see her.
Besides, other people would see her, and no passer-by should say that
she did not do her work as thoroughly and fearlessly as any boy. She
had taken for granted that Mr. John's eyes would be drawn upward; but
when he had walked almost by, looking straight ahead, she sent him a
shrill call. He looked at the windows, around the yard, and even as
far up as the trees.

"On the roof," screamed Mollie, and in her excitement she forgot her
situation and lost her balance and slipped,--not far, but one foot
went out beyond the eaves into the air. The other one rallied to the
rescue, supported her whole weight, and helped her to regain her
position. Danger was over in a moment, but it had been danger of
death, and Mollie's heart beat wildly, and a faintness came over her.
Still through it all she was able to see Mr. John's approving smile as
he lifted his hat and waved it gayly in applause.

"He wouldn't care if I had fallen and been killed," thought Mollie, as
she recovered herself. "All he wants is to have me succeed in being a
horrid boy. I've a mind to give it up just to spite him."

She could not know--so successfully had he concealed his agitation
under that bland smile--how faint he, too, had been in the moment of
her danger, nor how fast his heart was still beating as he walked on,
nor what resolves he was forming to put a speedy end to her boyhood.

He stopped on his way back from dinner to tell her that he had engaged
to take a party of his nephews and nieces nutting that afternoon, and
that he wanted her to come.

"It will be so nice to have a big boy on hand, Mollie," said Mr. John,
"especially one that isn't afraid of heights. We may have some to
climb."

Not a word about her danger and his gladness for her safety, and she
knew he had seen her narrow escape. But she felt so gay over memories
of Mr. John's nutting parties, and the prospect of another, that she
forgave him all, and prepared to be thoroughly happy that afternoon.

School closed at three o'clock, and Mollie flew to Mr. John's yard,
where they were all waiting. She came dancing by the gate, her cheeks
rosy, her eyes shining,--just her old self, as she had been in the
days when no boyhood loomed like an ugly shadow between her and Mr.
John. He saw it all, and charged himself to be stony. So he gave no
better response to her impulsive greeting than he would have given an
ordinary boy. Her spirits fell a degree; but with those happy childre