"Think what you
please of me," she mumbled. "It is all ended; and it might have ended
sooner, too, if I'd taken better advice."
"With better advice it never would have ended, you contrary little
minx," said Mr. John to himself as she drove away.
The doctor came and Mollie was ordered to bed; but even his opiate
did not make her sleep. It was soothing, indeed, to lie there in the
twilight with her hand in her mother's, and feel that she was her
little girl entirely, no more to be her boy while life should last.
And pleasant visions of a Gothic school-house, where she should some
day be mistress of sweet, rosy-cheeked children, rose gracefully on
the ruins of her manly aspirations.
By and by the bell rang, and her mother brought a lamp, and a package
which Mollie sat up and opened. There, with a note pinned on the left
leg of her trousers and a box of Mollie's best-beloved candies clasped
on her jacket, lay Helena.
"I have never been to the ash-man's house, Mother Mollie," said the
note.
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