The Melting of Molly | Page 8

that stood in front of my mirror was as
new-born as any other hour-old similar bundle of linen and lace in
Hillsboro, Tennessee. Fortunately, an old, year-before-last, white lawn
dress could be pulled from the top shelf of the closet in a hurry, and the
Molly that came out of that room was ready for life--and a lot of it
quick and fast.
And again, fortunately, Aunt Adeline had retired with a violent
headache and black Judy was carrying her in a hot water-bottle with a
broad grin on her face. Judy sees the world from the kitchen window
and understands everything. She had laid a large thick letter on the hall
table where I couldn't fail to see it.
I took possession of it and carried it to a bench in the garden that backs
up against the purple sprayed lilacs and is flanked by two rows of tall
purple and white iris that stand in line ready for a Virginia reel with a
delicate row of the poet's narcissus across the broad path. I love my
flowers. I love them swaying on their stems in the wind, and I like to
snatch them and crush the life out of them against my breast and face. I
have been to bed every night this spring with a bunch of cool violets
against my cheek and I feel that I am going to flirt with my tall row of
hollyhocks as soon as they are old enough to hold up their heads and
take notice. They always remind me of very stately gentlemen and I
have wondered if the fluffy little butter and eggs weren't shaking their
ruffles at them.
A real love-letter ought to be like a cream puff with a drop of dynamite
in it. Alfred's was that kind. I felt warm and happy down to my toes as I
read it and I turned around so old Lilac Bush couldn't peep over my
shoulder at what he said.
He wrote from Rome this time, where he had been sent on some sort of
diplomatic mission to the Vatican, and his letter about the Ancient City
on her seven hills was a prose-poem in itself. I was so interested that I
read on and on and forgot it was almost toast-apple time.
Of course, anybody that is anybody would be interested in Father Tiber

and the old Colosseum, but what made me forget the one slice of dry
toast and the apple was the way he seemed to be connecting me up with
all those wonderful old antiquities that had never even seen me.
Because of me he had felt and written that poem descriptive of old
Tiber, and the moonlight had lit up the Colosseum just because I was
over here lighting up Hillsboro, Tennessee, with Mr. Carter dead. Of
course that is not the way he put it all, but there is no place to really
copy what he did say down into this imp book and, anyway, that is the
sentiment he expressed, boiled down and sugared off.
That's just what I mean--love boiled down and sugared off is mighty
apt to get an explosive flavor, and one had better be careful with that
kind if one is timid; which I'm not. As I said, also, I am ready for a little
taste of life, so I read on without fear. And, to be fair, Alfred had well
boiled his own last paragraph. It snapped; and I jumped and gasped
both. I almost thought I didn't quite like it and was going to read it over
again to see, when there came a procession from over to Doctor John's
and I laid the bombshell down on the bench.
First came the red setter that is always first with Doctor John, and then
he came himself, leading Billy by the hand. It was Billy, but the most
subdued Billy I ever saw, and I held out my arms and started for him.
"Wait a minute, please, Molly," said the doctor in the voice he always
uses when he's punishing Billy and me. "Bill came to apologize to you
for being rude to your--your guest. He told me all about it and I think
he's sorry. Tell Mrs. Carter you are sorry, son." When that man speaks
to me as if I were just any old body else, I hate him so it is a wonder I
don't show it more than I do. But there was nothing to say and I looked
at Billy and Billy looked at me.
Then suddenly he stretched out his little arms to me and the dimples
winked at me from all over his darling face.
"Molly, Molly," he said with a perfect rapture of chuckles in his voice,
"now you look