n his manner toward her? Would he be lofty and condescending or, on
the other hand, would he pretend a familiar acquaintanceship which did
not exist? Alone in her room she considered these questions and then put
them from her mind. Whatever his manner might be, hers, she determined,
should be what it had always been. And if any embarrassment was evident
to others at this meeting it should not be on her part.

When she came downstairs, Mrs. Wyeth called to her to come into the
parlor. As she entered the room two young men rose from the chairs
beside the mahogany center table. One of these young men was Sam Keith;
she had expected to see Sam, of course. But the other--the other was the
very individual in whose daring deeds and glorified personality she had
expressed a complete lack of interest only the day before, the young
fellow whom she had last seen racing madly across the fields in the rear
of Hamilton and Company's store with the larger portion of a sheet of
sticky fly paper attached to his white flannels. Mr. Crawford Smith was
taller and broader than on that memorable occasion but she recognized
him instantly.

It was evident that he did not recognize her. Mrs. Wyeth came to meet
her.

"Mary," she said, "you know Samuel, I think. You and he have met before.
Samuel, will you introduce your friend?"

Sam was staring at Mary with eyes which expressed a variety of emotions,
intense surprise the most prominent. He was in a state which Barbara
Howe would have described as "fussed," one most unusual for him. He had
known of Mary's presence in the house; after the affair was settled John
Keith told his family what he had done, facing with serene philosophy
his wife's displeasure and prophecies of certain regrets. Sam had vivid
and pleasing recollections of the pretty country girl in the South
Harniss store. He had not told his college friend that they were to meet
her that day, one reason being that he was not certain they would meet,
and the other a secret misgiving that it might be well to wait and
inspect and listen before boasting of previous acquaintanceship. Sam's
mother had lectured him on the subject before he left home. "Don't be
too familiar, Sam," was her warning. "You may be sorry if you do. The
girl is well enough here in South Harniss, where she is accustomed
to her surroundings, but in Boston she may be quite out of place and
impossible. I have told your father so, but he won't listen, of course.
Don't