"Look here, then," he said, "will you go with my sister and me some day? As a favor to me, you know--so you'll get her here on time." "Oh," I says, "I'd love to!" "Done," he said. "Tell me your name, and I'll tell her we've got an engagement with her." When he'd gone I jumped down from the wall and ran pell-mell up the hill. Before I knew it, I was humming. Ain't it the funniest thing how one little bit of a nice happening from somebody makes you all over like new? Two days afterward I was leaving the dining-room when I saw Miss Antoinette Massy coming toward me. My heart begun to beat. She was so beautiful and dressed like a dream. She's always seemed to me somebody far off, and different--like somebody that had died and been born again from the way I was. "You're Cosma Wakely, aren't you?" she said. "My brother told me about meeting you." I couldn't think of a thing to say. I just kept thinking how the lace of her waist looked as if it hadn't ever been worn before; and I noticed her pretty, rosy, shining nails. "I wondered if you wouldn't go for a motor ride with my brother, Gerald, and myself, to-morrow afternoon?" "Oh," I says, "I could, like anything." And all that night when I woke up, I kept thinking what was going to happen, and it was in my head like, something saying something. It wasn't so much for the ride--it was that they'd been the way they'd been to me. That was it. I put on my best dress and my best shoes and my other hat; and when I met Miss Massy in the parlor I see right off that I was dressed up too much. She had on a sweater and a little cap. I always noticed that about me--I dressed up when I'd ought not to, and times when I didn't everybody else was always dressed up. Her brother came in, and I hadn't sensed before how good-looking he was. If ever he had come to Katytown, Lena Curtsy would have met him before he got half-way from the depot to the post-office. Up to then, this was my most wonderful school-day. But it wasn't the ride. It was because they were both being to me the way they were. We stopped at a little road-house for tea. I hated tea, and when they asked me to have tea, I said so. I said I'd select pop. Going back, it was the surprise of my school life that far when Antoinette Massy asked me if I would go home with her at the end of the week. "Oh," I says, "I can't! I can't!" "Do come," she says; "my brother will run us down. You can take your work with you." "Oh," I says, "it isn't that. I guess you don't understand"--I thought I ought to tell her just the truth--"I can't act the way you're used to, I'm afraid," I said. "I'm learning--but I had a lot to know."