True Story of My Life
CHAPTER I. My life is a lovely story, happy and full of incident. If, when I was a boy, and went forth into the world poor and friendless, a good fairy had met me and said, "Choose now thy own course through life, and the object for which thou wilt strive, and then, according to the development of thy mind, and as reason requires, I will guide and defend thee to its attainment," my fate could not, even then, have been directed more happily, more prudently, or better. The history of my life will say to the world what it says to me--There is a loving God, who directs all things for the best. My native land, Denmark, is a poetical land, full of popular traditions, old songs, and an eventful history, which has become bound up with that of Sweden and Norway. The Danish islands are possessed of beautiful beech woods, and corn and clover fields: they resemble gardens on a great scale. Upon one of these green islands, Funen, stands Odense, the place of my birth. Odense is called after the pagan god Odin, who, as tradition states, lived here: this place is the capital of the province, and lies twenty-two Danish miles from Copenhagen.
The girl sagged back into her cushions. "Oh, Father," she faltered,
"don't you know--anything? That was just 'small talk.'"
With perfunctory courtesy Edgarton turned to young Barton. "Pray be
seated," he said; "take--take a chair."
It was the chair closest to little Eve Edgarton that Barton took.
"How do you do, Miss Edgarton?" he ventured.
"How do you do, Mr. Barton?" said little Eve Edgarton.
From the splashy wash-stand somewhere beyond them, they heard Edgarton
fussing with the orchids and mumbling vague Latin imprecations--or
endearments--over them. A trifle surreptitiously Barton smiled at Eve.
A trifle surreptitiously Eve smiled back at Barton.
In this perfectly amiable exchange of smiles the girl reached up
suddenly to the sides of her head. "Is my--is my bandage on straight?"
she asked worriedly.
"Why, no," admitted Barton; "it ought not to be, ought it?"
Again for no special reason whatsoever they both smiled.
"Oh, I say," stammered Barton. "How you can dance!"
CHAPTER I. My life is a lovely story, happy and full of incident. If, when I was a boy, and went forth into the world poor and friendless, a good fairy had met me and said, "Choose now thy own course through life, and the object for which thou wilt strive, and then, according to the development of thy mind, and as reason requires, I will guide and defend thee to its attainment," my fate could not, even then, have been directed more happily, more prudently, or better. The history of my life will say to the world what it says to me--There is a loving God, who directs all things for the best. My native land, Denmark, is a poetical land, full of popular traditions, old songs, and an eventful history, which has become bound up with that of Sweden and Norway. The Danish islands are possessed of beautiful beech woods, and corn and clover fields: they resemble gardens on a great scale. Upon one of these green islands, Funen, stands Odense, the place of my birth. Odense is called after the pagan god Odin, who, as tradition states, lived here: this place is the capital of the province, and lies twenty-two Danish miles from Copenhagen.