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.
"No, don't take hold of my hand," as she came back and slipped her
fingers in his. "Put your hands in your pockets."
"I've only one pocket," she answered meekly, putting her right hand in
it.
"Difficulties at once, aren't there?" said Mr. John. "Your clothes
want reforming, you see. You'll have to put on Bloomers."
"Oh!" said Mollie.
"I'm afraid you're not very much in earnest," he said. "You surely are
not frightened by a trifle like that?" Mollie looked up imploringly.
"Must I?" she asked.
"Well," he answered, her earnestness making him fear that she would
actually appear publicly in masculine array, "I don't know that it is
necessary at present. A few days wont matter; and, after a while, it
will seem to you the natural way to dress."
He was so faithful that evening in reminding her of her short-comings
that their _tete-a-tete_ over the little table in the ice-cream
saloon, which usually was so cosey and delightful, was quite spoiled.
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