Mary nodded. “I—I've met him,” she said.
“You HAVE? Don't you think he is perfectly splendid?”
“I don't know. Is he?”
“Of course he is. Haven't you read about him in the papers? He made that long run for a touchdown in the Yale game. Oh, you should have seen it! I couldn't speak for two days after that game. He was just as cool and calm. All the Yale men were trying to get him and he dodged—I never saw anyone so cool and who kept his head so well.”
“I thought the papers spoke most of the way he kept his feet.”
“Then you did read about it! Of course you did! I'm just dying to know him. All the girls are crazy about him. Where did you meet him? Tell me!”
Mary smiled. On the occasion of her only meeting with Crawford Smith that young fellow had been anything but cool.
“I met him in my uncle's store at South Harniss,” she said. “It was three years ago.”
“And you haven't seen him since? He is a great friend of Sam's. And Sam's people have a summer home at the Cape. Perhaps you'll meet him there again.”
“Perhaps.”