CHAPTER V

THE Putnams lived at New Haven, and next day Mary journeyed there in pursuit of her quest. On the train she took stock of herself.

Somehow," she thought, "I feel a dreadful lot older. Maybe that's what makes people look old-the experiences they go through. I'll have to be careful. I suppose that's why Aunt Myra looked so pinched at times; she knew an awful lot. But, all the same, she was wrong about the men. It stands to reason that a man can be just as pure minded as a woman. I know if a man I liked was reading me a wonderful poem, I'd be listening to him with all my heart and soul. I wouldn't be-I wouldn't be well, my mind wouldn't be wandering around like Will Spencer's mind was

wandering around. I know that much!" At this point Mary found herself frowning-frowning so soon upon her wonderful Quest!

"This won't do," she told herself. "I must put my thoughts on something pleasanter, or Ella will think I didn't enjoy myself at the Spencers"."

Searching her mind for something more pleasant, she presently began thinking: "I wonder what Ella Putnam's brother looks like. Edith said he was professor of Persian historyso perhaps he's too old

But, as Mary soon found out, Professor Putnam wasn't yet twenty-five. It being Saturday he had brought his sister Ella to the station in the family car. The moment Mary saw him she liked him. He was such an earnest, scholarly brother, with such large lenses in his spectacles and such a bashful manner with the ladies. Moreover, although

it was plain to see that he viewed life from an intellectual standpoint, he wasn't above making a classical jest now and then.

Near the station, for instance, they

were held up at a corner. That's three times running we've been stopped here,' shyly remarked the professor over his shoulder. "I wish they'd make it a movable feast."

At this Mary and Ella smiled at each other, one with pride and the other with appreciation.

"I guess I'm going to have a good time here," thought Mary, settling herself more at her ease. "Even if he is a professor, he's nothing to be afraid of."

And it may have been because he was bashful, or it may have been because of his scholarly air; but, whatever it was, Mary and the professor soon became great friends. He privately told Ella that Mary was so unspoiled; and Mary

privately told Ella that her brother was so nice and classical!

From which you can see how well they were getting along.

Before the afternoon was over, the professor had confided to Mary that he was writing a "Life of Zoroaster"; and at dinner time, when Mary found the wishbone in her chicken, she nodded her queenly little head at the professor, as good as to say: "We're going to have a bit of fun with this as soon as it's dry."

The next day being Sunday, they pulled the wishbone while Ella was upstairs getting ready for church.

"You've got it!" cried Mary. "You've got it! Did you wish?"

"Yes," said the young professor, gazing quite fervently through his spectacles, “ and a very nice wish too!"

After that, of course, he was soon showing her and quoting extracts from his "Life of Zoroaster."

And after that, of course, it was the most natural thing in the world for Mary to ask him if he liked poetry. "Ye-es," he said. "Poetry is very elevating-the right kind of course." "I'm glad you like it." Overhead

faintly sounded the footsteps of Ella, who was getting ready for church. "I guess there's time," reflected Mary,

and I shall feel so much better to know Aunt Myra was wrong. The book is on my bureau. . . . And I've got my blue ones on." Aloud she said: "Did you ever read Keats' 'Ode to a Greek Urn'?"

"N-no. I don't remember it."

Then, if you'll wait a minute, I'll get it and read it to you. Something you read a moment ago reminded me of it."

She ran upstairs and was down again with her " Gems of Poetry " in no time. And it may have been the exercise, or