THE STORY OF MOLLIE
 
 THE 
 
 STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 BY 
 
 MARIAN BOWER 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS 
 1897
 
 Copyright, 1897, 
 BY MARIAN BOWER. 
 
 JortN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.
 
 SRLB 
 IJB11 
 
 The Story of Mollie 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE nursery at the Dower House was in the 
 oldest part of that building. It was a low, long 
 room with a wide window, rilled with little 
 diamond-shaped panes, and with a seat below 
 the frame, formed out of the thickness of the 
 wall. 
 
 Without, the ivy had climbed for so many 
 years up the dull-colored bricks that its more 
 tender arms, those that had not yet learned 
 how to attach themselves for their upward 
 journey, often strayed across the glass and 
 tapped on the panes, so that Mollie might 
 notice them at least, so Mollie thought. 
 
 But at this moment, though the latest green 
 spray was across the window, and the sunshine 
 was making it even a fuller, clearer color than 
 usual, Mollie's attention was occupied at the 
 other end of the room.
 
 2 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 Close to the old-fashioned fireplace, where in 
 winter Mollie saw all the fairies and sprites 
 dance up the chimney on the blaze, and where 
 she saw, in the bright embers, enchanted 
 palaces and wonderful caverns that were the 
 homes of magicians and princes, but which was 
 now quite dark and empty, all the fairies and 
 princes and magicians and sprites having gone 
 to whisper to the leaves on the trees, or dance 
 with the butterflies and swing on the flower 
 bells, or sleep in the heart of the red roses, 
 close by this empty grate, nurse had pushed 
 up the table and was unpacking a box. 
 
 It came from the big shop to which mamma 
 sometimes took Mollie, and in that box was 
 a new dress for Claude. He was such a little 
 boy/ he still had to wear dresses. No doubt, 
 he would be very glad when he was promoted 
 to sailor suits and wide trousers. Mollie sup- 
 posed being a boy made those things peculiarly 
 acceptable, but, for her part, she thought blue 
 velvet and lace collars more beautiful. 
 
 Nurse held up the little garment and ex- 
 amined the Irish point with appreciative fingers. 
 
 " It 's beautiful ! he will look a picture in it, 
 he will ! " she remarked, and then she added,
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 3 
 
 more to herself, " There 's a pleasure as well 
 as a credit in dressing him," with a stress on 
 the pronoun. 
 
 Mollie's thin little hands went together; the 
 dark eyes grew rounder, larger. She was only 
 a little girl, hardly nine years old, but she knew 
 what nurse meant. 
 
 Not that nurse intended to be unkind. The 
 mistake was she had not calculated upon the 
 child's understanding. But to miss the obvious 
 with a mind like Mollie's is no guarantee that 
 it will not grasp the unusual, the remote. 
 
 The thought, and the consequence she at- 
 tached to it, pressed so hard on the child that 
 she endeavored to translate it into words. 
 Mollie did not often deliberately put such 
 inquiries; they usually drew down on her the 
 rebuke she dreaded. Generally when she asked 
 for the explanation to her puzzles, she was 
 called unnatural, not like other little girls, and 
 that seemed to her a dreadful term of reproach, 
 all the more so, because it was at once so vague 
 and so apparent. If it had meant anything like 
 sitting straight on one's chair or keeping a pina- 
 fore clean, Mollie would have at once set to 
 work to remedy the defect, for she was a little
 
 4 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 person with quite a passion for doing her duty. 
 But it was something in herself; she was quite 
 clear upon that, though she connected it, by 
 who can tell what curious links and chains, with 
 mamma's partiality for Claude and with that 
 young gentleman's golden hair and lace collars. 
 
 " Nurse," she said now, in response to the 
 prompting of her little mind, " is God angry 
 with little girls that are not like other little 
 girls? Is that why my hair has to be put into 
 curl-papers every night? I wish "with a 
 long sigh " it was yellow like Claude's, and 
 curled when you just brushed it round your 
 finger." 
 
 But nurse was shocked, not explanatory. 
 
 " It 's very naughty of you to say such things, 
 Miss Mollie," she decreed. " You are n't going 
 to be jealous of your little brother, are you?" 
 
 " Jealous, nursie," ventured the small woman ; 
 "what is jealous?" 
 
 " There now," retorted nurse, " it 's something 
 very naughty. You '11 know all about it when 
 you are grown up ; it will be time enough to 
 learn then, I can tell you." 
 
 So saying, nurse took up Claude's frock and 
 retreated, by way of closing the discussion.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 5 
 
 When she was left alone, Mollie walked very 
 soberly across the room to the far corner where 
 Josephine sat propped up between the tram- 
 stables and the Tower of Babel bricks. The 
 child took Josephine into her arms and went to 
 curl herself up in the sunniest corner of the 
 window-seat. 
 
 Mollie loved sunshine as she loved the flowers, 
 the birds, the clouds, especially the tiny white 
 ones, which looked like snowflakes that had 
 asked if they might run races across the blue 
 sky until " Mr. Jack Frost " wanted them to 
 help him to make the ground all white for 
 Christmas. 
 
 She loved them all without in the least know- 
 ing why. She loved, too, the stars which came 
 twinkling out of the darkness at night; but 
 she only loved them sometimes. 
 
 She was very glad to see them when she had 
 been a good girl during the day ; but when she 
 had been naughty, she was afraid that, as they 
 were so near to God, they might tell Him what 
 they saw, and then what if He should say any- 
 thing to papa? who was up there because God 
 wanted him to live with Him. 
 
 She leaned her head against the window-
 
 6 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 frame, and let the warmth of the sunshine rest 
 on her cheek. She laid Josephine where she 
 too could feel how warm it was, and for a few 
 minutes Mollie was silent, rocking Josephine to 
 and fro. 
 
 Josephine was old and ugly and battered, 
 but she had been Mollie's doll ever since the 
 little girl could remember anything; she was 
 her very own, her playmate, her confidant, her 
 charge. 
 
 "Josephine," she whispered, and her little 
 face wore an expression of great perplexity, 
 " I wonder what it 's like to be grown up. I 
 do want to be grown up ; but I '11 love you 
 always, dear; you won't mind my being big 
 because I '11 always take you with me. You 
 won't mind if I want to grow big very fast." 
 
 In her earnestness, Mollie's voice rose above 
 a whisper. 
 
 "Miss Mollie! " 
 
 The child started; she clutched Josephine a 
 little tighter. 
 
 " Nurse ! " she faltered. 
 
 The woman came up to the window. 
 
 "You were talking to yourself," she said 
 severely, for this, she held, was one of the un-
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 7 
 
 comfortable habits of which it was her duty to 
 " break " her charge. 
 
 "No," rejoined Mollie; " I was telling Jose- 
 phine something." 
 
 Nurse looked down impatiently. 
 
 " You know that 's only an excuse," she 
 rejoined. " You might just as well be talking 
 to yourself as to a doll. You know that." 
 
 "No," demurred the child; "I was tell- 
 ing" 
 
 " There you go ! You are arguing now. 
 It 's very rude of little girls to argue." 
 
 Mollie's eyes fell beneath the reproof. 
 
 " You are very tiresome, very ! " concluded 
 nurse, who was of those individuals who always 
 round off a victory with an extra blow to the 
 vanquished. 
 
 The color sprang to the child's cheeks. 
 That was another hopeless thing. She was so 
 often rude without intending it. 
 
 The little hand went out timidly. Timidly 
 she pulled her nurse's white frock ; there was 
 something in the action which touched the 
 woman. Nurse was by no means ill-natured, 
 and in reality she was much attached to the 
 little girl ; but she was irritated and perplexed
 
 8 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 by what she termed Mollie's unnaturalness. 
 She objected to lapses from the accepted pat- 
 tern of childhood. She wondered why the 
 little girl's head was full of unlikely fancies. 
 " She did n't know where she had got them 
 from, she was sure." 
 
 For it asks much of a mind to grasp much 
 less to comprehend the exquisiteness of a 
 deviation toward sensibility and imagination 
 of anything in itself so naturally exquisite as 
 a child's nature. 
 
 But all at once, as the little hand clung to 
 her, nurse remembered, " What a fuss the master 
 had made of the child before he was took ! " 
 
 " Would you like to go into the garden and 
 play while Claude is asleep?" she suggested. 
 " You won't get into mischief if I let you go 
 alone?" 
 
 The child slipped down. She held up a 
 shining face. 
 
 " No," she said softly. 
 
 " Come, and I '11 put on your bonnet," con- 
 tinued nurse. 
 
 "May I take Josephine?" the child asked, 
 when the strings of her white sunbonnet were 
 tied under her chin.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 9 
 
 '* You always do," replied nurse, impatiently, 
 and Mollie's face fell again, for she had put the 
 question as a proof of extra submission and 
 respect. 
 
 Very soberly Mollie walked into the garden. 
 Her plain little face was still downcast, and its 
 lack of childhood's prettiness was more appar- 
 ent than usual. The white sunbonnet accentu- 
 ated the sallow complexion, though, as mamma 
 put it, " There never was a child except Mollie 
 to whom they were not becoming." 
 
 The sun was still shining, the flowers were so 
 bright and gay, the great trees in the beech walk 
 met and formed an arch of green. A butterfly 
 danced by, flirting its delicate blue wings, the 
 "painted lady" following it, settled on a rose, 
 poised itself, an upright wedge of beflowered 
 color, then, with a salutation of its little black 
 arms, Mollie thought they were arms, it 
 dipped to kiss the rose and fluttered away again. 
 
 " Josephine," whispered the child, as the but- 
 terfly flashed out of sight, " do you think there 
 are any little butterflies that are not grown up?" 
 
 For this one was so joyous it could hardly 
 be very young. To be grown up was the very 
 head and front of the child's desires. It meant
 
 io THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 so many things. First and foremost, it meant 
 the right to knowledge. Nurse always rele- 
 gated an inconvenient thirst for information to 
 that hazy period. Then it meant never doing 
 wrong without knowing it, never being rude 
 without intending it. It meant several other 
 things, things without names to the child, 
 but which her elders, had any one been shrewd 
 enough to guess the desires of that small heart, 
 could have told her was a thirst for happiness. 
 
 There are many fallacies, but surely one of 
 the greatest is, that childhood and happiness 
 are virtually synonymous terms. On the con- 
 trary, is not your first heartache the one you 
 remember to your dying day ? 
 
 Mollie lingered among the flowers until she 
 was tired, then she went into the beech walk to 
 a little seat she knew of there, formed by a 
 stump of a dead tree. 
 
 She wedged herself in, close to the trunk of 
 the silver birch. She looked up at the lace- 
 like foliage. 
 
 "Josephine, isn't it nice?" she murmured; 
 " see, you can see all the sky coming through. 
 I wish I could read to you, Josephine, but all 
 the books are in the nursery."
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 11 
 
 Mollie had just begun to read to herself, and 
 what a delight she found it ! She sighed ; she 
 wished nurse did not mind her running into 
 the nursery to fetch things. 
 
 She waited a little. 
 
 " Josephine," she murmured, as the thought 
 struck her, " I '11 tell you a tale." 
 
 She began, and the story which Mollie found 
 for that day of warmth and gladness and sun- 
 shine was the story of the Deluge. 
 
 Mamma had recently given her a book of Bible 
 stories in words of not more than six letters, and, 
 whatever else Mollie might do, she extracted 
 the dramatic possibilities out of the narratives. 
 
 She knew all about the Flood, especially 
 about the horror of it. She had, more than 
 once, been kept awake at night fancying she 
 could hear the rush of the water, and she was 
 very frightened when she wondered whether it 
 would come over again if people grew so wicked 
 that God took the bow out of the sky. She 
 was doubly frightened when she wondered if 
 grown-up people were ever naughty toward 
 God without knowing it; because if it was as 
 easy for them to displease Him without mean- 
 ing it, as it was for her to displease mamma and
 
 12 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 nurse in that way, then it almost seemed as 
 if a second Deluge might be expected at any 
 moment. God knew all about people, and He 
 would n't punish them for what they did not 
 mean, would He? 
 
 She told Josephine about the Flood. She 
 had just reached the point where the land was 
 all covered with water. 
 
 " It was cold water, Josephine," she explained, 
 " colder even than the bath before nurse puts 
 the kettleful in." 
 
 Just as she said that she heard nurse call- 
 ing. Mollie did not want to move: she wanted 
 to finish her story ; she was quite as much in- 
 terested in it as Josephine could possibly be. 
 She curled closer into her corner. She would 
 not say she did not hear; but nurse would go 
 away and think she had not. 
 
 Mollie proceeded to explain to Josephine 
 how the little babies cried out in the cold water, 
 babies wanted water the warmest of all ; 
 Claude had nearly two kettlefuls to her one in 
 his bath, how these poor babies' mammas 
 were so sorry, but they could not help it though 
 their babies did cry more than than Mrs. 
 Wilson's new one at the Lodge.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 13 
 
 " Miss Mollie ! " came the impatient voice. 
 
 The child tried to go on with her story. 
 
 " Josephine," she interrupted, sinking her tone 
 into a very thin whisper, " it is n't a story if I 
 sit still. I never said anything." 
 
 But nurse did not go away. Again came the 
 call. The child began to understand that it 
 was a case of going or being discovered. 
 
 She slipped to the ground. 
 
 " I '11 tell you all the rest as soon as I can," 
 she said, and she kissed Josephine twice. 
 
 She ran down the path into the garden. 
 
 " Miss Mollie," cried nurse, as soon as the 
 little girl came in sight, " I 've been calling ever 
 so long. Stay with Claude ; I 'm so busy." 
 
 " Yes," said the child, and nurse turned to 
 
 go- 
 
 Mollie and Claude went a few steps down the 
 walk hand in hand, and then the little girl 
 turned. 
 
 " Stay there," she said to her brother, and 
 she hurried after nurse. 
 
 " Nursie," she called, " nursie ! " 
 
 " Well," said the woman, as she waited on the 
 path. 
 
 "Will you take Josephine in?"
 
 14 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 " Are you tired of her? " inquired nurse. 
 
 The little hands went together. It was a habit 
 of Mollie's when she was in difficulty ; but she 
 seemed to be the only little girl who ever found 
 such a proceeding a help, because every one 
 objected so much to it. Mamma had perplexed 
 her exceedingly by calling the movement af- 
 fected. The child had thought about it a great 
 deal, and had come to the conclusion that it was 
 another of the naughty things she did without 
 meaning to. 
 
 Nurse, too, objected to the action. In her 
 opinion, it looked as though she ill-treated the 
 child. 
 
 " Why are you screwing your hands up ? " she 
 asked sharply. Mollie stood abashed, confused. 
 
 Claude, however, created a diversion. He 
 toddled up and directed longing looks toward 
 Josephine. 
 
 " Me want dolly," he intimated. 
 
 " No," cried Mollie, for the small man was by 
 no means gentle in his treatment of Josephine. 
 She owed the biggest dent in her nose and the 
 scar on her cheek to him. 
 
 Mollie pressed Josephine tightly to her. 
 
 " Let him have her," suggested nurse.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 15 
 
 Mollie hugged her doll yet more tightly. 
 
 " Me," demanded Claude. 
 
 " No," said Mollie. 
 
 " Miss Mollie, I do call that selfish," decreed 
 nurse. 
 
 " He 'd pull her hair," faltered Mollie, and her 
 lip began to tremble. " He pulled it dreadfully 
 the last time I let him hold her." 
 
 "She's only an old doll," argued nurse. 
 
 " She 's Josephine," Mollie reminded her. 
 
 " Give it to him," went on nurse ; " I never 
 saw such a queer child as you are. You would n't 
 part with one of your old things, no, not was it 
 ever so ! I believe you would a great deal rather 
 give up your newest toy. But Claude is only a 
 little boy, and you ought to give way to your 
 little brother." 
 
 But the child still shook her head. Mollie was 
 evidently about to be obstinate. Her self-will 
 usually manifested itself over much this kind of 
 matter. 
 
 " Now," said nurse, growing peremptory, 
 " give it to him this minute, or you go straight 
 into the nursery, and into the corner." 
 
 For a moment Mollie looked toward the 
 sunlight, the flowers, the trees. A bee droned
 
 1 6 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 fussily past. She wondered if it were going to 
 the mignonette bed. She would like to follow 
 and see ; but she pressed Josephine's battered 
 face right down into her arms, and, hanging her 
 head, walked up the drive to the house.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 NURSE, as she emphatically expressed it, 
 " could n't abide sulks neither in children nor 
 in their betters; " so by the time the nursery 
 dinner was placed on the table, Mollie was out 
 of the corner and restored to all but the favor 
 of her own conscience. 
 
 That troubled her. Nurse had called her 
 selfish, and it was very naughty to be selfish ; 
 besides, she had been selfish toward Claude, 
 and that was yet worse. Little girls ought to be 
 ever so kind to their little brothers ; above all, 
 they ought to give way to them. 
 
 Still there was Josephine, and Mollie was 
 sure that Josephine was to be considered. The 
 child knew nothing about such a long word as 
 " protection," but she felt as though that were 
 the thing Josephine expected of her. 
 
 How could she have taken care of Josephine 
 and satisfied Claude? An older person would
 
 1 8 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 have met the question with an epigram, and 
 taken comfort in the contrariness of this world ; 
 but Mollie was only conscious of penitence. She 
 wondered what she could do to show it. She had 
 not long to wait. Nurse put a plate before her. 
 
 " Sugar," said the woman. 
 
 Mollie looked down at her rice pudding. She 
 particularly disliked rice pudding without sugar. 
 
 " No, thank you," she said. 
 
 Nurse found this an occasion of cavilling. 
 
 " I never saw anything like you, Miss Mollie," 
 she declared. " You are as changeable as the 
 wind. Last time you teased for sugar until your 
 pudding was as sweet as sweet as sugar itself. 
 This time you don't want any. I don't know 
 what you will be like when you grow up if 
 you go on in this way." 
 
 Mollie looked toward Claude. Surely he 
 would understand. But Claude's baby face was 
 bent over his plate. 
 
 Mollie's hands went together. 
 
 " Eat your dinner," commanded nurse. 
 
 The child took up her spoon. She had been 
 been what did mamma call it? It was 
 quite a long word, longer than any in her Bible 
 story-book. Anyway, whatever it might be
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 19 
 
 called, she had done something naughty, and 
 nurse was cross with her again. She felt choked. 
 She raised her dark eyes, which were the only 
 good feature in her thin, wistful little face, and 
 they were so large and so plaintive that they 
 only emphasized the insignificance of their set- 
 ting, she raised her eyes to the window. The 
 loose sprig of ivy was lying on the pane, the 
 leaves just brushed the glass, Mollie could see 
 that the wind must be stirring them, and then 
 between them and the window seemed to dart a 
 bright gleam of sunlight. The glass had stopped 
 the ivy leaf, but the sunlight came through. 
 Mollie knew that. She saw it a moment, a 
 straight cut of light on the dark polish of the 
 window-seat. She began to wonder how it got 
 through the glass. It was not cut or hurt. She 
 did not think sunbeams could be hurt. She 
 would be hurt if she tried to get through glass, 
 and the window would be broken. She lost 
 herself in this tangle. Was this one of the many 
 things she would know when she was grown 
 up? 
 
 " Miss Mollie ! " 
 
 The child started. 
 
 " Miss Mollie," repeated nurse, " I Ve spoken
 
 20 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 to you twice. Finish your pudding, do ! How 
 you loiter ! " 
 
 With a little gasp the child lifted her spoon 
 to her lips. The tastelessness of the food re- 
 minded her. She had forgotten Claude, for- 
 gotten to be sorry that she had been unkind 
 to him, in thinking of the sunbeam. 
 
 Nurse had said to her, that time when she up- 
 set the tea and made such a mess on the draw- 
 ing-room carpet, if she were really sorry, she 
 would remember to be more careful in future. 
 Then to be sorry was to do what she had not 
 done. 
 
 " Claude," she said, as soon as they had put 
 their hands nicely and nurse had said grace, 
 " I '11 play with you. You," bravely, " shall 
 have my man with a bell." 
 
 No sooner were they released from the table 
 than Claude demanded the fulfilment of the 
 promise. 
 
 " Bell," he said, as he seated himself in their 
 favorite corner close to the tram-stables. 
 
 Mollie looked at him a moment. 
 
 "Would n't you like these horses, Claude?" 
 suggested she; "they all come out of their 
 stalls. Make them all stand in a row, like
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 21 
 
 this," and she began to take them out, one 
 by one. 
 
 " Bell man," persisted Claude. 
 
 "Won't the bricks do?" continued Mollie. 
 " I '11 build you ever such a big castle, and you 
 can knock it all down again." 
 
 " Bell man," was Claude's response. 
 
 "You said he might have it yourself, Miss 
 Mollie," interposed nurse. " I should let him 
 have that, instead of those nice new tram-stables, 
 if I were you." 
 
 " Bell," clamored Claude, seizing his advan- 
 tage. 
 
 Silently Mollie thrust the biggest horse into 
 the small man's hand ; but Claude let it drop 
 impatiently. 
 
 " Bell," he repeated. He drew a long face. 
 Mollie thought he was going to cry. 
 
 She got up quickly and fetched her treasure. 
 It was old, it was ugly, it was much the worse 
 for wear. She had defaced it herself when she 
 was too little to know any better ; but she had 
 been sorry ever since, and had tried to take extra 
 care of it to make up for her thoughtlessness. 
 
 There was no doubt at all that Mollie re- 
 gretted her generous impulse. She wished she
 
 22 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 had not offered to let Claude play with it. She 
 placed the toy before him. 
 
 " You won't spoil it," she said, as she ran the 
 square carriage along and showed the little boy 
 how the man, seated thereon, hammered the 
 bell before him with each turn of the wheels. 
 
 " You won't spoil it," she repeated. 
 
 But the demon of mischief had entered into 
 Master Claude. As it made its first trip before 
 him, he grabbed at the carriage and overturned 
 it. 
 
 " You must n't, Claude," cried Mollie. 
 
 She moved a little farther away. 
 
 " Me," demanded Claude. 
 
 " I '11 roll it for you," said Mollie. 
 
 " Me," came the answer. 
 
 Claude clutched the little man by the up- 
 raised arm, and the wire hand which held the 
 bell fell useless. The wheels went round, but 
 there was nothing with which to strike the bell. 
 
 " You Ve broken it," said Mollie, very slowly. 
 
 Claude appeared totally unmoved by that. 
 He pushed himself along the floor nearer to the 
 toy. He took it in his hand and laughed as he 
 felt it really in his possession. 
 
 Then happened one of those dreadful things
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 23 
 
 which did occur to Mollie sometimes. She 
 rushed at her little brother; she she did not 
 quite know what she had done until she found 
 herself in nurse's grasp and that Claude was 
 crying. 
 
 " You naughty, bad, wicked little girl ! " said 
 nurse. 
 
 But Mollie was reduced to that state of resent- 
 ment which takes refuge in self-justification. 
 
 " He broke my man, he did ! " she said. 
 
 " Well, if he did," conceded nurse, " it was 
 very naughty of him; but you need not have 
 flown into a passion. He 's only a little boy, 
 and little boys don't know any better. You are 
 far more naughty than he is, far ! " 
 
 " Don't little boys know when they are 
 naughty?" demanded Mollie. 
 
 " No," answered nurse, thinking that this 
 would serve as an easy way out of many per- 
 plexities. 
 
 " Did they never know?" persisted the child. 
 
 " Not when they are very little," explained 
 nurse. " You are old enough to know, because 
 you are bigger than Claude ; but if you were a 
 little baby and could n't speak, it would be 
 different."
 
 24 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 " Then," decided Mollie, her mind darting on 
 to quite another matter, " I don't call it fair of 
 God." 
 
 " Miss Mollie ! " cried nurse, aghast. 
 
 " He," clamored the child, " drowned all the 
 babies at the Flood. They could n't have told 
 stories, because they couldn't speak; and if 
 they did n't know when they were naughty, it 
 isn't fair." 
 
 This argument quite took nurse's breath away. 
 
 " I do declare," she exclaimed, as soon as she 
 had somewhat recovered from her astonishment. 
 " You are the very unnaturalist little girl that 
 ever was born. Go into the corner ! Taking 
 up the Almighty like that ! It 's wicked, it is ! 
 I have a good mind to keep you with your face 
 to the wall all the afternoon."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE children always went into the drawing-room 
 about five o'clock; but on this afternoon that 
 is, two afternoons after Mollie had been in a 
 " naughty temper " with Claude the little girl 
 gathered that mamma was expecting visitors. 
 
 She came to that conclusion because nurse 
 had put out her best muslin frock, the one with 
 white daisies all over it. 
 
 It had rained all the morning, so the children 
 had spent their time in the nursery. But Mollie 
 had not found it dull. She had watched the big 
 raindrops catch the little ones upon the window- 
 panes ; she had played with Claude ; and when, 
 after dinner, the small man fell asleep, she curled 
 herself up on the favorite window-seat with 
 Josephine and her book. 
 
 At length she looked up. 
 
 " Sit there, Josephine," she whispered, as she 
 propped the doll between a cushion and the 
 window. " I won't be long before I come back."
 
 26 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 She went across the room to nurse's side. 
 
 "Well," said the woman. Nurse had found a 
 hole, and was darning the muslin. She raised 
 her head with a pleasant smile ; but as she saw 
 the expression on the child's face, she knew that 
 she was about to be asked a string of incon- 
 venient questions. 
 
 " Go and play, dear," she hastily interposed. 
 "I'm too busy to talk. Your mamma wants 
 you to wear this dress, and I can't let you go 
 down till it's darned." 
 
 But Mollie's need was great. 
 
 " Nurse," she argued, " you can talk, too. You 
 don't sew with your tongue." 
 
 " Lor ! " ejaculated nurse, as she stayed her 
 needle in the air. " Was there ever such a child ! 
 If you were Claude now," she continued, "and 
 him so fair and that like a picture, I 'd say you 
 weren't long for here. But " And nurse 
 paused, unable to determine the fate of a child 
 who was at once plain and peculiar. 
 
 "What's 'for here'?" demanded Mollie. 
 
 Nurse snapped her thread. She was shocked 
 at her own indiscretion. She had not meant the 
 child to hear ; at least, she had not realized 
 that she was speaking aloud.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 27 
 
 " How you do take one up, child ! " she de- 
 clared. " Come, it 's time you had your hair 
 done." 
 
 Thus Mollie found that, instead of having her 
 doubts set at rest, she was lifted onto a high 
 chair to undergo a process she particularly de- 
 tested. Her hair was never intended to wave, 
 and she was tired of sitting still and holding her 
 head in one position long before it was crimped 
 to nurse's satisfaction. Besides, she was afraid 
 that Josephine might wonder why she was left 
 all alone. 
 
 Then she and Claude were dressed, and just 
 as her sash was tied, Martha came to say that 
 mamma had asked for them. 
 
 The children went down hand in hand. 
 
 " You must keep hold, Claude," the little 
 woman whispered. " Mamma said I was to 
 take hold of your hand whenever we went into 
 the drawing-room." 
 
 But no sooner was the door opened than 
 Claude forgot, he was a very little boy, you 
 see; he wrenched his fingers out of Mollie's 
 grasp, and bounded across to mamma. 
 
 Mollie looked at her mother. What a pretty 
 picture they made, the two together, mamma
 
 28 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 bending over Claude, the two golden heads to- 
 gether ! But would mamma think she had not 
 done as she was told would 
 
 A voice broke on her perplexity. 
 
 "Can't you say how do you do, Mollie?" 
 asked Mrs. Hargraves; and then the little girl 
 realized that she was still standing by the door, 
 and that she had never looked to see who was 
 in the room. 
 
 She went forward. Claude had already made 
 friends with the new lady. He was standing by 
 her side, looking up into her face with that con- 
 fident, friendly smile of his. 
 
 "How do you do?" said Mollie, as she 
 joined the group. 
 
 "Is this your little girl, Mrs. Hargraves?" 
 said the visitor. " Well ! " with a laugh, " it is 
 easy to determine which child resembles you." 
 
 Mrs. Hargraves moved her golden head with 
 the deliberately graceful movement which was 
 so characteristic of her. 
 
 " Claude," she said, "has my coloring. Mol- 
 lie," with a sharper note in her voice, " can you 
 take this cup to the lady?" 
 
 The child came unwillingly toward the tea- 
 table. Over there by the armchair Mollie
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 29 
 
 could see it now; there was nearly always a 
 sunbeam which seemed especially to point it 
 out to her was the big stain she had made on 
 the carpet when she spilled Aunt Amy's cup. 
 She had not known then how it happened ; she 
 was always in terror that the same thing might 
 occur again. She did wonder, when the men 
 brought a new carpet here, as they had brought 
 one to the nursery only a few weeks ago, whether 
 she would forget what had been, and be able to 
 carry a tea-cup as easily as Claude carried that 
 little plate of bread and butter. 
 
 " Come," repeated mamma, as the child hesi- 
 tated, for Mollie seemed to see that stain with 
 unusual clearness to-day. 
 
 " Me," interposed Claude. 
 
 " Not that, my precious," said mamma, as 
 she bent over him; "you shall take this," and 
 she placed a slice of bread and butter on a very 
 little plate. 
 
 " My little boy is so anxious to bring you 
 something himself," said Mrs. Hargraves, as she 
 turned to her visitor with that fascinating smile 
 which had served her so well all her life. 
 
 " Dear little man ! " came the gratified answer. 
 
 " Mollie," said mamma.
 
 30 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 But the sunlight was on that dark stain. It 
 seemed to the child that it was telling her she 
 would spill the cup again if she took it in her 
 hand. Yet mamma was holding one out to her. 
 She came up to the tea-table. Her hands were 
 pressed tightly together; her eyes quite stared 
 from the thin face and its incongruous frame of 
 befrizzled hair. 
 
 " I can't, mamma," she gasped. 
 
 Mrs. Hargraves looked at her little daughter. 
 There was a gleam in her cold blue eyes ; she 
 opened her lips, then checked herself. It was 
 an instinct with Eva Hargraves to save the 
 situation. 
 
 She smiled again toward her visitor. 
 
 " Mollie," she said suavely, " is eminently a 
 careful little person. I can hardly get her to 
 touch these cups; I believe she is frightened 
 of breaking them." 
 
 "Dear me!" said the visitor; "how queer 
 for a child to think of that ! " 
 
 " Mollie is certainly unusual," said Mollie's 
 mother, easily. 
 
 Then the little girl slipped into a corner and 
 only came out, as frightened as a mouse, when 
 the lady took her leave.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 31 
 
 As the door closed, Mrs. Hargraves sank into 
 her chair and turned toward the child. 
 
 " Mollie," she said, " come here." 
 
 The culprit advanced. She was looking into 
 her mother's face with a glance of fascinated 
 dread ; her movement was as the action of a 
 rabbit fascinated by a serpent. Only while the 
 poor animal stands motionless to meet his 
 doom, Mollie came reluctantly forward. 
 
 When she was close by the tea-table, mamma 
 spoke. 
 
 " Do you know," and the words fell in the 
 slow cold voice as the dropping of icy water, 
 " that lady said you were a very queer little 
 girl?" 
 
 " Yes," quavered the child. 
 
 "Claude could say, 'How do you do?' I 
 had not to tell him, and he is ever so much 
 younger than you are ; and though he is al- 
 most a baby, he tries to , help me. What did 
 you do?" 
 
 Mollie turned her head helplessly toward the 
 stain on the carpet. Oh, mamma, mamma ! if 
 only you would understand ! 
 
 "Shall I tell you what people will say?" 
 Mrs. Hargraves continued: " they will say I am
 
 32 
 
 a very queer mamma if I can't teach my little 
 girl to behave properly." 
 
 " No," gasped the child. 
 
 " That is what they will say," determined 
 Mrs. Hargraves. 
 
 Mollie thought about that for a moment. 
 How could people call mamma naughty because 
 she had not done as she was told ! Oh, how 
 bad a little girl she must be ! 
 
 " No," she reiterated. 
 
 " Yes," repeated Mrs. Hargraves. 
 
 There was a pause, that pause of stillness 
 before the bursting of a storm, and then 
 Mollie's sobs sounded through the room. 
 
 " What are you crying for? " demanded Mrs. 
 Hargraves. She did not like to see tears unless 
 she set the example. " I might have whipped 
 you to hear you cry like that. There is nothing 
 to cry about. If you had been a good Jittle 
 girl, I should not have scolded you ; it 's all 
 your own fault. What " as Mollie's tears 
 continued to flow as fast as ever " what a 
 baby you are ! a far bigger baby than Claude ! 
 He never cries unless he is hurt, and even then 
 he 's a brave little man, is n't he ? " and mamma 
 drew him nearer to her and popped a tiny sugar 
 biscuit into his mouth.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 33 
 
 But Mollie's sobs continued. She tried to 
 press them back ; but it seemed to her if they 
 did not come out of her mouth, they would 
 force themselves right through the bodice of 
 her frock. 
 
 " Mollie," decreed mamma, looking up again, 
 " if you will make that noise, you must go 
 upstairs." 
 
 The child turned away. She was bewildered 
 with her own naughtiness. She crept up to the 
 nursery ; the room was empty. Only Josephine 
 still sat where she had left her upon the window- 
 seat. Mollie went up to her; she took the doll 
 into her arms; she kissed the battered face 
 again and again ; the tears streamed down her 
 cheeks. 
 
 " Oh, Josephine," she sobbed, in what with 
 an older person would have been called a passion 
 of pain, " oh, Josephine, they will say mamma 
 is naughty; and I could n't! I could n't! " 
 
 She rocked herself to and fro. 
 
 After a time she was too exhausted to weep 
 any more, and then something else presented 
 itself for consideration. She had been told not 
 to cry. 
 
 "Josephine," she whispered, "that's naughty, 
 3
 
 34 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 too. Little girls ought never to cry unless they 
 are hurt. If they cut their fingers or knock 
 their heads. Only " with a long sigh 
 " only then, Josephine, only " catching her 
 breath " only then."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE following afternoon Mollie knew that she 
 and Claude were expected in the drawing- 
 room, and she also thought that mamma must 
 be going to have a great many ladies and 
 gentlemen to drink tea out of the pink cups, 
 and use the spoons with the little men at the 
 end of their handles, which was Mollie's way 
 of describing one of her mother's " At Homes," 
 for nurse was getting ready her best muslin 
 frock, and Claude's blue velvet dress, and his 
 new lace collar had been taken out of the tissue 
 paper in the big box. And after nurse had 
 twisted her hair into two rows of curls instead 
 of the one which usually made her head ache, 
 the little girl was quite sure; but when she 
 ventured to ask about it, nurse merely replied 
 that Mr. Gerard had arrived at Rookwood the 
 night before, and was expected at the Dower 
 House that afternoon.
 
 36 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 "Mr. Hargraves, as he is now," amended the 
 woman. 
 
 "Does he know that God took Great-uncle 
 George as he took papa ? " inquired the 
 child. 
 
 "That is why Mr. Gerard has come home," 
 nurse informed her. 
 
 "Is that why I am having out the frock 
 with the daisies and my best sash? " continued 
 Mollie, who always took full advantage of 
 nurse's communicative moods, and enjoyed 
 them exceedingly. 
 
 "Your cousin is the heir." 
 
 "What's 'heir'?" 
 
 "Oh, dear! The place belongs to him." 
 
 "Place?" ventured Mollie. 
 
 " Rookwood Hall this house all around. " 
 
 " Our house ! Josephine belongs to me, 
 doesn't she?" and Mollie supplied the illus- 
 tration to make sure that she understood. 
 
 " Yes, " said nurse ; " Rookwood and the estate 
 belong to your cousin as Josephine belongs to 
 you." 
 
 "This house," repeated the child. 
 
 "I said so." 
 
 " Our house, " insisted Mollie. " But mamma
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 37 
 
 lives here. He won't take it from mamma? 
 He'll like to give it to her." 
 
 "Very like," acquiesced nurse; and there 
 was an expression on the woman's face which 
 it was as well Mollie did not understand. 
 
 About an hour later the children went down 
 to the drawing-room. But as soon as the door 
 was opened, Claude again broke away from 
 Mollie. He had, perhaps, found the experi- 
 ment so successful the day before that his baby 
 brain remembered to repeat it. With a little 
 chuckle he toddled across the floor and buried 
 his head in the folds of mamma's black skirt. 
 
 " He is always in such a hurry to get to 
 me," murmured Mrs. Hargraves to the tall 
 man standing by the window; "he is so fond 
 of me, and he can't see why he should not 
 show it, poor little man." 
 
 "He assuredly has his excuse," said Gerard 
 Hargraves. 
 
 " He 's my boy," returned the widow. 
 
 "Yes; I see he is his mother's son," com- 
 mented Mr. Hargraves, with an accent which 
 brought a resentful gleam into the eyes bent 
 upon Claude.
 
 38 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 Mr. Hargraves twisted his mustache thought- 
 fully as he contemplated the group by the tea- 
 table. It was so effective that he felt inclined 
 to think it rehearsed. He had always credited 
 Eva with the theatrical instinct. Some men 
 never suspected a pose in a pretty woman. 
 His cousin George certainly never had, or he 
 would not have married Eva Cornell; but 
 Gerard himself was not so trustful, or was 
 he more experienced? 
 
 He turned away with an air which invested 
 the movement with significance. He glanced 
 indifferently around the room ; it was so dainty, 
 so reposeful, in some ways so shallow, so, in 
 fact, as he concluded, so like Eva. At length, 
 when his gaze travelled in the direction of the 
 door, it rested upon a wistful, undecided little 
 girl looking toward his cousin's widow. 
 
 There certainly was nothing studied about 
 the pose of that child. 
 
 He got up quickly. The awkward little 
 figure refreshed him as a breath of cool air 
 refreshes one who leaves the hot atmosphere 
 of a crowded hall. 
 
 "Well, little woman," he began. 
 
 The child lifted her eyes timidly. Then a
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 39 
 
 world of wonder and surprise dawned in 
 them. 
 
 "Are you," said Mollie, in an awe-stricken 
 voice, " are you papa come back from 
 heaven? " 
 
 Gerard Hargraves looked down at the child. 
 He was well aware that his resemblance to his 
 late cousin was striking. In the old days 
 those good old days ! and Gerard shot a glance 
 which was not wholly friendly toward the fair- 
 haired woman opposite, how merry they used 
 to make over the fact ! But, then, that was 
 when they were younger. Time, and many 
 things besides time, as Gerard knew all too 
 well, had left their traces on his face. 
 
 But the child saw nothing of that ; she only 
 saw his features as they were designed to be. 
 Gerard drew a long breath as he recognized 
 this. It was as a respite. Dear little child ! 
 
 He put out his hand. 
 
 " Little one," he said, as he drew Mollie close 
 to him, "I 'm not papa, but I 'm his cousin." 
 
 Gerard Hargraves spoke in his most caress- 
 ing voice. People said it was that voice, when 
 he chose to exert it, which did all the mis- 
 chief; but Mollie's little .face only grew blank.
 
 40 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 "I thought you were papa," she said, with a 
 lingering accent. 
 
 " Can you really remember him ? " questioned 
 Mr. Hargraves, for Mollie had been fatherless 
 for nearly two years. 
 
 Something invited that very unusual thing, 
 Mollie's confidence. She slipped her hand 
 into his. 
 
 "He 's in the dining-room, you know. I 've 
 been to see him so often all by myself, and I 
 did ask God ever so hard if He would mind if 
 papa came back for a little. He used to ride 
 me on his shoulder. It was " wistfully 
 "so nice." 
 
 Gerard felt something unusual tugging at his 
 heart. He tightened his grasp of the child's 
 hand, and led her to his chair. 
 
 Mrs. Hargraves asked a question, and he 
 answered at random. He was thinking of the 
 child. So she missed her father, actually 
 longed for him. Gerard had missed his cousin, 
 had longed for him, for they had been closer 
 than brothers ; but that longing and that loss 
 had begun more than two years ago. He won- 
 dered if Mollie, who was a plain edition of her 
 father, would like to come onto his knee.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 41 
 
 He gave the invitation, and a few minutes 
 later the little girl's head was resting on his 
 shoulder. 
 
 "Papa has gone to heaven, you know," the 
 child began, after a short pause; "it's a long 
 way, ever " 
 
 " Mollie," the word broke from mamma, 
 "how can you? One would think I was not 
 kind to you to hear you talk." 
 
 The little arms clutched at Gerard's coat; 
 the little figure quivered in his grasp. 
 
 "I mustn't," Mollie whispered, and it 
 seemed to the man that those dark eyes ap- 
 pealed to him for help, "I mustn't." 
 
 The white face grew still more white. 
 
 "It's being naughty," the child continued, 
 as though she were striving to keep the true 
 view of the case before her, "it's being 
 naughty for little girls. Mamma said so 
 yesterday." 
 
 Yet mamma was crying ! Mamma's face was 
 buried in her lace handkerchief. This, then, 
 was another of those things which grown-up 
 people might sometimes permit themselves and 
 not little children. Oh, how easy it must be 
 to be grown up !
 
 42 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 At the opposite side of the room Claude put 
 up his hand and tried to stroke his mother's 
 pink-and-white cheek. 
 
 "Pitty mamma," he lisped; "naughty, 
 naughty Mollie!" 
 
 Mollie did not move. She kept her eyes 
 fixed on her new friend. She was such a hard- 
 hearted child, Mrs. Hargraves afterward ex- 
 plained to nurse. Even a baby like Claude 
 knew how unnatural it was But Mr. Har- 
 graves scarcely viewed the matter in that way. 
 He gathered the child into his arms. His 
 mind travelled back to that night when he and 
 George had lain out under the cold September 
 sky, benighted, befogged, on a bleak Scotch 
 moor. They had clung to each other then with 
 that silent clinging of man to man, and now 
 George's child, in the very first hour of their 
 acquaintance, had appealed to him for help. 
 He determined that she should not ask in vain. 
 
 "Come," he whispered; "mamma will not 
 want us now;" and before the child knew 
 where she was, Gerard had lifted her through 
 the French window, and was standing by her 
 side on the gravel. 
 
 But, as he walked about the garden, not a
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 43 
 
 smile could he win from the little girl. He 
 exerted himself to the utmost; he did every- 
 thing except notice the timid pulls at his hand 
 each time they came within sight of the draw- 
 ing-room windows. But, charm he never so 
 wisely, what was the use of his proficiency 
 in the art if the adder were deaf? Mollie's 
 thoughts were evidently elsewhere. The irony 
 of the situation brought a peculiar smile to 
 Mr. Hargraves' lips. He was not accustomed 
 to failure. It spurred him. 
 
 He told Mollie wonderful stories. She 
 should come to be content with him. Besides, 
 he was sure that to send her back to Eva would 
 be little less than cruel. Mrs. Hargraves un- 
 doubtedly considered herself injured, and would 
 be at some pains to make that clear to the 
 offender. 
 
 At last he bethought himself of a device. 
 
 "Take me to see papa's picture," he sug- 
 gested. 
 
 He felt the involuntary movement of Mollie's 
 hand. He had never believed much in heart- 
 ache. With his own sex, it meant the pretext 
 for a little extra dissipation, or for employing 
 cartridges in the most inaccessible quarter of
 
 44 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 the globe; with women a few new jewels, a 
 larger bill at the milliner's, an extra month at 
 Brighton. But he was convinced that this 
 child could surfer. 
 
 " Good God ! " he ejaculated, as he noticed 
 the endurance, the reserve, which seemed so 
 like familiarity with pain. 
 
 " How old are you ? " he demanded abruptly. 
 
 Mollie knew that. He repeated the figure. 
 A quick, rushing sense of the incomprehensi- 
 bleness of human life made him lift the child 
 into his arms. 
 
 He thrust out his lower lip, caught his mus- 
 tache, and bit it; he'd paid his price, struck 
 his bargain, and if suffering came to him, it 
 was his due. But what had this little thing 
 done that she should be tortured? 
 
 "Come," he said; and it was not until they 
 were in the dining-room that he set Mollie on 
 her feet again. 
 
 She led him to the far end of the room. 
 They stood hand in hand. Even in the pic- 
 ture the resemblance between Gerard and his 
 cousin was striking. The child looked from 
 the living face to the one on the canvas. 
 
 "I wish," she said, "you had come back."
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 45 
 
 Gerard was indescribably touched. She was 
 George's daughter; and did death sever the 
 friendship of Jonathan and David? 
 
 The old feeling flowed again; but it took 
 form with regard to the child. Once more 
 Gerard took her into his arms. He laid his 
 cheek close to hers. 
 
 "It feels like papa's," said the child, and 
 her fingers lingered upon Mr. Hargraves' 
 face. 
 
 "Little one," he murmured. He forgot to 
 think about the ridiculous side of his being 
 pleased that Mollie should notice that his cheek 
 was shaven as her father's had been. 
 
 " I can't be your little girl, can I ? " whis- 
 pered Mollie. 
 
 It was the echo of his own heart. 
 
 "I wish you could," he answered. 
 
 He felt a tear trickle onto his face. The 
 little thing was actually crying. 
 
 He remembered that he never could bear to 
 see a woman cry. Most men could not; not 
 even and again his teeth closed on his mus- 
 tache when they were pretty sure they were 
 being made fools of. But Mollie knew noth- 
 ing about that process.
 
 46 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 For one instant he reflected that she was 
 Eva's child; but only for one instant. 
 
 "Look here," he said hastily, "you need not 
 mind that. We '11 do lots of things together, 
 just as though you were my little girl." 
 
 But Mollie's head only moved in a slow 
 dissent. 
 
 "Nursie before this nursie went away," she 
 said mournfully, "and she can't come back 
 and tuck me up 'cause I 'm not her little girl. 
 She said so." 
 
 Gerard was nonplussed. He did not know 
 how to satisfy the child. It partly amused 
 him, partly angered him, to find that simplicity 
 recjuced him to worse straits than guile. 
 
 "Look here," he exclaimed, speaking, per- 
 haps, with unconscious reference to past experi- 
 ences, "I'll tell you what. You must be 
 very quick and grow up, and then you shall 
 be my wife." 
 
 The child lifted her tear-stained face. 
 
 "Mamma was papa's wife," she inquired, as 
 though to make sure what was being offered to 
 her. 
 
 "Yes," said Gerard. 
 
 The light dawned on the little face.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 47 
 
 " You will have to stay with me always, then, " 
 he added. 
 
 Mollie's arms stole round his neck. He 
 held her a moment. The next minute he put 
 her down and hastily turned to the window. 
 
 The child made him think; and he never 
 thought on principle. It was a little before 
 he could jeer at himself for a fool. He came 
 back to Mollie. The child was waiting. She 
 met his glance timidly; he saw that she was 
 uncertain whether she had been repulsed or 
 no. She should not think that. 
 
 "Come," he said, "you must hurry and grow 
 big. That's a bargain." 
 
 The light shone in Mollie's eyes. 
 
 "I'll try, oh, I will try to be like other 
 little girls ! " she assured him, as they stepped 
 out onto the lawn, hand in hand.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 IT very quickly came to be an established fact 
 in Mollie's mind that as soon as she was grown 
 up she was to be Gerard's wife. 
 
 She spent much time in endeavoring to hasten 
 that most desirable end. She sat very straight 
 and almost always in a high-backed chair ; she 
 lay on her back in her cot with her arms pressed 
 to her sides that she might grow more quickly. 
 She went farther, and this time for a more subtle 
 end, she relinquished her favorite pillow, for 
 pillows, nurse decreed, made little girls round- 
 shouldered, and they did not grow up " beautiful 
 figures," like Mollie's mamma. 
 
 The child knew that it was Claude, not she, 
 who would grow up like mamma ; but she had 
 an idea that she ought to do her best toward 
 reaching this impossible goal for Gerard's sake. 
 
 She told Josephine again and again about this 
 wonderful new cousin; she harassed nurse's 
 mind with many questions relative to the state
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 49 
 
 of matrimony. Not that Mollie knew anything 
 about the word in its accepted sense. Nurse 
 had her good points, and an appreciation of 
 the innocence of childhood was one of them. 
 No nursery prattle of sweethearts had spoiled 
 Mollie's freshness. She, in a way, understood 
 that Gerard liked her better than Claude, bet- 
 ter, impossible as it might seem, than mamma ; 
 and she poured out her heart on him, but just 
 as she would have done on her father had he 
 lived, as she would have done on her mother 
 had Mrs. Hargraves ever afforded her the 
 opportunity. 
 
 Still Mollie said little about what was in store 
 for her. Gerard had once let fall a word before 
 mamma in her presence, and mamma replied, 
 " How absurd you are, Gerard ! " and when he 
 had asked in that funny voice in which he some- 
 times spoke to mamma, "How so?" mamma 
 had said " Absurd " again. So Mollie was very 
 quiet. There was no intention of concealment; 
 she was not aware that there was anything to 
 conceal. It was mostly that she remembered 
 that mamma had used the same expression the 
 time when papa carried her in his arms nearly 
 the whole night through. 
 4
 
 50 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 She had not been ill then, because no one had 
 asked her to take any medicine. She had only 
 been so hot, and the bed was so hard, and " Mr. 
 Sleepy-Mouse " could n't come. Those long 
 hours and the arms which had borne her, as 
 the tall man paced to and fro, came back to 
 Mollie as often as she thought of her father. 
 And with it came another thought, an instinct, 
 rather, she had gathered that her father had 
 been shy about speaking of his vigil. So Mollie 
 was shy about speaking of her happiness, guided 
 to that attitude by mamma's use of that term 
 "absurd." 
 
 Winter had been and gone, spring had been 
 and gone, summer had come, the haymaking 
 was over, and now, since Mollie was learn- 
 ing the months of the year, she knew it was 
 August. 
 
 The corn was turning to a full yellow, the 
 poppies looked like red islands in a sea of gold, 
 the plums were ripe and had covered themselves 
 with what the gardener called " bloom," in order, 
 Mollie supposed, that the important functionary 
 might know when unauthorized little fingers 
 pinched them to see if they were soft. 
 
 But Mollie only half enjoyed the sunshine, the
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 51 
 
 flowers, and the birds. Gerard had been away 
 such a long time. 
 
 The day before he left, he had shown her a 
 blackbird's nest in the hedge by the beech walk, 
 and had lifted her up that she might see the blue 
 eggs lying in their brown nest. He had told 
 her that there would belittle birds in there soon, 
 but that she must not touch the nest, because 
 Mr. and Mrs. Blackbird would not like it. Mollie 
 had gone nearly every day since to stand near and 
 wonder when Gerard would come back and lift 
 her up again, that she might see the little baby 
 birds she could just hear chirruping. When it 
 rained, she wondered if the blackbirds were very 
 cold ; when the sun shone, she wondered if its 
 warmth was as pleasant to them as to her. But 
 lately that nest had been deserted. Why was that ? 
 It was one of the many questions with which 
 Mollie stored her mind against Gerard's return. 
 
 Gerard was such a satisfactory person to 
 question. He never was too busy or hinted 
 that it would be time to inquire into this or that 
 when she was grown up. He gave his answer 
 then and there. He even set her theological 
 doubts at rest, though possibly his answers might 
 not have satisfied a Council of Trent. She was
 
 52 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 thinking now of two or three knotty points on 
 which she wished to consult him; for Mollie 
 was not prone to take things for granted, and 
 the Sacred Writ presented many difficulties. 
 
 There was 
 
 " Mollie ! will you do your sum ? " 
 
 Miss Fraser's voice broke up the little girl's 
 revery. For the last two months Miss Fraser, 
 from the vicarage, had come every morning to 
 give Mollie lessons instead of her having them 
 with nurse. 
 
 As a rule, the child submitted cheerfully 
 enough. Lessons, Miss Fraser assured her, 
 were the royal road to growing up. But from 
 time to time Mollie was tempted to inquire if 
 the course of necessity included "adding sums" 
 and "twice times," she so particularly detested 
 them. 
 
 She looked down on her slate now. Before 
 her was a tangle of ill-formed figures, which 
 refused to come like the answer at the end of 
 the arithmetic book. 
 
 Miss Fraser leaned forward and took the 
 slate, while Mollie wondered once more if 
 there were more bones they were bones ; 
 Gerard had once said so in Miss Fraser's
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 53 
 
 hand than in other people's. She seemed to 
 see so many more. 
 
 "You had better begin all over again," said 
 Miss Eraser, as she surveyed the smeared and 
 crooked addition sum; and when the slate was 
 handed back, the three columns of figures were 
 neatly set down, and Mollie's attempts effaced. 
 
 The clock chimed out twelve long strokes. 
 Mollie's pencil fell, she raised her head. 
 
 "You must finish that first," decreed Miss 
 Eraser. 
 
 The child looked at her with imploring eyes. 
 
 "Please let me go," she ventured. 
 
 But Miss Eraser was eminently a disciplina- 
 rian. Mollie had been idle, Mollie had been 
 inattentive; she must pay the penalty. 
 
 This was set before the child. 
 
 The tears brimmed over the big brown eyes. 
 
 "Come!" said Miss Eraser, "crying will not 
 do any good. You have been very inattentive 
 all the morning. Be quick now. " 
 
 But the tears rolled faster down the little 
 cheeks; great round drops fell on the slate; 
 Mollie absently dabbed her fingers into them, 
 spreading the wet lines from one side of the 
 frame to the other.
 
 54 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 "See," remonstrated Miss Fraser, "you are 
 rubbing out the figures, and I wrote them so 
 nicely for you not a moment ago. Come " 
 
 Once more Mollie made her appeal. She 
 would be so good to-morrow, this once, only 
 this once; would not Miss Fraser let her go? 
 But Miss Fraser was obdurate. 
 
 "You have wasted all the morning," shfe 
 adjudged. "You must stay in and do your 
 lessons now." 
 
 The charge was true. Mollie knew she had 
 not been thinking about her sums. She was 
 afraid, too, that she did not remember one word 
 of the morning chapter out of the " Peep of Day. " 
 
 But she must go out. She must! Mollie 
 thought of the high gate leading out of the 
 drive, of the little chink through which she 
 always watched for Gerard. 
 
 He came back to Rookwood last night. 
 Mollie knew that because she had heard Martha 
 telling nurse that James, the Rookwood foot- 
 man, who was that mysterious appendage, "her 
 young man," had said that the "master" had 
 come down again. 
 
 Mollie had watched by that gate day after 
 day, feeling as though Gerard must come up to
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 55 
 
 it, because she missed him so; and now, when 
 he might lift the latch at any moment, she was 
 not to be there waiting for him. 
 
 Something seemed to choke the little girl. 
 
 "I will go!" she cried, she clamored; "I 
 will go, I shall ! " She pushed back her chair; 
 she swept her slate off the table ; she heard it 
 crack ; she was not a bit sorry, nay ! she was 
 glad! 
 
 " I will go ! " she screamed; " I will ! " 
 
 It was not until nearly half an hour later that 
 Mollie could be brought to recognize that she 
 had been in one of her naughty tempers. 
 
 When she was calm enough to admit this, 
 Miss Eraser was standing before her, the table- 
 cloth was half off the table, her chair was over- 
 turned, and, worst of all, the slate lay on the 
 floor, cracked from end to end. 
 
 "Mollie," said Miss Eraser, as she went back 
 to her seat, " I don't know whether you are too 
 naughty to be ashamed of yourself, but I am 
 ashamed and shocked to think that any little 
 girl could behave so badly. " 
 
 The child was exhausted. She lifted a tear- 
 stained face. She had no excuse; not one. 
 
 Suddenly there came the quick opening and
 
 56 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 shutting of the door leading to the nursery, 
 and a sharp, firm step on the landing. The 
 color flooded Mollie's cheeks. 
 
 "Gerard," she whispered. 
 
 "You cannot want " began Miss Fraser, 
 but the door was flung open, interrupting her. 
 
 " Little woman ! " exclaimed Gerard Har- 
 graves, "why didn't you come down the drive 
 to look for me? Had no one told you I was 
 back? You had n't forgotten me, had you? " 
 
 Forgotten him! Mollie sprang toward him. 
 As he bent, she put her arms round his neck; 
 she laid her head on his shoulder. Forgotten 
 him! 
 
 The very quietness of the greeting, since he 
 was wise enough to know that it was still from 
 intensity, touched Mr. Hargraves. How fond 
 of him this little thing must be! It was nice 
 of her. It gratified him. It did not occur to 
 him to consider what might be the outcome of 
 it to her. If a time of change and disillusion 
 arrived, it would be enough to say that he had 
 not thought. That is always such a man's 
 excuse. The failing is its own justification. 
 Thoughtlessness is a useful robe, which amply 
 covers a large collection of sins.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 57 
 
 "Mollie has been such a naughty little girl," 
 interposed Miss Eraser. 
 
 The child unfolded her arms. She slipped 
 off her cousin's knee. 
 
 "I have, awful," she said, standing before 
 him as she might before a judge. 
 
 Gerard looked past the child to her governess. 
 He was annoyed that Mollie's delinquencies 
 should be thrust in front of him before he had 
 been in the room ten minutes. It savored, 
 too, of tale-telling; and Gerard had preserved 
 a single idea on that subject ever since he 
 received his first caning an unmerited one 
 to impress it upon his mind. 
 
 Besides, he was very ready to find cause of 
 offence in Miss Eraser. There was a distinct 
 antagonism between the vicarage and the 
 present owner of Rookwood. In the old days, 
 when Gerard had perpetually trembled on the 
 brink of his uncle's displeasure, Mr. Eraser 
 had branded him as " a fast young man " (he 
 thought so still), and had not hesitated to 
 proclaim this opinion in the quarter where it 
 might have the most serious results. 
 
 Gerard did not forget that now. 
 
 "Well," he remarked, and he addressed the
 
 58 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 vicar's daughter, "naughtiness is only a ques- 
 tion of looks and opportunity with a woman, 
 isn't it?" 
 
 "I don't understand you, Mr. Hargraves," 
 returned Miss Eraser, and she drew herself a 
 little farther back in her chair. 
 
 Gerard smiled, and twisted the ends of his 
 mustache. 
 
 "Ah!" he rejoined, "then that is one of the 
 things to which you will not own. But I " 
 letting his eyes rest on her with a certain inso- 
 lence in their challenge "have been told that 
 a woman confesses to more by what she denies 
 than by what she proclaims." 
 
 Miss Eraser's dull gray eyes emitted a spark; 
 the lips were drawn into a tight line. It was 
 evident that, however limited might be her 
 power of retort, her indignation was not. 
 
 "What," resumed Mr. Hargraves, and he 
 turned to Mollie with quite another note in 
 his voice, "what was it, little one?" 
 
 "I have been so naughty," reiterated Mollie. 
 
 "But it is over now," suggested Mr. Har- 
 graves. "Come and talk to me." 
 
 "Mollie must finish her sum first," decreed 
 Miss Eraser.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 59 
 
 Gerard bit his lip. He wanted the child to 
 himself. He wanted to take her out, and he 
 did not want "this sour old woman," as he was 
 ill-natured enough to label Miss Fraser. 
 
 For once he tried persuasion. 
 
 "I have only just come home, you know," 
 he said. 
 
 " I cannot let Mollie go until she has finished 
 her sum," Miss Fraser returned, and she folded 
 her hands upon her drab skirt with an air of 
 finality. 
 
 "Then we shall have to stay here, little 
 one," Mr. Hargraves answered, and he put 
 the child back on his knee. 
 
 Mollie looked at her cousin. Her conscience 
 would not let her off in this easy fashion. Her 
 eyes grew moist ; her cheeks burned. 
 
 "I have been in a naughty temper," she con- 
 fessed. " Look," and she pointed to the broken 
 slate; "I did that, "cause" with the lump 
 growing in her throat "I was in a naughty 
 temper." 
 
 It was Gerard's impulse to receive the con- 
 fession as it was made; but unfortunately Miss 
 Fraser' s glance was on him, and there was an 
 expectancy on her face which, as Gerard said
 
 60 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 to himself, it would not have been Gerard 
 Hargraves had he disappointed. 
 
 "Very naughty, and therefore so human, 
 Mollie," he answered flippantly. "We most 
 of us end by breaking our playthings, but we 
 learned first how very easily the useful articles 
 would crack and chip. You are naughty, per- 
 haps, but nice, and you can't claim to be 
 unique in that respect. Be thankful. Super- 
 fine goodness may be profitable, but I have 
 never found it alluring." 
 
 "Mollie," commanded Miss Fraser, "get off 
 your cousin's knee and finish your sum." 
 
 The child slipped down. She went toward 
 the table. She stooped and picked up the 
 slate, but one of the cracked pieces fell away 
 from the frame. It held about half the figures. 
 Silently the child picked up the fragment; she 
 endeavored to fit it in again. She could not. 
 She directed an imploring glance toward Miss 
 Fraser, but that lady was too conscious of 
 Gerard Hargraves' presence. She maintained 
 an unmoved appearance. 
 
 A suppressed exclamation struggled through 
 the man's lips. He rose. He flung a bitter 
 look at the angular figure in the straight chair.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 61 
 
 "I'll tell you what," he proposed, as he 
 came toward the table, "let us do that sum 
 together, Mollie." 
 
 The child responded with a long sigh. 
 
 " Oh ! " she murmured, as though her burden 
 had been lifted; but her joy was short-lived. 
 
 "It's broken right through," she confessed, 
 and a large tear rolled down her cheek. 
 
 "Don't don't cry," exclaimed Gerard; 
 "look here, we will manage somehow." 
 
 He turned the slate round, meaning to repeat 
 the figures on the opposite end, but that por- 
 tion, too, slipped away from its frame. Mollie 
 gave a gasp which caused Gerard to put his 
 arm around her. 
 
 "Don't," he muttered again, and his teeth 
 closed over his mustache. 
 
 (If he could ever be half as penitent as this 
 for his worst sins !) 
 
 " Let me see," he went on, as he pulled him- 
 self together. 
 
 He looked toward Miss Fraser; but she still 
 preserved that uncompromising attitude. 
 
 The truth was, she was meditating whether 
 she dared exert her authority and insist on Mr. 
 Hargraves' withdrawal. She would have liked
 
 62 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 nothing better. But she had an uncomfortable 
 suspicion that the case might be carried to a 
 higher court, where the judge would be fully 
 prepared to enter a verdict against her. Eva 
 Hargraves, she knew, would never imperil her 
 position with the owner of Rookwood for the 
 sake of a point of discipline. 
 
 So Mollie and her cousin must, perforce, 
 work out the matter their own way; only she 
 would have no part in the arrangement. 
 
 Gerard guessed pretty nearly how the case 
 stood. 
 
 "See here, Mollie," he said, "I 've got 
 it." 
 
 He dived into his pocket. He brought out 
 a bundle of letters. There were missives in 
 long narrow envelopes, generally blue ones, 
 those he put back again. The sheet belong- 
 ing to the first square envelope he opened 
 was entirely filled with writing. He took out 
 another. 
 
 "Oh!" said Mollie, attracted by the pink 
 paper and the great golden monogram on the 
 flap, "it 's been among the flowers. It smells 
 like them." 
 
 She moved her hand toward it.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 63 
 
 Gerard glanced at the little face. With an 
 angry movement, he crumpled the sheet in his 
 palm. He closed his fingers over it, until the 
 paper crackled with the pressure. He shot a 
 glance, from under half-closed lids, toward 
 Miss Eraser. He put his hand into his coat 
 pocket, and drew it out empty. 
 
 "Not that one, little woman," he said, with 
 a long breath. 
 
 "It looked so pretty," ventured Mollie. 
 
 "That's just it," he responded, and there 
 was a bitter note in his voice; "so do they 
 all the first time you see them." 
 
 Mollie guessed that something was wrong. 
 She put her hand timidly onto Gerard's knee. 
 She lifted her face. 
 
 Mr. Hargraves looked into it. He had 
 prayed for penitence a moment ago, and his 
 prayer was answered. 
 
 "I can't," he muttered. 
 
 He straightened his figure, and drew his 
 neck farther out of his collar. It was a char- 
 acteristic action; he had so met reproof ever 
 since he could remember. 
 
 He went back to his letters; he found one 
 with a blank sheet.
 
 64 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 "Let us see what this will do for us," he 
 said. "Now, then, Mollie, here we are!" 
 
 He carefully copied the figures, taking care 
 that his should be such that the child could 
 easily read. 
 
 "Now," he said, as he handed her the pen- 
 cil, "you must put down the others." 
 
 "With this? " asked Mollie, overpowered by 
 using a pencil, "like the back of mamma's 
 watch," for such an every-day process as her 
 addition sum. 
 
 "Yes," said Gerard. "Now, Mollie, five 
 and seven and four." 
 
 "It isn't so nasty with this pencil," con- 
 cluded the little girl, as she carefully formed 
 the figure at the foot of the column. 
 
 " You will have to add up for me when you 
 get big," suggested Mr. Hargraves. 
 
 "In a little book like mamma's?" inquired 
 Mollie, who had seen her mother settling ac- 
 counts; " is that adding up and twice times? " 
 
 " Very much so, especially the latter, " said 
 Mr. Hargraves; " but the next line, Mollie." 
 
 "There," said Gerard, when they came to an 
 end, and he handed the paper to Miss Fraser, 
 " we are released now, are we not ? "
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 65 
 
 "I told Mollie all along that she might go 
 when her sum was finished," returned the 
 lady. 
 
 "Behold," began Gerard, with that mocking 
 air which so irritated the people he did not 
 like, and always made the vicar's daughter 
 think what a very wicked young man he must 
 be, "behold a woman who keeps her word. 
 Mollie, go and put on your bonnet." 
 
 Miss Fraser waited until the door closed. 
 
 "Mr. Hargraves," she began, as soon as they 
 were alone, "I am Mollie's governess." 
 
 "Lucky Mollie," murmured Gerard. 
 
 "I think," continued Miss Fraser, her thin 
 voice quivering, "though we all know what 
 has been your attitude toward authority all 
 your life, that I, who have watched you since 
 you were a boy " 
 
 "You hardly pay yourself a compliment," 
 interpolated Mr. Hargraves. 
 
 " Since you were a boy, " repeated Miss Fraser, 
 bravely, "may tell you that were I Mollie's 
 mother I should hardly like to see your influ- 
 ence over my daughter." 
 
 Her listener drew himself upright. There 
 was a dangerous gleam in his eyes. 
 5
 
 66 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 "Your sex is privileged," he said; "so is 
 your father's cloth. You and he have remem- 
 bered that ever since, as you say, I was a boy." 
 
 He turned and sauntered to the window. 
 He was careful to look supremely at his ease, 
 he was so disproportionately angry, all the more 
 so because "Hang it all," he muttered. 
 He assured himself that it was this prying and 
 meddling that did all the mischief. Rookwood 
 was his own. It was his concern, his alone, to 
 whom its roof afforded hospitality. 
 
 But what was Miss Fraser saying? He did 
 not want to listen. He had an impulse to 
 silence her at any cost ; then the door opened, 
 and Mollie entered. 
 
 Miss Fraser rose. 
 
 "Good-morning, Mollie," she said. 
 
 The child went toward her and held up her 
 face. Miss Fraser was tempted to kiss it; but 
 she remembered the man by the window. 
 
 "Do you think you deserve it? " she asked. 
 
 Mollie hung her head. 
 
 With an impatient movement and a hard 
 word between his teeth, Gerard strode down 
 the room. He held open the door. 
 
 Miss Fraser responded to the action.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 67 
 
 "Do you," questioned Gerard, as she came 
 up to him, "think it part of your Christian 
 duty to take vengeance on a child?" 
 
 There was another look, and then the door 
 went to. 
 
 "Now, little one, "said Gerard, "we are glad 
 to be alone. Shall we go out ? But, tell me, 
 what have you been doing all the time I have 
 been away." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Mollie, as the question reminded 
 her, " I have a surprise for you. " 
 
 " A surprise ! " 
 
 Mr. Hargraves' eagerness left nothing to be 
 desired. 
 
 "What is it?" he questioned. "You must 
 not keep my curiosity on the rack." 
 
 " Rack ! What 's that ? " inquired Mollie. 
 
 " Where I have been for the last ten minutes, " 
 Gerard answered. 
 
 " You have been here ; you have been in the 
 nursery," announced the little girl. 
 
 "Yes," said Gerard, "but you see it's this 
 way, Mollie; it 's only a stupid way of saying 
 that I wanted something very much. I wanted 
 you to be very quick and put your bonnet on, 
 and now I want to know all about my surprise. "
 
 68 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 The child walked across the room. There 
 was the solemnity of a great moment upon her 
 curious little face. 
 
 " I 've learned it all for you," she announced, 
 and she paused in the midst of the room to give 
 weight to this remark. 
 
 " Quick ! " cried Mr. Hargraves. 
 
 The little girl went to the piano and opened 
 it ; she mounted the stool ; she turned over the 
 leaves of her instruction book until she came 
 to the "Vesper Hymn." 
 
 Slowly, laboriously, for Mollie was by no 
 means musical, she fought her way from bar 
 to bar, and when she had finished she turned. 
 
 "Mollie," said Gerard, "how nice, how 
 clever of you ! " 
 
 "It 's got one flat," explained the child, tri- 
 umphantly. " Look ! " and she pointed to the 
 symbol. 
 
 " Is that a flat ? " inquired Gerard. 
 
 "Don't you know?" asked the child. "I 
 thought there was nothing you didn't know." 
 
 Her amazement came as a pang to him. 
 
 " There is n't much," he said bitterly. " Oh, 
 Mollie, I am glad you are not older." 
 
 Then he insisted on going into the garden.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 DURING the next few days, greatly to Mollie's 
 perplexity, Gerard did not appear at the Dower 
 House. As a rule he came almost every morn- 
 ing when he was at Rookwood ; for Mrs. 
 Hargraves was very gracious to him. She took 
 pains to let him know that he was welcome at 
 all seasons. Perhaps she hoped for something 
 personal as the outcome of it all. Eva, who 
 never hesitated to call things by their proper 
 names, to herself, had not made up her 
 mind on this point. 
 
 At any rate, and this was sufficient for the 
 time being, Gerard aroused within her some 
 of that inclination to conquest which the unusual 
 check of seeing her wiles powerless to move the 
 victim of them did the most to stimulate. 
 
 But this morning, Mollie heard mamma say- 
 ing to Aunt Amy that Gerard was " too bad," 
 that " he had no excuse at all," " this Leigh 
 girl was such bad style; " and Mollie, who had
 
 70 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 just returned from peeping through the gate, 
 wondered what " bad style " might mean. 
 
 " I suppose you won't take any notice of 
 her," said Aunt Amy, as she put out her foot 
 to start her chair swinging. 
 
 Lady Pilister was spending a few days at the 
 Dower House ; and the sisters were seated on 
 the lawn, beneath the trees. Mrs. Hargraves 
 had an open book; Aunt Amy was frankly 
 doing nothing. 
 
 It was one of those days of rare glory, when 
 the heat lay as a soft mantle of mist in the hol- 
 low, when the air was filled with the quivering 
 radiance of the sunbeams, when the drip, drip, 
 of the water in the fountain was as cooling 
 music. 
 
 Mrs. Hargraves waited a moment. Her blue 
 eyes looked away in the direction of Rookwood ; 
 her face gave no indication of her decision. 
 
 " Eva," exclaimed Lady Pilister, " you must 
 be a clever woman. I have come to the con- 
 clusion you are, you can afford to look so 
 vacant." 
 
 "Am I to feel complimented? " inquired Mrs. 
 Hargraves, and she laid her book on her lap. 
 
 " That 's as you like," retorted her sister.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 71 
 
 " I only know I can't afford to appear a fool. 
 People would insist it was nature having its 
 way." 
 
 " There is no occasion for it with you," ob- 
 served Mrs. Hargraves. " A rent-roll of five 
 figures implies the right to emotions; besides," 
 carefully tipping her dart, " you might 
 clash. You ought to consider that Sir Harry 
 has never seemed ambitious to shine as an 
 intellectual light." 
 
 The color glowed under Lady Pilister's fair 
 skin. 
 
 " You are as prompt as ever in paying your 
 debts," she rejoined. 
 
 " Oh, no," came the response ; " when they 
 are worth it, I have learned to leave them to 
 gather interest." 
 
 For a little the impatient creak of the ropes 
 of Lady Pilister's chair was the only sound 
 which competed with the splash of the water, 
 then Mrs. Hargraves looked up from her book. 
 
 " Miss Leigh and Mrs. Marsden are coming to 
 tea this afternoon with Gerard," she announced. 
 
 Aunt Amy's chair went back with a jerk. 
 The eyes which were a brighter edition of Eva's 
 examined the tranquil face. Mrs. Hargraves
 
 72 
 
 had found her paragraph and was about to turn 
 a leaf. 
 
 " You are certainly incomprehensible," Lady 
 Pilister exclaimed. 
 
 The statement was met by a cold smile. 
 
 " To a rich woman with an easy-going hus- 
 band, doubtless," answered Mrs. Hargraves, as 
 she removed a fly from her white bodice. 
 
 Lady Pilister looked toward the house. 
 
 " It is a nice old place," she admitted, and 
 she nodded her head with an air of agreement. 
 
 Mollie heard all this conversation, and was 
 exceedingly puzzled. She asked Josephine 
 what mamma could mean by saying that Gerard 
 was " too bad." He could not have been 
 naughty ; she was sure of that. But Josephine 
 was only a doll and could not help her. 
 
 " I wish you could speak," the little girl sighed, 
 and she looked wistfully into the battered face. 
 
 She wondered whether she dared ask Aunt 
 Amy about it; Aunt Amy was sometimes like 
 Gerard about answering questions. Not so 
 nice, of course ; but still a substitute, though a 
 poor one. 
 
 The child pulled herself along the grass. 
 Dared she?
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 73 
 
 "Aunt Amy "she began, and timidly she 
 pulled her aunt's skirt. 
 
 Lady Pilister glanced down. " Good gra- 
 cious! Are you here, Mollie?" she exclaimed. 
 
 " Aunt Amy " began the child. 
 
 " Run and play," came the quick answer. 
 " It 's good for little girls to be running about." 
 
 " But " ventured Mollie. 
 
 " No," objected Lady Pilister ; " it 's too hot 
 to be taken to task to-day, Mollie. Run and 
 play." 
 
 The child got up. Yet she lingered. 
 
 "Did you hear your aunt?" inquired Mrs. 
 Hargraves. 
 
 Mollie hurried away. She went down the 
 drive and looked through the gate. She thought 
 Gerard must come ; she had looked for him yes- 
 terday morning and all the afternoon; she had 
 spent nearly all the time since her lessons were 
 over to-day watching for him. 
 
 After a little she retraced her steps and went 
 into the garden. But there was no joy in the 
 roses and pinks, none even in lifting off the pots 
 at the head of the dahlia sticks to see the funny 
 little earwigs drop out. Gerard had once as- 
 sured her that earwigs did not a bit mind being
 
 74 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 disturbed ; that it did not hurt them at all to 
 be dropped on the ground, they would, of 
 course, prefer not to be trampled upon, so, 
 since then, Mollie had found watching them a 
 most fascinating employment. They wriggled 
 their bodies, and clasped and unclasped the 
 " little-pincers-instead-of-a-tail " in the most 
 delightful fashion. 
 
 To-day the sight was marred by a sense of 
 disloyalty. Mamma had called Gerard " too 
 bad." She had said, too, that he had no excuse 
 at all. It was only when Mollie had been un- 
 usually naughty that nurse or Miss Fraser 
 applied that term to her. 
 
 Mollie grew more and more certain that there 
 must be some mistake about Gerard. Then 
 she ought to tell mamma so ! Only yesterday, 
 nurse had read a story about a little girl who 
 had not spoken out when her little friend had 
 been punished for what she had not done, and 
 the tale had concluded by declaring that it was 
 a long time before little Mary, who ought to 
 have spoken and had not, could be happy again. 
 
 Mollie was not at all prepared to incur little 
 Mary's fate. She was quite sure of what she 
 ought to do; and she meant doing it, but that
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 75 
 
 did not make it easy. She knew that it would 
 be a hard matter to face her mother. 
 
 In the end, she went very slowly back to the 
 lawn and up to the tent-chairs. 
 
 " Mamma," she began, and her hands went 
 together. 
 
 " How often am I to tell you about your 
 hands?" interrupted Mrs. HargraveS. 
 
 Mollie unclasped them; she was trembling, 
 such a big lump seemed to have grown in 
 her throat. 
 
 " Well," said mamma, impatiently, " what do 
 you want?" 
 
 The words would not come. The child strug- 
 gled; but not a sound would pass her lips. 
 
 " If," said mamma, " you are so foolish, you 
 had better go away." 
 
 " Gerard," stammered Mollie. 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Hargraves, a small increase 
 of interest in her tone. 
 
 " Oh," cried Mollie, her voice rising with a 
 sharp note, " he 's never naughty." 
 
 Mrs. Hargraves raised her arched eyebrows; 
 she looked toward her sister. 
 
 " Has any one been saying he was"? " she in- 
 quired of her little daughter.
 
 76 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 Mollie was bewildered. Had not mamma 
 said it herself a few moments ago? 
 
 " You," she faltered, " said he was too 
 bad." 
 
 " So," rejoined Mrs. Hargraves, " you have 
 been prying. Claude, I am sure, would not 
 listen to what was not meant for him." 
 
 " But he is n't naughty," persisted Mollie. 
 
 "You don't understand," retorted mamma; 
 " and if you will listen to what is not intended 
 for you to hear, I must not have you with me 
 again. Go away now." 
 
 Mollie turned silently. 
 
 When she was out of hearing, Aunt Amy bent 
 forward. 
 
 " Do you want her to pour the tale into 
 Gerard's ears?" she asked her sister. 
 
 Mrs. Hargraves let the leaves of her book 
 slip onto her hand with an impatient air. 
 
 " She is the most provoking child," she de- 
 clared. 
 
 " Gerard seems to find her interesting," Lady 
 Pilister rejoined. 
 
 " Gerard ! " echoed Mrs. Hargraves. 
 
 Lady Pilister settled herself back in her chair. 
 She swung to and fro a few times.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 77 
 
 "I do not think he is a consideration to be 
 despised in your arrangements," she observed. 
 
 " Do you mean me to tell Mollie she is to say 
 nothing to him?" questioned Mrs. Hargraves. 
 
 " And leave her to put him on the ' qui vive ' 
 by the effort to obey," retorted Lady Pilister. 
 
 Mrs. Hargraves rose. She stood before her 
 sister. 
 
 " What am I to do, then? " she demanded. 
 
 "You always had a talent for explaining 
 things away," remarked Aunt Amy. 
 
 A look passed between the sisters. 
 
 " I suppose," said Mrs. Hargraves, reluctantly, 
 " I had better go and find Mollie."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 " WE will go by the Park," announced Gerard, 
 as he came onto the terrace that afternoon at 
 Rookwood, accompanied by Miss Leigh and 
 Mrs. Marsden. " It is a little longer, but it 's 
 the more pleasant way." 
 
 " I don't see why we should walk a step 
 farther than we need on a day like this," 
 interposed Miss Leigh. 
 
 Gerard watched the sunlight dancing through 
 the leaves of the great trees. 
 
 " We need n't start at all ; we can stay here, if 
 you like," he answered. 
 
 He turned until he faced the clump of green 
 which hid the Dower House. Would Mollie 
 be watching at the gate? But he did not mean 
 to go by that gate to-day. 
 
 He wondered why Eva had thought fit to in- 
 vite his guests. If they had not met face to 
 face in the lane, Miss Leigh would never have 
 known that his cousin's widow existed.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 79 
 
 " Let me," he said, with the air of doing his 
 duty as a host, " put you a chair under that 
 tree." 
 
 Miss Leigh looked at the cool shadow lying 
 across the path. She made a step toward it. 
 
 " No," she said, standing in the midst of the 
 walk ; " there is that child. One must go out 
 of one's way for that. When a man thrones a 
 child's photograph in solitary state on his man- 
 telpiece, I 'm curious to see the original." 
 
 " Mollie," explained Gerard, and he spoke 
 very quietly, " is not a pretty child. There is 
 nothing picture-like about her." 
 
 "Then what is there?" demanded Miss 
 Leigh, lifting her eyebrows until they nearly 
 touched the fashionable golden fringe. " What 
 is there?" 
 
 Mr. Hargraves smiled. It was a quiet, 
 dreamy smile ; it seemed to say, " There would 
 be no use in my trying to tell you." 
 
 " The photograph bears you out, or I should 
 not believe you," cried the young lady. 
 
 "Have I such a character for mendacity?" 
 asked Gerard. 
 
 Miss Leigh laughed. 
 
 " I never believe half you say," she confessed.
 
 8o THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 " Perhaps," retorted Mr. Hargraves, moved 
 with his customary recklessness toward thin 
 ice, " that is why I don't say more." 
 
 " No," returned Miss Leigh, and her chest 
 heaved ; " that is because you have the courage 
 of your caution." 
 
 They looked at each other. Mr. Hargraves 
 made a sweeping salutation, hat in hand. 
 
 "Caution," he mocked; "I never was so 
 accused." 
 
 " Oh ! " cried the girl, slipping by the expres- 
 sion to her true level, " you will always keep 
 your skin whole. You always have taken care 
 of that." 
 
 There was a moment's silence. Miss Leigh 
 pulled the rose from her belt and slowly whirled 
 it round. Her hands showed white against the 
 red of its petals; she put it to her lips; her 
 eyes looked an invitation. 
 
 Gerard made no pretence of not understand- 
 ing. With a half-laugh and a shrug of his 
 shoulders, he thrust his hands into his pockets 
 as though they were safer there. 
 
 "Am I to find that chair?" he asked. 
 
 Miss Leigh tossed aside her flower. 
 
 " No," she said ; " I am not to be told what
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 81 
 
 you see in the plain child, so I am going to find 
 out for myself. My sunshade, please." 
 
 Mr. Hargraves picked up the striped parasol 
 and put it into her hand. 
 
 " Now," said Miss Leigh, " come along." 
 
 She moved down the path. Gerard drew to 
 one side to make room for Mrs. Marsden. 
 
 "No," said Miss Leigh; "we don't want you, 
 Mrs. Marsden, until we get to the high-road." 
 
 Gerard laughed again. 
 
 "There is nothing like saying what you 
 want," he observed, as the elder lady obediently 
 started by another way. 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Marsden ! " rejoined Miss Leigh, 
 and she raised her shoulders. 
 
 " Mrs. Marsden understands her duties," con- 
 tinued Gerard. 
 
 " Mrs. Marsden," amended that lady's charge, 
 " understands what they are not, and that is a 
 great deal more to the purpose." 
 
 " So I see." 
 
 The statement was greeted by a gratified 
 laugh; while Gerard found himself wondering 
 if a woman ever really thought to impress a 
 man by showing him how few were her quali- 
 fications for so doing.
 
 82 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 " May I ? " he asked, and he took out his 
 cigarette case. He held it toward his guest. 
 
 " No," decided Miss Leigh, after a brief 
 examination, and she pushed forward her full 
 lips; "they are not my kind." 
 
 " I ought to have filled one side for you," he 
 said. 
 
 It was not far to the main entrance, and there 
 they found Mrs. Marsden awaiting them. 
 
 " This way," said Mr. Hargraves, as the 
 heavy gate closed behind them. 
 
 "Is this the shortest path?" inquired Miss 
 Leigh, and she glanced suspiciously down the 
 level white road. 
 
 " They are about the same distance," returned 
 her host. 
 
 The young lady lowered her sunshade. She 
 looked him full in the face. 
 
 "That's a lie! " she announced. 
 
 " My love ! " murmured Mrs. Marsden. 
 
 Miss Leigh turned upon her companion. 
 
 " I always call things by their proper names, 
 you ought to know that," she declared ; " it 
 saves trouble." 
 
 " And leaves one in no doubt of your mean- 
 ing," amended Mr. Hargraves.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 83 
 
 Miss Leigh put up her sunshade. 
 
 "You will perhaps take me the other way? " 
 she demanded. 
 
 "With pleasure," came the answer; but 
 Gerard's under-lip drew in the whole line of 
 his mustache. 
 
 He crossed the road and held open the hand- 
 gate. 
 
 "If you tear your dress with the bramble 
 sprays, or scratch your face with the wild-rose 
 bushes, or find the path rough for fashionable 
 heels, on your own head be it," he said. 
 
 "I'll take all the risk," answered Miss 
 Leigh. 
 
 "It must be single file," he announced; and 
 it was actually a relief to him to think that the 
 arrangement would do something to add to the 
 difficulty of conversation. 
 
 "Go first," said Miss Leigh, and she ad- 
 dressed Mrs. Marsden. "You shall have " 
 and this time she spoke to her host "an 
 excellent opportunity of determining whether 
 my hair is all my own." 
 
 "Its glory," replied Gerard, promptly say- 
 ing the thing required of him, "must blind 
 one to its defects, should there be any."
 
 84 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 . "I'm glad you added that last clause," re- 
 torted Miss Leigh. 
 
 The way, a narrow track between high hedges, 
 was overrun here and there with trailing black- 
 berry bushes, or broken from time to time 
 by clumps of wild roses which late though 
 it were were still dotted with little pink 
 flowers. 
 
 Gerard broke off a spray. He pulled the 
 leaves absently, one by one, from the stalk, 
 until he chanced to look at the pink bud; then, 
 with an impatient movement, he thrust it into 
 his button-hole. 
 
 He was a fool, of course. No one but a fool 
 would have imagined such a connection, but 
 those pink petals, so tenderly folded and enfold- 
 ing one another, and showing their delicate 
 veins as they tapered to a point, somehow made 
 him look toward the Dower House. 
 
 He confessed to himself that he would give 
 a good round sum to be through the next hour. 
 A few feet farther along, where a solitary elm 
 sprang from the hedge, a mass of cool green 
 against the brilliant sky, the path made a curve, 
 and from there he would be able to see Mollie's 
 gate. Would she be watching for him ? He
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 85 
 
 almost prayed that she might not. He did not 
 want to see that little face now. He wondered 
 if she could possibly have been kept in the 
 house. He would even have heard that she 
 was detained there in disgrace without resent- 
 ment. With every step of the way his dis- 
 like grew, until he became so reluctant to 
 face what must follow that, could he have 
 invented any excuse for the return of his 
 party, he would not have scrupled to advance 
 it. He racked his brains. To merely arouse 
 Miss Leigh's suspicions would only be to aug- 
 ment her curiosity. His device must carry 
 conviction, otherwise she would be certain 
 to reach the Dower House or perish in the 
 endeavor. 
 
 He experienced a fine contempt for himself. 
 To what end had he acquired his savoir vivre, 
 his fertility, if it would not help him out of 
 this poor little trap? 
 
 Mrs. Marsden had already passed the elm- 
 tree. The track widened here, and was broad 
 enough for the three in line; but the elder lady 
 kept steadily on her way without even as much 
 as a glance over her shoulder. 
 
 "She has been well trained," concluded
 
 86 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 Gerard; but the contempt which rose out of 
 the reflection was for himself. 
 
 Miss Leigh waited. She let a few more 
 steps separate Mrs. Marsden. 
 
 " Have you settled the affairs of the nation ? " 
 she began. "I looked back at you once or 
 twice as we came along, but you were in such 
 a brown study you did not notice me." 
 
 " Is that possible ? " mocked Mr. Hargraves. 
 
 Miss Leigh surveyed him steadily. She 
 closed her sunshade and let it slip against the 
 skirt of her dress. The brilliant smile, which 
 was her great point, so her friends said, and of 
 which, as a rule, she made generous use, died 
 from her eyes and lips. She had seen herself 
 with her neighbor's eyes. Every woman does 
 that now and again ; and the pleasure or pain 
 of it especially when that neighbor happens 
 to be a man marks her true position. 
 
 "I am nothing but a peg for you to hang 
 compliments upon," she said disconsolately. 
 
 "No," replied Mr. Hargraves; "you are the 
 magnet which attracts them." Miss Leigh let 
 her glance fall upon the ground; she trailed 
 her sunshade with a scratch along the path; 
 she sighed softly.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 87 
 
 There was a few moments' silence, another 
 long sigh. 
 
 Suddenly she lifted her eyes. They seemed 
 to sweep over, to storm the man's face. 
 
 "Give me," she said, "that flower out of 
 your coat." 
 
 Gerard put up his hand. Why not? Miss 
 Leigh's blue eyes were, after all, sufficiently 
 blue. 
 
 He took out the pink rose-bud; his fingers 
 closed upon it; he remembered. 
 
 "No," he replied, laughing uneasily; "it's 
 too inappropriate." 
 
 The woman by his side forced back her lips 
 until they showed the double row of white 
 clenched teeth. 
 
 "Please," she pleaded, as she changed her 
 expression with a dexterity which betokened 
 practice. 
 
 Gerard loosened his fingers. The bud fell 
 to the ground; he put his foot on it. 
 
 " You shall have the finest roses Rookwood 
 can show," he promised; "you shall select and 
 I will cut." 
 
 Their eyes met ; his defied, hers compelled. 
 
 The wooden gate was in sight.
 
 88 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 "Here we are," said Mr. Hargraves, with an 
 accent of relief. 
 
 The next instant the quick childish note 
 broke on the air. 
 
 " Gerard ! " called Mollie. 
 
 "Mollie!" responded Mr. Hargraves. 
 
 Miss Leigh turned and faced him. 
 
 "The two paths," she said, "were about the 
 same length. Oh ! " 
 
 A quick motion of anger stirred Gerard. 
 Was this to be vulgarized, Mollie's attitude 
 toward him, and his toward her? He hurried 
 forward, outstripping Mrs. Marsden. 
 
 "Mollie," he said, and he did not kiss 
 her, he only put his hand on her shoulder, 
 "run and tell mamma that I am bringing the 
 ladies." 
 
 The child's disappointed face hurt him; but 
 the next instant he saw the cloud lift. Mollie 
 was too well behaved not to know that she, 
 being only a little girl, must expect nothing 
 before visitors. She set off running up the 
 path. 
 
 "Where have you sent her?" asked Miss 
 Leigh, as soon as she came within speaking 
 distance.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 89 
 
 " To tell her mother of your arrival, " answered 
 Gerard. 
 
 Miss Leigh shot a glance at him which made 
 him think she could never have been a child 
 like Mollie. 
 
 "This way," he said. 
 
 They went up the drive together. Mrs. 
 Marsden had assumed an air of protection; 
 she seemed to be, all at once, conscious of a 
 change, and when they found Mrs. Hargraves, 
 it was she who directed a benevolent look of 
 introduction toward Miss Leigh. 
 
 Gerard laughed outright ; and Mrs. Hargraves, 
 who had come from the sheltered side of the 
 lawn to greet her guests, turned, with her 
 leisurely manner, toward him. 
 
 " What is it ? " she asked. 
 
 Gerard muttered an excuse. 
 
 The line of Mrs. Hargraves' upper lip 
 softened. That the excuse was clumsy as well 
 as obvious had its charm for her. 
 
 " Shall we go to the lawn ? " she asked, and 
 she addressed Miss Leigh, "or do you prefer 
 the house ? " 
 
 "Oh! " cried Gerard, "outside on a day like 
 this."
 
 90 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 Mrs. Hargraves turned to him again. 
 
 "Whatever we decide," she said, "you may 
 go and talk to Amy. She is in the tent-chair, 
 and I think it would require something very 
 serious to get her out of it before the sun goes 
 down." 
 
 " Lady Pilister here ! " exclaimed Gerard ; " of 
 course I must go and speak to her. She gen- 
 erally lets me think she is one of my good 
 friends. What an age it is since we met ! " 
 
 "Since Ascot, I believe," said Mrs. Har- 
 graves, very distinctly. 
 
 "Who," retorted Gerard, "measures time 
 by vulgar reckoning where friendship is con- 
 cerned ? " 
 
 "You are growing poetical," laughed Mrs. 
 Hargraves; "and after that " 
 
 "The other swing-chair as the reward of 
 genius," put in Gerard. "I hurry to secure 
 my prize." 
 
 Mrs. Hargraves looked after the tall figure 
 crossing the lawn; but her face, when she 
 turned to the other guests, was particularly 
 expressionless. 
 
 " Which shall it be for us ? " she asked. 
 
 "The lawn, of course," said Miss Leigh.
 
 91 
 
 "I thought so," added Eva. 
 
 There was an under meaning in the calm 
 voice. The two pairs of eyes, alike in shade, 
 so different in all other respects, challenged 
 each other; then Miss Leigh led the way 
 toward the fountain. 
 
 Mrs. Hargraves followed a step behind ; she 
 wore a subtle but admirably marked air of 
 detachment. It was evident that she was in 
 this company, not of it. 
 
 "Gerard," she said, when they stood in a 
 group, with the exception of Lady Pilister, who 
 had just explained that, with the thermometer 
 at the height it registered that day, no one could 
 expect her to have the manners to get up 
 "Gerard," asked Mrs. Hargraves, "do you 
 mind seeing about some more chairs ? " 
 
 The tone made Lady Pilister smile. She 
 understood; there was an unusual note in Eva's 
 request, a taking for granted of intimacy, an ex- 
 pectation of that something from Gerard which 
 should be denied to the rest of the party. 
 
 "Certainly," replied Mr. Hargraves, who 
 was very ready to sing second in this duet; 
 "will those out of the hall do?" 
 
 " No, " answered Eva; "you always grumble
 
 92 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 at them. You declared the last time that the 
 wicker chairs were far more comfortable." 
 
 Lady Pilister's laugh rippled softly. 
 
 "It is a hot day," she said, addressing Miss 
 Leigh. 
 
 That young lady sank into the remaining 
 swing-chair. She lay back negligently; she 
 put it in motion, settled her head, with more 
 regard to her hat than to comfort, crossed 
 her feet, and displayed her pointed shoes. She 
 was pleased to think that her hostess must stand 
 while she was so evidently at her ease. 
 
 She forgot that it requires a vast amount of 
 breeding to be rude effectively. 
 
 " Do you make a long stay ? " inquired Lady 
 Pilister. 
 
 Miss Leigh was indefinite. But had her 
 hour of departure been fixed with the immuta- 
 bility of the Medes and Persians, she would 
 not have named it. 
 
 " Have you seen the church ? " pursued the 
 questioner. 
 
 Miss Leigh's blue eyes began to glitter. 
 
 " It is considered quite a fine specimen of 
 its kind," continued the level voice; "and the 
 ruins, I believe Rookwood contrives to be
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 93 
 
 quite proud of one whole pillar, three broken 
 ones, and a bit of untidy wall, which it is 
 pleased to call the remains of an. abbey. You 
 ought to see them while you are here." 
 
 The insolence grew as the speaker came to 
 the end of the sentence. 
 
 "What else is there?" asked Lady Pilister, 
 addressing her sister. 
 
 "I don't care for sights, and I care less for 
 scenery," broke in Miss Leigh. 
 
 She understood. It was a way of marking 
 the gulf between her and these two graceful, 
 languid women. She must be quick, and in- 
 spect, while she ha'd the chance, those things 
 with which they had been familiar ever since 
 they could remember. 
 
 But might she, too, not assert herself? 
 
 "Gerard, "she said, as soon as Mr. Hargraves 
 returned, "please move this chair back a little, 
 and there " indicating the position of the 
 one he held in his hand "shall be your 
 reward. " 
 
 She attached him with a touch of ostenta- 
 tion, offered him her sunshade, since he was 
 in the glare and she in the shadow. 
 
 Mrs. Hargraves and her sister exchanged
 
 94 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 another glance. They smiled, and the smile 
 was both unconcealed and contemptuous. 
 
 Something about Miss Leigh made Gerard 
 look toward his cousin, and, had he seen the 
 slightest malice on her face, he would have felt 
 impelled to defend his guests ; but Eva, when 
 he glanced at her, wore a perfectly neutral air. 
 
 "Indeed," he heard her saying to Mrs. 
 Marsden, "there are a great many trials with 
 an incubator. The chickens have not nearly 
 realized my expectations." 
 
 " Are you going to try to make your fortune 
 out of poultry, Eva? " he inquired. 
 
 "It is honest dealing," retorted Mrs. Har- 
 graves, without lifting her head, "which is 
 more than can be said for most forms of 
 feminine fortune-hunting." 
 
 After that the conversation was kept in safe 
 channels until the tea appeared, when Miss 
 Leigh recollected Mollie. 
 
 " May I not see your children ? " she asked, 
 turning to her hostess. " I have heard so much 
 of them from Mr. Hargraves; he is always 
 singing their praises." 
 
 The easy mendacity of the remark amused 
 Gerard. He stroked his mustache to hide a 
 smile.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 95 
 
 He saw Eva hesitate. 
 
 "They must be having tea," he broke in. 
 "It's a pity to interrupt them." 
 
 Mrs. Hargraves smiled. 
 
 "Martha shall tell them," she said, and she 
 looked toward the maid, who chanced to be 
 coming across the lawn. "They will only 
 be too glad to leave their tea." 
 
 It seemed to Gerard as though he could not 
 keep his eyes off the house; and when he 
 saw the children walking hand in hand, he 
 even forgot to be amused at that regulation 
 manoeuvre. 
 
 There was no defining, no analyzing, the sit- 
 uation. He had no desire to do either. All 
 he knew was that he did not want Mollie at 
 this juncture. 
 
 He might have learned something if he 
 required the teaching. 
 
 A man's estimation of a woman is ever ex- 
 pressed by those of his acquaintance to whom 
 he would present her. 
 
 "This is my little boy," began Mrs. Har- 
 graves, and Claude made friends with the new 
 ladies at once, while Mollie stood a little aloof, 
 casting a timid glance now and then toward 
 her cousin.
 
 96 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 Ordinarily Gerard would have taken the 
 child on his knee, but to-day he hardly 
 looked at her. His head was turned in the 
 other direction, while he talked very diligently 
 to Aunt Amy. 
 
 It was Lady Pilister who beckoned to the 
 little girl. 
 
 " Where is Josephine ? " she asked, when the 
 child stood beside her chair. 
 
 "Josephine does not come down to mamma's 
 teas; she never does," Mollie explained. 
 
 "Who is Josephine?" inquired Miss Leigh, 
 darting into the conversation. 
 
 Mollie fell back a step. 
 
 "She is is my doll," the little girl con- 
 fessed. She always bungled a little over the 
 word "doll." She was reluctant to apply such 
 a term to Josephine. 
 
 "Your doll," continued Miss Leigh, who 
 recollected that she had determined to find 
 out for herself the attractiveness of the " plain 
 child;" "have you only one?" 
 
 Mollie nodded her head slowly. 
 
 "Only Josephine," she replied. 
 
 "You should buy her another," said Miss 
 Leigh, as she turned to Mr. Hargraves; then
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 97 
 
 swinging her head back, "If I had a devoted 
 cousin, Mollie, I would make him buy me no 
 end of things." 
 
 An enigmatical smile flitted across Mr. 
 Hargraves' face. 
 
 "Would you like a new doll, Mollie?" ques- 
 tioned Lady Pilister. " Shall I give you one ? " 
 
 The child's hands went together. For once 
 mamma saw the movement and let it pass 
 unrebuked. 
 
 "Do you want a new doll, Mollie? " chimed 
 in Mr. Hargraves. 
 
 The little girl looked piteously from Aunt 
 Amy to Gerard, from Gerard back to Aunt 
 Amy. She looked toward her mother; but 
 her mother made no sign. 
 
 "Please," faltered the child, "she would n't 
 be Josephine." 
 
 Gerard rose abruptly. 
 
 " Mrs. Marsden," he said, " if you are rested, 
 I think we must be going." 
 
 He went over to his cousin; he shook hands 
 with Lady Pilister. 
 
 "Mollie," he whispered, when he came to 
 the child, who searched his face with anxious 
 eyes, "that 's right. Stick to Josephine." 
 7
 
 98 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 " Secrets ! Oh ! " exclaimed Miss Leigh. 
 
 Gerard threw back his head ; he bit his 
 mustache. 
 
 He was reminded of his bondage; and though 
 the shackles had been forged deliberately, and 
 link after link, by himself, as he felt their 
 weight he was revolted by the indignity of 
 them. 
 
 He lifted the child into his arms. 
 
 "I may whisper to you, may I not, Mollie? " 
 he proclaimed. "Tell them," his tone grow- 
 ing fuller, "what you are going to be as soon 
 as you are grown up." 
 
 The child understood, but she hesitated. 
 
 Mamma's "absurd" rang in her ears. She 
 looked appealingly toward her mother, but 
 Mrs. Hargraves was too wise a woman to spoil 
 the situation by prompting. 
 
 "Tell them," urged Gerard. He held the 
 child tighter to him. It seemed to him that 
 she was precious beyond all measure; she 
 represented his better self; it seemed to him 
 that life would be better if she would but own 
 him now. 
 
 "Tell them," he repeated. 
 
 "I'm," said the child, the words coming
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 99 
 
 with a shrill note, " I 'm going to be Gerard's 
 wife when I grow up. " 
 
 Miss Leigh's sunshade rattled against the 
 frame of the chair as it fell to the ground. 
 There was a pause before she spoke. 
 
 " You," she declared, as she rose and faced 
 Mrs. Hargraves, "don't mind long engage- 
 ments, evidently." 
 
 She made her farewells. Gerard put down 
 Mollie, and drew a long breath. 
 
 "I am afraid I must hurry you," he said, 
 turning to his guests. 
 
 When they were left alone Lady Pilister and 
 her sister resumed their seats in silence. The 
 silence continued until the last glimpse of the 
 retreating figures was lost to view ; then Aunt 
 Amy's laugh rang out clear and full. 
 
 " ' Out of the mouth of babes and suck- 
 lings, ' " she quoted. 
 
 "Mollie," said mamma, "had you finished 
 tea?" 
 
 "No, mamma." 
 
 "You must be hungry again," continued 
 Mrs. Hargraves. " Run and tell nurse you 
 may have some jam. What kind do you like 
 best? You may choose for yourself."
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 " CHILDREN," announced Gerard Hargraves, as 
 he sat beside his cousin on the lawn at the Dower 
 House, "and kittens ought never to grow up. 
 Can't you keep Mollie a child, Eva?" 
 
 Mrs. Hargraves hesitated. 
 
 It was three days since the memorable tea- 
 party, and Miss Leigh had taken her departure 
 baffled. Perhaps there had never been any 
 real hope for her ; the young lady was not clear 
 about that herself; but she was certain that none 
 remained from the moment when Mollie pro- 
 claimed her preference for Josephine. 
 
 Mrs. Hargraves recalled that scene now. 
 
 " My dear Gerard," she answered, and her 
 tone was tolerant, " do you think you con- 
 tribute greatly to that end yourself? " 
 
 Mr. Hargraves started. He threw away his 
 cigarette, uncrossed his legs, and sat a trifle 
 more upright. 
 
 " Of what do you accuse me ? " he asked wearily.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 101 
 
 He was so tired, tired of everything. Every- 
 thing worked round to the same point, to the 
 same old satiety. There was no freshness any- 
 where. It seemed to him if he could but duck 
 himself mentally, morally, into cold water and 
 come up, panting and breathless, maybe, but 
 eager, he would be a happy man. It was the 
 tepidness of everything which sapped his strength. 
 
 He took out his case and selected another 
 cigarette. 
 
 " What is my new offence? " he persisted, as 
 he pressed the little white roll backward and for- 
 ward between his finger and thumb. " Don't 
 be considerate, Eva, and search about for smooth 
 phrases. I would as soon take the thing in plain 
 English." 
 
 His irritability gave Mrs. Hargraves an advan- 
 tage. She could play upon him when he was in 
 this state. It was when he armed himself with 
 cynicism that her efforts fell aside as a dart falls 
 from steel. 
 
 " I don't think I want to scold you," she said, 
 and the words slipped out one by one, as though 
 she were musing over them, " neither did I mean 
 anything very dreadful. I was thinking that if 
 you continued to spoil Mollie as you do now,
 
 102 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 she would grow exigtante, and that is hardly a 
 childlike attitude." 
 
 "Ah!" said Mr. Hargraves, '" cxigtante /' 
 That would be a pity." 
 
 He leaned back in his chair, and watched the 
 blue rings of smoke as they curled upward. 
 He was perfectly aware that Eva meant a great 
 deal more than that. What if she did? 
 
 The question gave him an odd sensation of 
 breathlessness. Then his mind leaped ahead. 
 Would Mollie love him then as she loved him 
 now? Would that love have as little alloy in it 
 then as it had now? If so 
 
 A smile touched the dark discontent of his 
 face. It might be like crying for the moon ; 
 but when for many a year had the moon seemed 
 bright enough to cry for? 
 
 Mrs. Hargraves took up her embroidery. She 
 threaded her needle without a glance toward 
 the man by her side. Eva had plenty of the 
 wisdom of her generation. She knew that the 
 word too much far more often spoiled a cause 
 than the word too little. She knew, too, that 
 a man never fails to appreciate the woman who 
 can be silent ; and at this moment it was of 
 consequence that she should be appreciated.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 103 
 
 Moreover, she had her reflections. 
 
 Mrs. Hargraves had never attached the small- 
 est importance to Gerard's fancy for Mollie. 
 She had regarded it merely as the whim of an 
 idle man, and had looked to see it fade before 
 the first new amusement. But the last three 
 days had put a different complexion upon the 
 matter. 
 
 When Mrs. Hargraves accepted her cousin's 
 assurance that the Dower House was hers as 
 long as she chose to consider it her home, she 
 had not overlooked the possibility of its serving 
 as a stepping-stone to Rookwood. But she had 
 quite perspicacity enough to see that the stream 
 between that stone and her mainland flowed 
 strongly and against her. Gerard was dis- 
 tinctly inclined to regard her with prejudiced 
 eyes. Eva, however, cared little for masculine 
 prejudice. It merely existed to be overcome 
 if it were worth the while ! 
 
 If! That was what she had never been able 
 to make up her mind upon. 
 
 Gerard would be a doubtful advantage if 
 gained. His sharp-edged speech was distasteful 
 to her ; his habit of stripping the glamour from 
 her devices was more so. She knew that she
 
 104 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 had him now at a rare moment of weakness. 
 Ordinarily, he would hold his coolness as a 
 shield before him. 
 
 But should his fancy for Mollie mean some- 
 thing more than a fancy it was hardly likely 
 it would; but meantime the advantage lay in 
 acting as though it did. 
 
 Eva selected another shade of green silk with 
 a smile on her lips. 
 
 If it should? as she mentally repeated. 
 
 To pay for a fancy was the invariable accom- 
 paniment to wanting it. In this case, why should 
 not she reap the benefit, and preserve her ease? 
 
 The reasoning was as emotionless as Mrs. 
 Hargraves' nature, and as much to her mind. 
 
 " Will you have the house full for ' the first ' ? " 
 she asked, when she considered that Gerard had 
 been left long enough to his own devices. 
 
 " Some one must kill the birds," he answered. 
 
 "Of course." 
 
 Eva drew her silk in and out. 
 
 " Men only, then?" she continued. 
 
 Gerard changed his position, and dropped the 
 end of his cigarette into the grass. 
 
 " I want you to let me take Mollie to Rook- 
 wood for a day or two," he announced.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 105 
 
 Mrs. Hargraves' work slipped from her ringers. 
 
 " My dear Gerard ! " she expostulated. 
 
 " She does not require a chaperone, does 
 she?" he demanded. "You can send a maid 
 with her, half a dozen maids, if you like." 
 
 He waited. He opened his case and sought 
 out a new cigarette. He wished Eva would not 
 take such a time about things. 
 
 " I really don't know," Mrs. Hargraves began. 
 
 Gerard felt that he must have Mollie. He 
 would make the little thing sit opposite to him in 
 the dining-room; he would take her out; they 
 would spend whole days together. 
 
 " Let her come," he pleaded. 
 
 " If I could ask Miss Eraser to go with her," 
 Eva began. " But you " with an uplifting of 
 her eyebrows "don't like Miss Eraser." 
 
 " No," he concurred, " I don't. Besides, she 
 would n't come." 
 
 He left the subject and sank into his chair 
 again. 
 
 " I had another request to make," he re- 
 marked, " but you have not given me much 
 encouragement with my first one. I expect 
 Mrs. Conyers, with her husband, for ' the first,' 
 and one or two other ladies. I wonder if you
 
 io6 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 would come to the rescue of a man without a 
 wife." 
 
 He looked away, and flicked the ash from his 
 cigarette. He appeared to have no hope that 
 this petition might meet with more favor. 
 
 Mrs. Hargraves laughed lightly and promptly. 
 
 " You forget," she said, " what you and Mol- 
 lie announced the other day. Since you pro- 
 claim your engagement aloud, I think I had 
 better lose no time in assuming my position 
 as your mother-in-law." 
 
 " You are thoughtful," Gerard answered, and 
 his voice had taken its incisive note again. 
 
 Mrs. Hargraves bit her lip. 
 
 "No; merely kind," she said. 
 
 Gerard turned his head until he faced the 
 woman by his side. 
 
 "You will allow Mollie to come?" he said. 
 
 There was a pause. Mr. Hargraves' glance 
 did not waver. Eva looked at her work and 
 then at him again. 
 
 " Yes," she said. 
 
 Mr. Hargraves pushed back his chair. 
 
 In a moment the lady rose. 
 
 "Have I been detaining you?" he asked, as 
 he followed the example.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 107 
 
 Mrs. Hargraves looked at him with a superior 
 smile. 
 
 " Not at all ! " she said. " Don't you see " 
 with a mocking laugh "that I am beginning 
 both early and well. Mollie will be in the 
 far garden. Don't I understand my part 
 admirably? " 
 
 Mr. Hargraves moved his shoulders. 
 
 "You are always admirable in your parts," 
 he acquiesced. 
 
 The blue eyes flashed. 
 
 " You have always appreciated me," she 
 returned. 
 
 " Let me carry that into the house for you," 
 said Mr. Hargraves, and he took the piece of 
 silk from her ; " only be careful about the 
 needles." 
 
 " My needles never prick people," replied 
 Eva, promptly. 
 
 " That 's your cleverness, you see," he an- 
 swered; "but they have points all the -same, 
 and one does impale one's self on one occa- 
 sionally." 
 
 When they reached the terrace Mrs. Har- 
 graves put out her hand for the embroidery. 
 
 " Don't come any farther," she said.
 
 io8 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 Gerard lifted his hat. He turned and saun- 
 tered down the flower-garden toward the beech 
 walk. Just at the entrance to it, where the 
 trees fell away to let in the sunshine, was the 
 little patch of ground which Mollie had appro- 
 priated for her garden. 
 
 The child was as interested in it as in every- 
 thing that came under her care. Her flowers 
 were not merely things which came up and died 
 down ; they were her friends. 
 
 Before Gerard reached his destination he 
 caught a glimpse of Mollie, toiling along under 
 the weight of a water-can. 
 
 She and Claude were there together. He 
 saw the little boy rush toward his sister. 
 
 " You are spilling it," expostulated Mollie, as 
 Claude seized the handle of the can. 
 
 But the young man showed no intention of 
 desisting. He clasped his fingers tightly; he 
 tipped the can, and as the water splashed 
 over, his high laugh rang out. 
 
 " Oh," cried Mollie, " it 's too bad of you ! 
 You are unkind, Claude!" 
 
 Gerard strode forward. He lifted the little 
 boy to the other side of the path. 
 
 " You are very naughty," decreed Mr. 
 Hargraves.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 109 
 
 Claude began to scream, and that was too 
 much for Mollie. 
 
 " Please," she interposed, " don't be cross with 
 Claude. It was only fun." 
 
 Gerard held the child at arm's length, quite 
 regardless of his urgent desire to kick or bite. 
 He felt inclined to assure Mollie that it was 
 only selfishness; but her faith in her brother 
 was so perfect it seemed a pity to spoil it. 
 
 " He was only playing," murmured Mollie, 
 reproachfully. 
 
 Mr. Hargraves heard the reproach. 
 
 " You see, dear," he explained, " Claude might 
 get wet, and then he 'd catch cold." 
 
 Mollie looked toward her brother ; she looked 
 toward her cousin. It was the first time she had 
 ever questioned one of Gerard's actions, and she 
 knew she had been wrong. She slipped her 
 hand into his. 
 
 " Oh," she pleaded, " I do love you ! " 
 
 Gerard let go his hold of Claude. He looked 
 at Mollie. He shook his head with a wistful 
 smile. He wondered why this child's inno- 
 cence had such power to move him. 
 
 " I know, dear," he said reassuringly, and 
 the child smiled gratefully back at him.
 
 i io THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 " Let us go," he suggested, " and see the 
 garden." 
 
 They went hand in hand. Once there, he 
 gave his opinion on many matters. He was 
 quite sure that one red rose was sweeter than 
 all those at Rookwood ; he was confident that 
 the Gloire would blossom again. The ferns 
 under the trees did not require any more sun- 
 shine; they liked a shady position the best He 
 carried the watering-can back to the pump; 
 he went again and again until everything was 
 moistened. 
 
 "But why don't you pull up those, Mollie?" 
 he asked, and he alluded to a clump of wall- 
 flowers which had finished blooming; "they 
 are not pretty now." 
 
 The child surveyed the yellow drooping leaves, 
 the long seed-pods, the discolored stalks. 
 
 "No," she said reluctantly. 
 
 "Pull them up, little woman," he urged. 
 "See, they are in the way of this mignonette. 
 I like mignonette. You must always have a 
 lot of it in your garden; it's my favorite 
 flower." 
 
 " You like it the best? " questioned the little 
 girl.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE in 
 
 "I think so," answered Mr. Hargraves. 
 
 "Then," said the child, with great convic- 
 tion, " I shall sow two whole packets next 
 year. " 
 
 " But these things ? " asked Gerard, return- 
 ing to the wall-flowers. 
 
 The little face grew troubled. 
 
 "They'll think I didn't like them," she 
 said; "and they did try hard to have as many 
 flowers as ever they could." 
 
 "But," said Gerard, "they are not flowers 
 any more. " 
 
 (He wanted to see her piill them up that he 
 might know then, at that moment, that he 
 could persuade her.) 
 
 "These are the seeds here," and he showed 
 her the pods. " The seeds know that they must 
 be taken out of the ground so that they may 
 ripen." 
 
 Without comment, without hesitation, 
 Mollie's hand went out. Obediently she 
 pulled up root after root. She laid them 
 on the path. 
 
 " Where are they to go now ? " she asked. 
 
 Gerard pulled his mustache. He dared not 
 suggest the rubbish heap.
 
 112 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 "I'll tell you what," he said, and he was 
 much relieved when he found a solution for 
 the difficulty, "you might give them to me, 
 and when it 's time I '11 send you back some 
 seed from Rookwood." 
 
 Mollie gathered the wall-flowers into a 
 bundle. 
 
 "It will be all right then," she said, with a 
 sigh of satisfaction, as she thrust them into his 
 hand ; and Mr. Hargraves remembered the words 
 and smiled over them, as he carried the remains 
 of those wall-flowers back to Rookwood.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 AFTER that followed the most delightful day 
 Mollie had ever experienced. The very next 
 afternoon Gerard himself came to fetch her 
 with "the Phantom " in his dog-cart; and when 
 she arrived at Rookwood, after quite a long 
 drive, she found nurse putting out one of her 
 best frocks, just as though she were in the 
 nursery at home and was going down to 
 mamma's tea. 
 
 " Who is taking care of Claude ? " she asked. 
 
 "Martha," said nurse, conscious of the im- 
 portance of her position; "of course I had to 
 come here with you." 
 
 "Claude won't mind," Mollie faltered. 
 
 "He won't have to," decreed nurse. 
 
 Mollie was silent for a time. She was 
 puzzled. The last day or two every one had 
 seemed to treat her quite as though she were 
 like other little girls. This afternoon mamma
 
 U4 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 had kissed her, and had called her back to kiss 
 her again, while Gerard was waiting to lift her 
 into the cart. 
 
 "Nurse," inquired Mollie, with character- 
 istic abruptness, "do you think God has let 
 me be more like other little girls? I told 
 Him I did try ever so hard, and that mamma 
 would be so pleased if I were, and I 'm sure 
 she is." 
 
 The woman passed the brush once or twice 
 sharply across her charge's hair. 
 
 "Maybe," she said shortly. 
 
 "You are not cross with me?" asked the 
 child, turning that she might catch a glimpse 
 of her nurse's face. 
 
 "I shall be," answered nurse, relieved to 
 find a legitimate outlet for her irritation, " if 
 you will keep turning your head like that. 
 How am I to roll your curls, do you think, if 
 you go bobbing your head first on one side and 
 then on the other? " 
 
 Mollie received this reproof very humbly. 
 
 She kept quite still until she was told that 
 she might get down from her chair. 
 
 "You are to dine with Mr. Gerard to-night," 
 nurse said, as she tied the little girl's sash.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 115 
 
 "Dinner like mamma's?" inquired Mollie. 
 
 "Yes," returned nurse. "Mr. Gerard is 
 having it at six for you. I must take you 
 down. You were to go into the drawing-room 
 as soon as you were ready. I never knew a 
 little girl that had such a fuss made of her." 
 
 "Is it because I have got two numbers in 
 this birthday ? " suggested Mollie, for she was 
 ten years old that day. 
 
 "Perhaps," said nurse; but she was still 
 grim. 
 
 In the drawing-room Mollie found Gerard 
 waiting for her. It was more and more like 
 mamma's dinner. 
 
 "Come," he said, and he took her hand. 
 
 "Josephine would have liked this," sighed 
 the little girl. "She's never been in to 
 dinner." 
 
 " Where is Josephine ? " asked Mr. Hargraves. 
 
 "Mamma said she was to stop at home," 
 Mollie replied. " She said you would not want 
 her." 
 
 "Why not?" questioned Gerard. "Never 
 mind, Mollie, next time I'll ask her particu- 
 larly." 
 
 Mollie gave her cousin's hand a squeeze.
 
 ii6 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 They went solemnly across the hall together; 
 across that old dark hall that Mollie somehow 
 knew was so beautiful, and then into the long 
 dining-room where the ceiling was made into 
 curious white patterns, with thick pieces of 
 dark wood between them, and where the walls 
 were hung with pictures of men and women, 
 who, Mollie thought, were dressed very funnily, 
 and not like anybody she had ever seen. 
 
 There were no seats at the big table, but 
 Gerard took her to where a great round window 
 made something like a little room all to itself. 
 
 "You must sit opposite to me, Mollie," Mr. 
 Hargraves said; and he placed her that she 
 might see through that window onto the beau- 
 tiful rose-garden. 
 
 The summer evening was very warm, and 
 the casement was propped a little way open. 
 The scent of the flowers came in, while there 
 was quiet music, the birds were calling and 
 singing so gayly. 
 
 "Are you comfortable, Mollie?" asked 
 Gerard. 
 
 The child looked across at him. This was 
 the most wonderful, the most beautiful thing 
 that had ever happened to her. It was so won-
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 117 
 
 derful that she could not talk. It was all quite 
 like mamma's dinner. 
 
 When the dessert came Gerard found a big 
 peach, peeled it, came round, and put it on her 
 plate. 
 
 Then, just as he turned to his seat, one of 
 the sun's rays, darting through the stained 
 glass of the window behind him, threw a beam 
 of gold upon Mr. Hargraves' head. 
 
 The child gazed at it, fascinated. She had 
 seen the same effect through the great window 
 in church. But church was God's house, and 
 Mollie thought such things were to be expected 
 there. This was different. Mollie gazed and 
 gazed. The golden light kept its steady stream 
 upon Mr. Hargraves. 
 
 "What is it, little one?" he asked, as he 
 saw that the child was looking at him with 
 round eyes. 
 
 "Gerard," she said, "a little angel has put 
 its wing right over your head." 
 
 Mr. Hargraves did not reply for a moment. 
 He could not follow the flight of Mollie's 
 thought, and he did not want to startle the 
 child by asking abruptly for an explanation. 
 It must be some fancy; but Mollie's fancies
 
 ii8 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 were usually so exquisite that they were worth 
 inquiring into. 
 
 "What, dear?" he ventured, and his voice 
 was very gentle. 
 
 " It 's all gold ; it touches your head. Does," 
 and the little face grew tender, " does papa 
 have a little angel like that all to himself in 
 heaven ? " 
 
 "Perhaps, dear," softly answered the man 
 who was currently reported to care neither for 
 heaven nor hell. 
 
 The child leaned her elbow on the table and 
 put her head on her hand. 
 
 "And you '11 have one too when you go to 
 heaven, and I " she was saying, when Mr. 
 Hargraves pushed back his chair. It over- 
 balanced, and the echo of its fall rang through 
 the room. 
 
 A halo for him ! 
 
 "Mollie," he said, and there was that strain 
 in his voice which betrayed that it was difficult 
 to speak, "let us go into the garden." 
 
 They roamed about hand in hand, across 
 the lawn, up and down the drive, through the 
 apple orchard; but they lingered the longest 
 in the rose-garden. Again and again Mollie
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 119 
 
 paused to examine a flower; a pull at Gerard's 
 hand would make him halt ; he would wait with 
 a smile of which Mollie happily did not 
 understand the significance, for it gave expres- 
 sion to the tumult stirring in the man's heart 
 while she bent over the white lily cups. He 
 lifted her up that she might look right down 
 on a standard rose, which had covered itself 
 with full pink blooms. 
 
 "Look," said Mollie, as she gazed on the 
 flowers; "they are all red. They look as 
 though they had fire in them." Gerard's 
 attention was aroused. 
 
 "I think," he said, as he considered the 
 matter, "that it must be the glow from the 
 sunset." 
 
 Mollie's eyes swept over to where long bright 
 bands of crimson and gold lay dipping down into 
 the horizon, behind the line of beech-trees. 
 
 "Are they red from there? " she asked. 
 
 "I think so," answered Gerard, dubiously. 
 
 It came to him as something of a shock to 
 find that he had never remarked the phenome- 
 non before. But when he had walked in the 
 garden at sunset what time had there been to 
 spare for its beauties? When he was alone,
 
 120 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 there was reflection or memory for his com- 
 panion, the alternative of things he had done 
 or was about to do, which had been better left 
 undone, as he cynically put it to himself. 
 When a man was his companion it was not 
 the roses. When a woman he nearly laughed 
 aloud how much less the roses ! 
 
 A wave of gratitude for Mollie's simplicity 
 surged up in his heart. Yet it pointed a con- 
 trast, a contrast which hurt. 
 
 "Oh, Mollie," he sighed, "I wish you were 
 not quite such a wise little woman." 
 
 The child looked at him pitifully. She had 
 caught the dissatisfaction. 
 
 "Have I been naughty?" she asked, going 
 straight to the origin of most of the dissatis- 
 faction of her life. 
 
 He shook his head lightly. 
 
 "It is I who have been naughty," he said. 
 
 Mollie's curls swung with the energy of her 
 dissent. 
 
 "But I have," he persisted, to see how she 
 would take it. " I was such a bad boy." 
 
 "Bad, naughty?" repeated Mollie. 
 
 "Very naughty," said Gerard. 
 
 The child looked troubled. Mr. Hargraves
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 121 
 
 watched her; he wanted her to find her solution 
 quite in her own way. 
 
 Suddenly her face cleared. 
 
 "It was when you were a little boy like 
 Claude?" she said, lifting her wistful eyes to 
 his. 
 
 "Yes," he said. He had not the heart to 
 set her right. 
 
 " And you have been sorry, ever so sorry ? " 
 
 "Of course," conceded Mr. Hargraves, and 
 he just prevented himself from adding, " That 's 
 part of the business." 
 
 "It is all right, then," said Mollie, and she 
 rubbed her head against his sleeve. 
 
 But at that moment Mollie saw her nurse 
 coming down the path. 
 
 "Oh, dear," she sighed; "and I 'm not a bit 
 sleepy yet." 
 
 "It is past eight, sir," nurse ventured, when 
 Mr. Hargraves seemed unwilling to part with 
 the little girl. 
 
 " ' Early to bed, early to rise, ' " he quoted. 
 "Well, nurse, I should be sorry to interfere 
 with the working of that excellent maxim, but 
 you might give us five minutes more, and then 
 I'll bring in Miss Mollie."
 
 122 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 "All good things come to an end, little one," 
 sighed Mr. Hargraves as soon as the echo of 
 nurse's footsteps had ceased. 
 
 He was disconsolate, irritated, too, as an 
 undisciplined nature always is, that when he 
 did happen to be content with something that 
 was absolutely harmless, circumstances should 
 dare to curtail his hour of enjoyment. 
 
 But even at the end of this day, which had 
 been such a day of bliss to her, there was more 
 in store for Mollie. 
 
 "See," began Gerard, and then he paused 
 and passed his hands down his coat. 
 
 "You put it in there," said the child, nod- 
 ding her head wisely, for she was familiar with 
 that method of searching for a cigarette case. 
 
 "No, not that now," laughed Mr. Hargraves; 
 "but I never do know into which pocket I 
 put it, do I, Mollie ? What should I do with- 
 out you to tell me ? But it is n't cigarettes this 
 time." 
 
 He put his hand into the inside pocket of his 
 coat, and when he drew it out it held a tiny 
 crystal heart hanging upon a slender golden 
 chain. 
 
 "Hold up your head, Mollie," he said.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 123 
 
 He put his arms around her, the clasp went 
 together, and the little heart was lying on 
 Mollie's dress. 
 
 " Oh ! " gasped the child. 
 
 " You must wear it always, " he said. 
 
 " Every day? " whispered Mollie, and she put 
 her head on one side, then peered downward, 
 drawing her mouth until her chin rested on 
 her bodice, to get a better view of this 
 treasure. 
 
 "Always," repeated Gerard. 
 
 The child's hand stole into his. 
 
 "You are the nicest Gerard in all the world," 
 she declared. 
 
 "Ah, Mollie," he answered, and the man's 
 voice was almost a cry, " will you always think 
 that?"
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 IT was several hours later when Gerard Har- 
 graves, as he gained the head of the staircase, 
 on his way to his room, saw something white 
 in the opening of one of the windows in the 
 corridor. 
 
 He went toward it, more than half deter- 
 mined that it was but the effect of a shadow or 
 his fancy. 
 
 His footsteps made no sound upon the thick 
 carpet; the moonlight, streaming in its silver 
 glory through the row of long mullioned win- 
 dows, mocked the feeble glimmer of his 
 candle. 
 
 " Mollie ! " he exclaimed, when he came near 
 enough to see that it was the child. 
 
 She had evidently fallen asleep, huddled 
 close to the window, with her cheek pressed 
 against the pane, and one hand clasping the 
 crystal heart, that crystal heart, which, if 
 Mollie could have her way, would never leave 
 her neck.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 125 
 
 At the sound of Gerard's voice the little girl 
 stirred. She raised her hands to her sleepy 
 eyes, started, shivered. She looked about. 
 Her unaccustomed surroundings evidently 
 frightened her. Her face grew pitiful. She 
 struggled to her feet. 
 
 "Mollie," repeated Gerard. 
 
 He was afraid to touch her for fear that she 
 might be startled. 
 
 The child examined him. 
 
 "Are you real? " she said doubtfully. 
 
 He put out his hand ; he clasped hers. 
 
 "Did you think you were dreaming?" he 
 questioned. 
 
 Mollie turned away from him to the window. 
 Without, in the purple of the night, countless 
 stars were twinkling, and at that moment the 
 moon, which had been half obscured by a cloud, 
 rode out to shine with its full white light. 
 
 Mollie's disengaged hand stole back to her 
 neck. She felt for her treasure. 
 
 "I came to tell papa," she whispered. 
 
 "Why did you come here; wouldn't the 
 other window do?" asked Gerard, struggling, 
 as usual, after the flight of her imagination. 
 
 "He could see better," Mollie replied; and
 
 126 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 then Mr. Hargraves recollected that a great 
 tree partially shaded the light from Mqllie's 
 room. 
 
 " What did you want papa to see ? " he asked, 
 for he always acquiesced in the little girl's 
 notion of holding communication with her 
 father. 
 
 "This, of course," said Mollie, and she lifted 
 the crystal heart. 
 
 Gerard pressed the child to him. 
 
 "You fell asleep telling him I gave it to 
 you," he said. 
 
 "I didn't mean to go to sleep," the child 
 interposed. 
 
 " Oh ! " Gerard hastened to assure her, " papa 
 knows that." 
 
 The little girl put up her hand and stroked 
 the man's face. 
 
 He felt the action; he felt the absolute trust- 
 fulness of it. It was one of those moments of 
 sweetness too sweet to be prolonged. 
 
 "Mollie," he exclaimed, and he gave his 
 head a shake, "what am I thinking of? You '11 
 catch cold. I shall carry you straight back to 
 bed ! " 
 
 He rose with the child still in his arms,
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 127 
 
 walked along, and pushed open the last door 
 on the landing. He laid the little girl in the 
 ponderous mahogany bed, told her, with a low 
 laugh, that she was nearly lost in it, kissed 
 her, and then stood listening a moment. 
 
 He was relieved that nurse, sleeping in the 
 next room, had not heard them. 
 
 He wolud have been hard pressed before he 
 had let the woman know where he had found 
 the child, and what had taken her to that 
 particular window. 
 
 When he left Mollie, he went back to the 
 window. He stood leaning against its frame 
 with his hands in his pockets, except that every 
 now and then one of them went out to drag 
 fiercely at his mustache. 
 
 The desire for sleep had entirely left him. 
 When he had been there a little while, he lit a 
 cigarette, and looked out into the night. The 
 weirdness of the moonlight was over the gar- 
 den, the trees, the landscape. The stillness 
 was as a hush of nature ; but to Gerard it only 
 pointed a contrast to his own mood. It 
 seemed to him as though the rest of the world 
 might be elected to this peace, but he was 
 surely an outcast.
 
 128 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 Restlessness, dissatisfaction, had him at their 
 mercy. Everything he strove to ignore rose 
 up and demanded attention, the uselessness, 
 the wastefulness of his career persisted in 
 intruding their claims upon his consciousness. 
 
 In vain he told himself that he was no phil- 
 osopher; in vain he reiterated that stoicism 
 was impossible for such men as he; in vain he 
 took refuge in that old excuse, which urged 
 that, though he had not been virtuous, many a 
 man had been much worse; in vain he called 
 on temperament to declare that it was the 
 initial cause, on training and circumstance to 
 take the responsibility for the results. 
 
 Self would not be annihilated; individuality 
 would not be set aside. He knew had known 
 all along that he himself had chosen his 
 part. 
 
 It was one of those hours of reckoning when 
 Conscience presents her balance sheet, and 
 demands that the deficit shall be made good 
 in Remorse. 
 
 All at once Gerard felt that the house would 
 not hold him. He tossed away his cigarette. 
 It glowed a few feet before him, a point of 
 bright light. He put out his foot and crushed
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 129 
 
 the flame. He went along the corridor, down 
 the steps, through the hall, and then to the 
 side door. 
 
 Carefully he withdrew the bolts ; he pulled 
 the door after him ; he breathed hard when he 
 stood with the night air on his face. 
 
 He sauntered down the paths. 
 
 All at once he paused, listened. His limbs 
 grew tense; there was an alertness about him. 
 He listened again. There was the watchful- 
 ness of a man who has a prey to track. 
 
 Gerard stole cautiously forward. He stepped 
 on the grass, on the mould, that his footfall 
 might not be heard. 
 
 His depression had vanished. He forgot 
 that his head was bare, that he had no warmer 
 covering than his dinner-jacket. 
 
 He thought he saw a figure glide toward the 
 rabbit-warren. 
 
 " Fool ! " he muttered, surprised that any one 
 should choose a bright moonlight night for a 
 poaching affray. 
 
 He stole more and more cautiously onward. 
 The shadow grew deeper, for the moon had 
 passed behind a belt of clouds. 
 
 "Now," he muttered, clenching his teeth. 
 9
 
 130 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 He crept into the plantation, through the 
 narrow strip of trees, until he faced the open 
 of the warren. He looked on a moment. He 
 could see more than one figure at work spread- 
 ing the nets. 
 
 His blood was up. He forgot prudence; 
 he forgot that he was but one man; that the 
 poachers might be many; that he was unarmed, 
 while they, assuredly, would not want for heavy 
 sticks, even should they have omitted to pro- 
 vide themselves with more dangerous weapons. 
 
 The moment came ! With a shout, he rushed 
 into the field. There was a thought of flight 
 on the part of the thieves; the certainty that 
 they had but one man with whom to contend, 
 and then 
 
 The unbroken stillness, the earth torn with 
 the trampling of many feet, a heavy stick dis- 
 colored at its knob, a white face, lying with 
 sightless eyes turned to the moonlit sky.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 IN the morning there was no Gerard to greet 
 Mollie. Consternation reigned at Rookwood 
 and at the Dower House. Mrs. Hargraves, 
 when she heard the news, ordered all the 
 blinds to be drawn, retired to her own room, 
 and tearfully demanded her dressing-gown. 
 
 " It was all so sudden, so terrible ! " she mur- 
 mured, as Martha tucked the blanket over the 
 sofa, and arranged another cushion behind her 
 mistress's head. 
 
 Mrs. Hargraves was nothing if not appro- 
 priate. She held that it was impossible to 
 mourn in an upright position, or without her 
 scent-bottle; just as she did not feel that it 
 would be fitting to shed abundant tears in a 
 tailor-made gown. 
 
 Nurse brought Mollie home before the 
 nursery dinner; but as yet the child knew 
 nothing. She had been told that her cousin
 
 132 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 had gone away before she got up, and she had 
 accepted the statement, though she wondered 
 why Gerard had not come to say "good-bye," 
 and why, when she went down to breakfast in 
 the housekeeper's room, Mrs. Miles had kept 
 repeating, " Poor lamb ! " and had put the corner 
 of her black silk apron to her eyes as though 
 she were crying. 
 
 Who was to tell Mollie? 
 
 Mrs. Hargraves immediately decided that she 
 was not equal to the task. She never could 
 bear to see her children suffer. So nurse went 
 down to the opening by the beech walk, where 
 Mollie was weeding her garden.' 
 
 She took the little girl's hand. She saw the 
 crystal heart gleaming on the child's cotton 
 bodice. She prepared for a passion of tears. 
 
 As gently as she could, she told Mollie that 
 God had taken Cousin Gerard to heaven. 
 
 "The same as papa? " breathed Mollie. 
 
 Her face was white, frightened; but her eyes 
 were dry. 
 
 "Yes," said nurse. 
 
 "The same as papa," repeated Mollie. 
 
 Both hands stole upward, and clasped the 
 crystal heart.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 133 
 
 Nurse's sympathy began to evaporate. Ordi- 
 narily Mollie's tears flowed rapidly enough. 
 Did the child care so little, and after she had 
 been made such a fuss of ? 
 
 "He's dead," said the woman; and she 
 brought out the two bald words with the idea 
 that she might spare herself the trouble of 
 searching for a more gentle phrase. 
 
 Mollie looked over to the beech-trees. How 
 dared they whisper and be green? How dared 
 the sky be blue ? She looked at her garden, 
 but only to feel that she must rush into the 
 midst of it and trample under foot each flower 
 that dared to raise its bright head. 
 
 She was quite a little girl ; but is it too 
 much to say that the very blackness of despair 
 settled over her soul? 
 
 "Then how can I be Gerard's wife?" she 
 asked herself. 
 
 It came to her that she must be alone. 
 
 She walked away, slowly, deliberately. She 
 went through the path between the beeches, 
 out into the field. The grass there was long, 
 and the furrows were deep. She struggled 
 on ; she walked as steadily as though she had 
 a destination in view. She came to a ridge,
 
 134 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 breasted it, went down into the hollow, straight 
 on through the thick bed of nettles, all heed- 
 less of their stings, through the little trickle 
 of a stream at the bottom, unmindful of the 
 mud and of the water which splashed into 
 her low shoes. She struggled up the opposite 
 bank. (She had never gone so far away alone 
 before.) She stood on its crest; she faced a 
 field of golden corn. Why had the reapers 
 left it standing? A bird began to sing and 
 Gerard was in heaven. , 
 
 With a long moan the child threw herself 
 upon the ground, face downward. Her chest 
 heaved with great hard sobs; the tears forced 
 themselves out of her eyes. She looked up to 
 the sky. There was not a cloud in all that 
 brilliant blue. 
 
 "God," she clamored, "you took papa, and 
 now you have taken Gerard. You are not good 
 at all ; you are greedy. " 
 
 She buried her face in the grass. She fully 
 expected the lightning to leap forth and scorch 
 her, or the earth to open and swallow her. 
 She did not think God would hear her say 
 such things to Him without punishing her. 
 
 She did not care. It was true, true ! With
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 135 
 
 her limbs as strained as though she were ex- 
 pecting a blow, she waited. Nothing came. 
 
 "Gerard! Gerard!" 
 
 The child almost screamed the words. She 
 clutched the grass around her. She tore up 
 handful after handful; the coarse blades cut 
 her fingers, and she never knew it; she beat 
 the ground with her feet; she moaned with her 
 pain. The birds went on singing. She rubbed 
 her face into the grass. 
 
 Meantime nurse had reported to Mrs. Har- 
 graves how Mollie had borne the blow, and, 
 according to that version, the child had " walked 
 away as unconcerned as if she had been spoken 
 to about her dinner." 
 
 Mrs. Hargraves was greatly scandalized. 
 She looked up from her luncheon, put down 
 her fork, and rested her fingers thoughtfully 
 upon the stem of her champagne glass; for 
 Eva's grief demanded invalid's fare as well 
 as its other distinguishing characteristics. 
 
 "You say she did not cry at all," she 
 repeated. 
 
 "Not as much as a tear, ma'am," nurse 
 assured her.
 
 136 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 Mrs. Hargraves carefully dabbled her eyes 
 with her lace handkerchief. 
 
 "It is incomprehensible," she murmured, 
 "so unnatural, so unchildlike. She is really 
 
 one can call it nothing less she is posi- 
 tively hard-hearted." 
 
 But if Mollie declined to be decorously heart- 
 broken, Mrs. Hargraves determined that noth- 
 ing she could do should be lacking to make her 
 daughter look as like it as possible. All the 
 child's colored ribbons were put away that very 
 afternoon ; and not content with banishing the 
 blue and pink sashes, Mrs. Hargraves arrayed 
 her little daughter in a straight black dress, 
 which made the sallow face look still more 
 sallow and the large eyes larger than ever. 
 
 " Not that she approved of a parade of mourn- 
 ing," as Mrs. Hargraves was careful to inform 
 the dressmaker, who would be sure to pass the 
 remarks onward, "but considering Mr. Har- 
 graves' touching devotion to her little daugh- 
 ter, she felt she could not do less. Besides, if 
 one really grieved, a black dress was so appro- 
 priate. She knew that " and a sigh and a 
 drooping of the eyelids marked the experience 
 
 "for months after her husband's death it
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 137 
 
 hurt, really hurt her to think of a colored 
 gown. " 
 
 Then a great white wreath came down from 
 London, and Mrs. Hargraves desired Mollie to 
 write the words, " From little Mollie " on the 
 card attached to it. 
 
 The child complied. Carefully, laboriously, 
 she formed the letters in her best round hand ; 
 yet when its destination was explained to her, 
 she looked almost scornfully at the circle of 
 expensive hothouse flowers. 
 
 As soon as she could, she slipped away. 
 Mollie, during the last three days, had very 
 often been alone. She went down to her gar- 
 den. She had not been near for three days, 
 but now it had all at once regained its 
 interest. 
 
 She looked around. The sun had shone 
 brightly ever since. Mollie could not forgive 
 the sun for that. She was certain that it could 
 not be part of heaven. Heaven, as she put it, 
 would not do such a thing. 
 
 The flowers were many of them drooping; 
 there were little cracks in the soil by the mi- 
 gnonette patch. Last time how soon for a 
 child to learn the bitter significance of those
 
 138 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 curt words ! last time Gerard had carried the 
 can for her; he had prevented Claude's spilling 
 the water. 
 
 " Gerard," she whispered, and her lips quiv- 
 ered, " it aches all over, I want you so." 
 
 She bent over the mignonette. Gerard had 
 said that it was his favorite flower; that her 
 garden must always be full of it for him. A 
 thought struck her. What was the good of 
 sending him that ring of white greenhouse 
 flowers, if he liked the mignonettes the best? 
 She began to select spike after spike. She 
 took only the most perfect. Then she paused. 
 A perplexed look overspread her face. Would 
 mamma be displeased? Mamma had bought 
 the other flowers, and mamma always knew 
 better than she. 
 
 Mollie wondered what she could do. She 
 did so want to send to Gerard the flowers he 
 loved the best. Would he see them? know 
 about them? She tried to come to a conclu- 
 sion. She had shown papa her heart, and she 
 had been very certain he would see ; but he had 
 been in heaven a long time. Mollie could not 
 help thinking there was a difference. She lost 
 herself in one of her characteristic tangles, only
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 139 
 
 to recognize, with a fresh burst of misery, that 
 Gerard was no longer here to help her out of 
 her difficulties. 
 
 The mignonette dropped from her hand, 
 yet she could not easily relinquish her plan. 
 Gerard had bade her remember that it was his 
 favorite flower. 
 
 At length an idea occurred to her. She 
 could send the mignonette as well. She could 
 fasten it inside the other flowers. Gerard could 
 easily find it there. She thought mamma would 
 let her do that; and she would ask God to let 
 Gerard look for the mignonette. She had 
 better ask him at once. She kneeled down. 
 
 " Please, God ! " she began. 
 
 Then a long sigh forced its way through her 
 lips. 
 
 She had told God that afternoon in the field 
 that He was greedy. 
 
 She rocked to and fro. In her heart she 
 thought so still. 
 
 " It is ! " she protested ; " it is ! it is ! " 
 
 She knelt there, battling, striving. 
 
 " It is ! " she wailed. " You took papa, and 
 now you have taken Gerard. You have all the 
 angels, and they '11 sing for you whenever you
 
 140 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 tell them; it it it" her voice rising in 
 her energy "it is greedy!" 
 
 She sobbed ; she could not tell a lie and say 
 what she did not think. Forlornly she rose; 
 forlornly she gathered stalk by stalk of her 
 offering. The big tears fell, drop after drop, 
 one by one. She passed the mignonette first 
 into one hand, then into the other. 
 
 She threw herself upon her knees again. 
 
 " Oh, God," burst from her lips, " I can't 
 help it ! You are greedy ! But let Gerard 
 see the mignonette."
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 AFTER Gerard's death, Mollie still continued to 
 live at the Dower House, for mamma had made 
 an arrangement with the new owner of Rook- 
 wood. In the nursery, life seemed to go on as 
 it had always done; but to one little mortal 
 everything was changed. Mollie guarded her 
 secret with all the reticence of an older person, 
 but to her the days and weeks seemed to be 
 only a time of waiting. 
 
 Mollie's nature knew nothing of forgetfulness. 
 The impressions were graven, not sketched on 
 her heart ; and it was Gerard who had fixed the 
 pattern there. 
 
 Very soon she arranged a solution for herself; 
 she settled in her mind that as she could not 
 be Gerard's wife here, God would take her to 
 heaven as soon as she was old enough. She sup- 
 posed she must be ill and die. To be sure, Elijah 
 went up to heaven in a flaming chariot, but that
 
 142 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 was long ago : Mollie considered that the people 
 of long ago enjoyed many advantages. 
 
 She shrank from the idea of dying. 
 
 The graves in the churchyard looked so cold. 
 But she would not be there, not really there. 
 Her body would be, but not her spirit so she 
 had been told. She wondered which part of her 
 was her spirit. 
 
 She thought of all this as she sat in the high- 
 backed pew by mamma's side one Sunday morn- 
 ing. Generally she tried not to think of Gerard 
 in church, because God wished her to give all 
 her thoughts to Him. She recollected that now. 
 She brought her mind into order and tried to 
 listen to the sermon. 
 
 A little sigh floated past her lips. She could 
 not help feeling that sermons were very tire- 
 some. 
 
 " There shall be neither marriage nor giving 
 in marriage in heaven " 
 
 What! 
 
 The words fell on the child's ears. She 
 started ; both her hands sought for the crystal 
 heart; she nearly slipped off her seat. 
 
 Mamma looked at her reproachfully, but that 
 seemed of no consequence at all.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 143 
 
 Mr. Fraser was repeating his sentence, leaning 
 over the pulpit to give it weight. 
 
 Then she could never be Gerard's wife not 
 even in heaven ! 
 
 Blindly Mollie struggled with the idea ; blindly 
 she fought against it. Might not Mr. Fraser 
 have made a mistake ? Clergymen did not know 
 everything, though undoubtedly they knew a 
 great deal. 
 
 Mollie began to hope that if Mr. Fraser had 
 produced the saying " out of his own head," she 
 might venture to disregard it. 
 
 But if it should be in the Bible? 
 
 She clung tighter and tighter to her crystal 
 heart. That action had come to take the place 
 of clasping her hands together. Mamma never 
 reproved her for that. 
 
 Indeed, Mrs. Hargraves considered that it had 
 its value. It was a picturesque example of a 
 child's devotion; something to which one could 
 allude gracefully, if one did not do it too often. 
 
 Mollie's mind was racked with misgiving. She 
 must find out whether Mr. Fraser had invented 
 those words. She decided to ask nurse ; she 
 knew how unsatisfactory nurse was, but she was 
 better than Miss Fraser. Gerard and a lump 
 rose in the little girl's throat.
 
 144 THE STORY OF MQLLIE 
 
 Mollie soon found an opportunity for putting 
 her question. After dinner, when nurse was 
 showing some Bible pictures, the child made 
 her way across the room. 
 
 " Nurse," she began, " does Mr. Fraser say 
 anything that isn't in the Bible?" 
 
 " Miss Mollie," exclaimed nurse, " what do 
 you mean? Of course he does." 
 
 " Then," eagerly, " he might have made a mis- 
 take." 
 
 "What do you mean?" questioned nurse. 
 
 Mollie was silent. A shyness had seized her. 
 She went back to the window. The new little 
 ivy spray, which had been growing bigger and 
 fuller all the autumn, and which had taken the 
 place of her particular favorite of last year, 
 tapped and tapped against the window-panes. 
 Mollie looked at it wistfully, eagerly. She 
 never knew how such thoughts came, but it 
 seemed too beautiful to let her be so hopeless. 
 
 She went back to her nurse. 
 
 " Nurse," she began, " are there any wives in 
 heaven?" 
 
 The good woman let her book drop. 
 
 There was something appalling about this 
 child. Yet the little face was so wistful.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 145 
 
 " You should n't think of such things," nurse 
 went on; "they are not for little girls. Wait 
 until you are grown up." 
 
 Mollie shook her head. This was a matter 
 which would not bear putting off until a more 
 convenient season. 
 
 " He said no One was married in heaven." 
 
 " Who said so?" 
 
 " Mr. Fraser, this morning." 
 
 " Yes," said nurse, and the words had a more 
 encouraging ring. She felt that if the little girl 
 had listened so attentively to a discourse which 
 she had found not a little wearisome, some con- 
 sideration might be granted to her. " What of 
 that, Miss Mollie?" 
 
 "Is it true?" 
 
 " It is in the Bible." 
 
 The child's face grew white ; her breath came 
 in a long sob. Then there was no hope for her. 
 She went and sat by the window. Without, it 
 looked grim and mournful. The trees were 
 bare, and the great branches creaked as they 
 swung to and fro ; the flowers were over, the 
 frost had spoiled the last of the dahlias and 
 turned the geraniums into little withered clumps 
 of brown. The leaves were being driven hither 
 
 10
 
 146 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 and thither over the lawn. Mollie was very 
 sorry for those crumpled, torn leaves. They 
 seemed to have no home ; they did not appear 
 to know where they ought to go. She remem- 
 bered how bright and fresh they had been all 
 the summer, how cool had been their shade. 
 It was not their fault if the wind swept them 
 off the branches. 
 
 She leaned her face against the window. The 
 tears slowly trickled one by one down her cheeks. 
 No wives in heaven ! Who had said it ? 
 
 She sat bolt upright. 
 
 What if it should be in the Old Testament? 
 Mollie had lately learned that the books of that 
 volume were of very ancient date. Perhaps, 
 since it was so long since they were written, 
 there might be a mistake in them. 
 
 She slid off her seat and hurried to nurse. 
 
 "Did David say it?" she demanded. 
 
 Nurse asked of what she was speaking, and 
 the whole matter had to be explained anew. 
 
 "No," said nurse; "but how you do worry, 
 Miss Mollie ! Can't you be like other children 
 and read about Jesus and His lambs?" 
 
 But the little girl was not daunted. 
 
 " Is it in the New Testament?" she persisted.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 147 
 
 "Yes, I think so," replied nurse. 
 
 Mollie's hands expressed her pain. Yet she 
 clung to every straw, and there was just one 
 more floating on her stream. 
 
 "Did St. Paul say it?" 
 
 She hoped so ; for in that case she might still 
 venture to hold another view. 
 
 She knew that St. Paul had never followed 
 Jesus as John and Peter had. So he could only 
 have known what some one else had told him. 
 He must have asked a great many questions, 
 Mollie thought, to have learned as much as he 
 had. And she had discovered that, when she 
 asked too many questions, she was sometimes 
 answered at random. If the same thing should 
 have happened to St. Paul? 
 
 " Nurse," she demanded, " is it in the Epis- 
 tles?" 
 
 "No," came the answer; "our Lord said it 
 Himself." 
 
 "Where?" breathed Mollie. 
 
 But nurse's patience as well as her knowledge 
 was pretty well exhausted. 
 
 " In one of the Gospels," she answered. 
 
 "In which?" 
 
 Nurse did not recollect, so she administered
 
 148 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 a reproof to cover her lack of knowledge. 
 Miss Mollie ought to remember that she was a 
 little girl. She was enough to tire a saint, 
 always why? why? why? 
 
 Where would they be if Claude was forever 
 plaguing people as she did? 
 
 Mollie hardly listened. She felt dull, dazed. 
 She went and fetched the nursery Bible. She 
 curled into the window-seat and commenced to 
 turn over the leaves. Nothing would satisfy her 
 but seeing the words with her own eyes. She 
 began at St. Matthew ; she spelled through all 
 the long table of generations. 
 
 Tea-time came, and she had not advanced 
 very far. She saw that it would be a labor of 
 days, but she must find it. She once thought 
 if she met Mr. Fraser she would ask him, but 
 the idea did not commend itself. He always 
 put a fat finger under her chin and called her 
 "little dear." 
 
 She went steadily on with her researches. 
 Hour after hour she bent laboriously over the 
 pages of her Testament, until at last, one wet 
 Sunday morning, when the weather kept her 
 from church, she found the famous reply to the 
 Sadducees.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 149 
 
 The child read it again and again. She closed 
 her Bible. It was quite true; she never could 
 be Gerard's wife. She leaned her head on her 
 hands. She was so unhappy, worse even than 
 when she had been naughty, and mamma was 
 displeased with her. 
 
 It was no use at all, trying to master the mul- 
 tiplication table. 
 
 What was the good of learning the " Blue 
 Bells of Scotland" on the piano? Of lying 
 flat and sitting on a straight chair? 
 
 Gerard would never tell her that he was 
 pleased : he was not waiting for her. He had 
 promised that she should be his wife, and God 
 had made him break his promise. 
 
 To break a promise was even worse than to 
 be greedy. 
 
 A protest too deep for sound or speech 
 swelled up in the child's heart. No man or 
 woman, smarting under the sting of the inex- 
 plicable, ever protested with more vehemence 
 than Mollie did at this moment. 
 
 She sat still, huddled farther and farther into 
 the corner of the window-seat, battling with the 
 mystery of pain. 
 
 Yet mostly she rebelled.
 
 ISO THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 She would never say her prayers again. At 
 dinner she held her head quite straight, and 
 would not shut her eyes while grace was being 
 said ; neither would she fold her hands, they 
 hung either side of her chair. 
 
 After dinner, she sat in a corner, and reso- 
 lutely closed her ears against the Bible stories. 
 
 To break a promise was worse than to be 
 greedy. She said that over and over. She was 
 not going to try to love God any more. 
 
 She thought of Gerard. How could she 
 see him when she died and know that he did 
 not want her not one little bit for his 
 wife? 
 
 But she would only see him if she went to 
 heaven; and would she go there? Only peo- 
 ple who loved God went to heaven ; she would 
 go to hell and be burned. A shudder ran 
 through the little frame. Mollie remembered 
 how her finger smarted when she rubbed it, by 
 accident one day, against nurse's hot iron. To 
 be burned always ! to cry always for a drink of 
 cold water and never to get it ! to feel the fire 
 within her, around her, from morning until 
 night, day after day, year after year! 
 
 She trembled. Yet she could not say she
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 151 
 
 loved God if she did not. Gerard used to tell 
 her that there was nothing worse than a lie. 
 
 But Gerard had once said, when Mollie ven- 
 tured to tell him that it was hard to have papa 
 always in heaven, that God knew best. 
 
 She she did not think that. 
 
 But if Gerard said so ! 
 
 Her mind paused before this question. 
 
 Gerard ! If Gerard had said so ! 
 
 She pondered, turning the matter this way 
 and that. She could hardly eat her tea for 
 thinking of it. 
 
 When nurse returned thanks she could not 
 bend her head ; but she did shut her eyes, 
 because Gerard had said that, and she did 
 fold her hands, but under the table. 
 
 It came to bed-time, and still she was unde- 
 cided. She could not say her prayers ; but no 
 one knew that, for Martha, who had undressed 
 the children, was in a hurry to go downstairs, 
 and had left Mollie to get into bed alone. 
 
 The child lay in her cot, open-eyed and so 
 miserable. 
 
 Sometimes a tear trickled slowly down her 
 cheek, but she dared not sob for fear of waking 
 Claude. She clasped her hands upon her crys- 
 tal heart. Oh, the " why " of it all !
 
 152 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 
 
 Then the moon, bursting through a bank of 
 cloud, sent its white beams between the laths of 
 the blind and into the room. One single long 
 ray of silver fell across the floor and upon the 
 little girl's bed. She remembered that night at 
 Rookwood, when she had gone out to seek the 
 moonlight by the window. To-night it seemed 
 to come in to seek her. Had God sent an 
 angel to her in this way? Had Gerard asked 
 God to send one to remind her that He always 
 knew best? 
 
 The child took up the idea and pressed it 
 into her mind. She became more and more 
 certain that the steady, long ray was not like 
 any other moonlight that she had ever seen. 
 
 It must be an angel. Angels did shine all 
 over. 
 
 What must she do? 
 
 She sat up. The ray never wavered. It did 
 not go near Claude's cot; no, he was quite a 
 good little boy. But the angel had come to 
 tell her that she had been very naughty. 
 
 The tears sprang into her eyes. 
 
 She slipped out of bed. Carefully she 
 avoided the ray of moonlight; she must not 
 step on an angel.
 
 THE STORY OF MOLLIE 153 
 
 She kneeled down. 
 
 God had taken papa ; God had taken Gerard. 
 She could never be Gerard's wife. Yet she 
 must try to love Him. 
 
 What must she say? 
 
 She clasped the little heart at her neck and 
 held it out to the length of its chain toward 
 the moonlight. 
 
 What must she say? 
 
 She knelt on. She grew cold, benumbed. 
 
 "Our Father " 
 
 THE END
 
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