She went to sleep regretting that she had taken Mr. John into her
confidence and made it necessary for him to treat her as a boy.
She did not see him again for several days: and meanwhile she had
taken her lessons in book-keeping, practiced the writing hours on
heavy masculine strokes, learned to walk without dancing little
whirligigs on her tiptoes every other minute, and made some progress
in the art of whistling. She felt that she had done much to earn his
commendation, and was anxious for a meeting.
On the way home from school, one afternoon, she saw his sister's baby
at the window--the roundest, fattest, whitest and sweetest of all the
babies that had taken up an abode in Mollie's heart, where babies
innumerable were enshrined. There it was, being danced in somebody's
hands before the window, and reaching out its ten dear little fingers
to beckon her in.
She was quickly in, regardless of her gait. In a moment from the time
the tempting vision appeared she was cuddling it in her arms, glibly
talking the nonsense that it loved to hear, and kissing and petting it
to her heart's content.
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