“I will tell you some other time,” she said, precipitately.
“No, tell me now.”
“Will you let go my hand if I tell you?”
“Yes.”
“Truly?”
“Yes, truly.”
“The beautiful young man was a dentist,” she said, mischievously, “and I never saw him before, and I’ve never seen him since, and he just had to put his arm around me, ’cause how could he get at my back tooth if he didn’t? There,—are you satisfied now, monster?” and pulling her hand from him she ran to the other end of the room.
She was bubbling over with waggishness and mirthfulness; and if he stirred a finger she would run away from him. “I knew that all the time,” he said, calmly. “You can’t come over me with your tricks. Wait a minute, though. I want to give you something to read.”
She prudently retreated to the steps when he approached the bookcase. “I’m not very fond of reading on this old Merrimac, Captain Fordyce. The screw jars my brain.”
“Just as well,—you have read too much trash already,” he retorted; “but I want you to go through this, every word of it. Will you promise me?”