In some ways Tom Pollard is the most congenial man I ever knew.  You have to say “don’t” to him all the time, but what woman doesn’t like a little impertinence once in a while?  I flavor all Tom’s dare-devil kisses with kinship when I feed them to my conscience, and I truly try to make him be serious about the important things in life like going to church with his mother and working all day, even if he is rich.  I wish he wasn’t so near kin to me!  Now, there, I feel in Ruth Chester’s way again!  One of the things that keeps the devil so busy is taking helpless widows to the heights of knowledge and showing them kingdoms of men that girls never dream even exist.  If all women could have been born with widow-eyes, things would run much more smoothly along the marriage and giving-in-marriage line.  And the poor men are most of them as ignorant as girls about what to do.

I suppose I really would be doing a righteous thing to marry Mr. Graves, and I would adore all those children to start with, but I know Billy wouldn’t get on with them at all.  I can’t even consider it on his account, but I’ll let the nice old chap come on for a few times more to see me, for he really is interesting and we have suffered things in common.  Mrs. Graves lacked the kind of temperament poor Mr. Carter did.  I’d like to make it all up to him, but if Billy wouldn’t be happy, that settles it, and I don’t know how good his boys are.  I couldn’t have Billy corrupted.

And so, as there is nobody else exactly suitable in town, it all simmers down to one or the other of these or Alfred.  In my heart I knew that I couldn’t hesitate a minute—­and in the flash of a second I decided.  Of course I love Alfred and I’ll take him gladly and be the wife he has waited for all these six lonely years.  I’ll make everything up to him if I have to diet to keep thin for him the rest of my life.  I likely will have that very thing to do and I get weak at the idea.  Before I burn this book I’ll have to copy it all out and be chained to it for life.  At the thought my heart dropped like a sinker to my toes; but I hauled it up to its normal place with picturing to myself how Alfred would look when he saw me in that old blue muslin done over into a Rene wonder.  However, old heart would show a strange propensity for sinking down into my slippers without any reason at all.  Tears were even coming into my eyes when Tom suddenly came over the fence and picked me and the heart up together and put us into an adventure of the first water.

“Molly,” he said in the most nonchalant manner imaginable, “we’ve got a dandy, strolling, gipsy band up at the hotel; the dining-room floor is all waxed and I’m asking for the first dance with the young and radiant Mrs. Carter.  Get into a glad rag and don’t keep me waiting.”

“Tom,” I gasped!

“Oh, be a sport, Moll, and don’t take water!  You said you would wake up this town, and now do it.  It seems twenty instead of six years since I had my arms around you to music and I’m not going to wait any longer.  Everybody is there and they can’t all dance with Miss Chester.”