It was not excruciating torture, that dinner in the Howe dining-room, even to a young lady who had just listened to a proposal of marriage and desired to think of nothing less important.  Mr. Howe was big and jolly.  Mrs. Howe was gray-haired and gracious and Barbara was—­Barbara.  Also, there was a friend of Mr. Howe’s, an elderly gentleman named Green, who it seemed was one of a firm of wholesale grocers downtown, and who told funny stories and, by way of proving that they were funny, laughed heartiest of all at the ending of each.  He sat next Mrs. Howe during dinner, but later, when they were all in the handsome drawing-room, he came over and seated himself upon the sofa next Mary and entered into conversation with her.

“You are not a born Bostonian, I understand, Miss Lathrop,” he observed.  “An importation, eh?  Ho, ho!  Yes.  Well, how do you like us?”

Mary smiled.  “Oh, I like Boston very much, Mr. Green,” she answered.  “I know it better than any other American city, perhaps that is why.  It was the only city I had ever seen until quite recently.  I am imported—­as you call it—­from not so far away.  My home is on Cape Cod.”

Mr. Green regarded her with interest.

“So?” he said.  “From Cape Cod, eh?  That’s rather peculiar.  I have been very much interested in the Cape for the past day or so.  Something has occurred in connection with my business which brought the Cape to mind.  My attention has been—­er—­as you may say, gripped by the strong right arm of Massachusetts.  Eh?  Ho, ho!”

He chuckled at his own joke.  Mary was rather bored, but she tried not to show it.

“What part of the Cape has interested you, Mr. Green?” she inquired for the sake of saying something.

“Eh?  Oh—­er—­South Harniss.  Little town down near the elbow.  Do you know it?”

Mary was surprised, of course.  The answer which was on the tip of her tongue was naturally, “Why, yes, I live there.”  But she did not make that answer, although she has often wondered, since, why.  What she said was:  “Yes, I know South Harniss.”

“Do you, indeed?” went on Green.  “Well, I don’t, but I have known some people who live there for ever so long.  My father knew them before me.  They were customers of his and they have been buying of our firm for years.  Two old chaps who keep what I believe they would call a ’general store.’  Fine old fellows, both of them!  Different as can be, and characters, but pure gold inside.  I have had some bad news concerning them.  They’re in trouble and I’m mighty sorry.”

Mary was bored no longer.  She leaned forward and asked breathlessly: 

“What are their names, Mr. Green?”

“Eh?  Oh, the firm name is Hamilton and Company.  That is simple and sane enough, but the names of the partners were cribbed from the book of Leviticus, I should imagine—­Zoeth and Shadrach!  Ho, ho!  Think of it!  Think of wishing a name like Shadrach upon a helpless infant.  The S. P. C. A. or C. C. or something ought to be told of it.  Ho, ho!”