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Little Eve Edgarton

Creator: Abbott, Eleanor Hallowell, 1872-1958
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of moonlight, and Eve 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 Edgartons. "Oh, I say, Barton!" cried the newcomer, breathlessly. "That wedding, you know, over across at the Kentons' to-night, with the Viennese orchestra--and Heaven knows what from New York? Well, we've shanghaied the whole business for a dance here to-morrow 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 Edgarton lifted her great solemn eyes to the newcomer's face. "A party?" she drawled. "A--a--dancing party--you mean? A real--Christian--dancing party?" Dully the big eyes drooped 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
Hector\'s Inheritance, Or, the Boys of Smith Institute

HECTOR'S INHERITANCE. CHAPTER I. MR. ROSCOE RECEIVES TWO LETTERS. Mr. Roscoe rang the bell, and, in answer, a servant entered the library, where he sat before a large and commodious desk. "Has the mail yet arrived?" he asked. "Yes, sir; John has just come back from the village." "Go at once and bring me the letters and papers, if there are any." John bowed and withdrew.
shooting star, her glance flashed up at Barton. "O--h!" gasped little Eve Edgarton. "O--h!" said Barton. Astoundingly in his ears bells seemed suddenly to be ringing. His head was awhirl, his pulses fairly pounding with the weird, quixotic purport of his impulse. "Miss Edgarton," he began. "Miss--" Then right behind him two older men joggled him awkwardly in passing. "--and that Miss Von Eaton," chuckled one man to another. "Lordy! There'll be more than forty men after her for to-morrow night! Smith! Arnold! Hudson! Hazeltine! 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 Edgartons and darted off to find Miss Von Eaton before "Smith--Arnold--Hudson--Hazeltine"--or any other man should find her! So he sent little Eve Edgarton a great, gorgeous box of candy instead, wonderful candy, pounds and pounds of it, fine, fluted chocolates, and