horse that shied and came in for a crack of the judge's
irritated whip.

Then I refused to let Tom come inside the gate and he went down the
street whistling, only when he got to the purple lilac he turned and
kissed his hand to me. That, Mrs. Johnson just couldn't stand and she
came across the street immediately and called me back to the gate.

"You are tempting Providence, Molly Carter," she exclaimed decidedly.
"Don't you know Tom Pollard is nothing but a fly-up-the-creek? As a
husband he'd chew the rope and run away like a puppy the first time your
back was turned. Besides being your cousin, he's younger than you. What
do you mean?"

"He's just a week younger, Mrs. Johnson, and I wouldn't tie him for
worlds, even if I married him," I said meekly. Somehow I like Mrs.
Johnson enough to be meek with her and it always brings her to a higher
point of excitement.

"Tie, nonsense; marrying is roping in with ball and chain, to my mind.
And a week between a man and a woman in their cradles gets to be fifteen
years between them and their graves. I'm going to make you the subject
of a silent prayer at the next missionary meeting, and I must go home
now to see that Sally cooks up a few of Mr. Johnson's crotchets for
supper." And she began to hurry away.

"I don't believe you'll be able to make it a 'silent' session about me,
Mrs. Johnson," I called after her, and she laughed back from her own
front gate. Marriage is the only worm in the bud of Mrs. Johnson's life,
and her laugh has a snap to it even if it is not very sugary sweet.

When I told Judy about the dinner-party and asked her to get the yellow
barber to come help her and her nephew wait on the table she grinned
such a wide grin that I was afraid of being swallowed. She understood
that Aunt Adeline wouldn't be interested in it until I had time to tell
her all about it. Anyway, she will be going over to Springfield on a
pilgrimage to see Mr. Henderson's sister next week. She doesn't know it
yet; but I do.

After that I spent all the rest of the evening in planning my
dinner-party and I had a most royal good time. I always have had lots
of company, but mostly the spend-the-day kind with relatives, or more
relatives to supper. That's what most entertaining in Hillsboro is like,
but, as I say, once in a while the old slow pacer wakes up.

I'll never forget my first real dinner-party, as the flower girl for
Caroline Evans' wedding, when she married the Chicago milli