If it had really been a human friend whose destinies Mollie considered, she could not have been more serious; and if it had been a human friend whom she at last decided must be put far from her, she could hardly have suffered severer heart-pangs.  But she would have no compromising with inclination in this matter.  She would be brave and strong, as it became her mother’s son to be.  So to the lowest depths of the deepest trunk in the garret she mentally consigned Helena.  There, beyond the reach of her loving eyes and arms, she should lie in banishment until her heart became callous.

But there was something so repulsive in the idea of smothering human Helena under layers of old garments, that Mollie finally thought of a better way.  Helena should no longer be Helena, dear to her heart in all her little feminine adornings and her sympathetic, tender traits of character.  She should undergo a change; a radical reform.  She, too, should become a boy, and her name should be Thomas.  Thenceforth Mollie spent her leisure moments in manufacturing garments suitable for the change; and at last she saw a boy-doll, in roundabout and pantaloons, occupying the chair where Helena had so long sat in dainty dresses.  The sight was a perpetual offense to her eyes; but she bore it bravely, keeping in store for herself a reward of merit in Mr. John’s approval.  She did not fail to mention to him Helena’s reform the next time they met, which was one morning before breakfast.  She was sweeping the front steps when he came and leaned over the fence and called her.

She shouldered the broom, as she had seen men shoulder implements of labor,—­hoes, rakes, etc.,—­and tramped toward him.  Mr. John watched her, with an expression of disgust under his mustache.

“Well, Bob,” he said, “I’m glad to see you out so early.  Form good habits before you’re grown, and when you come to manhood you’ll make money by it.  Where are your Bloomers to-day?  It isn’t possible your mind’s not made up to them yet?”

There was something in Mr. John’s tone and manner which did not seem quite courteous to Mollie; but she had hardly hung her head when he began to talk in his old half-fatherly, half-brotherly fashion; and then, in the lively conversation, she found a chance to introduce Thomas.  Mr. John gave her a long, solemn, searching look.

“Mollie,” he said, “I am very much afraid you will never succeed as a boy.  It seems to me that even an ordinarily masculine girl of your age would have been clear-headed enough to see the absurdity of your little farce.  It is nothing but a farce, mere babyishness.  You have been playing with yourself and with your doll.  No boy could have done it.”

There was a short pause; then Mollie’s voice piped out into a humble question as to what course a boy would have pursued in the matter.

“Why, that is clear enough,” said Mr. John.  “If you want to do what a boy would do, dispose of the doll on the shortest notice.  Get it out of your sight and mind as soon as possible, and then never give it any more thought than you’d give the rattle you used to shake when you were a baby, or the rubber ring you cut your teeth on.”