But Molly was growing very pretty too, not
with Sara's delicate, _spirituelle_ attractions, but with a saucy,
piquant, bewitching charm of her own that the students were not slow to
notice, and which Molly was not slow to appreciate, and make the most
of.
Still, Sara did not for some time take any notice of this; for she could
not understand that what to her was a nuisance, and to be gotten rid of
at once, was to Molly the source of the greatest amusement and delight,
--their street admiration and attentions. It came upon her with a shock,
one day, to find herself on the sidewalk behind some tall-hatted young
sprig, accompanied by her little sister, rattling on to him with smiles,
dimples, and tosses, in her own peculiar way, as if she had known him
all her life, and she could scarcely wait to get the child indoors,
before she began,--
"Molly, who was that?"
"That? Why, I've forgotten his name," coolly. "He's a 'fresh' though, I
believe."
"And you're one, too, I should think!" strongly indignant. "What in the
world were you doing?"
"Oh, just talking and laughing."
"When you don't even know who he is? O Molly!"
"Well, what of it? All the girls talk to them, coming home from school,
and nobody thinks anything of it but you!" pouting and frowning, in her
growing anger.
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