"Oh, no," drawled little Eve Edgarton.
Impatiently Barton threw away his half-smoked cigarette and lighted a fresh one. "Then why?" he demanded.
"Oh, it's something Father invented," said little Eve Edgarton.
Altogether emphatically Barton pushed back his chair. "Well, I call it a shame!" he said. "For a nice live little girl like you to be packed off like so much baggage—to marry some great gray-bearded clout who hasn't got an idea in his head except—except—" squintingly he stared down at the scattered sheets on the floor—"except—'Amphichelydia,'" he asserted with some feeling.
"Yes—isn't it?" sighed little Eve Edgarton.
"For Heaven's sake!" said Barton. "Where is Nunko-Nono?"
"Nunko-Nono?" whispered little Eve Edgarton. "Where is it? Why, it's an island! In an ocean, you know! Rather a hot—green island! In rather a hot—blue-green ocean! Lots of green palms, you know, and rank, rough, green grass—and green bugs—and green butterflies—and green snakes. And a great crawling, crunching collar of white sand and hermit-crabs all around it. And then just a long, unbroken line of turquoise-colored waves. And then more turquoise-colored waves. And then more turquoise-colored waves. And then more turquoise-colored waves. And then—and then—"
"And then what?" worried Barton.
With a vaguely astonished lift of the eyebrows little Eve Edgarton met both question and questioner perfectly squarely. "Why—then—more turquoise-colored waves, of course," chanted little Eve Edgarton.
"It sounds rotten to me," confided Barton.