he may happen to make, unless it is something that makes me lose my
temper. His next remark was the usual spark.

"Better give them the run of the garden--alone, Mrs. Molly. No chance
for them unless you do," he said laughingly, "or the buttons, either,"
he added under his breath so I could just hear it. I wish Mrs. Johnson
could have heard how soft his voice lingered over that little
half-sentence. She is so experienced she could have told me if it
meant--but, of course, he isn't like other men!

There are lots of questions I'm going to ask Alfred after I'm married
to him.

"Oh, you Molly," came a hail in Tom's voice from the gate, just as I was
making up my mind to try and think of something to wither the doctor
with, and he and Ruth Clinton came up the front walk to meet us. I
wondered why I was having a party in my house when being alone in my
garden with just a neighbour was so much more interesting, but I had to
begin to enjoy myself right off, for in a few minutes all the rest came.

I don't think I ever saw my house look so lovely before. Mrs. Johnson
had put all the flowers out of hers and Mrs. Cain's garden all over
everything, and the table was a mass of soft pink roses that were
shedding perfume and nodding at one another in their most society
manner. There is no glimmer in the world like that which comes from
really old polished silver and rosewood and mahogany, and one's
great-great-grandmother's hand-woven linen feels like Oriental silk
across one's knees.

Suddenly I felt very stately and granddamey and responsible as I looked