and
when they do remember her they speak to and of her in the same tones of
voice they used at the obsequies. Then sooner or later some neighbour
is sure to see some man walk home from church with her, or hear some
masculine voice in her front garden. Mr. Blake gave Mrs. Caruther's
little Jessie a ride in his trap and helped her out at her mother's gate
just before last Christmas, and if the poor widow hadn't acted quickly
the town would have noticed them to death before he proposed to her.
They were married the day after New Year's Day, and she lost lots of
good friends because she didn't give them more time to talk about it.

I don't intend to run any risk of losing my friends that way, and I want
them to have all the enjoyment they can get out of it. I'm going to
serve out doses of excitement until the dear old place is running as it
did when it was a two-year old. Why get annoyed when people are
interested in you? It's a compliment, after all, and gives them more to
think about. I remembered the two trunks I had brought home with me, and
hugged my knees up under my chin with pleasure at the thought of the
town-talk they contained.

Then just as I had got the first plan well going and was deciding
whether to wear the mauve crepe de Chine or the white chiffon with the
rosebud embroidery as a first dose for my friends, a sweetness came in
through my window that took my breath away, and I lay still with my hand
over my heart and listened. It was Billy singing right under my window,
and I've never heard him do it before in all his five years. It was
the dearest old-fashioned tune ever written, and Billy sang the words
as distinctly as if he had been a boy chorister doing a difficult
recitative. My heart beat so it shook the lace on my breast, like a
breeze from heaven, as he took the high note and then let it go on the
last few words.

"If you love me, Molly darling,
Let your answer be a kiss!"

A confused recollection of having heard the words and tune sung by my
mother when I was at the rocking age myself brought the tears to my eyes
as I flew to the window and parted the curtains. If you heard a little
boy-angel singing at your casement, wouldn't you expect a cherub face
upturned with heaven-lights all over it? Billy's face was upturned as he
heard me draw up the blind, but it was streaked like a wild Indian's
with decorations of brown mud, and he held a slimy frog in one hand
while he wiped his other grimy