All he can do is to point it out to
them earnestly and without ceasing."
They had reached the rectory gate, where she hesitated an instant with
her hand on the latch, and her head bent toward the house in a surprised
and listening attitude. "I declare, Orlando, if I didn't go off and
leave that cat locked up in the parlour!" she exclaimed in horror as she
hurried away.
"Yes," observed Mr. Mullen in his tenderest and most ministerial manner,
"my ideal is a high one, and when I look into your face, I see reflected
all the virtues I would have you reach. I see you the perfect woman,
sharing my sorrows, easing my afflictions---"
Intoxicated by his imagination, he turned toward her as though he beheld
the living embodiment of his eloquence.
For a minute Molly smiled up at him; then, "I wonder if your mother
really locked the cat in the parlour," she rejoined demurely.
After the birthday dinner, at which Mrs. Mullen talked ceaselessly of
Orlando's excellencies, while she reserved the choicest piece of meat
and the fattest dumpling for his plate, Molly tied her cherry-coloured
strings under her chin, and started home, with a basket of apple tarts
for Reuben on her arm.
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