turquoise-colored waves sound--when they strike the hermit-crabs."

"Do!" urged Barton.

Listlessly the girl pushed back into her pillows, slid down a little
farther into her blankets, and closed her eyes.

"Mmmmmmmmm," she began, "Mmm-mmmmmmm--Mmmmm--Mmmmmmm, W-h-i-s-h-h-h!
Mmmmmmmmm--Mmmmmmmm--Mmmmmmmm--Mmmmmm--W-h-i-s-h-h-h!--Mmmmmmmm--Mmmmmmm--"

"After a while, of course, I think you might stop," suggested Barton a
bit creepishly.

Again the big eyes opened at him with distinct surprise. "Why--why?"
said Eve Edgarton. "It--never stops!"

"Oh, I say," frowned Barton, "I do feel awfully badly about your going
away off to a place like that to live! Really!" he stammered.

"We're going--Thursday," said little Eve Edgarton.

"THURSDAY?" cried Barton. For some inexplainable reason the whole idea
struck him suddenly as offensive, distinctly offensive, as if Fate,
the impatient waiter, had snatched away a yet untasted plate.
"Why--why, Eve!" he protested, "why, we're only just beginning to get
acquainted."

"Yes, I know it," mused little Eve Edgarton.

"Why--if we'd have had half a chance--" began Barton, and then didn't