on't mind my planning for you and bossing you
and all that sort of thing, do you? I hope you don't, because I can't
help it. It's the way I'm made, I think."

"I don't mind. Boss away."

"Oh, I shall. I'm like that Scotch girl in the play Mrs. Wyeth took me
to see in Boston--Bunty, her name was. She made me think of myself more
than once, although she was ever so much more clever. At the end of the
play she said to her sweetheart, 'William, I must tell ye this: if
I marry ye I'll aye be managin' ye.' She meant she couldn't help it.
Neither can I. I'm afraid I'm a born manager."

Crawford stooped and kissed her.

"Do you remember William's answer?" he asked. "I do. It was: 'Bunty,
I'll glory in my shame.' Manage all you like, my lady, I'll glory in
it."

The plan did work out and it was this: Doctor Harley, who had practiced
medicine for forty-one years in South Harniss, was thinking of retiring
after two more years of active work. He was willing to sell out his
practice at the end of that time. He liked Crawford, had taken a fancy
to him on the occasion of his first visit to the town when he was a
guest of the Keiths. Crawford, after Mary had suggested the idea to him,
called upon the old doctor. Before the end of the week it was arranged
that after Crawford's final season of college and hospital work he
was to come to South Harniss, work with Doctor Harley as assistant for
another year, and then buy out the practice and, as Captain Shad said,
"put up his own shingle."

"I don't mean to stay here always," Crawford said, "but it will do me
good to be here for a time. Harley's a tiptop old chap and a thoroughly
competent general practitioner. He'll give me points that may be
invaluable by and by. And a country practice is the best of training."

Mary nodded. "Yes," she said. "And at the end of this winter I shall
have Simeon Crocker well broken in as manager of the store. And I can
sell the tea-room, I think. My uncles don't care much for that, anyway.
They will be perfectly happy with the store to putter about in and
with Simeon to take the hard work and care off their shoulders they can
putter to their hearts' content."

"But suppose Simeon doesn't make it pay!" suggested Crawford. "That's
at least a possibility. Everyone isn't a Napoleon--I should say a Queen
Elizabeth--of finance and business like yourself, young lady."

Mary's confidence was not in the least shaken.

"It will pay," she said. "If the towns