I
have seen him do it once or twice at his mother when he seats her in
their pew at church and once at little Mamie Johnson when she gave him a
flower through their fence as he passed by one day last week, but I
never thought I should have one all to myself. But there it was, a most
beautiful one, long and slow and distinctly mine--at least I didn't
think much of it was for Billie. I sat up and blushed as red all over as
I do when I first hit that tub of cold water.
[Illustration: I sat up and blushed red all over]
"I hope you'll forgive an intruder, Mrs. Carter, but how could a mortal
resist a peep into the garden of the gods if he spied the queen and her
faun at play?" he said in a voice as wonderful as the smile. By that
time I had reefed in my ruffles around my feet and pushed in all my
hairpins. Billy stood spread-legged as near in front of me as he could
get and said in the rudest possible tone of voice:
"Get away from my Molly, man!"
I never was so mortified in all my life and I scrambled to my feet and
came over to the fence to get between him and Billy.
"It's a lovely day, isn't it, Judge Wade?" I asked with the greatest
interest, which I didn't really feel, in the weather; but what could I
think of to say? A woman is apt to keep the image of a good many of the
grand men she sees passing around her in queer niches in her brain, and
when one steps out and speaks to her for the first time it is confusing.
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