For she reddened when she asked the question: "I wonder if you feel
about Ben as I feel about my brother--that when you kiss him you are
kissing a strange man?"
Peggy laughed. "You would feel that way, of course. For your brother
is almost a stranger to you."
"And do you kiss Ben often?" asked Mary.
"Ben doesn't like it," smiled Peggy. "He is like most other men--he
likes to kiss the daughters of other men, but he gets sulky and balky
when I want to kiss him. So I don't try very often. Your brother is a
fine, big fellow, but you will find before you have been around him
very long that he wants to do his kissing away from home."
Mary laughed, and blushed again. "I have already discovered that," she
said. "But, Peggy," she added seriously, "I love him so much that
believe I should be jealous if I thought he kissed another girl!"
Mary rode homeward, rather comforted over her visit. And during the
remaining days of Sanderson's absence she succeeded in convincing
herself that Sanderson's attitude toward her was the usual attitude of
brothers toward sisters, and that she had nothing of which to complain.
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