Don't YOU be foolish, for my sake."

But here was no green country girl. The self-possessed young woman who
stood before him looked no more out of place and impossible in Mrs.
Wyeth's dignified and aristocratic parlor than she had in the store
where he had last seen her. Her gown was simple and inexpensive but
it was stylish and becoming. And her manner--well, her manner was
distinctly more at ease than his at that moment. Mary had been but eight
weeks among the Misses Cabot's young ladies, but she had used her eyes
and her brain during that time; she was adaptable and had learned other
things than those in the curriculum. Also, she was prepared for this
meeting and had made up her mind to show no embarrassment.

So the usually blase Samuel was the embarrassed party. He looked and
stammered. Mrs. Wyeth was surprised and shocked.

"Samuel," she said sharply, "what is the matter with you? Why don't you
speak and not stand there staring?"

Sam, with an effort, recovered some of his self-possession.

"Was I staring?" he said. "I beg your pardon, Cousin Emily. Er--How do
you do, Miss Lathrop?"

Mrs. Wyeth sniffed.

"Mercy!" she exclaimed. "Is your acquaintance as formal as that? I
thought you knew each other. The boys and girls of this generation are
beyond me. 'Miss Lathrop,' indeed!"