* * * * * That afternoon Murray strolled over to Orchard Knob , going into the kitchen without knocking as was the habit in that free and easy world . Mrs. Palmer was lying on the lounge with a pungent handkerchief bound about her head , but keeping a vigilant eye on a very pretty , very plump brown-eyed girl who was stirring a kettleful of cherry preserve on the range . `` Good afternoon , Mrs. Palmer , '' said Murray , wondering where Mollie was . `` I 'm sorry to see that you look something like an invalid . '' `` I 've a raging , ramping headache , '' said Mrs. Palmer solemnly . `` I had it all night and I 'm good for nothing . Mollie , you 'd better take them cherries off . Mr. Murray , this is my niece , Mollie Booth . '' `` What ? '' said Murray explosively . `` Miss Mollie Booth , '' repeated Mrs. Palmer in a louder tone . Murray regained outward self-control and bowed to the blushing Mollie . `` And what about Eve ? '' he thought helplessly . `` Who -- what was she ? Did I dream her ? Was she a phantom of delight ? No , no , phantoms do n't milk cows . She was flesh and blood . No chilly nymph exhaling from the mists of the marsh could have given a kiss like that . ''
`` XXXXX has come to stay the rest of the summer with me , '' said Mrs. Palmer .
Booth Knob Mollie Murray Palmer flesh kettleful night phantoms something