Now, my dear, shake hands with your cousin, for we must be going." Mary complied; but not at all impetuously.

She lowered her long lashes, and put out her hand timidly, and said, "Good-by, Cousin Walter." He held her hand a moment, and that made her color directly.

"You will come over the farm.

Can you ride?
Have you your habit ?" "No, cousin; but never mind that.

I can put on a long skirt." "A skirt! But, after all, it does not matter a straw what _you_ wear." Mary was such a novice that she did not catch the meaning of this on the spot, but half-way to the inn, and in the middle of a conversation, her cheeks were suddenly suffused with blushes.