shock. "If anybody wakes up this town it will be I," I said as I flung
down the gauntlet with a high head.

"Here, Molly, here are the keys of my office, and the spark-plug to the
car; you can cut off a lock of my hair, and if Jane has got a cake I'll
eat it out of your hands. Shall it be Switzerland or Japan? And I prefer
_my_ bride served in light grey tweed." Tom really is delightful. Then
we both laughed and began to plan what Tom called a conflagration. But
I kept that delicious rose-embroidered treasure all to myself. I wanted
him to meet it entirely unprepared.

I was glad we had both got over our excitement and were sitting
decorously drinking tea, when the judge drew the greys up to the gate,
and we both went out to the kerb to ask him and the lovely long lady to
come in. They couldn't; but we stood and talked to them long enough for
Mrs. Johnson to get a good look at us from across the street, and I was
afraid I should find Aunt Adeline in a faint when I went into the house.

Miss Clinton was delightfully gracious about the dinner--I almost
called it the debut dinner--and the expression on the judge's face when
he accepted! I was glad she was sitting beside him and couldn't see.
Some women like to make other women unhappy, but I think it is best for
you to keep them blissfully unconscious until you get what you want.
Anyhow, I like that girl all over, and I can't see that her neck is so
absolutely impossibly flowery. However, I think she might have been a
little more considerate about discussing Alfred's triumph over the
Italian mission. As a punishment I let Tom take my arm as we stood
watching them drive off, and then was sorry for the left grey horse
that shied and came in for a crack of the judge's irritated whip.

Then I refused to let Tom come inside the gate, and he went down the
street whistling, only when he got to the purple lilac he turned and
kissed his hand to me. That, Mrs. Johnson just couldn't stand, and she
came across the street immediately and called me back to the gate.

"You are tempting Providence, Molly Carter," she exclaimed decidedly.
"Don't you know Tom Pollard is nothing but a scatter-brained fly-away?
As a husband there'd be no dependence on him. Besides being your cousin,
he's younger than you. What do you mean?"

"He's just a week younger, Mrs. Johnson, and I wouldn't tie him for
worlds, even if I married him," I said meekly. Somehow I like Mrs.
Johnson enough to be meek with