Mary laughed.  “Have I grown so much older in two months?” she asked.

“Oh, you haven’t changed that way.  I—­I—­” The young man, realizing that he was getting into deep water, seized an opportunity to scramble out.  “Oh, I forgot!” he exclaimed.  “Sorry, Crawford.  Mary—­Miss Lathrop, I want to present my friend, Crawford Smith.  He’s my roommate at college.”

Mary and Crawford shook hands.

“I have met Mr. Smith, too, before,” she said.

The young gentlemen, both of them, looked astonished.

“Have you?” cried Sam.  “Oh, I say!  I didn’t know that.  When was it?”

His friend, too, was plainly puzzled.  “I hardly think so,” he said.  “I don’t believe I should have forgotten it.  I don’t remember—­”

“Don’t you remember coming into my uncles’ store at South Harniss with Miss Keith, Sam’s sister?  You bought some”—­with a mischievous twinkle—­“some marshmallows, among other things.  I sold them to you.”

“You?  Great Scott!  Are you—­why that girl’s name was—­what was it?”

“It was the same as mine, Mary Augusta Lathrop.  But in South Harniss they call me Mary-’Gusta.”

“That was it!  And you are Mary-’Gusta?  Yes, of course you are!  Well, I ought to be ashamed, I suppose, but I didn’t recognize you.  I am ashamed.  I was awfully obliged to you that day.  You helped me out of a scrape.”

Sam, who had been listening with increasing curiosity, broke in.

“Say, what’s all this?” he demanded.  “When was this, Crawford?  What scrape?  You never told me.”

“And you didn’t tell me that Miss Lathrop was here.  You didn’t say a word about her.”

“Eh?  Didn’t I?  I must have forgotten to mention it.  She—­she is here, you know.”  Mrs. Wyeth shook her head.

“Samuel, you’re perfectly idiotic today,” she declared.  “Of course she is here; anyone with eyes can see she is.  She is—­ahem—­visiting me and she is attending the Misses Cabot’s school.  There!  Now, Mr. Smith understands, I hope.  And dinner is ready.  Don’t any of you say another word until we are at the table.  My father used to say that lukewarm soup was the worst sort of cold reception and I agree with him.”

During dinner Sam was tremendously curious to discover how and where his friend and Mary had met and what the scrape might be to which Crawford had referred.  But his curiosity was unsatisfied.  Mr. Smith refused to tell and Mary only smiled and shook her head when questioned.

The young people furnished most of the conversation during the meal.  The recent football season and its triumphant ending were discussed, of course, and the prospects of the hockey team came in for its share.  Sam, it appeared, was out for a place on the hockey squad.

“You must see some of the games, Mary,” he said.  “I’ll get tickets for you and Cousin Emily.  You’re crazy about sports, aren’t you, Cousin Emily.”