The Melting of Molly by Maria Thompson Daviess
page 60 of 89 (67%)
page 60 of 89 (67%)
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me--really, really, really; and I had sat and weighed him with a lot of
men who were nothing more than amused by my chatter, or taken with my beauty, and who wouldn't have known such love if it were shown to them through a telescope. I reached into a trunk that stood just beside me and took out a box that I hadn't looked into for years. His letters were all there, and his photographs, that were very handsome. I could hardly see them through my tears, but I knew that they were dim in places with being cried over when I had put them away years ago after Aunt Adeline decided that I was to be married. I kissed the poor little-girl cry-spots; and with that a perfect flood of tears rose to my eyes--but they didn't fall, for there, right in front of me, stood a more woe-stricken human being than I could possibly be, if I judged by appearances. "Molly, Molly," gulped Billy, "I am so ill I'm going to die here on the floor," and he sank into my arms. "Oh, Billy, what is the matter?" I gasped and gave him a little terrified shake. "Mamie Johnson did it--poked her finger down her throat and mine, too," he wailed against my breast. "We was full of things people gived us to eat and couldn't eat no more. She said if we did that with our fingers it would make room for some more then. She did it, and I'm going to die dead--dead! "No, no, pet; you'll be all right in a second. Stay quiet here in your Molly's lap and you will be well in just a few minutes," I said with a smile I hid in his yellow mop as I kissed the drake-tail kiss-spot. |
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