The Melting of Molly

by Maria Thompson Daviess

  Leaf II.

  A Love-Letter, Loaded.

  The very worst page in this red book is the fifth. It says--

  "Breakfast--one slice of dry toast, one egg, fruit and a small cup ofcoffee, no sugar, no cream." And me with two Jersey cows full of therichest cream in Hillsboro, out in my meadow!

  "Dinner, one small lean chop, slice of toast, spinach or lettuce salad.No dessert or sweet." My poultry-yard is full of fat little chickens,and I wish I were a sheep if I have to eat lettuce and spinach forgrass. At least I'd have more than one chop inside me then.

  "Supper--slice of toast and an apple." Why the apple? Why supper at all?

  Oh, I'm hungry, hungry until I cry in my sleep when I dream about amuffin! I thought at first that getting out of bed before my eyes arefairly open, and turning myself into a circus acrobat by doing everykind of overhand, foot, arm and leg contortion that the mind of cruelman could invent to torture a human being with, would kill me before Ihad been at it a week, but when I read on page sixteen that as soon asall that horror was over I must jump right into the tub of cold water,I kicked, metaphorically speaking. And I've been kicking ever since,literally to keep from freezing.

  But as cruel as freezing is, it doesn't compare to the tortures of beingmelted. Jane administers it to me, and her faithful heart is so wrungwith compassion that she perspires almost as much as I do. She wrings alinen sheet out in a cauldron of hot water and shrouds me in it--andthen more and more blanket windings envelop me until I am like the mummyof some Egyptian giantess.

  Once I got so discouraged at the idea of having all this misery in thislife that I mingled tears with the beads of perspiration that rolleddown my cheeks, and she snatched me out of those steaming wrappings inless time than it takes to tell it, soused me in a tub of cold water,fed me with a chicken wing and mashed potatoes, and the information thatI was "good-looking enough for _anybody_ to eat up alive withoutall this foolishness," all in a very few seconds. Now I have to beg herto help me, and I heard her tell her nephew, who does the gardening,that she felt like an undertaker with such goings-on. At any rate, if itall kills me it won't be my fault if people tell untruths in saying thatI was "beautiful in death."

  But now that more than a month has passed, I really don't mind it somuch. I feel so strong and prancy all the time that I can't keep frombubbling. I have to smile at myself.

  Then another thing that helps is Billy and his ball. I never couldreally play with him before, but now I can't help it. But an awful thinghappened about that yesterday. We were in the garden playing over by thelilac bushes, and Billy always beats me because when it goes down theslope he throws himself down and rolls over on the grass. I went afterhim. And what did Billy do but begin the kind of a tussle we always havein the big armchair in the living-room! Billy chuckled and squealed,while I laughed myself all out of breath. And then, looking right overmy front hedge, I discovered Judge Wade. I wish I could write down howI felt, for I never had that sensation before, and I don't believe I'llever have it again.

  I have always thought that Judge Wade was really the most wonderful manin Hillsboro, not because he is a judge so young in life that there isonly a white sprinkle in his lovely black hair that grows back off hishead like Napoleon's and Charles Wesley's, but because of his smile,which you wait for so long that you glow all over when you get it. Ihave seen him do it once or twice at his mother when he seats her intheir pew at church, and once at little Mamie Johnson when she gave hima flower through their fence as he passed by one day last week, but Inever thought I should have one all to myself. But there it was, a mostbeautiful one, long and slow and distinctly mine--at least I didn'tthink much of it was for Billy. I sat up and blushed as red all over asI do when I first hit that tub of cold water.

  "I hope you'll forgive an intruder, Mrs. Carter, but how could a mortalresist a peep into such a fairy garden if he spied the queen and herfaun at play?" he said in a voice as wonderful as the smile. By thattime I had pushed in all my hairpins. Billy stood spread-legged as nearin front of me as he could get, and said, in the rudest possible tone ofvoice--

  "Get away from my Molly, man!"

  I never was so mortified in all my life, and I scrambled to my feet andcame over to the hedge to get between him and Billy.

  "It's a lovely day, isn't it, Judge Wade?" I asked with the greatestinterest, which I didn't really feel, in the weather; but what could Ithink of to say? A woman is apt to keep the image of a good many of thegrand men she sees passing around her in queer niches in her brain, andwhen one steps out and speaks to her for the first time it is confusing.Of course, I have known the judge and his mother all my life, for she isone of Aunt Adeline's best friends, but I had a feeling from the look inhis eyes that that very minute was the first time he had ever seen me.It was lovely, and I blushed still more as I put my hand up to my cheekso that I wouldn't have to look right at him.

  "About the loveliest day that ever happened in Hillsboro," he said, andthere was still more of the delicious smile, "though I hadn't noticed itso especially until--"

  But I never knew what he had intended to say, for Billy suddenly swelledup like a little turkey-cock and cut out with his switch at the judge.

  "Go away, man, and let my Molly alone!" he said, in a perfectthunder-tone of voice; but I almost laughed, for it had such a sound init like Dr. John's at his most positive times with Billy and me.

  "No, no, Billy; the judge is just looking over the hedge at our flowers!Don't you want to give him a rose?" I hurried to say, as the smile diedout of Judge Wade's face and he looked at Billy intently.

  "How like John Moore the youngster is!" he said, and his voice was socold to Billy that it hurt me, and I was afraid Billy would notice it.Coldness in people's voices always makes me feel just like ice-creamtastes. But Billy's answer was still more rude.

  "You'd better go, man, before I bring my father to set our dog on you,"he exploded, and, before I could stop him, his thin little legs wenttrundling down the garden path toward home.

  Then the judge and I both laughed. We couldn't help it. The judge leanedfarther over the fence, and I went a little nearer before I knew it.

  "You don't need to keep a personal dog, do you, Mrs. Carter?" he asked,with a twinkle that might have been a spark in his eyes, and just atthat moment another awful thing happened. Aunt Adeline came out of thefront door, and said in the most frozen tone of voice--

  "Mary, I wish to speak to you in the house," and then walked backthrough the front door without even looking in Judge Wade's direction,though he had waved his hat with one of his mother's own smiles when hehad seen her before I did. One of my most impossible habits is, whenthere is nothing else to do I laugh. I did it then, and it saved theday, for we both laughed into each other's eyes, and, before we realisedit, we were within whispering distance.

  "No, I don't--don't--need any dog," I said softly, hardly glancing outfrom under my lashes, because I was afraid to risk looking straight athim again so soon. I could fairly feel Aunt Adeline's eyes boring intomy back.

  "It would take the hydra-headed monster of--may I bring my mother tocall on you and the--Mrs. Henderson?" he asked, and poured the wondersmile all over me. Again I almost caught my breath.

  "I do wish you would, Aunt Adeline is so fond of Mrs. Wade!" I said in apositive flutter that I hope he didn't see; but I am afraid he did, forhe hesitated as if he wanted to say something to calm me, then bowedmercifully and went on down the street. He didn't put on the hat he hadheld in his hand all the while he stood by the hedge until he had lookedback and bowed again. Then I felt still more fluttered as I went intothe house, but I received the third cold plunge of the day when Ireached the front hall.

  "Mary," said Aunt Adeline in a voice that sounded as if it had beenburied and never resurrected, "if you are going to continue in such anunseemly course of conduct I hope you will remove your mourning, whichis an empty mockery and an insult to my own widowhood."

  "Yes, Aunt Adeline, I'll go take it of
f this very minute," I heardmyself answer her airily, to my own astonishment. I might have knownthat if I ever got one of those smiles it would go to my head! Withoutanother word I sailed into my room and closed the door softly.

  Slowly I unbuttoned that black dress that symbolised the ending of sixyears of the blackness, and the rosy dimpling thing in snowy lingeriewith tags of blue ribbon that stood in front of my mirror was asnew-born as any other hour-old similar bundle of linen and lace inHillsboro. Fortunately, an old white lawn dress could be pulled from thetop shelf of the cupboard in a hurry, and the Molly that came out ofthat room was ready for life--and a lot of it.

  And again, fortunately, Aunt Adeline had retired with a violentheadache, and Jane was carrying her in a hot water-bottle with a broadsmile on her face. Jane sees the world from the kitchen window andunderstands everything. She had laid a large thick letter on the halltable where I couldn't fail to see it.

  I took possession of it and carried it to a bench in the garden thatbacks up against the purple sprayed lilacs and is flanked by two rows oftall purple and white iris that stand in line ready for a Virginia reelwith a delicate row of the poet's narcissus across the broad path. Ilove my flowers. I love them swaying on their stems in the wind, and Ilike to snatch them and crush the life out of them against my breast andface. I have been to bed every night this spring with a bunch of coolviolets against my cheek, and I feel that I am going to dance with mytall row of hollyhocks as soon as they are old enough to hold up theirheads and take notice. They always remind me of very stately gentlemen,and I have wondered if the little narcissus weren't shaking theirruffles at them.

  A real love-letter ought to be like a cream puff with a drop of dynamitein it. Alfred's was that kind. I felt warm and happy down to my toes asI read it, and I turned round so that old Lilac Bush couldn't peep overmy shoulder at what he said.

  He wrote from Rome this time, where he had been sent on some sort ofdiplomatic mission to the Vatican, and his letter about the Ancient Cityon her seven hills was a prose-poem in itself. I was so interested thatI read on and on and forgot it was almost toast-apple time.

  Of course, anybody that is anybody would be interested in Father Tiberand the old Colosseum, but what made me forget the one slice of drytoast and the apple was the way he seemed to be connecting me up withall those wonderful old antiquities that had never even seen me. Becauseof me he had felt and written that poem descriptive of old Tiber, andthe moonlight had lit up the Colosseum just because I was over herelighting up Hillsboro. Of course, that is not the way he put it all, butthere is no place to really copy what he did say down into this imp bookand, anyway, that is the sentiment he expressed, boiled down and sugaredover.

  That's just what I mean--love boiled down and sugared over is apt to getan explosive flavour, and one had better be careful with that kind ifone is timid; which I'm not. As I said, also, I am ready for a littlemore of life, so I read on without fear. And, to be fair, Alfred hadwell boiled his own last paragraph. It snapped; and I jumped and gasped.I almost thought I didn't quite like it, and was going to read it overagain to see, when I saw a procession coming over from Dr. John's, andI laid the bombshell down on the bench.

  First came the red setter that is always first with Dr. John, and thenhe came himself, leading Billy by the hand. It was Billy, but the mostsubdued Billy I ever saw, and I held out my arms and started for him.

  "Wait a minute, please, Molly," said the doctor in a voice he alwaysuses when he's punishing Billy and me. "Bill came to apologise to youfor being rude to your--your guest. He told me all about it, and I thinkhe's sorry. Tell Mrs. Carter you are sorry, son." When that man speaksto me as if I were just any old body else, I hate him so it is a wonderI don't show it more than I do. But there was nothing to say, and Ilooked at Billy, and Billy looked at me.

  Then suddenly he stretched out his little arms to me, and the dimpleswinked at me from all over his darling face.

  "Molly, Molly," he said, with a perfect rapture of chuckles in hisvoice, "now you look just as pretty as you do when you go to bed--allwhity all over. You can kiss my kiss-spot a hundred times while Ibear-hug you for that nice not-black dress," and before any stern personcould have stopped us I was on my knees on the grass kissing my fillfrom the "kiss-spot" on the back of his neck, while he hugged all thestarch out of the old white dress.

  And Dr. John sat down on the bench quick, and laughed out loud one ofthe very few times I ever heard him do it. He was looking down at us,but I didn't laugh up into _his_ eyes. I was afraid. I felt it wassafer to go on kissing the kiss-spot for the present.

  "Bill," he said, with his voice dancing, "that's the most effectiveapology I ever heard. You were sorry to some point."

  Then suddenly Billy stiffened right in my arms, and looked me straightin the face, and said in the doctor's own brisk tones, even with hisCupid mouth set in the same straight line--

  "I say I'm sorry, Molly, but bother that man, and I'll hit him yet!"

  What could we say? What could we do? We didn't try. I busied myself intying the string on Billy's blouse that had come untied in the bear-hug,and the doctor suddenly discovered the letter on the bench. I saw himsee it without looking in his direction at all.

  "And how many pounds are we nearer the scarlet-runner state ofexistence, Mrs. Molly?" he asked me before I had finished tying theblouse, in the nicest voice in the world, fairly cracking withfriendship and good humour and hateful things like that. Why I shouldhave wanted him to get huffy over that letter is more than I can say.But I did; and he didn't.

  "Over twenty, and most of the time I am so hungry I could eat AuntAdeline. I dream about Billy, fried with cream gravy," I answered, as Ikissed again the back of the head that was beginning to nod down againstmy breast. Long shadows lay across the garden, and the white-headed oldsnow-ball was signalling out of the dusk to a Dorothy Perkins rose downthe walk in a scandalous way. At best, spring is just the world'smatch-making old chaperon, and ought to be watched. I still sat on thegrass, and I began to cuddle Billy's bare knees in the skirt of my dressso the gnats couldn't get at them.

  "But, Mrs. Molly, isn't it worth it all?" asked the doctor as he bentover toward us and looked down with something wonderful and kind in hiseyes that seemed to rest on us like a benediction. "You have been justas plucky as a girl can be, and in only a little over two months youhave grown as lightfooted and hearty as a boy. _I_ think nothingcould be lovelier than you are now, but you can get off those other fewpounds if you want to. You know, don't you, that I have known how hardsome of it was, and I haven't been able to eat as much as I usually do,thinking how hungry you are? But isn't it all worth it? I think it is.Alfred Bennett is a very great man, and it is right that he should havea very lovely wife to go out into the world with him. And as lovely asyou are I think it is wonderful of you to make all this sacrifice to bestill lovelier for him. I am glad I can help you, and it has taught mesomething to see how--how faithful a woman can be across years--and thenin this smaller thing! Now give me Bill and you get your apple andtoast. Don't forget to take your letter in out of the dew." I satperfectly still and held Billy tighter in my arms as I looked up at hisfather, and then after I had thought as long as I could stand it, Ispoke right out at him as mad as could be, and I don't to this minuteknow why.

  "Nobody in the world ever doubted that a woman could be faithful if shehad anything to be faithful to," I said as I let him take Billy out ofmy arms at last. "Faithfulness is what a woman flowers, only it takes a_man_ to pick his posy." With which I marched into the house andleft him standing with Billy in his arms, I hope dumbfounded. I didn'tlook back to see. I always leave that man's presence so mad I can neverlook back at him. And wouldn't it make any woman rage to have a man pickout another man for her to be faithful to when she hadn't made anydecision about it her own self?

  I wonder just how old Judge Wade is? I believe I will make up with AuntAdeline enough before I go to bed to find out why he has never married.