“Was that remark of yours intended as a compliment?”
“Not exactly; more as a statement of fact. I meant—I meant—Oh, come now, Mary! You know perfectly well what I meant. Own up.”
Mary tried hard to be solemn and severe, but the twinkle in his eye was infectious and in spite of her effort her lips twitched.
“Own up, now,” persisted Crawford. “You know what I meant. Now, don't you?”
“Well—well, I suppose I do. But I think the remark was a very silly one. That is the way Sam Keith talks.”
“Eh? Oh, does he!”
“Yes. Or he would if I would let him. And he does it much better than you do.”
“Well, I like that!”
“I don't. That is why I don't want you to do it. I expect you to be more sensible. And, besides, I won't have you or anyone making fun of my uncles' store.”
“Making fun of it! I should say not! I have a vivid and most respectful memory of it, as you ought to know. By the way, you told me your uncles had sent you their photographs. May I see them?”