Gerald came each afternoon, as he had promised, and before the long-looked-for day arrived, both Jim and Ephraim were nearly as proficient in the use of the car as he.
On Tuesday afternoon Molly Breckenridge arrived, as she had promised in her letter, Dorothy, Jim and Metty meeting the train with the barouche.
To describe the meeting between the girls would be impossible. A bystander, observing the hugs and kisses they bestowed upon each other, might well have wondered who they were, to be so lavish with their affection.
“You dear, good girl!” Dorothy kept saying, over and over, each word accented by another kiss.
Molly surprised Jim by kissing him rapturously on the cheek, an act the boy did not like, but which he took with the good nature he knew would be expected of him.
Later, in confidence, he confessed his displeasure to Gerald, which caused that young man to go off into a fit of merriment.
“You’re a funny fellow, Jim,” he said, finally, when he had induced a sober expression to remain on his face. “Most fellows would go several miles out of their way to get a kiss from Molly Breckenridge. But you, with kisses thrust upon you, are angry. Well, that may be all right, but I don’t understand it—hanged if I do!”
But Jim vouchsafed no further comment. He only smiled and shook his head.