“I don’t know.” Molly found talking to her mother about Professor Green more difficult than she had imagined it would be. “When you wrote me two years ago that some eccentric person had bought the orchard and I could finish my college course, I told Professor Green about it, and also told him I should like to meet the old man who had saved me from premature school-teaching. And when he asked me what I’d do if I should happen to meet him, I told him I would give him a good hug.” Molly faltered. “Well, mother, when I told him good-by and gave him your invitation, I went back and—I just gave him a good hug.”
Mrs. Brown sat up so vigorously that Molly, sitting by her side, was almost jolted off the bed.
“Why, Molly Brown! And what did Professor Green do?”
“He? Oh, he took it very philosophically and bowed his head ’til the storm was over.”
Mrs. Brown gave a gasp of relief.
“He must be a good old gentleman, indeed. About how old is he, Molly?”
“The girls say every day of thirty-two.”
“Why, the poor old thing! Do you think he could take the trip out here to Kentucky all by himself?”
“Mother, please don’t tease. There is something else. Jimmy Lufton wrote a little note which I found in the bottom of the basket of fruit he had put on the train for us. It was wrapped around a lemon and said, ‘Here is a lemon you can hand me if, when I come to Kentucky this summer, you don’t want me to stay.’”
“Oh! The plot thickens! So he is coming, too.”