"O, I am awfully glad. I think from what you have all told me that Ferrars must be a nice fellow. We shall have you going off next, Molly."
"Me?--oh, dear no! Besides, it is Honor's turn before mine, you know."
"Is it true this that I hear about young Horton, or rather his regiment, being ordered off to the Soudan?"
"Yes," says Molly quietly, bending over her work. "It is quite true."
"Mrs. Horton wrote us word that she expected him to-morrow."
"And _you_ will expect him the day after, I suppose?"
"I daresay he will come to see us soon," says Molly simply; "his time will be very short before he leaves altogether."
"Poor fellow!" says the doctor musingly. "It is a pity he is being sent so far away. Well, I must really be off now--by Jove, it's later than I thought! Good-bye for the present, Molly. Perhaps you would not mind asking Miss Honor if she will stroll up for Daisy with me? I'd no idea it was so late, or I would have run in and asked her myself."
"All right," says Molly reassuringly. "I'll see that she goes."
The girl looks after him as he goes swinging down the road.
"He's a nice fellow," she says to herself. "I shouldn't at all mind having him for a brother. I wonder, now, whether Honor likes him as much as he does her. Anyone can see with half an eye that it is not Daisy alone that he comes here to see. He's dreadfully jealous, though. He makes himself quite ridiculous over that young Hildyard, just because he stares at Honor so in church. Such a _child_, too, as Ernest is; and I don't believe Honor has ever spoken to him more than two or three times at the outside. It really is absurd. I can't help teasing Dr. John about it. All right, coming!" she cries, in answer to a summons to tea from Honor; and gathering up her work, she goes slowly back to the house.
There is perhaps more alteration in Molly's appearance than in any of the others in these two past years. She is now turned seventeen, and tall for her age. She carries herself gracefully, and her slight though rounded figure is shown to advantage to-day in the light, simply-made dress which she is wearing on account of the heat.
Molly's hair has been turned up for some time now, ever since she took to teaching, in fact. "You cannot expect me to command respect from my pupils with my hair hanging down my back," she had said when the others had been inclined to remonstrate. It is all gathered up, therefore, in a pretty top-knot of bright, sunny, chestnut curls, which, notwithstanding the number of pins she uses, do their best to escape and tumble, as of old, about her forehead, ears, and neck. She is not, perhaps, what most people would call strictly pretty; but she is _very_ charming, and her deep blue eyes, with their long lashes, are really beautiful. Her complexion though brilliant is at the same time delicate, and one of her greatest charms is in the ever-varying expression of her face. Her nose is not strictly aquiline, but her pretty sensitive mouth and firm little chin make up for its deficiencies; and last, but not least, there is the pretty way in which her hair grows about her forehead and temples.