"Ah, do!" implored Herbert and Eva.
"Ah, don't!" entreated their father. "If there's anything that spoils the sylvan shades for me, it is to learn that they were once the scene of battle axes and blood spilling, and such like gruesomeness."
"But we ought to know about it," said Helene. "It's history."
"That makes it all the worse. If it were fiction I wouldn't care."
"Now, Papa," said Rose, "that evinces a depraved taste. People will blame your home-training. Consider my feelings."
"That is what I supposed I was doing, my dear, in praying to be delivered from a tale that would make your blood run cold."
"What a delightful way for one's blood to run in this weather," lazily remarked one of the Boulton girls, and the other said she was pining for a story of particular horror.
"Oh, a story, by all means," said the Commodore, "but let it be a tradition or something of that sort." Then turning to the Chief: "Does not our brother know the legend of the unfortunate wretch of a man who was set upon and abused by a lot of unmerciful women, because he barbarously forbade them to learn all the history they wanted? Something of that sort would be appropriate."
"Our brother" shook his head. "That is beyond my skill, but I can relate a story of the times before ever women were brought into the world."
"Rather dull times for the men, weren't they?" inquired one of the party.