting tennis players to the teasing golfers and back from the teasing golfers peaceful writing room where in a great lazy chair by the open window he settled down once more with unwanted morbidness to brood over the grimly bizarre happenings of the previous night in a soft blur of sound and sense the names of other people came wafting to him from time to time and once or twice at least the word Barton shreeled out at him with astonishing poignancy still like a man half drugged man and woke in a vague sweating terror and dosed again and dreamed again and roused himself at last with the one violent determination to hook his sleeping consciousness whether or no into the nearest conversation that he could reach the conversation going on at the moment just outside his window was not a particularly interesting one to hook one's attention into but at least it was fairly distinct in blissfully rational human voices two unknown men were discussing the non-domesticity of the modern women it was not an erudite discussion but just a mere personal complaint I had a house wailed one the nicest coziest house you ever saw we were two years building it and there was a garden a real Jim dandy flower and vegetable garden and there were 27 fruit trees my wife the whale deepened my wife she just would live in a hotel couldn't stand the strain she said of planning food three times a day not couldn't stand the strain of earning meals three times a day you understand the wailing voice said significantly but couldn't stand the strain of ordering them people all around you know starving to death for just bread but she couldn't stand the strain of having to decide and squab and tenderloin oh lordy you can't tell me anything snap the other voice more incisively houses I've had four first it was the seller my wife wanted to eliminate then it was the attic then it was we're living in an apartment now you finished abruptly an apartment mind you one of those blankity blank blank blank apartments well the first voice again there's hardly women you meet these days who hasn't got rouge on her cheeks but a man's got to go back to generations I guess if he wants to find one that's got any flower on her nose flower on her nose interrupt to the sharper voice flower on her nose oh ye gods I don't believe there's a woman in this whole hotel who no flower if she saw it women don't care anymore I tell you women don't care just as a mere bit of physical stimulus the crescendo of stridentcy of the speech roused Barton to a lazy smile then altogether unexpectedly across indifference across drowsiness across absolute physical and mental non-concern the idea behind the speech came hurtling to him and started him bold upright in his chair huh he thought I know a girl that cares from head to foot a sudden warm sense of satisfaction glowed through him a throb of pride a puffiness of the chest huh he gloated then interrupting from outside the window he heard the click of chairs hitching a bit nearer together st whispered a voice who's the freak in the 1830s clothes why that's the little Edgerton girl piped the other voice cautiously it isn't so much the 1830 clothes as the 1830 expression that gets me where in creation oh upon my soul grown the man whose wife would live in a hotel oh upon my soul if there's one thing that I can't stand it's a woman who hasn't any style if I had my way he threatened with his in emphasis if I had my way I tell you I'd have every only looking woman in the world put out of her misery and out of my misery is what I mean ha ha ha chuckle the other voice ha ha ha give both voices ecstatically together with quite unnecessary haze the barton sprang to the window and looked out it was Edgerton and she did look funny not especially funny but just plain everyday little Edgerton funny in a shabby old english trapping suit with a knapsack slung a skew one shoulder a faded alpine hat yanked down across her eyes and one steel-wristed little hand dragging a mountain laurel bush almost as big as herself close behind her followed her father equally shabby his shapeless pockets fairly bulging with rocks a battered tin botany kid in one hand a dingy black camera box in the other impulsively Barton started out to meet them but just a step from the threshold of the piazzador he sensed for the first time the long line of smokers watching the two figures grinningly above their puffy brown pipes and cigars what is it called one smoker to another moving day in jungle town ha ha ha teetered the whole line of smokers ha ha ha so because he belonged not so much to the type of person that can't stand having its friends laughed at to the type that can't stand having friends who are liable to be laughed at Barton changed his mind quite precipitately about identifying himself at that particular moment with edgerton family and world back instead to the writing room there by the aid of the hotel clerk and two bell boys and three new blotters in a different pen and an entirely fresh bottle of ink and just exactly the right size the right tinted of letter paper he concocted a perfectly charming note to little eve edgerton a note full of compliment of gratitude of sincere appreciation reiterating even once more his persistent intention of rendering her somewhere sometime a really significant service whereupon thus dually relieved of his truly honest effort at self-expression he went back again to his own kind to the prattling the well-groomed the ultra-fashionables of both mind and body and there on the shining tennis courts in the soft golf greens through the late yellow afternoon and the first gray thread of twilight the old sickening ennui came creeping back to his senses warring chaotically there with a natural nervous reaction of his recent adventure till just out of sheer morbid unrest as soon as the flower-scented candle-lighted dinner hour was over he went stalking round and round the interminable piazzas hunting in every dark corner for Mr. Edgerton and his daughter meeting them abruptly at last in the full glare of the office he clutched fatuously at Mr. Edgerton's reluctant attention with some quick question about the extraordinary moonlight and stood by grinning like any bashful schoolboy while Mr. Edgerton explained to him severely as if it were his fault just why and to what extent the raity of mountain moonlight differed from the raity of any other kind of moonlight and leave herself in absolute spiritual remoteness stood patiently shifting her weight from one foot to the other staring abstractedly all the time at the floor under her feet right into the midst of this instructive discourse broke one of Barton's men friends with a sharp jog of his elbow and a brief apologetic nod to the Edgerton's Oh I say Barton cry the newcomer breathlessly that wedding you know overcrossed the Kentons tonight with a Viennese orchestra and heaven knows what from New York well we've shank hide the whole business for a dance here tomorrow night music flowers palms catering everything it's going to be the biggest little dancing party that this slice of North American scenery ever saw and slowly little Eve Edgerton lifted her great solemn eyes to the newcomer's face a party she'd rolled a a dancing party you mean a real Christian dancing party Dolly the big eyes tripped again and as if in mere casual mannerism her little brown hands went creeping up to the white breast of her gown then just as startling just as unprovable as the flash of a shooting star her glance flashed up at Barton Oh gasped little Eve Edgerton Oh said Barton astoundingly in his ears Belle seemed suddenly to be ringing his head was a whirl his pulse is fairly pounding with the weird quesotic purport of his impulse Miss Edgerton he began miss then right behind him two older men juggled him awkwardly in passing and that miss Von Eden chuckled one man to another Lordy there'll be more than 40 men after her for tomorrow night Smith Arnold Hudson Hazelton who are you betting will get her I'm betting that I will crashed every brutally competitive male instinct in Barton's body impetuously he broke away from the Edgerton's and darted off to find miss Von Eden before Smith Arnold Hudson or any other man should find her so he sent little Eve Edgerton a great gorgeous box of candy instead wonderful candy pounds and pounds of it fine fluted chocolates and pink rose bonbons and fat sugared violets and all sorts of tin foiled mysteries of fruit and spice and when the night of the party came he strutted triumphantly to it with Helen Von Eden who already at 20 was beginning to be just a little bit bored with parties and together through all that riot of music and flowers and rainbow colors and dazzling lights they trotted and tangoed with monotonous perfection the envied and admired of all beholders two superbly physical young specimens of manhood and womanhood desperately condoning each other's dullness for the sake of each other's good looks and while youth and its laughter a chaos of color and shrill crescendos was surging back and forth across the flower-readed piazzas and violins were weedling and Japanese lanterns drunk with candlelight were bobbing gaily in the balsam scented breeze little Eve Edgerton upstairs in her own room was kneeling crampishly on the floor by the open window with her chin on the window sill staring quizzically down down on all that joy and novelty till her father called her a trifle impatiently at last from his microscope table on the other side of the room Eve summoned her father what an idler you are can't you see how worried I am over this specimen here my eyes I tell you aren't what they used to be then patiently little Eve Edgerton scrambled to her feet and crossed over to her father's table pushed his head mechanically aside and bending down squinted her own eyes close to his magnifying glass bell shaped calyx she began five petals of the corollary partly united why it must be some relation to the Mexican rain tree she mumbled without enthusiasm leaves alternate bipionate very typically few foliage she continued why it's a a pitha colombium sure enough said Edgerton that's what I thought all the time as one eminently relieved of all future worry in the matter he jumped up pushed away his microscopic work and grabbing up the biggest book on the table bolted on ceremoniously for an easy chair indifferently for a moment little Eve Edgerton stood watching him then heavily like a sleepy insistent puppy dog she shambled across the room and climbing up into her father's lap shoved aside her father's book and burrowed her head triumphantly a clean bony curb of his shoulder her whole yawning interest centered apparently in the toes of her father's slippers then so quietly that it scarcely seemed abrupt father she asked was my mother beautiful what gasp Edgerton what bristling with a grave sort of astonishment he reached up nervously and stroked his daughter's hair your mother he went and said to me the most beautiful woman that ever lived such expression he glowed such fire but of such a spiritual modesty of such a physical delicacy like a rose he mused like a rose that should refuse to bloom for any but the hand that gathered it languorously from some good practical pocket little Eve Edgerton extracted a much befriiled chocolate bonbon and sat there munching it with extreme thoughtfulness then father she whispered I wish I was like mother why asked Edgerton wincing 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 one moment two moments three four five six moments seven moments on, on, on gutterly, laboriously thirteen fourteen fifteen even twenty with a girl still nibbling at her chocolate and the man still staring off into space with that strange little whimper of pain between his pale shrewd eyes it was the man who broke the silence first precipitately he shifted his knees and jostled his daughter to her feet Eve he said you're awfully spliny tonight I'm going to bed and he stalked off into his own room slamming the door behind him once again from the middle of the floor little Eve Edgerton stood staring blankly after her father then she doddled across the room and opened his door just wide enough to come past the corners of her mouth father she whispered did mother know that she was a rose before you were clever enough to find her no faltered her father's husky voice that was the miracle of it she never even dreamed that she was a rose until I found her very quietly little Eve Edgerton shut the door again and came back into the middle of her room and stood there hesitatingly for an instant then quite abruptly she crossed her bureau and pushing aside the old ivory toilet articles began to jerk her tuzzly hair first one way and then another across her worried forehead but if you knew you were a rose she mused perplexedly to herself that is if you felt almost sure that you were she added a sudden humility that is she corrected herself that is if you felt almost sure that you could be a rose if anybody wanted you to be one in impulsive experimentation she gave another tweak to her hair and pinched a poor bruce looking a little blush into the hollow of one thin little cheek but suppose it was the the people going by she faltered who never even dreamed that you were a rose suppose it was the suppose it was suppose dejection unspeakable settled suddenly upon her an agonizing sense of youth's futility rackingly above the crash and lilt of music the quick wild thud of dancing feet the sharp staccato notes of laughter she heard the dull heavy unrhythmical trend of the oncoming years gray years limping eternally from tomorrow on through unloved lands unloved errands this is the end of youth it is it is it is whimpered her heart it isn't something suddenly poignant and determinate shrilled startlingly in her brain I'll have one more peep at youth anyway threaten the brain if we only could you're in the discouraged heart speculatively for one brief instance the girl stood caulking her head toward the door of her father's room then expeditiously, if not fashionably, she began to at once rearrange her tussled hair and after one single pat to her gown, surely the quickest toilet-making of that festive evening she snatched up a slip-range hand crept safely past her father's door crept safely out at last through her own door into the hall and still carrying a slip-range hand had reached the head of the stairs before a new perplexity assailed her why? why? I've never yet been anywhere alone without my mother's memory, she faltered aghast then impetuously with a little frown of material inconvenience but no flicker whatsoever in the fixed spiritual habit of her life she dropped her slippers on the floor sped back to her room hesitated on the threshold a moment with real perplexity started softly to her trunk rummaged as noiselessly through it as a kitten's paws discovered at last a special object of her quest a filmy square of old linen and lace thrusted into her belt with her own handkerchief and went creeping back again to her slippers at the head of the stairs as if to add fresh nervousness to the situation one of the slippers lay pointing quite boldly downstairs but the other slipper drew as a compass to the north toad with unmistakable severity toward the bedroom tentatively little eve edgerton inserted one foot in the timid slipper the path back to her room was certainly the simplest path that she knew and the dullest equally tentatively she withdrew from the timid slipper and tried the adventurous one ouch! she cried out loud the soul of the second slipper seemed fairly sizzling with excitement with a slight gasp of impatience then she reached out and pulled the timid slipper back into line stepped firmly into it pointed both slipper toes unsurvingly southward and proceeded on downstairs to investigate the christian dance at the first turn of the lower landing she stopped short with every unwi darkened sense in her body jacked like a wild deer senses before the sudden dazzle of sight sound scent that awaited her below before her blinking eyes she saw even the empty humdrum hotel office turned into a blazing bower of palms and roses and electric lights beyond this bower a corridor opened out more dense more sweet more sparkling and across this corridor the echo of the unseen ball came diffusing through the palms the plaintive cry of a violin the rippling laugh of a piano the swarming hum of human voices the swish of skirts the agiton thud thud thud of dancing feet the throb almost of young hearts a thousand commonplace everyday sounds merged here and now into one magic harmony that thrilled little eve edgerton as nothing on god's big earth had ever thrilled her before hurriedly she darted down the last flight of steps and sped across the bright office to the dark veranda consumed by one fuming passionate utterly uncontrollable curiosity to see with her own eyes just what all that wonderful sound looked like end of part one chapter three part two of chapter three of little eve edgerton this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Little Eve Edgerton by Illinor Hallowell Abbott part two of chapter three once outside in the darkness her confusion cleared a little it was late she reasoned very very late long after midnight probably for of all the shadowy flickering line of evening smokers that usually crowded that particular stretch of veranda only a single distant glow or two remained yet even now in the almost complete isolation of her surroundings the old inherent bashfulness swept over her again and warred chaotically with her insistent purpose as stealthily as possible she crept along the dark wall to the one bright spot that flared forth like a lantern lens from the gay ballroom crept along a plain little girl in a plain little dress yearning like all the other plain little girls of the world in all the other plain little dresses of the world to press her wistful little nose just once against some dazzling to a shop window with her fingers groping at last into the actual shutters of that coveted ballroom window she scrunched her eyes up perfectly tight for an instant and then opened them staring wide at the entrancing scene before her oh, said little Eve Edgerton oh the scene was certainly the scene of a most madcap summer carnival palms of the far December desert were there and roses from the near familiar August gardens the swirl of chiffon and lace and silk was like a rainbow-tinted breeze some music crashed on the senses like blows that wasted no breath in subtler argument naked shoulders gleamed at every turn beneath their diamonds silk stockings bare their sheen at each new rompish step and through the dizzy mystery of it all the haze, the maze the vague audacious unreality grimly conventional blatantly tangible white-shirt fronts surrounded by great black dots and then went slapping by each with its share of fairyland in its arms why they're not dancing, gasped with Eve Edgerton, they're just prancing even so her own feet began to prance and very faintly across her cheekbones a little flicker of pink began to glow then very startlingly behind her a man's shadow darkened suddenly and sensing instantly that this newcomer also was interested in the view through the window she drew aside courteously to give him his share of the pleasure in her briefest glance she saw that he was no one whom she knew but in the throbbing witchery of the moment he seemed to her suddenly like her only friend in the world it's pretty isn't it she nodded toward the ballroom casually the man bent down to look until his smoke-scented cheek almost grazed hers it certainly is he conceded amably without further speech for a moment they both stood there peering into the wonderful picture then all together abruptly and with no excuse whatsoever little Eve Edgerton's heart gave a great big lurch and wringing her small brown hands together so that by no grave mischance should she reach out and touch the stranger's sleep as she peered up at him I can dance draw little Eve Edgerton truly the man's glance flashed down at her quite plainly he recognized her now she was that funny little Edgerton girl that's exactly who she was in the simple old-fashioned arrangement of her hair in the personal neatness but total indifference to fashion of her prim I throated gown she represented frankly everything that he thought he most approved in woman but nothing under the starry heavens at that moment could have forced him to lead her as a partner into that dazzling maelstrom of mode and modernity because she looked so horribly eccentric and conspicuous compared to the girls that he thought he didn't approve of at all why of course she can dance I only wish I could he lied gallantly as soon as he reasonably could to find another partner trusting devoutly that the darkness had not divulged his actual features five minutes later through the window frame of her magic picture little Eve Edgerton saw him pass swinging his share of fairyland in his arms and close behind him followed Barton swinging his share of fairyland in his arms Barton the wonderful with his best the blonde blonde girl of the marvelous gowns and hats there was absolutely no doubt whatsoever about them they were the handsomest couple in the room furtively from her hidden corner little Eve Edgerton stood and watched them to her appraising eyes there were at least two other girls almost as beautiful as Barton's partner but no other men in the room compared with Barton of that she was perfectly sure his brow his eyes his chin the way he held his head upon his wonderful shoulders the way he stood upon his feet his smile his laugh the very gesture of his hands over and over again as she watched these two perfect partners came circling through her vision solemnly graceful arrhythmically two fortunate favorite youngsters born into exactly the same sphere trained to do exactly the same things in exactly the same way so that even now with 12 years difference in age between them every conscious vibration of their beings seemed to be tuned instinctively to the same key bluntly little Eve Edgerton looked back upon the odd haphazard training of her own life was there anyone in this world whose training had been exactly like hers then suddenly her elbow went croaking up across her eyes to remember how Barton had looked in the stormy woods that night lying half naked and almost wholly dead at her feet except for her odd haphazard training he would have been dead Barton the beautiful dead and worse than dead buried and worse than out of her lips a little gasp of sound rang agonizingly and in that instant by some trick fashion of the dance the rollicking music stopped right offshore in the middle of a note the lights went out the dancers fled precipitously to their seats and out of the arbor gallery of the orchestra a single swarthy-faced male singer stepped forth into the wan wake of an artificial moon and lifted up a marvelous tenor voice in one of those weird folk songs of the far away that fairly tear the listener's heart out of his body a song as sinisterly metallic as the hum of hate along a dagger blade a song as rapturously surprised at its own divinity as the first trill of a nightingale a song of pearling brooks and green gray mountain fortresses a song of quick sharp lights and long low lazy cadences a song of love and hate a song of all joys and all sorrows and then death the song of sex as nature sings it the plaintive weedling passionate song of sex as nature sings it yet in the far away places of the earth to no one else in that company probably did a single word penetrate merely stricken dumb by the vibrant power of the voice vaguely uneasy, vaguely saddened group after group of hoidonish youngsters huddled in speechless fascination around the dark edges of the hall but to little eve edgerton's cosmopolitan ears each familiar gypsy-ish word thus strangely transplanted into that alien room was like a call to the wild from the wild so as to all repressed natures the amount of self-expression comes once without warning without preparation without even conscious acquiescence sometimes the moment came to little eve edgerton impishly first more as a dare to herself than as anything else she began to hum the melody and sway her body softly to and fro to the rhythm then suddenly her breath began to quicken and as one half hypnotized she went clambering through the window into the ballroom stood for an instant like a grey-white phantom in the outer windows then with a laugh as foreigned her own ears as to another snatched up a great fair shimmering silver scarf that gleamed across a deserted chair stretched it taut by its corners across her hair and eyes and with a queer little cry half defiance half appeal a quick dart a long undulating glide merged herself into the dagger blade the nightingale the grim mountain fortress the gay mockingbrook all the love all the rapture all the ghastly fatalism of that heart-breaking song bent as a bow her lithe figure curved now right now left to the lilting cadence supple as a silken tube her slender body seemed to drink up the fluid sound no one could have sworn in that vague light that her feet even so much as touched the ground she was a wraith a fantasy a fluctuating miracle of sound and sense framulously the singer's voice faltered in his throat to watch his song come grey ghost true before his staring eyes with a scant restraint the crowd along the walls pressed forward half pleasure mad to solve the mystery of the apparition abruptly the song stopped the dancer faltered lights blazed a veritable shriek of applause went roaring to the rooftops and little eve edgerton in one wild panic-stricken surge of terror when tearing off through a blind alley of palms dodging a cafe table jumping an improvised trellis a hundred pursuing voices yelling where is she where is she the tell-tale tinsel scarf flapping frenziedly behind her flapping flapping till it last between one high garnished shelf and another it twined a vampirish chiffon around the delicate fronds of a huge potted fern there was a jerk a blur a blow the sickening crash of fallen pottery and little eve edgerton crumpled up on the floor no longer colorless among the pale dry rainbow tints and shrill metallic glints of that most wondrous scene under her crimson mask she was as perfectly disguised as even her most bashful mood could have wished all around her kneeling, crowding, meddling interfering, frightened people queried who is she now and again from out of the medley someone offered a half-articulate suggestion it was the hotel proprietor who moved first clumsily but kindly with a fat hand thrust under her shoulders he tried to raise her head from the floor Barton himself as the most recently returned from the dark valley moved next futilely with a tiny wisp of linen and lace that he found at the girl's belt he tried to wipe blood from her lips who is she who is she the conglomerate hum of inquiry rose and fell like a moan beneath the crimson stain on the little lace handkerchief a trace of indelible ink showed faintly scowlingly Barton went to decipher it mother's little handkerchief the marking red mother's Barton repeated blankly then suddenly full comprehension broke upon him and horribly startled and shocked with a brand new realization of the tragedy he fairly blurted out his astonishing information why? why it's the little edgerton girl he hurled like a bombshell into the surrounding company instantly with the mystery once removed a dozen hysterical people seemed startled into normal activity no one knew exactly what to do but some ran for water and towels and some ran for the doctor and one young woman with astonishing acumen slipped out of her silk white petticoat and bound it blue ribbons and all as best she could around Eve Edgerton's poor little gashed head we must carry her upstairs asserted the hotel proprietor I'll carry her said Barton quite definitely fantastically the procession started upward little Eve Edgerton wide as a ghost now in Barton's arms except for that one persistent trickle of red from under the loosening edge of her huge oriental like turban of ribbon and petticoat the hotel proprietor still worrying eternally how to explain everything two or three well intentioned women babbling inconsequently of other broken heads an astonishingly slow response to as violent anarchists they thought they gave Eve Edgerton's father came shuffling at last to the door to greet them like one half paralyzed with sleeving perplexity he stood staring blankly at them as they filed into his rooms with their burden your daughter seems to have bumped her head the hotel proprietor began with professional tact in one gasping breath the women started to explain their version of the accident Barton as dumb as the father carried the girl directly over to the bed and put her down softly half lying half sitting among the great pile night crumpled pillows someone threw a blanket over her and above the top edge of that blanket nothing of her showed except the grotesquely twisted turban the hole of one wide eyelid the half of the other and just that single persistent trickle of red rapishly at that moment the clock on the mantel piece choked out the hour of three already dawn was more than half a hint in the sky and in the ghastly mixture of real and artificial light the girl's doom looked already sealed then very suddenly she opened her eyes and stared around Eve gasped her father what have you been doing vaguely the troubled eyes closed and then opened again I was trying to show people that I was a rose mumbled little Eve Edgerton swiftly her father came running to her side he thought it was her deathbed statement but Eve he pleaded why my own little girl why my laboriously the big eyes lifted to his mother was a rose persisted the stricken lips desperately yes I know sobbed her father but but nothing mumbled little Eve Edgerton with an almost superhuman effort she pushed her sharp little chin across the confining edge of the blanket vaguely unrecognizingly then for the first time her heavy eyes sensed the hotel proprietor's presence and worried their way across the tearful ladies to Barton's harrowed face mother was a rose she began all over again mother was a rose mother was a rose persisted babblingly and father get gassed it from the very first but as for me weekly she began to claw at her incongruous bandage but as for me she gasped the way I'm fixed I have to announce it end of part 2 chapter 3 part 1 chapter 4 of little eve Edgerton this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org little eve Edgerton by Illinois hallowell abbot part 1 chapter 4 the Edgerton's did not start from Melbourne the following day nor the next nor the next nor even the next in a head bandage much more scientific than a blue ribbon to petticoat but infinitely less decorative little eve Edgerton lay imprisoned among her hotel pillows twice a day and often or if he could justify it the village doctor came to investigate pulse and temperature before in all his humdrum winter experience or occasional summer tourist Beatry had he ever met any people who created of camels instead of motorcars or deprecated the dust of Abyssinia on their Piccadilly shoes or siding discriminately for the snow-tinted breezes of the Klondike and Ceylon never either in all his full round of experience had the village doctor had a surgical patient as serenely complacent as little eve Edgerton or any anxious relative as madly restive as little eve Edgerton's father for the first 24 hours of course Mr. Edgerton was much too worried over the accident to his daughter to think for a moment of the accident to his railway and steamship tickets for the second 24 hours he was very naturally so much concerned with the readjustment of his railway and steamship tickets that he never concerned himself at all with the accident to his plans by the end of the third 24 hours with his first two worries reasonably eliminated it was the accident to his plans that smote upon him with fiercest poignancy let a man's clothes and togs basolate as they will between his trunk and his bureau once that man's spirit is packed for a journey nothing but journey's end can ever unpack it again with his own heart tuned already to the heartthrob of an engine his pale eyes focused squintingly toward expected novelties his thin nostrils half a sniff with the first salty scent of the far away Mr. Edgerton whatever his intentions was not the most ideal of sick room companions too conscientious to leave his daughter too unhappy to stay with her he spent the larger part of his days and nights pacing up and down like a caged beast between the two bedrooms it was not till the fifth day however that his impatience actually burst the bounds he had set for it somewhere between his maple bureau and Eve's mahogany bed the actual explosion took place the man in that explosion every single infinitesimal wrinkle of brow, cheek, chin, nose was called into play as if here at last was a man who intended once and for all to wring his face perfectly dry of all human expression Eve he's her father I hate this place I loathe this place I abominate it I despise it fauna, nil and as to the coffee the breakfast coffee oh ye gods Eve if we are delayed here another week I shall die die mind you at sixty-two with my life work just begun Eve I hate this place I abominate it I de- really mused little Eve Edgerton from her white pillows why I think it's lovely eh? demanded her father what? it's so social said little Eve Edgerton social joked her father as bereft of expressions if robbed of both inner and outer vision little Eve Edgerton lifted her eyes to his why two of the hotel ladies have almost been to see me she confided listlessly and the chambermaid brought me the picture of her bow and the hotel proprietor lent me a storybook and Mr. social snapped her father oh of course if you got killed in a fire anything saving people's lives you'd sort of expect them to send you candy or make you some sort of a memorial considered little Eve Edgerton unemotionally but when you break your head just amusing yourself why I thought it was nice for the hotel ladies to almost come to see me she finished without even so much as a flicker of the eyelids disgustedly her father started for his own room then world abruptly in his tracks and glanced back at that imperturbable little figure in the big white bed except for the scarcely perceptible hound like flicker of his nostrils his own face held not a wit more expression than the girls Eve he asked casually Eve you're not changing your mind are you about Non Canono and John Albertson good old John Albertson he repeated feelingly Eve he quickened with sudden sharpness surely nothing has happened to make you change your mind about Non Canono and good old John Albertson oh no father said little Eve Edgerton indolently she withdrew her eyes from her father's and stared off Non Canono ward in a crazy geographical sort of a dream good old John Albertson good old John Albertson she began to crum very soft herself good old John Albertson how I do love his kind brown eyes how I do brown eyes snapped her father brown John Albertson's got the grayest eyes that I ever saw in my life without the slightest ruffle of composure little Eve Edgerton accepted the correction oh has he she conceded amably well then good old John Albertson how I do love his kind gray eyes she began all over again helpably Edgerton shifted his standing weight from one foot to the other I understood your mother he asserted a bit defiantly did you dear I wonder who's Edgerton he jerked her father still with a vague geographical dream in her eyes little Eve Edgerton pointed off suddenly toward the open lid of her steamer trunk oh my manuscript notes father please she ordered almost preemptorily John's notes you know I might as well be working on them while I'm lying here obediently from the tuzzled top of the steamer trunk her father returned with a great batch of my manuscript and my pencil please persistently Edgerton and my eraser and my writing board and my ruler and my absent mindedly one by one Edgerton handed the articles to her and then sank down on the foot of her bed with his thin lipped mouth contorted into a rather mirthless grin don't care much for your old father do you trenchantly gravely for a moment the girl sat studying her father's weather-beaten features the thin hair, the pale shrewd eyes the gone-to cheeks the indomitable old young mouth then a little shy smile flickered across her face and was gone again as a parent dear she drawled I love you to distraction but as a daily companion vaguely her eyebrows lifted as a real playmate against the starch white of her pillows the sudden flutter of her small brown throat showed with almost startling distinctness but as a real playmate she persisted evenly you're so intelligent and you travel so fast it tires me whom do you like asked her father sharply the girl's eyes were suddenly sullen again bored to straight inestimably dreary that's the whole trouble she said you've never given me time to like anybody oh but Eve pleaded her father awkward as any schoolboy he sat there fuming and twisting before this absurd little bunch of nerve and nerves that he himself had begotten oh but Eve he deprecated helplessly it's the deuce of a job for a man to be left all alone in the world with a with a daughter really it is already the sweat had started on his forehead and across one cheek the old gray fret work of wrinkles began to shadow suddenly I've done my best he pleaded I swear I have only I've never known how with a mother now he stammered with a wife with a sister with your best friend's sister you know just what to do it's a definite relation prescribed by a definite emotion but a daughter oh ye gods your whole sexual angle of vision changed a creature neither fish flesh nor fowl non superior non contemporaneous non subservient just a lady a strange lady yes that's exactly it Eve a strange lady growing eternally just a little bit more strange just a little bit more remote every minute of her life yet it's so damned intimate all the time he blurted out passionately all the time she's rowing you about your manners and your morals all the time she's laying down the law to you about the tariff or the turnips you're remembering how you used to scrub her in her first little blue line tin bathtub once again the flickering smile flared up in little eve edgerton's eyes and was gone again a trifle self-consciously she burrowed back into her pillows when she spoke her voice was scarcely audible oh I know I'm funny she admitted conscientiously you're not funny snapped her father yes I am whispered the girl no you're not reasserted her father with increasing vehemence you're not it's I who am funny it's I who in a chaos of emotion he slid along the edge of the bed and clasped her in his arms just for an instant he's wet she graced hers then all the same you know he insisted awkwardly I hate this place surprisingly little eve edgerton reached up and kissed him full on the mouth they were both very much embarrassed why why eve stammered her father why my little little girl why you haven't kissed me before since you were a baby yes I have nodded to the eve edgerton no you haven't snapped her father yes I have insisted eve tighter and tighter the arms clasped around each other you're all I've got faltered the man brokenly you're all I've ever had whispered the eve edgerton silently for a moment each according to his thoughts sat staring off into far places then without any warning whatsoever the man reached out suddenly and tipped his daughter's face abruptly into the light eve he demanded surely you're not blaming me any in your heart because I want to see you safely married and settled with with john elbertson vaguely like a child repeating a dimly understood lesson little eve edgerton repeated the phrases after him oh father she said I surely am not blaming you in my heart for wanting to see me married and settled with john elbertson good old john elbertson she corrected painstakingly with his hand still holding her little chin like a vice the man's eyes narrowed to his further probing eve he frowned I'm not as well as I used to be I've got pains in my arms and they're not good pains I shall live to be a thousand but I I might not it's a rotten world eve he brooded and quite unnecessarily crowded it seems to me with essentially rotten people towards the starving and the crippled and the hideously distorted the world having no envy of them shows always an amazing mercy and beauty whatever its sorrows can always retreat to the thick protecting wall of its own conceit as for the rest of us he grinned with a sudden convulsive twist of the eyebrow God helped the unduly prosperous and the merely plain from the former always envy like a wolf shall tear down every fresh talent every fresh treasure they lift to their aching backs and from the latter brutal neglect shall ravage away even the charm that they thought they had the world eve I tell you he began all over again a bit plaintively a rotten world and the pains in my arms I tell you are not nice distinctly not nice sometimes if you think I'm making faces at you but believe me it isn't faces that I'm making it's my heart that I'm making at you and believe me the pain is not nice before the sudden winds in his daughter's eyes he reverted instantly out of fear of semi-jocosity so under all existing circumstances little girl he hastened to affirm you can hardly blame a crusty old cadre of a father for preferring to leave his daughter in the hands of a man whom he positively knows to be good than in the hands of some casual stranger who just in a negative way he merely can't prove isn't good oh Eve Eve he pleaded sharply you'll be so much better out of the world you've got infinitely too much money and infinitely too little self-conceit to be happy here they would break your heart in a year but at non-canon no he cried eagerly oh Eve think of the peace of it just white beach and a blue sea the long low endless horizon and John will make you a garden and women I have often heard are very happy in a garden and slowly little Eve Edgerton lifted her eyes again to his has John got a beard she asked why why I'm sure I don't remember stammered her father why yes I think so why yes indeed I dare say is it a grayish beard asked little Eve Edgerton why why yes I shouldn't wonder admitted her father and reddish persisted little Eve Edgerton and longish as long as illustratively with her hands she stretched to her full arms length yes I think perhaps it is reddish conceded her father but why oh nothing moves little Eve Edgerton only sometimes at night I dream about you and me landing at non-canon and John in a great big long reddish gray beard always comes crunching down at full speed across the hermit crabs to meet us and always just before he reaches us he he trips on his beard and falls head long into the ocean and is drowned why what an awful dream deprecated her father awful queried little Eve Edgerton ha it makes me laugh all the same she affirmed definitely good old John Elbertson will have to have his beard cut quizzically for instance she stared off into space then quite abruptly she gave a quick funny little sniff anyway I'll have a garden won't I she said and always of course there will be Henrietta Henrietta round her father my daughter explained to leave Edgerton with dignity your daughter snapped Edgerton oh of course there may be several conceded little Eve Edgerton but Henrietta I'm almost positive will be the best one so jerkily she thrust her slender throat forward with a speech her whole facial expression seemed to settle to have undercut and stunned her father's always father she attested grimly with your horrid old books and specimens you have crowded my dolls out of my steamer trunk but never once tightening lips hasten to assure him have you ever succeeded in crowding Henrietta and the others out of my mind quite incongruously then with a soft little hand in which their lurk no animosity whatsoever she reached up suddenly and smoothed the astonishment out of her father's mouth lines after all father she asked now that we're really talking so intimately after all there isn't so specially much to life anyway is there except just the satisfaction of making the complete round of human experience once for yourself and then once again to show another person just that double chance father of getting two original glimpses at happiness one through your own eyes and one just a little bit dimmer through the eyes of another with merciless appraising vision the starving youth that was in her glared up at the satiate age in him you've had your complete round of human experience father she cried your first full untrammeled glimpse of all your heart's desires more of a glimpse perhaps than most people get from your tiniest boyhood father everything just as you wanted it just the tutors you chose and just the subjects you chose everything then that American colleges could give you everything later that European universities could offer you and then travel and more travel and more and more and then love and then fame love, fame and far lands yes that's it exactly everything just as you chose it so your only tragedy father lies as far as I can see in just little me because I don't happen to be I don't happen to like the things that you like the things that you already have had the first full joy of liking you've got to miss altogether your dimmer second hand glimpse of happiness oh I'm sorry father truly I am already I sense the hurt of these latter years the shattered expectations the incessant disappointments you who have stared unblinkingly into the face of the sun robbed in your twilight of even a candle flame but father grimly despairingly but with unfalteringly persistence youth fighting with its last gasp for the rights of its youth she lifted her haggard little face to his but father my tragedy lies in the fact that at 30 I've never yet had even my first hand glimpse of happiness and now apparently unless I'm willing to relinquish all hope of ever having it and consent to settle down as you call it with good old John Albertson I'll never even get a gamble probably at sighting happiness second hand through another person's eyes oh but Eve protested her father nervously he jumped up and began to pace the room one side of his face was quite grotesquely distorted and his lean fingers thrust precipitously into his pockets were digging frenziedly into their own palms oh but Eve he reiterated sharply you will be happy with John I know you will John is a underneath all that slowness that ponderous slowness that underneath that longish reddish grayish beard interpolated little Eve Edgerton glaringly for an instant the old eyes and the young eyes challenged each other and then the dark eyes retreated suddenly before not the strength but the weakness of their opponents oh very well father assented little Eve Edgerton only ruggedly the soft little chin thrust itself forth into stubborn outline again only father articulated with inordinate distinctness you might just as well understand here and now I won't budge one inch toward non-canono not one single solitary little inch toward non-canono unless at London or Lisbon or Odessa or somewhere you let me fill up all the trunks I want to with just plain prettys to take to non-canono it isn't exactly you know like a bride moving 50 miles out from town somewhere she explained painstakingly when a bride goes out to a place like non-canono it isn't enough you understand but she takes just the things she needs what she's got to take is everything under the sun that she ever may need with a little soft sigh of finality she sank back into her pillows and then struggled up for one brief instant again to add a postscript as it were to her ultimatum if my day is over without ever having been begun she said why it's over without ever having been begun and that's all there is to it but when it comes to Henrietta she mused Henrietta Henrietta is going to have 5 inch hair ribbons and everything else from the very start eh? frowned Edgerton and started for the door and oh father called Eve just as his hand touched the doorknob there's something I want to ask you for Henrietta's sake it's rather a delicate question but after I'm married I suppose I shall have to save all my delicate questions to ask John and John somehow has never seemed to me particularly canny about anything except geology father she asked just what is it that you consider so particularly obnoxious in young men is it their sins sins jerked her father bah it's their traits so questioned the leave Edgerton from her pillows so such as what? such as the pursuit of women and her father the love not of women but of the pursuit of women on all sides you see it today on all sides you hear it sense it suffer it the young men eternally chakos sexual appraisement of women is she young is she pretty and always eternally is there anyone younger is there anyone prettier willing even anxious to linger and talk a sin is nothing oftener than not but a mere accidental non-considered act a yellow streak quite as exterior as a scorch of a sunbeam and there is no sin existent that a man may not repent of and there is no honest repentance Eve that a wise woman cannot make over into a basic foundation for happiness but a trait a tendency a yellow streak bred in the bone why Eve if a man loves I tell you not women but the pursuit of women so that wherever he wins he wastes again so that indeed at last he wins only to waste moving eternally on on from one ravaged lure to another Eve would I deliver over you your mother's reincarnated body to such as that oh said little Eve Edgerton her eyes were quite wide with horror how careful I shall have to be with Henrietta eh snapped her father tinglinglinglingling drilled the telephone from the farther side of the room impatiently Edgerton came back and lifted the receiver from its hook hello he growled who what eh with quite unnecessary vehemence he rammed at the palm of his hand against the mouthpiece and glared back over his shoulder at his daughter it's that that Barton he said the impudence of him he wants to know if you are receiving visitors today he wants to know if he can come up the yes isn't it awful stammered little Eve Edgerton imperiously her father turned back to the telephone tinglinglingling tripped the bell right in his face as if he were fairly trying to bite the transmitter he thrust his lips and teeth into the mouthpiece my daughter he nonciated with extreme distinctness is feeling quite exhausted exhausted this afternoon we appreciate of course Mr Barton your what hello there he interrupted himself sharply Mr Barton Barton now what in the deuce he called back appealingly toward the bed why he's wrung off the fool quite accidentally then his glance lighted on his daughter why what are you smoothing your hair for he called out accusingly oh just to put it on acknowledged little Eve Edgerton but what in creation are you putting on your coat for he demanded tartly oh just to smooth it acknowledged little Eve Edgerton with a sniff of disgust Edgerton turned on his heel and strode off into his own room end of part one chapter four