It was not excruciating torture, that dinner in the Howe dining-room,
even to a young lady who had just listened to a proposal of marriage and
desired to think of nothing less important. Mr. Howe was big and jolly.
Mrs. Howe was gray-haired and gracious and Barbara was--Barbara. Also,
there was a friend of Mr. Howe's, an elderly gentleman named Green, who
it seemed was one of a firm of wholesale grocers downtown, and who
told funny stories and, by way of proving that they were funny, laughed
heartiest of all at the ending of each. He sat next Mrs. Howe during
dinner, but later, when they were all in the handsome drawing-room, he
came over and seated himself upon the sofa next Mary and entered into
conversation with her.

"You are not a born Bostonian, I understand, Miss Lathrop," he observed.
"An importation, eh? Ho, ho! Yes. Well, how do you like us?"

Mary smiled. "Oh, I like Boston very much, Mr. Green," she answered. "I
know it better than any other American city, perhaps that is why. It was
the only city I had ever seen until quite recently. I am imported--as
you call it--from not so far away. My home is on Cape Cod."

Mr. Green regarded her with interest.

"So?" he said. "From Cape Cod, eh? That's rather peculiar. I have been
very much interested in the Cape for the past day or so. Something has
occurred in connection with my business which brought the Cape to mind.
My attention has been--er--as you may say, gripped by the strong right
arm of Massachusetts. Eh? Ho, ho!"

He chuckled at his own joke. Mary was rather bored, but she tried not to
show it.