elf for minutes which seemed to them both like hours. Then
the eternal feminine yielded to the sting of curiosity.

"What you got?" she asked him, as the gate swung open just a little
wider.

Scott was too canny to yield one whit of his advantage. His hand shut
into a fist.

"That's telling."

The gate swung open wider yet, and the small girl marched through the
opening.

"Tell me," she said imperiously. "I want to see it."

Scott still held himself aloof, still held his trophy concealed from
her curious eyes. She tried to grasp his hand, missed it, then
succeeded. Then she tried to pry open the tight-shut fingers.

"Show me!" she ordered.

He shook his head, smiling derisively at her, while her strong little
fingers did their best to pluck open his hard little fist.

Without another word, she bent above his hand. An instant later, the
hand flew open, and the ball of the opening thumb showed the prints of
small, sharp teeth.

"What is it?" she asked once more.

Scott's voice dropped to a murmur which was charged with mystery.

"It's a back tooth of the whale that swallowed Jonah."

Instantly she struck his hand a blow that sent his trophy flying off
into the thick grass beside the step.

"It is not," she said shrilly. "It's nothing but a dirty old chicken
bone, so there!"

And then, to the unspeakable astonishment of Scott, she seated herself
upon the bottom step, smoothed her calico skirt across her little
knees, and prepared to await further developments in tranquil comfort.
It was thus that Scott Brenton first learned the lesson that the
feminine mind only gains the fullest comfort in having the last word,
when it is able to sit by and watch that word sink in and be digested.
Later on in his life, the lesson was repeated again and again, with an
increasing list of corollaries. Oddly enough, too, it was always given
to him by the selfsame teacher, sometimes with mildness, sometimes with
spiritual floggings.

This time, however, she appeared to be contented with the form her
teaching had taken, contented, too, with its effect upon himself.
Accordingly, she made no effort to continue the discussion. She merely
sat there, silent, in the place whence she had ousted him, and gloated
on her victory, sure that in time his masculine impatience would lead
him to break in upon the pause.

She knew her man.

"What's your name?" Scott asked her curtly, after an interval of
digging one heel and then the ot