“Indeed you are; and more than ever since papa’s illness.”
“Thank you, mamma.” Molly looked radiant. “I’ll try never to be reckless any more.”
She was extremely in earnest. If anybody had told her then that in another hour she would be doing a frightfully daring thing she would not have believed it. And if anybody had told Mrs. Rowe that she herself would not blame Molly for the disobedience, Mrs. Rowe would not have believed that either.
“Can you ride up to Mrs. Carillo’s with me, Polly?” Mrs. Rowe heard Molly call under the window of Pauline’s room across the way.
“In two seconds, Molly.” And Pauline hastened out, trundling her safety before her.
Mrs. Rowe watched the two girls spinning down the street on their wheels till they looked in the distance like two enormous spiders revolving on their own webs. Then calling Zip, who had begged to follow them, she went into the house.
All the way to the little brown cottage by the canyon, Molly and Pauline were talking of the street masquerade now near at hand, and discussing what they should wear.
“I’ve a great mind to dress in light blue,” said Molly; “mask, gown, stockings, and all.”
“I wouldn’t, Molly. You always wear blue or lavender or something of that kind. People would guess you in a minute. Why don’t you wear yellow?”
“Yellow—with my red hair, Pauline!”