For one minute Mahala stared at Junior with questioning eyes. Then she decided that to laugh was the thing, so she laughed as heartily as she possibly could. She laughed so heartily that it became an exaggeration and then she shook her head and said: “Put no belief in astronomical communications. They’re too far-fetched. I think Vassar will suit me best and in about a week after Commencement I’m going to begin a trunk full of the nicest school clothing that has gone East in many a long day. And that reminds me that I’ve quite a bit of sewing to finish before Commencement, and I must be at it. So take yourself away, but for pity’s sake, don’t tell Edith that her aunt showed her dress. It’s against the law and she’d be furious.” “She’d be so furious,” interrupted Junior, “that she’d turn a darker green than the Lord made her.” “If you want to keep up your credit for a customary degree of observation,” said Mahala, “you’ll have to admit that Edith is rapidly shedding her greenness, that she is rounding out. She still insists that she’s half an invalid, but if she’d take some exercise and forget herself as I try and try to make her, she’d soon be the prettiest girl you ever saw.” Which proves that Mahala was strictly feminine, not that Junior was not eager and willing to pick up the challenge. “Yes, like hob she would!” he said instantly. “That sour green kicker would come within a long shot of being the prettiest girl that I ever saw while you’re in Ashwater!” “Well, I’m not going to be in Ashwater long,” said Mahala, “and then you can watch Edith and see how fast she grows handsome. You can go and take a look for yourself right now, if you want to, because I really must get to work.”