his admission. Crawford, president of the club and one of its most
influential members, was undecided what to do. He had explained the
case to Mary upon the occasion of his most recent visit to the
Pinckney Street house, and had asked her advice. She had taken time
for consideration, of course--she was the old Mary-'Gusta still in
that--and now the advice was ready.

"It seems to me," she said, "that I should try to settle it like this."

She explained her plan. Crawford listened, at first dubiously and then
with steadily growing enthusiasm.

"By George!" he exclaimed, when she had finished. "That would do it, I
honestly believe. How in the world did you ever think of that scheme?
Say, you really are a wonder at managing. You could manage a big
business and make it go, I'm sure. How do you do it? Where do you get
your ideas?"

Mary laughed. His praise pleased her.

"I don't know," she answered. "I just think them out, I guess. I do
like to manage things for people. Sometimes I do it more than I should,
perhaps. Poor Isaiah Chase, at home in South Harniss, says I boss him to
death. And my uncles say I manage them, too--but they seem to like it,"
she added.

"I don't wonder they do. I like it, myself. Will you help manage my
affairs between now and Commencement? There'll be a whole lot to manage,
between the club and the dance and all the rest of it. And then when you
go to Commencement you can see for yourself how they work out."