"Complexion dark, I suppose."

"No, sir, not dark at all. It's real light. Some folks say she's too
pale, but I don't think so. And sometimes she has just lots of pink in
her cheeks, like--like a doll I have at home. Folks that think she's too
pale ought to have seen her yesterday afternoon."

"Why is that?'"

"'Cause she was just pink all over," answered Zephania. "I took some
eggs up to her house and just when I was coming out she came up on the
porch. She looked like; she'd been running and her face was just as
pink as--as that lamp-mat!"

The object in question was an excruciating magenta, but Wade let it
pass.

"Yesterday was rather a warm day for running, too," observed Wade.

"Yes, sir, and I don't see what made her run, because she had been in
the garden. Maybe a bee or a wasp--"

"How did you know she had been in the garden?"

"Why, 'cause she came from there. She hadn't ought to run like that in
hot weather, and I told her so. I said 'Miss Eve'--What, sir?"

"Nothing," answered Wade, poking industriously at the tobacco in the
bowl of his pipe. "You were saying--"