provided she had no objections.  She could not, of course, say no, and the Widow Perkins, who, besides attending to “Uncle Jim” and “Aunt Dolly,” still found time to watch the school-house, came very near letting her buttermilk biscuit burn to a cinder, when she saw the young man walking down the road with Mary.  Arrived at Mrs. Mason’s, the stranger managed to make himself so agreeable, that Mrs. Mason invited him to stay to tea,—­an invitation which he readily accepted.  Whoever he was, he seemed to understand exactly how to find out whatever he wished to know; and before tea was over, he had learned of Mary’s intention to attend the academy in Wilbraham, the next autumn.

“Excuse me for making a suggestion,” said he, “but why not go to Mt.  Holyoke?  Do you not think the system of education there a most excellent one?”

Mary glanced at Mrs. Mason, who replied, that “she believed they did not care to take a pupil at South Hadley for a less period than a year; and as Mary was entirely dependent upon herself, she could not at present afford that length of time.”

“That does make a difference,” returned Mr. Stuart “but I hope she will not give up Mt.  Holyoke entirely, as I should prefer it to Wilbraham.”

Tea being over, Mr. Stuart arose to go; and Mary, as she accompanied him to the door, could not forbear asking how he liked Mrs. Mason’s garden, which he had forgotten even to look at!

Blushing deeply, he replied, “I suppose Miss Howard has learned ere this, that there are in the world things fairer and more attractive than flowers, but I will look at them when I come again;” then politely bidding her good night, be walked away, leaving Mary and Mrs. Mason to wonder,—­the one what he came there for, and the other whether he would ever come again.  The widow, too, wondered and fidgeted, as the sun went down behind the long hill, and still under the apple-tree the gray pony stood.

“It beats all nater what’s kept him so long,” said she, when he at last appeared, and, unfastening, his horse, drove off at a furious rate; “but if I live I’ll know all about it to-morrow;” and with this consolatory remark she returned to the best room, and for the remainder of the evening devoted herself to the entertainment of Uncle Jim and his wife Aunt Dolly.

That evening, Mr. Knight, who had been to the Post Office, called at Mrs. Mason’s, bringing with him a letter which bore the Boston postmark.  Passing it to Mary, he winked at Mrs. Mason, saying, “I kinder guess how all this writin’ works will end; but hain’t there been a young chap to see the school?”

“Yes; how did you know it,” returned Mrs. Mason, while Mary blushed more deeply than she did when Billy’s letter was handed her.

“Why, you see,” answered Mr. Knight, “I was about at the foot of the Blanchard hill, when I see a buggy comin’ like Jehu.  Just as it got agin me it kinder slackened, and the fore wheel ran off smack and scissors.”