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.”

“Go to Commencement?  Am I going to Commencement?”

“Of course you are!  You’re going with me, I hope.  I thought that was understood.  It’s a long way off yet, but for goodness’ sake don’t say you won’t come.  I’ve been counting on it.”

Mary’s pleasure showed in her face.  All she said, however, was: 

“Thank you very much.  I shall be very glad to come.”

But Commencement was, as Crawford said, still a good way off and in the meantime there were weeks of study.  The weeks passed, some of them, and then came the Easter vacation.  Mary spent the vacation in South Harniss, of course, and as there was no Christmas rush to make her feel that she was needed at the store, she rested and drove and visited and had a thoroughly happy and profitable holiday.  The happiness and profit were shared by her uncles, it is unnecessary to state.  When she questioned them concerning business and the outlook for the coming summer, they seemed optimistic and cheerful.

“But Isaiah says there are two new stores to be opened in the village this spring,” said Mary.  “Don’t you think they may hurt your trade a little?”

Captain Shadrach dismissed the idea and his prospective competitors with a condescending wave of the hand.  “Not a mite,” he declared scornfully.  “Not a mite, Mary-’Gusta.  Hamilton and Company’s a pretty able old craft.  She may not show so much gilt paint and brass work as some of the new ones just off the ways, but her passengers know she’s staunch and they’ll stick by her.  Why, Isaiah was sayin’ that a feller was tellin’ him only yesterday that it didn’t make any difference how many new stores was started in this town, he’d never trade anywheres but with Hamilton and Company.  That shows you, don’t it?”

“Who was it said that, Uncle Shad?” asked Mary.

“Eh?  Why, I don’t know.  Isaiah was tellin’ me about it and we was interrupted.  Who was it, Isaiah?”