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"You duck!" she cried, and, although Judith gasped and paled at the audacious epithet, Miss Jinny merely chuckled and patted her tenderly and then passed her on to the smiling, pink-cheeked little old lady in the rocker. I spent ten minutes telling Billy what a hippopotamus really looks like as I put him to bed, but later, much as I should have liked to, I couldn't consume that horrible dinner, that I had helped prepare at the Johnsons', in the shelter of John's arms, and I had to face Alfred. Ruth Clinton was there, and she faced him too. "Molly, Molly," he said, with a perfect rapture of chuckles in his voice, "now you look just as pretty as you do when you go to bed—all whity all over. You can kiss my kiss-spot a hundred times while I bear-hug you for that nice not-black dress," and before any stern person could have stopped us I was on my knees on the grass kissing my fill from the "kiss-spot" on the back of his neck, while he hugged all the starch out of the old white dress. "Patricia!" gasped Judith, shocked out of her dreamy calm. "You oughtn't to say things like that. It's—it's not religious!".