“But,” he said, “that's really nonsense, after all, isn't it?”
“What?”
“Why, the idea of your keeping store again. You'll never do that.”
“Indeed I shall! Why not?”
“Why, because—”
“Because what?”
“Because—well, because I don't think you will, that's all. Girls like you don't have to keep a country store, you know—at least, not for long.”
The remark was intended to please; it might have pleased some girls, but it did not please this one. Mary's dignity was offended. Anything approaching a slur upon her beloved uncles, or their place of business, or South Harniss, or the Cape Cod people, she resented with all her might. Her eyes snapped.
“I do not HAVE to keep store at any time,” she said crisply, “in the country or elsewhere. I do it because I wish to and I shall continue to do it as long as I choose. If my friends do not understand that fact and appreciate my reasons, they are not my friends, that is all.”
Crawford threw up both hands. “Whew!” he exclaimed. “Don't shoot; I'll come down! Great Scott! If you take a fellow's head off like that when he pays you a compliment what would you do if he dared to criticize?”