“Well, if you send him two, I shall send another to Hugh,” cried Marie, with a pretty, threatening gesture.
“Marie Colchester, you are in love!” and Mollie stopped in her work to note the effect of her words.
“Oh!” prolonged and low from her companion.
“Yes, you are,” teasingly.
“O Mollie Craft! How can you ever say such a thing?” and the blushes overspread her whole face.
“You are a little traitor,” with a show of anger.
Marie looked up as if uncertain of her friend’s meaning, but the twinkle in the latter’s eye satisfied her that no belligerent intentions were premeditated.
“How so, Mollie?” demurely, as she clipped a japonica rose from its stalk.
“How so? Didn’t I ask you to come here and win the love of Junius Cobb so as to free me from the pain of seeing his love for me unreturned? Didn’t you agree to throw yourself away for Lester’s sake and mine? Didn’t you tell me that you knew he couldn’t help loving you, and that his heart would soon be lying at your feet like a—a—a sponge-cake stepped upon by an elephant? There!”
“O Mollie! I didn’t say all that!” cried Marie, in confusion.