am sure I shan't
presume to guess. If she does she keeps it to herself, as she does so
many other things. She knows how to mind her own business and that is a
gift possessed by few, Letitia Pease."

Mary went home for the Christmas vacation and spent the holidays, as
she had spent those of the previous year, in helping her uncles at the
store. The Christmas trade, although not so brisk as she had seen it,
was not so bad as to alarm her, and the partners were optimistic as
ever. Isaiah, who had been talked to like a Dutch uncle by Captain Shad
and was consequently in deadly fear of the latter's wrath, declared
that as far as he could see everything was all right. So Mary left South
Harniss and returned to school and the duties of the winter term with
few misgivings concerning matters at home. Crawford met her at the train
and came to the Pinckney Street house that evening to hear the news from
the Cape. It was surprising, the interest in Cape Cod matters manifested
of late by that young man.

On a day in early April, Mary, hurrying to Mrs. Wyeth's after school,
found a letter awaiting her. She glanced at the postmark, which was
South Harniss, and the handwriting, which was Isaiah's, and then laid it
aside to be read later on at her leisure. After many postponements and
with considerable reluctance she had accepted an invitation to dine with
Barbara Howe at the latter's home in Brookline and this evening was the
time appointed. It would be her first plunge into society--the home
life of society, that is. The Howes were an old family, wealthy and
well-connected, and Mary could not help feeling somewhat nervous at
the ordeal before her. She knew something of the number and variety
of expensive gowns possessed by her young hostess and her own limited
wardrobe seemed doubly limited and plain by comparison. But she summoned
her unfailing common sense to her rescue and found consolation in the
fact that Barbara and her people knew she was, comparatively speaking,
a poor girl, and therefore could hardly have invited her with the
expectation of seeing her arrayed in fine clothes. And if they had done
so--here was a bit of the old Mary-'Gusta philosophy--their opinion
was not worth consideration anyhow, and the sooner they and she reached
mutual disgust and parting the better.

But although her best gown was not new nor expensive, and her jewels
were conspicuous by their absence, the picture she made as she stood
before the mi