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Daviess, Maria Thompson, 1872-1924

"The Melting of Molly"


"So you're digging up the bachelor-pops, Mrs. Molly?" the doctor asked
as he leaned over the gate. I went right on digging without looking up
at him. I couldn't look up because I was blushing still worse. Sometimes
I hate that man, and if he wasn't Billy's father I wouldn't neighbor
with him as I do. But somebody _has_ to look after Billy.
I believe it will be a real relief to write down how I feel about him
in his old book and I shall do it whenever I can't stand him any longer,
and if he gave the horrid, red leather thing to me to make me miserable,
he can't do it; not this spring! I wish I dared burn it up and forget
about it, but I don't! This record on the first page is enough to
_reduce_ me--to tears, and I wonder why it doesn't.
I weigh one hundred and sixty pounds, down in black and white, and it
is a tragedy! I don't believe that man at the grocery store is so very
reliable in his weights, though he had a very pleasant smile while he
was weighing me. Still I had better get some scales of my own, smiles
are so deceptive.
I am five feet three inches tall or short, whichever way one looks at
me. I thought I was taller, but I suppose I will have to believe my own
yardstick.


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