"That fifty cents shall buy something for you," said Mollie to
herself. "The boy of the family shall clean the roof."

There was just enough recklessness in her mood to make her rather
enjoy than fear the prospect. She left her mother getting dinner, and
took a broom and escaped up the garret stairs and through the scuttle.
The roof did not slope steeply, and she let herself down with an easy
slide to the rear eaves. She rested her feet on the edge of the house
and swept as far as her arms would reach east and west. Then she
shifted her position and swept again until the whole length was clean.

She heard her mother calling her to dinner, but she had the front
gutter yet to sweep, and, climbing up, went down on the other side.
There was a thought which gave zest to her work on that side,--Mr.
John would be coming home that way to dinner and would see her.
Besides, other people would see her, and no passer-by should say that
she did not do her work as thoroughly and fearlessly as any boy. She
had taken for granted that Mr. John's eyes would be drawn upward; but
when he had walked almost by, looking straight ahead, she sent him a
shrill call. He looked at the windows, around the yard, and even as
far up as the trees.

"On the roof," screamed Mollie, and in her excitement she forgot her
situation and lost her balance and slipped,--not far, but one foot
went out beyond the eaves into the air. The other one rallied to the
rescue, supported her whole weight, and helped her to regain her
position. Danger was over in a moment, but it had been danger of
death, and Mollie's heart beat wildly, and a faintness came over her.
Still through it all she was able to see Mr. John's approving smile as
he lifted his hat and waved it gayly in applause.