"Just where does that corset press you worst?" he asked in the tone of
voice he uses to say "poke out your tongue." So much of my Tennessee
shooting-blood rose to my face that it is a wonder it didn't drip; but I
was cold enough to have hit at forty paces if I had had a shooting-iron
in my hand. As it was the coldness was the only missile that I had, but
I used it to some effect.

"I am making a call on a friend, Doctor Moore, and not a consultation
visit to my physician," I said, looking into his face as though I had
never seen him before.

"I beg your pardon, Molly," he exclaimed and his face was redder than
mine and then it went white with mortification. I couldn't stand that.

"Don't do that way!" I exclaimed, and before I knew it I had taken
hold of his hand and had it in both of mine. "I know I look as if I
was shrunk or laced, but I'm not! I was going to tell you all about
it and show it to you. I'm really inches bigger in the right place and
just--just 'controlled', the woman called it, in the wrong place. Please
feel me and see," and I offered myself to him for examination in the
most regardless way. He's not at all like other people.

The blood came back into his face and he laughed as he gave me a little
shake that pushed me away from him. "Don't you ever scare me like that
again, child, or it might be serious," he said in the Billy-and-me tone
of voice that I like some, only--

"I never will," I said in a hurry; "I want you to ask me anything in the
world you want to and I'll always do it."