“You would be sorry if I did anything very, very naughty, Uncle Edward?”
“I certainly should.”
Evelyn lowered her eyes.
“He must not know. I must keep him from knowing somehow, but I wonder how I shall,” she thought.
“And perhaps you would be sorry,” she continued, “if I were not here—if your naughty, naughty Eve was no longer in the house?”
“I should. I often think of you. I——”
“What, Uncle Edward?”
“Love you, little girl.”
“Love me! Do you?” she asked in a tone of affection. “Do you really? Please say that again.”
“I love you, Evelyn.”