"That would be telling," said Mollie.
"I intend that you shall tell me," said he.
"Oh, it's a secret!" said Mollie.
"All the better; we'll keep it together. Tell it."
He was a grown-up man, nearer thirty than twenty years old, who stooped to take an interest in his neighbor's little girl, and flattered himself that he was bringing her up in the way she should go. It amused him in his leisure moments to try the experiment of rearing a girl to be as unlike as possible the girl of the period.
From mere force of habit, Mollie opened her mouth and poured out her heart to him. He seemed quite impressed by the solemn confession. Mollie studied his face closely while she was speaking, and saw nothing but a grave and earnest interest in her project. She could not see deep enough to discover the indignation that was fuming over the loss of her pretty locks, and the purpose that was brewing to cure her of her folly.
"Don't have any half-way work about it, Mollie," said Mr. John. "Do the thing thoroughly, if you undertake it." "Oh yes, indeed!" said Mollie.
"If you should need an occasional reminder, I will try and help you," said he; "for of course it wont do to be off guard at all. But now get your hat, and we'll go for some ice-cream. I know you need cooling off this warm evening."
Mollie skipped about to run toward the house.
"Be careful of your steps," he called; and she tramped as boyishly as she could.