"Hurry up, you old slow-poke," she cried, catching up the fragile little timepiece and shaking it until the pendulum rattled against the cupids' plump legs.

"I can't bear to wait for things." "But life is mostly waiting, miss," said Eliot, with a solemn shake of her head.

"You'll find that out when you are as old as I am.

We wait for this and we wait for that, and first thing we know the years are gone, and we are standing with one foot in the grave, waiting for Death to lift us in." Eugenia put her hands over her ears with a little scream.

"Stop talking like that, Eliot," she cried.