Page:War; or, What happens when one loves one's enemy, John Luther Long, 1913.djvu/52

WAR was anything on earth ever even afraid of him. Even the stinging bees on the farm love him. You will, too, the moment you see him. I prophesy that. You've taken nothing of little Dave's but what he'd give you—a hundred fold! If any one asked for his head—"

"Dave would cut it off and hand it over with a polite bow!" says I—just in fun, as you can see.

"Is he little, Jonthy?" asks Evelyn, suddenly forgetting to be a rebel and all about the hate and fear. "If he's small enough for me to take on my lap—"

I nearly exploded. And even Jon had to stuff his fist in his mouth.

"I'm afraid," says Jon, "you couldn't take him on your lap, handy. We used to call him little when he was a baby, and it's sort of stuck to him—I don't know why. He's about as big as I am, by now, I expect."

"Oh!" says Evelyn.

"Do you think you could take old Jonthy on your lap, handy?" says I—in fun, of course. 36