Frieda might have said that she wished Mollie to know all the nice things about her, for it really is not our faults that we long to pour into the ears of our friends.
The invalid, who had been stretched on the couch with a bad cold for the past hour or so, now curled her feet up under her and rested her chin on her hands. “Want me to tell you every single thing about our mine?” she demanded. “It is quite like a fairy story.”
And of course there is nobody in the world (and certainly not Mollie Johnson) who does not like to hear of the finding of a mine.
“Cross your heart and body that you’ll never betray me; say you wish you may die if you do,” Frieda abjured. And promising everything and making all the mystic signs necessary to eternal secrecy, Mollie then had listened to the unfolding of the fairy tale.
Frieda had not really intended to make her story a fairy tale, but she had no more idea of how much money the Rainbow Mine produced than a baby, and of course with the telling of her tale the size of the nuggets that Jim was getting out of the mine each week naturally grew.
“You see,” Frieda explained, warming with her subject, “we simply don’t know how rich we are. Jim, our overseer at the ranch, who now looks after our mine, says you never can tell at first how much a mine may yield. Perhaps we may be millionaires some day.”
The word millionaire was an entirely new one in Frieda’s vocabulary, which she had learned since coming to Primrose Hall, but certainly it had a magnificent sound and made Mollie blink.
“It sounds just too wonderful,” the little Southern girl sighed, “and I do declare, Frieda, that if I didn’t love you more than most anybody I should feel envious. We aren’t rich a bit; my father is just a lawyer in Richmond and while we have a pretty house and all that, why we have some other brothers and sisters, and father says all he can afford to do is to let Lucy and me have two years apiece at Primrose Hall. He can’t give us money for the wonderful clothes you buy. Won’t I be proud if you can make me a visit in the Christmas holidays to show you and your lovely things to my friends!” And Mollie began twisting into curls the ends of her Frieda’s yellow braids and looking up at her with an even increased admiration.
Such a rush of recklessness and affection then seized hold on the youngest Miss Ralston, that without even discussing the question with Mollie, she immediately arose from her couch and rushing to her desk indited a letter to a New York firm asking that the two kimonos be sent her at once with slippers and stockings to match. For her beloved Mollie was just too sweet and sympathetic for anything and quite unlike adopted sisters and relations, who scolded and put on airs when one’s affairs went a bit wrong. Frieda would have liked at the instant of writing her letter to have poured all her wealth at her friend’s feet, but all that she could do more was to invite her to come into town the next week to be her guest at the matinee and lunch and to help her make a few more purchases.
For Frieda’s December bill had not yet arrived and her check had, and so for the time being, like many another person, she felt fairly well off, although her allowance for the past two months had melted away like wax without her being able to pay back a single cent of the money to either Jean or Olive, which they had advanced to help with her first extravagance, the blue silk dress and velvet coat.