“That’s certainly awfully kind of you, Mrs. Gray,” said he.  “But—­have you—­”

She put her hand into a capacious pocket and produced therefrom a tiny “housewife,” stocked with thimble, needles, and all necessary implements.

“I never go without it,” said she.  “There’s always somebody to be mended up when you least expect it.  My niece Roberta tripped on one of her flounces last night, dancing—­and not being used to dancing in such full, old-fashioned skirts.  Rosy was starting to pin it up, but I whipped out my kit—­and how they laughed, to see a pocket in a best dress!” She laughed herself, at the recollection.  “But I had Robby sewed up in less time than it takes to tell it—­much better than pinning!”

“How beautifully she danced those old-fashioned dances,” Richard observed eagerly.  “It was a great pleasure to see her.”

“Yes, it’s generally a pleasure to see Robby do things,” Roberta’s aunt agreed.  “She goes into them with so much vim.  When she comes out to visit us on the farm it’s the same way.  She must have a hand in the churning, or the sweeping, or something that’ll keep her busy.  Aren’t you going to get me the things, Mr. Richard?”

The young man hastened away.  Arrived before certain drawers and receptacles, he turned over piles of hosiery with a thoughtful air.  Presently selecting a pair of black silk socks of particularly fine texture, he deliberately forced his thumb through either heel, taking care to make the edges rough as possible.  Laughing to himself, he then selected a pair of gray street gloves, eyed them speculatively for a moment, then, taking out a penknife, cut the stitches in several places, making one particularly long rent down the side of the left thumb.  He regarded these damages doubtfully, wondering if they looked entirely natural and accidental; then, shaking his head, he gathered up the socks and gloves and returned with them to Aunt Ruth.

She looked them over.  “For pity’s sake,” said she, “you wear out your things in queer ways!  How did you ever manage to get holes in your heels right on the bottom, like that?  All the folks I ever knew wear out their heels on the back or side.”

Richard examined a sock.  “That is rather odd,” he admitted.  “I must have done it dancing.”

“I shall have to split my silk to darn these places,” commented Aunt Ruth.  “These must be summer socks, so thin as this.”  She glanced at the trimly shod foot of her companion and shook her head.  “You young folks!  In my day we never thought silk cobwebs’ warm enough for winter.”

“Tell me about your day, won’t you, please?” the young man urged.  “Those must have been great days, to have produced such results.”

The little lady found it impossible to resist such interest, and was presently talking away, as she mended, while her listener watched her flying fingers and enjoyed every word of her entertaining discourse.  He artfully led her from the past to the present, brought out a tale or two of Roberta’s visits at the farm, and learned with outward gravity but inward exultation that that young person had actually gone to the lengths of begging to be allowed to learn to milk a cow, but had failed to achieve success.