."

Mary paused on the doorstep. "The letter is mamma's, but I'm sure she
would not mind if I were to cut the stamp out of the envelope."

In an instant Pink's knife was out of his pocket, and he was cutting
deftly around the stamp, while Mary held the envelope flat against the
door. He did it slowly, in order not to cut through into the letter, and
he could not fail to notice the big dashing hand in which it was
addressed to Mrs. Emily Ware. It looked so familiar that it puzzled him
to recall where he had seen it before.

"I can bring you a lot more like this, if you want them," said Mary, as
she gave the stamp to the postmaster. "Jack and I each get letters from
this friend down in Mexico, and he writes to mamma nearly every week."

The Captain thanked her emphatically, and she and Pink started off
again, she towards home and he towards the store. A dozen times before
closing hours Pink recalled the scene at the post-office, Mary holding
the letter up against the door for him to cut out the stamp. What firm,
capable-looking little hands she had, with their daintily kept nails,
and how pink her cheeks were, and how fluffy and brown the hair blowing
out from under the stylish little hat with the bronze quills.

Each time he recalled the letter he puzzled over the familiar appearance
of the address, until suddenly, as he was filling a jug at the spigot of
a molasses barrel, he remembered. He had seen the same handwriting
under a photograph on the mantel at Mrs. Ware's: "Philip Tremont,
Necaxa, Mexico." And on the back was pencilled, "For Aunt Emily, from
her 'other boy.'" Mary had called upon Pink to admire the picture which
had arrived that same day, and had referred to Phil several times since
as "The Best Man."

Pink almost let the molasses jug overflow, while thinking about it and
wondering why she had given him such a nickname. He resolved to ask her
why if he could ever screw his courage up to such a point.

Mary, hurrying home with the letters from Joyce and Phil, eager to hear
what was in them, never gave Pink another thought till after supper,
when she remembered his invitation and began a search for Joyce's old
riding-skirt. It was not in any of the trunks or closets in the house,
but remembering several boxes which had been stored in the loft above
the woodshed, she made Jack climb up the ladder with her to open them,
while she held the lantern. At the bottom of the last box they found
what she was sear