Anything. But don't yell at
them. It distracts me."
It was a Sacred trust. I, and only I, stood between him and his MAGNUM
OPUM. I sat down on the steps of our bath-house, and took up my vigel.
It was about five o'clock when I heard Jane approaching. I knew it was
Jane, because she always wears tight shoes, and limps when unobserved.
Although having the reputation of the smallest foot of any girl in our
set in the city, I prefer Comfort and Ease, unhampered by heals--French
or otherwise. No man will ever marry a girl because she wears a small
shoe, and catches her heals in holes in the Boardwalk, and has to soak
her feet at night before she can sleep. However----
Jane came on, and found me croutched on the doorstep, in a lowly
attatude, and holding my finger to my lips.
She stopped and stared at me.
"Hello," she said. "What do you think you are? A Statue?"
"Hush, Jane," I said, in a low tone. "I can only ask you to be quiet and
speak in Whispers. I cannot give the reason."
"Good heavens!" she whispered. "What has happened, Bab?"
"It is happening now, but I cannot explain."
"WHAT is happening?"
"Jane," I whispered, ernestly, "you have known me a long time and I have
always been Trustworthy, have I not?"
She nodded. She is never exactly pretty, and now she had opened her
mouth and forgot to close it.
"Then ask No Questions. Trust me, as I am trusting you." It seemed to
me that Mr. Beecher through his pen at the door, and began to pace the
bath-house.
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