42Once home, Molly got out an old calligraphy pen and got to work on the place cards. She had a much wider traditionalist streak than her friend, and if old-fashioned place cards were going to be the only way she could express it, that would have to suffice. But she was out of practice and kept leaving unsightly blotches, her lines wobbly instead of graceful, and in the end, a job that she had thought would take thirty minutes ended up taking three hours.
“Come on, Bobo,” she said, capping the pen after the last one was finished. “Not half bad, even if did take forever,” she said, having no compunction at all about talking to Bobo as if she were human. “Want to go for a walk?” Bobo, to Molly’s never-failing delight, leapt in the air and spun in circles, thrilled with the idea.
Wesley Add
