It's my opinion that more
can be made of a healthy sinner than a feeble saint. Isn't it so,
Poll?" And he leaned over to pass his broad hand caressingly down
the shining face, as he added gaily, "There's one good thing about
it, my dear; we shan't have to waste any gas to-night. The light
of your countenance will be quite enough."
They were still sitting lingering over their meal, when Alan came
in to bring a note from Molly. At sight of Polly, he started back
in mock dismay, exclaiming,--
"Great Scott, Polly! What's the matter?"
"Don't tell Molly, Alan," she begged; "but I tried to get rid of
my freckles, that's all."
Alan gave a low, expressive whistle.
"I'm glad it's nothing worse. We had a girl once, that told Molly
if she let the moon shine on her while she was asleep, she'd all
swell up and turn black, and I didn't know but you were beginning
to do that."
"I thought you had given up slang, Alan," remarked Mrs. Adams, as
she motioned him to a chair beside her.
"So I have, mostly. Mother didn't want me to use much, and I
couldn't get along without any; so we split the difference and
agreed that I could have one. I chose 'great Scott,' but it
doesn't always fit the case.
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