“I’m glad, Uncle Shad,” said Mary.  “I like him, too.”

Shadrach regarded her with a little of the questioning scrutiny he had devoted to Crawford during dinner.

“You do, eh?” he mused.  “How much?”

“How much?” repeated Mary, puzzled.  “What do you mean?”

“I mean how much do you like him?  More’n you do your Uncle Zoeth and me, for instance?”

She looked up into his face.  What she saw there brought the color to her own.  He might have said more, but she put her finger-tips upon his lips.

“Nonsense!” she said hotly.  “What wicked, silly nonsense, Uncle Shad!  Don’t you ever, ever say such a thing to me again.  You know better.”

Shadrach smiled and shook his head.

“All right, Mary-’Gusta,” he said; “I won’t say it again—­not till you say it to me fust, at any rate.  There, there, dearie!  Don’t blow me clean out of the water.  I was only jokin’, the same as Isaiah was tryin’ to that night when you came home for your Christmas vacation.”

“I don’t like that kind of joking.  I think it’s silly.”

“I guess maybe ’tis—­for a spell, anyhow.  We’ll heave the jokes overboard.  Yes, I like that Crawford Smith fust-rate.  But the funniest thing about him is the way he reminds me of somebody else.  Who that somebody is I can’t make out nor remember.  Maybe I’ll think sometime or other, but anyhow I like him now for his own sake.  I asked him to come down and see us sometime this summer.  Wonder if he will.”

Mary-’Gusta wondered, too, but she would have wondered more had she known what that coming summer was to mean to her.  The morning after the theater party Captain Shadrach called to say good-by to Mrs. Wyeth.  That lady asked some questions and listened with interest and approval to his report concerning Crawford Smith.

“I’m glad you were so favorably impressed with the boy,” she said.  “As I told you, I like him myself.  And you approve of his friendship with your niece?”

The Captain rubbed his chin.  “Why, yes, ma’am,” he said.  “I approve of that, all right, and I cal’late Zoeth would, too.  Fact is, where Mary-’Gusta’s concerned ‘tain’t nothin’ but friendship, so fur, and I guess likely ’tain’t on his part, either.  If it ever should be more, then—­well, then, if he turned out to be all that he’d ought to be I can’t see where we old folks have much right to put our oar in, do you, ma’am?”

Perhaps Mrs. Wyeth was tired of the subject; perhaps she objected to being addressed as one of the old folks; at any rate, she made no answer, but asked a question instead.

“Captain Gould,” she said, “what plans have you and Mr. Hamilton made for Mary this summer?”

“Plans, ma’am?  Why, I don’t know’s we’ve made any.  Of course, we’re countin’ on her comin’ down to South Harniss when she gets through her school, and—­”

“Just a moment, Captain.  I have a friend who is very anxious to have you change that plan for one of hers.  Come in, Letitia.  Captain Gould, this is my friend, Miss Pease.  Now, Letitia, tell the Captain your plan—­the one you told me last night.”