"It is not likely that I shall make any such preposterous statement,"
she snapped.

So the "young male acquaintance" called occasionally--not too
often--Mrs. Wyeth saw to that; probably not so often as he would
have liked; but he did call and the acquaintanceship developed into
friendship. That it might develop into something more than friendship
no one, except possibly the sentimental Miss Pease, seemed to suspect.
Certainly Mary did not, and at this time it is doubtful if Crawford did,
either. He liked Mary Lathrop. She was a remarkably pretty girl but,
unlike other pretty girls he had known--and as good-looking college
football stars are privileged beyond the common herd, he had known at
least several--she did not flirt with him, nor look admiringly up into
his eyes, nor pronounce his jokes "killingly funny," nor flatter him in
any way. If the jokes WERE funny she laughed a healthy, genuine laugh,
but if, as sometimes happened, they were rather feeble, she was quite
likely to tell him so. She did not always agree with his views, having
views of her own on most subjects, and if he asked her opinion the
answer he received was always honest, if not precisely what he expected
or hoped.

"By George! You're frank, at any rate," he observed, rather ruefully,
after asking her opinion as to a point of conduct and receiving it
forthwith.

"Didn't you want me to be?" asked Mary. "You asked me what I thought you
should have done and I told you."

"Yes, you did. You certainly told me."