Mrs. Baker, however, saw nothing about which to give herself any concern.  If she perceived the girl intense and preoccupied, she smiled indulgently—­at Mary Virginia’s age one is apt to be like that, and one recovers from that phase as one gets over mumps and measles.  Mrs. Baker did think it advisable, though, to subtly detach the girl from books for awhile.  She amused herself by allowing her wide-eyed glimpses of the larger life of grown-ups, by way of arousing and initiation.  Thus it happened that one afternoon at the country-club, where Mary Virginia, at the green-fruit stage, found herself playing gooseberry instead of golf, Mrs. Baker sauntered up with a tall and very blonde man.

“Here,” said she gaily, indicating with a wave of her hand her sulky-eyed young cousin, “is a marvel and a wonder—­a girl who accepts on faith everything and everybody!  My dear Howard, in all probability she will presently even believe in you!” With that she left them, whisked off by a waiting golfer.

The man and the girl appraised each other.  The man saw young bread-and-butter with the raw sugar of beauty sprinkled upon it promisingly.  What the girl saw was not so much a faultlessly groomed and handsome man as the most beautiful person in the world.  And suddenly she was aware that that for which she had been waiting had come.  Something divine and wonderful was happening, and there was fire before her eyes and the noise of unloosed winds and great waters in her ears, and her knees trembled and her heart fluttered.  A vivid red flamed into her pale cheeks, a soft and trembling light suffused her blue eyes.  That happens when the sweet and virginal freshness of youth is brought face to face with the bright shadow of love.

He drew her out of her shyness and made her laugh, and after awhile, when there was dancing, he danced with her.  He did not behave to her as other men of Estelle’s acquaintance had more than once behaved—­as though they bestowed the lordly honor of their society upon her out of the sheer goodness of their hearts and their desire to please Mrs. Baker.  Mary Virginia was uncompromising and stiff-necked enough then, and she bored most of her cousin’s friends unconsciously.  Now this man, as much their superior as the sun is to farthing dips, was exerting himself to please her.  That was the one thing Mary Virginia needed to arouse her.

Mrs. Baker admired Mr. Hunter for a grace of manner almost Latin in its charm.  If at times he puzzled her, he at least never bored her or anybody else, and for this she praised him in the gates.  Her respect for him deepened when she perceived that he never allowed himself to be absorbed or monopolized.

The pleasant widow did not take him too seriously.  She only asked that he amuse and interest her.  He did both, to a superlative degree.  That is why and how he saw so much of the school-girl cousin whose naivete made him smile, it was so absurdly sincere.