ic and all that? Suppose you were head over heels in love with
someone and his people were dead set against his marrying you, wouldn't
you elope then?"

"I think I shouldn't. I think I should try to find out why they were so
opposed to me. Perhaps there might be some good reason. If there were no
good reason, then--why, then--well, I don't know. But I should hesitate
a long while before I came between a person and his family. It must be
dreadful to do that."

Barbara laughed. "Nonsense!" she cried. "It's done every day in the best
families, my dear. And then the reconciliation is all the sweeter. You
just wait! Some of these days I expect to read: 'Elopement in South
Harniss High Life. Beautiful Society Maiden Weds Famous Former
Football--er--er--I want another F--Oh, yes, Famous Former Football
Favorite.' Isn't that beautiful? Dear me, how you blush! Or is it
sunburn? At any rate, it's very becoming."

The Famous Former Football Favorite called at Mrs. Wyeth's on the
evening following that of Mary's return to Boston. He was as big and
brown as ever and declared that he had had a wonderful vacation.

"And you're looking awfully well, too," he exclaimed, inspecting her
from head to foot. "She is, isn't she, Mrs. Wyeth?"

Mrs. Wyeth admitted that she thought so. Crawford nodded emphatically.

"By George, you are!" he repeated.

There was no doubt of his sincerity. In fact, the admiration in his
voice and look was so obvious and unconcealed that Mary, although
she could not help being pleased, was a little embarrassed. The
embarrassment wore away, however, when he began to tell of his summer
in the Sierras and to ask for additional particulars concerning her
European trip. He stayed longer than usual that evening and came again
a few evenings later--to show them some photographs he had taken in
the mountains, so he said. And the following Sunday he dropped in to
accompany them to church. And--but why particularize? Perhaps it will
be sufficient to say that during that fall and winter the boy and girl
friendship progressed as such friendships are likely to do. Miss Pease,
the romantic, nodded and looked wise and even Mrs. Wyeth no longer
resented her friend's looks and insinuations with the same indignant
certainty of denial.

"I don't know, Letitia," she admitted. "I don't know. I'm beginning to
think he cares for her and may be really serious about it. Whether or
not she cares for him is quite another thing and I