' store at South Harniss
with Miss Keith, Sam's sister? You bought some"--with a mischievous
twinkle--"some marshmallows, among other things. I sold them to you."

"You? Great Scott! Are you--why that girl's name was--what was it?"

"It was the same as mine, Mary Augusta Lathrop. But in South Harniss
they call me Mary-'Gusta."

"That was it! And you are Mary-'Gusta? Yes, of course you are! Well,
I ought to be ashamed, I suppose, but I didn't recognize you. I AM
ashamed. I was awfully obliged to you that day. You helped me out of a
scrape."

Sam, who had been listening with increasing curiosity, broke in.

"Say, what's all this?" he demanded. "When was this, Crawford? What
scrape? You never told me."

"And you didn't tell me that Miss Lathrop was here. You didn't say a
word about her."

"Eh? Didn't I? I must have forgotten to mention it. She--she IS here,
you know." Mrs. Wyeth shook her head.

"Samuel, you're perfectly idiotic today," she declared. "Of course she
is here; anyone with eyes can see she is. She is--ahem--visiting me
and she is attending the Misses Cabot's school. There! Now, Mr. Smith
understands, I hope. And dinner is ready. Don't any of you say another
word until we are at the table. My father used to say that lukewarm soup
was the worst sort of cold reception and I agree with him."

During dinner Sam was tremendously curious to discover how and where his
friend and Mary had met and what the scrape might be to which Crawford
had referred. But his curiosity was unsatisfied. Mr. Smith refused to
tell and Mary only smiled and shook her head when questioned.

The young people furnished most of the conversation during the meal.
The recent football season and its triumphant ending were discussed, of
course, and the prospects of the hockey team came in for its share. Sam,
it appeared, was out for a place on the hockey squad.

"You must see some of the games, Mary," he said. "I'll get tickets for
you and Cousin Emily. You're crazy about sports, aren't you, Cousin
Emily."

Mrs. Wyeth regarded him through her eyeglasses.

"I imagine," she observed, "that that remark is intended as a joke. I
saw one football game and the spectacle of those boys trampling each
other to death before my eyes, and of you, Samuel Keith, hopping up and
down shrieking, 'Tear 'em up' and 'Smash 'em' was the nearest approach
to insanity I ever experienced. Since that time I have regarded Doctor
Eliot as President Emeritus of