"Don't you reckon," said Jesse, relighting a stale cigar, "that it's time we stopped our book?"
"Oh, but—"
"It's tempting Providence, young woman; it's encouraging the police. From the moment you started the thing, we've had more'n our share of adventures. Put up a notice, 'Book Closed. No more adventurers need apply. Try Surly Brown for a change.'"
"But what shall we do?"
"Publish the blamed thing, and serves it right. Throw it to the critics."
"Change the names and places. We'll be 'Mr. and Mrs. Smith,' well-meaning private persons located somewhere west. I'm going to have blue eyes."
"But mine are blue."
"I made first grab. You can have green, and a large mouth, and your Christian name is Carrots. Hello, here's Baby David."
My son was coming through the scented dusk, and in his arms he carried a large dog, a china dog with gilt muzzle, split from nose to tail, but carefully mended.