On the porch sat an elderly, contented looking man, clad in garments
that would easily have accommodated two men of his size-- garments
belonging to Mollie's Uncle John, and seated about him in attitudes of
lazy comfort were four young girls.
These young girls who were, at least from the standpoint of the four
young men, exceedingly good to look upon, were engaged in doing some
sort of fancy work. All but one of them, that is; for the fourth, a
girl with wavy brown hair and bright brown eyes, pink cheeks, and a
dream of a mouth, was reading to the elderly man who sat in the chair
of state.
"Gee, Allen," whispered one of the tall youths to the one who still
wore the uniform of his country's service, "I feel as though we were
crabbing your act. Can't we fellows do the disappearing act----"
But just at the moment the girl with the brown eyes and the pink
cheeks looked up, gave one little startled cry, and dropped the book
to the porch.
The other girls looked up and then followed a scene that very nearly
made the temporarily forgotten and neglected old man on the porch drop
out of his chair in surprise.
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