There was no doubt but what Cecily Gregg, a classmate, was having a bad influence on Mary. Mrs. Turner rocked fitfully between stitches and remembered how sweet and natural Mary had been before she got so intimate with Cecily. But now she was catching some of that young lady’s affected ways, and, Mrs. Turner feared, some of her lack of modesty with boy companions. Cecily was seventeen, and Mary, a year younger, respected her opinions greatly, and gloated over her popularity with certain overdressed and rather sporty youths who took her about to picture shows and ice cream parlors. Cecily was slowly convincing Mary that theirs was the type to admire. And Mrs. Turner had unwittingly let Mary drift so far from her influence of late, that she felt helpless. She dared say nothing openly against Cecily. Mary would only flare up in defense and stand more staunchly for her friend. If she laid down rules, Mary might secretly break them, and if she tried to make subtle suggestions, the girl was certain to pounce on her meaning and resent it. Mary came home from school that day full of plans for her birthday party. “Cecily says I must get some new dance records for the victrola. Ours are all passé. And I’m going to make little crepe paper favors, by a cute pattern that Cecily knows. And she wants me to ask Cousin Ralph. Do you think he’d think us too young for him, since he’s finished college? I’m crazy to have him meet Cecily! He’ll be ‘dippy’ about her.” While Mary chattered, a thought lodged by Miss Canfield came to Mrs. Turner. If she couldn’t influence her daughter herself, unaided, she must reach her through others. She answered: “Why, I think it would be lovely to ask him, and I’m sure he’d like to come.” And so Mary wrote a cordial invitation to Cousin Ralph and her mother quietly added a postscript that night—a postscript that grew into an epistle as she told her nephew, a clean-souled and manly young fellow, of her problem about Mary. “Can you help me?” she wrote. “A word from you would weigh much with her. You’re her ideal of young manhood. Let her see that you are not fascinated by Cecily; she believes her irresistible. Say no more than you can judge by seeing her at the party, though. That will be enough.” His answer to Mary, his “sweet little cousin,” was frank and warm. His answer to Mrs. Turner was earnest and sympathetic. He would try. The great evening came, and with it a gay and brightly dressed bevy of Mary’s friends. Some were rollicking; some were bashful; but Mrs. Turner fancied she saw the Cecily stamp on all of them. On all except Evelyn Lewis, a simple, attractive girl with fine manners. If Mary would only prefer her to Cecily! Cousin Ralph arrived late and created a sensation, for he was tall and good-looking and possessed of polish and charm. He led all the fun after that and Mrs. Turner saw Mary’s eyes sparkling with pride in him.