"But I didn't! I only asked a simple question," she protested.
"No, you didn't; it was a compound one." He opened his hand and sternly regarded the crushed fingers. "If you develop claws, Olga," he said, "you must expect trouble."
She laughed again. "It isn't a question of developing: they're there—full-grown. Do you remember that day I stabbed you with my darning-needle?"
"I do," said Max. He turned his hand over and showed her a small white scar on the back. "I suppose you never realized that that was the beginning of everything?"
"It wasn't with me!" declared Olga. "I could have slain you that night!"
"Because I told you you ought to be whipped," said Max. "It was quite true, you know. Dr. Jim would have said the same. He would probably have done it too."
"I'm sure he wouldn't!" Olga lay back in the hammock with the scarred hand between her own. "Dad is very just. He would have realized that you were quite insufferable."
"That wouldn't have justified you, my child," maintained Max.
She snapped her fingers at him. "I'd do it again to-day if you were as horrid as you were then."
"Not you!" said Max.