you for a drive...."

"It was abrupt," Mister Masters wrote to his mother, "but it was kind.
When I had done blushing and scraping with my feet and pulling my
forelock, we had the nicest little talk. And she remembered you in the
old days at Lenox, and said why hadn't I told her before. And then she
asked if I liked Aiken, and, seeing how the land lay, I lied and said I
loved it. And she said that that was her nice, sensible young fellow, or
words to that effect. And then she asked me why, and I said because it
has such a fine climate; and then she laughed in my face, and said that
I was without reverence for her age--not a man--a scalawag.

"And do you know, Mrs. Hotchkiss is like one of those magic keys in
fairy stories? All doors open to her. Between you and me I have been
thinking Aiken's floating population snobbish, purse-proud, and
generally absurd. And instead, the place seems to exist so that kindness
and hospitality may not fail on earth. Of course I'm not up to genuine
sprees, such as dining out and sitting up till half-past ten or eleven.
But I can go to luncheons, and watch other people play tennis, and poke
about gardens with old ladies, and guess when particular flowers will be
out, and learn the names of birds and of hostile bushes that prick and
of friendly bushes that don't.

"All the cold weather has gone to glory; and it's really spring because
the roosters crow all night. Mrs. Hotchkiss says it's because they are
roosters and immoral. But I think they're crowing because they've
survived the winter. I am...."

Aiken took a great fancy to Mister Masters. First because Aiken was
giving him a good time; and second because he was really good company
when you got him well cornered and his habitual fright had worn off. He
was the shyest, most frightened six-footer in the memory of Aiken. If
you spoke to him suddenly he blushed, and if you prepared him by first
clearing your throat he blushed just the same. And he had a crooked,
embarrassed smile that was a delight to see.

But gradually he became almost at ease with nearly everybody; and in the
shyest, gentlest way enjoyed himself hugely. But the prettiest girl in
Aiken had very hard work with him.

As a stag fights when brought to bay, so Mister Masters when driven into
a corner could talk as well and as freely as the next man; but on his
own initiative there was, as we Americans say, "nothing doing." Whether
or not the prettiest girl in Aiken ever