are soul of my soul and heart of my heart and spirit of my spirit.

I don't know how I managed to answer Mrs. Johnson's call from my front
gate, but I sometimes think that women have a torture-proof clause in
their constitutions.

She and Aunt Bettie had just come up the street from Aunt Bettie's
house, and the Pollard cook was following them with a large basket, in
which were packed things Aunt Bettie was contributing towards the
entertainment of the distinguished citizen. Mr. Johnson is Alfred's
nearest kinsman in Hillsboro, and, of course, he is to be their guest
while he is in town.

"He'll be feeding his eyes on Molly, so he'll not even know he's eating
my Kensington almond pudding with Thomas's old port in it," teased Aunt
Bettie with a laugh as I went across the street with them.

"There's going to be a regular epidemic of love affairs in Hillsboro, I
do believe," she continued in her usual strain of sentimental
speculation. "I saw Mr. Graves talking to Delia Hawes in front of the
draper's an hour ago, as I came out from looking at the blue chintz to
match Pet for the west wing, and they were both so absorbed they didn't
even see me. That was what might have been called a conflagration dinner
you gave the other night, Molly, in more ways than one. I wish a spark
had set off Benton Wade and Henrietta, too. Maybe it did, but is just
taking fire slowly."

I think it would be a good thing just to let Aunt Bettie blindfold every
unmarried person in this town and marry them to the first person they
touch hands with. It would be fun for her, and then we could have peace