The name of copy-cat which Holland had given her proved well-earned now,
for so easily did she fall in with the ways about her, that one would
have thought her always accustomed to formal dinners, with a deft
colored waiter like Alec at her elbow.

Rob dined with them, and later in the evening Mrs. Walton came strolling
over in neighborly fashion, bringing her house-party to call on the
other party, she said, though to be sure only half of her guests had
arrived, the two young army officers, George Logan and Robert Stanley.
Allison and Kitty were with them, and--Mary noted with a quick indrawn
breath--_Ranald_. The title of _Little_ Captain no longer fitted him. He
was far too tall. She was disappointed to find him grown.

Somehow all the heroes and heroines whom she had looked upon as her own
age, who _were_ her own age when the interesting things she knew about
them had happened, were all grown up. Her first disappointment had been
in Rob, then in Betty. For this Betty was not the one Joyce had pictured
in her stories of the first house-party. This one had long dresses, and
her curly hair was tucked up on her head in such a bewitchingly
young-ladified way that Mary was in awe of her at first. She was not
disappointed in her now, however, and no longer in awe, since Betty had
piloted her over the place, swinging hands with her in as friendly a
fashion as if she were no older than Hazel Lee, and telling the way she
looked when _she_ saw The Locusts for the first time--a timid little
country girl in a sunbonnet, with a wicker basket on her arm.

The military uniforms lent an air of distinction to the scene, and
Allison and Kitty each began a conversation in such a vivacious way,
that Mary found it difficult to decide which group to attach herself to.
She did not want to lose a word that any one was saying, and the effort
to listen to several separate conversations was as much of a strain as
trying to watch three rings at the circus.

Through the laughter and the repartee of the young people she heard Mrs.
Walton say to Mr. Sherman: "Yes, only second lieutenants, but I've been
an army woman long enough to appreciate them as they deserve. They have
no rank to speak of, few privileges, are always expected to do the
agreeable to visitors (and they do it), obliged to give up their
quarters at a moment's notice, take the duties nobody else wants, be
cheerful under all conditions, and ready for anything. It is an
exception w