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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Coniston, Book III., by Winston Churchill
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Coniston, Book III.
+
+Author: Winston Churchill
+
+Release Date: October 17, 2004 [EBook #3764]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONISTON, BOOK III. ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Pat Castevans and David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+CONISTON
+
+By Winston Churchill
+
+
+
+BOOK III
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+One day, in the November following William Wetherell's death, Jethro Bass
+astonished Coniston by moving to the little cottage in the village which
+stood beside the disused tannery, and which had been his father's. It was
+known as the tannery house. His reasons for this step, when at length
+discovered, were generally commended: they were, in fact, a
+disinclination to leave a girl of Cynthia's tender age alone on Thousand
+Acre Hill while he journeyed on his affairs about the country. The Rev.
+Mr. Satterlee, gaunt, red-faced, but the six feet of him a man and a
+Christian, from his square-toed boots to the bleaching yellow hair around
+his temples, offered to become her teacher. For by this time Cynthia had
+exhausted the resources of the little school among the birches.
+
+The four years of her life in the tannery house which are now briefly to
+be chronicled were, for her, full of happiness and peace. Though the
+young may sorrow, they do not often mourn. Cynthia missed her father; at
+times, when the winds kept her wakeful at night, she wept for him. But
+she loved Jethro Bass and served him with a devotion that filled his
+heart with strange ecstasies--yes, and forebodings. In all his existence
+he had never known a love like this. He may have imagined it once, back
+in the bright days of his youth; but the dreams of its fulfilment had
+fallen far short of the exquisite touch of the reality in which he now
+spent his days at home. In summer, when she sat, in the face of all the
+conventions of the village, reading under the butternut tree before the
+house, she would feel his eyes upon her, and the mysterious yearning in
+them would startle her. Often during her lessons with Mr. Satterlee in
+the parlor of the parsonage she would hear a noise outside and perceive
+Jethro leaning against the pillar. Both Cynthia and Mr. Satterlee knew
+that he was there, and both, by a kind of tacit agreement, ignored the
+circumstance.
+
+Cynthia, in this period, undertook Jethro's education, too. She could
+have induced him to study the making of Latin verse by the mere asking.
+During those days which he spent at home, and which he had grown to value
+beyond price, he might have been seen seated on the ground with his back
+to the butternut tree while Cynthia read aloud from the well-worn books
+which had been her father's treasures, books that took on marvels of
+meaning from her lips. Cynthia's powers of selection were not remarkable
+at this period, and perhaps it was as well that she never knew the effect
+of the various works upon the hitherto untamed soul of her listener.
+Milton and Tennyson and Longfellow awoke in him by their very music
+troubled and half-formed regrets; Carlyle's "Frederick the Great" set up
+tumultuous imaginings; but the "Life of Jackson" (as did the story of
+Napoleon long ago) stirred all that was masterful in his blood.
+Unlettered as he was, Jethro had a power which often marks the American
+of action--a singular grasp of the application of any sentence or
+paragraph to his own life; and often, about this time, he took away the
+breath of a judge or a senator by flinging at them a chunk of Carlyle or
+Parton.
+
+It was perhaps as well that Cynthia was not a woman at this time, and
+that she had grown up with him, as it were. His love, indeed, was that of
+a father for a daughter; but it held within it as a core the revived love
+of his youth for Cynthia, her mother. Tender as were the manifestations
+of this love, Cynthia never guessed the fires within, for there was in
+truth something primeval in the fierceness of his passion. She was his
+now--his alone, to cherish and sweeten the declining years of his life,
+and when by a chance Jethro looked upon her and thought of the suitor who
+was to come in the fulness of her years, he burned with a hatred which it
+is given few men to feel. It was well for Jethro that these thoughts came
+not often.
+
+Sometimes, in the summer afternoons, they took long drives through the
+town behind Jethro's white horse on business. "Jethro's gal," as Cynthia
+came to be affectionately called, held the reins while Jethro went in to
+talk to the men folk. One August evening found Cynthia thus beside a
+poplar in front of Amos Cuthbert's farmhouse, a poplar that shimmered
+green-gold in the late afternoon, and from the buggy-seat Cynthia looked
+down upon a thousand purple hilltops and mountain peaks of another state.
+The view aroused in the girl visions of the many wonders which life was
+to hold, and she did not hear the sharp voice beside her until the woman
+had spoken twice. Jethro came out in the middle of the conversation,
+nodded to Mrs. Cuthbert, and drove off.
+
+"Uncle Jethro," asked Cynthia, presently, "what is a mortgage?"
+
+Jethro struck the horse with the whip, an uncommon action with him, and
+the buggy was jerked forward sharply over the boulders.
+
+"Er--who's b'en talkin' about mortgages, Cynthy?" he demanded.
+
+"Mrs. Cuthbert said that when folks had mortgage held over them they had
+to take orders whether they liked them or not. She said that Amos had to
+do what you told him because there was a mortgage. That isn't so is it?"
+
+Jethro did not speak. Presently Cynthia laid her hand over his.
+
+"Mrs. Cuthbert is a spiteful woman," she said. "I know the reason why
+people obey you--it's because you're so great. And Daddy used to tell me
+so."
+
+A tremor shook Jethro's frame and the hand on which hers rested, and all
+the way down the mountain valleys to Coniston village he did not speak
+again. But Cynthia was used to his silences, and respected them.
+
+To Ephraim Prescott, who, as the days went on, found it more and more
+difficult to sew harness on account of his rheumatism, Jethro was not
+only a great man but a hero. For Cynthia was vaguely troubled at having
+found one discontent. She was wont to entertain Ephraim on the days when
+his hands failed him, when he sat sunning himself before his door; and
+she knew that he was honest.
+
+"Who's b'en talkin' to you, Cynthia?" he cried. "Why, Jethro's the
+biggest man I know, and the best. I don't like to think where some of us
+would have b'en if he hadn't given us a lift."
+
+"But he has enemies, Cousin Eph," said Cynthia, still troubled. "What
+great man hain't?" exclaimed the soldier. "Jethro's enemies hain't worth
+thinkin' about."
+
+The thought that Jethro had enemies was very painful to Cynthia, and she
+wanted to know who they were that she might show them a proper contempt
+if she met them. Lem Hallowell brushed aside the subject with his usual
+bluff humor, and pinched her cheek and told her not to trouble her head;
+Amanda Hatch dwelt upon the inherent weakness in the human race, and the
+Rev. Mr. Satterlee faced the question once, during a history lesson. The
+nation's heroes came into inevitable comparison with Jethro Bass. Was
+Washington so good a man? and would not Jethro have been as great as the
+Father of his Country if he had had the opportunities?
+
+The answers sorely tried Mr. Satterlee's conscience, albeit he was not a
+man of the world. It set him thinking. He liked Jethro, this man of
+rugged power whose word had become law in the state. He knew best that
+side of him which Cynthia saw; and--if the truth be told--as a native of
+Coniston Mr. Satterlee felt in the bottom of his heart a certain pride in
+Jethro. The minister's opinions well represented the attitude of his
+time. He had not given thought to the subject--for such matters had came
+to be taken for granted. A politician now was a politician, his ways and
+standards set apart from those of other citizens, and not to be judged by
+men without the pale of public life. Mr. Satterlee in his limited vision
+did not then trace the matter to its source, did not reflect that Jethro
+Bass himself was almost wholly responsible in that state for the
+condition of politics and politicians. Coniston was proud of Jethro,
+prouder of him than ever since his last great victory in the Legislature,
+which brought the Truro Railroad through to Harwich and settled their
+townsman more firmly than ever before in the seat of power. Every
+statesman who drove into their little mountain village and stopped at the
+tannery house made their blood beat faster. Senators came, and
+representatives, and judges, and governors, "to git their orders," as
+Rias Richardson briefly put it, and Jethro could make or unmake them at a
+word. Each was scanned from the store where Rias now reigned supreme, and
+from the harness shop across the road. Some drove away striving to bite
+from their lips the tell-tale smile which arose in spite of them; others
+tried to look happy, despite the sentence of doom to which they had
+listened.
+
+Jethro Bass was indeed a great man to make such as these tremble or
+rejoice. When he went abroad with Cynthia awheel or afoot, some took off
+their hats--an unheard-of thing in Coniston. If he stopped at the store,
+they scanned his face for the mood he was in before venturing their
+remarks; if he lingered for a moment in front of the house of Amanda
+Hatch, the whole village was advised of the circumstance before
+nightfall.
+
+Two personages worthy of mention here visited the tannery house during
+the years that Cynthia lived with Jethro. The Honorable Heth Sutton drove
+over from Clovelly attended by his prime minister, Mr. Bijah Bixby. The
+Honorable Heth did not attempt to conceal the smile with which he went
+away, and he stopped at the store long enough to enable Rias to produce
+certain refreshments from depths unknown to the United States Internal
+Revenue authorities. Mr. Sutton shook hands with everybody, including
+Jake Wheeler. Well he might. He came to Coniston a private citizen, and
+drove away to all intents and purposes a congressman: the darling wish of
+his life realized after heaven knows how many caucuses and conventions of
+disappointment, when Jethro had judged it expedient for one reason or
+another that a north countryman should go. By the time the pair reached
+Brampton, Chamberlain Bixby was introducing his chief as Congressman
+Sutton, and by this title he was known for many years to come.
+
+Another day, when the snow lay in great billows on the ground and filled
+the mountain valleys, when the pines were rusty from the long winter, two
+other visitors drove to Coniston in a two-horse sleigh. The sun was
+shining brightly, the wind held its breath, and the noon-day warmth was
+almost like that of spring. Those who know the mountain country will
+remember the joy of many such days. Cynthia, standing in the sun on the
+porch, breathing deep of the pure air, recognized, as the sleigh drew
+near, the somewhat portly gentleman driving, and the young woman beside
+him regally clad in furs who looked patronizingly at the tannery house as
+she took the reins. The young woman was Miss Cassandra Hopkins, and the
+portly gentleman, the Honorable Alva himself, patron of the drama, who
+had entered upon his governorship and now wished to be senator.
+
+"Jethro Bass home?" he called out.
+
+"Mr. Bass is home," answered Cynthia. The girl in the sleigh murmured
+something, laughing a little, and Cynthia flushed. Mr. Hopkins gave a
+somewhat peremptory knock at the door and was admitted by Millicent
+Skinner, but Cynthia stood staring at Cassandra in the sleigh, some
+instinct warning her of a coming skirmish.
+
+"Do you live here all the year round?"
+
+"Of course," said Cynthia.
+
+Miss Cassandra shrugged as though that were beyond her comprehension.
+
+"I'd die in a place like this," she said. "No balls, or theatres. Doesn't
+your father take you around the state?"
+
+"My father's dead," said Cynthia.
+
+"Oh! Your name's Cynthia Wetherell, isn't it? You know Bob Worthington,
+don't you? He's gone to Harvard now, but he was a great friend of mine at
+Andover."
+
+Cynthia didn't answer. It would not be fair to say that she felt a pang,
+though it might add to the romance of this narrative. But her dislike for
+the girl in the sleigh decidedly increased. How was she, in her
+inexperience, to know that the radiant beauty in furs was what the boys
+at Phillips Andover called an "old stager."
+
+"So you live with Jethro Bass," was Miss Cassandra's next remark. "He's
+rich enough to take you round the state and give you everything you
+want."
+
+"I have everything I want," replied Cynthia.
+
+"I shouldn't call living here having everything I wanted," declared Miss
+Hopkins, with a contemptuous glance at the tannery house.
+
+"I suppose you wouldn't," said Cynthia.
+
+Miss Hopkins was nettled. She was out of humor that day, besides she
+shared some of her father's political ambition. If he went to Washington,
+she went too.
+
+"Didn't you know Jethro Bass was rich?" she demanded, imprudently. "Why,
+my father gave twenty thousand dollars to be governor, and Jethro Bass
+must have got half of it."
+
+Cynthia's eyes were of that peculiar gray which, lighted by love or
+anger, once seen, are never forgotten. One hand was on the dashboard of
+the cutter, the other had seized the seat. Her voice was steady, and the
+three words she spoke struck Miss Hopkins with startling effect.
+
+Miss Hopkins's breath was literally taken away, and for once she found no
+retort. Let it be said for her that this was a new experience with a new
+creature. A demure country girl turn into a wildcat before her very eyes!
+Perhaps it was as well for both that the door of the house opened and the
+Honorable Alva interrupted their talk, and without so much as a glance at
+Cynthia he got hurriedly into the sleigh and drove off. When Cynthia
+turned, the points of color still high in her cheeks and the light still
+ablaze in her eyes, she surprised Jethro gazing at her from the porch,
+and some sorrow she felt rather than beheld stopped the confession on her
+lips. It would be unworthy of her even to repeat such slander, and the
+color surged again into her face for very shame of her anger. Cassandra
+Hopkins had not been worthy of it.
+
+Jethro did not speak, but slipped his hand into hers, and thus they stood
+for a long time gazing at the snow fields between the pines on the
+heights of Coniston.
+
+The next summer, was the first which the painter--pioneer of summer
+visitors there--spent at Coniston. He was an unsuccessful painter, who
+became, by a process which he himself does not to-day completely
+understand, a successful writer of novels. As a character, however, he
+himself confesses his inadequacy, and the chief interest in him for the
+readers of this narrative is that he fell deeply in love with Cynthia
+Wetherell at nineteen. It is fair to mention in passing that other young
+men were in love with Cynthia at this time, notably Eben Hatch--history
+repeating itself. Once, in a moment of madness, Eben confessed his love,
+the painter never did: and he has to this day a delicious memory which
+has made Cynthia the heroine of many of his stories. He boarded with
+Chester Perkins, and he was humored by the village as a harmless but
+amiable lunatic.
+
+The painter had never conceived that a New England conscience and a
+temper of no mean proportions could dwell together in the body of a wood
+nymph. When he had first seen Cynthia among the willows by Coniston
+Water, he had thought her a wood nymph. But she scolded him for his
+impropriety with so unerring a choice of words that he fell in love with
+her intellect, too. He spent much of his time to the neglect of his
+canvases under the butternut tree in front of Jethro's house trying to
+persuade Cynthia to sit for her portrait; and if Jethro himself had not
+overheard one of these arguments, the portrait never would have been
+painted. Jethro focussed a look upon the painter.
+
+"Er--painter-man, be you? Paint Cynthy's picture?"
+
+"But I don't want to be painted, Uncle Jethro. I won't be painted!"
+
+"H-how much for a good picture? Er--only want the best--only want the
+best."
+
+The painter said a few things, with pardonable heat, to the effect--well,
+never mind the effect. His remarks made no impression whatever upon
+Jethro.
+
+"Er---paint the picture--paint the picture, and then we'll talk about the
+price. Er--wait a minute."
+
+He went into the house, and they heard him lumbering up the stairs.
+Cynthia sat with her back to the artist, pretending to read, but
+presently she turned to him.
+
+"I'll never forgive you--never, as long as I live," she cried, "and I
+won't be painted!"
+
+"N-not to please me, Cynthy?" It was Jethro's voice.
+
+Her look softened. She laid down the book and went up to him on the porch
+and put her hand on his shoulder.
+
+"Do you really want it so much as all that, Uncle Jethro?" she said.
+
+"Callate I do, Cynthy," he answered. He held a bundle covered with
+newspaper in his hand, he looked down at Cynthia.
+
+He seated himself on the edge of the porch and for the moment seemed lost
+in revery. Then he began slowly to unwrap the newspaper from the bundle:
+there were five layers of it, but at length he disclosed a bolt of
+cardinal cloth.
+
+"Call this to mind, Cynthy?"
+
+"Yes," she answered with a smile.
+
+"H-how's this for the dress, Mr. Painter-man?" said Jethro, with a pride
+that was ill-concealed.
+
+The painter started up from his seat and took the material in his hands
+and looked at Cynthia. He belonged to a city club where he was popular
+for his knack of devising costumes, and a vision of Cynthia as the
+daughter of a Doge of Venice arose before his eyes. Wonder of wonders,
+the daughter of a Doge discovered in a New England hill village! The
+painter seized his pad and pencil and with a few strokes, guided by
+inspiration, sketched the costume then and there and held it up to
+Jethro, who blinked at it in astonishment. But Jethro was suspicious of
+his own sensations.
+
+"Er--well--Godfrey--g-guess that'll do." Then came the involuntary:
+"W-wouldn't a-thought you had it in you. How about it, Cynthy?" and he
+held it up for her inspection.
+
+"If you are pleased, it's all I care about, Uncle Jethro," she answered,
+and then, her face suddenly flushing, "You must promise me on your honor
+that nobody in Coniston shall know about it, 'Mr. Painter-man'."
+
+After this she always called him "Mr. Painter-man,"--when she was pleased
+with him.
+
+So the cardinal cloth was come to its usefulness at last. It was
+inevitable that Sukey Kittredge, the village seamstress, should be taken
+into confidence. It was no small thing to take Sukey into confidence, for
+she was the legitimate successor in more ways than one of Speedy Bates,
+and much of Cynthia and the artist's ingenuity was spent upon devising a
+form of oath which would hold Sukey silent. Sukey, however, got no small
+consolation from the sense of the greatness of the trust confided in her,
+and of the uproar she could make in Coniston if she chose. The painter,
+to do him justice, was the real dressmaker, and did everything except cut
+the cloth and sew it together. He sent to friends of his in the city for
+certain paste jewels and ornaments, and one day Cynthia stood in the old
+tannery shed--hastily transformed into a studio--before a variously moved
+audience. Sukey, having adjusted the last pin, became hysterical over her
+handiwork, Millicent Skinner stared openmouthed, words having failed her
+for once, and Jethro thrust his hands in his pockets in a quiet ecstasy
+of approbation.
+
+"A-always had a notion that cloth'd set you off, Cynthy," said he,
+"er--next time I go to the state capital you come along--g-guess it'll
+surprise 'em some."
+
+"I guess it would, Uncle Jethro," said Cynthia, laughing.
+
+Jethro postponed two political trips of no small importance to be present
+at the painting of that picture, and he would sit silently by the hour in
+a corner of the shed watching every stroke of the brush. Never stood
+Doge's daughter in her jewels and seed pearls amidst stranger
+surroundings,--the beam, and the centre post around which the old white
+horse had toiled in times gone by, and all the piled-up, disused
+machinery of forgotten days. And never was Venetian lady more unconscious
+of her environment than Cynthia.
+
+The portrait was of the head and shoulders alone, and when he had given
+it the last touch, the painter knew that, for once in his life, he had
+done a good thing. Never before; perhaps, had the fire of such
+inspiration been given him. Jethro, who expressed himself in terms (for
+him) of great enthusiasm, was for going to Boston immediately to purchase
+a frame commensurate with the importance of such a work of art, but the
+artist had his own views on that subject and sent to New York for this
+also.
+
+The day after the completion of the picture a rugged figure in rawhide
+boots and coonskin cap approached Chester Perkins's house, knocked at the
+door, and inquired for the "Painter-man." It was Jethro. The
+"Painter-man" forthwith went out into the rain behind the shed, where a
+somewhat curious colloquy took place.
+
+"G-guess I'm willin' to pay you full as much as it's worth," said Jethro,
+producing a cowhide wallet. "Er--what figure do you allow it comes to
+with the frame?"
+
+The artist was past taking offence, since Jethro had long ago become for
+him an engrossing study.
+
+"I will send you the bill for the frame, Mr. Bass," he said, "the picture
+belongs to Cynthia."
+
+"Earn your livin' by paintin', don't you--earn your livin'?"
+
+The painter smiled a little bitterly.
+
+"No," he said, "if I did, I shouldn't be--alive. Mr. Bass, have you ever
+done anything the pleasure of doing which was pay enough, and to spare?"
+
+Jethro looked at him, and something very like admiration came into the
+face that was normally expressionless.
+
+He put up his wallet a little awkwardly, and held out his hand more
+awkwardly.
+
+"You be more of a feller than I thought for," he said, and strode off
+through the drizzle toward Coniston. The painter walked slowly to the
+kitchen, where Chester Perkins and his wife were sitting down to supper.
+
+"Jethro got a mortgage on you, too?" asked Chester.
+
+The artist had his reward, for when the picture was hung at length in the
+little parlor of the tannery house it became a source of pride to
+Coniston second only to Jethro himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+Time passes, and the engines of the Truro Railroad are now puffing in and
+out of the yards of Worthington's mills in Brampton, and a fine layer of
+dust covers the old green stage which has worn the road for so many years
+over Truro Gap. If you are ever in Brampton, you can still see the stage,
+if you care to go into the back of what was once Jim Sanborn's livery
+stable, now owned by Mr. Sherman of the Brampton House.
+
+Conventions and elections had come and gone, and the Honorable Heth
+Sutton had departed triumphantly to Washington, cheered by his neighbors
+in Clovelly. Chamberlain Bixby was left in charge there, supreme. Who
+could be more desirable as a member of Congress than Mr. Sutton, who had
+so ably served his party (and Jethro) by holding the House against the
+insurgents in the matter of the Truro Bill? Mr. Sutton was, moreover, a
+gentleman, an owner of cattle and land, a man of substance whom lesser
+men were proud to mention as a friend--a very hill-Rajah with stock in
+railroads and other enterprises, who owed allegiance and paid tribute
+alone to the Great Man of Coniston.
+
+Mr. Sutton was one who would make himself felt even in the capital of the
+United States--felt and heard. And he had not been long in the Halls of
+Congress before he made a speech which rang under the very dome of the
+Capitol. So said the Brampton and Harwich papers, at least, though rivals
+and detractors of Mr. Sutton declared that they could find no matter in
+it which related to the subject of a bill, but that is neither here nor
+there. The oration began with a lengthy tribute to the resources and
+history of his state, and ended by a declaration that the speaker was in
+Congress at no man's bidding, but as the servant of the common people of
+his district.
+
+Under the lamp of the little parlor in the tannery house, Cynthia (who
+has now arrived at the very serious age of nineteen) was reading the
+papers to Jethro and came upon Mr. Sutton's speech. There were four
+columns of it, but Jethro seemed to take delight in every word; and
+portions of the noblest parts of it, indeed, he had Cynthia read over
+again. Sometimes, in the privacy of his home, Jethro was known to
+chuckle, and to Cynthia's surprise he chuckled more than usual that
+evening.
+
+"Uncle Jethro," she said at length, when she had laid the paper down, "I
+thought that you sent Mr. Sutton to Congress."
+
+Jethro leaned forward.
+
+"What put that into your head, Cynthy?" he asked.
+
+"Oh," answered the girl, "everybody says so,--Moses Hatch, Rias, and
+Cousin Eph. Didn't you?"
+
+Jethro looked at her, as she thought, strangely.
+
+"You're too young to know anything about such things, Cynthy," he said,
+"too young."
+
+"But you make all the judges and senators and congressmen in the state, I
+know you do. Why," exclaimed Cynthia, indignantly, "why does Mr. Sutton
+say the people elected him when he owes everything to you?"
+
+Jethro, arose abruptly and flung a piece of wood into the stove, and then
+he stood with his back to her. Her instinct told her that he was
+suffering, though she could not fathom the cause, and she rose swiftly
+and drew him down into the chair beside her.
+
+"What is it?" she said anxiously. "Have you got rheumatism, too, like
+Cousin Eph? All old men seem to have rheumatism."
+
+"No, Cynthy, it hain't rheumatism," he managed to answer; "wimmen folks
+hadn't ought to mix up in politics. They--they don't understand 'em,
+Cynthy."
+
+"But I shall understand them some day, because I am your daughter--now
+that--now that I have only you, I am your daughter, am I not?"
+
+"Yes, yes," he answered huskily, with his hand on her hair.
+
+"And I know more than most women now," continued Cynthia, triumphantly.
+"I'm going to be such a help to you soon--very soon. I've read a lot of
+history, and I know some of the Constitution by heart. I know why old
+Timothy Prescott fought in the Revolution--it was to get rid of kings,
+wasn't it, and to let the people have a chance? The people can always be
+trusted to do what is right, can't they, Uncle Jethro?"
+
+Jethro was silent, but Cynthia did not seem to notice that. After a space
+she spoke again:--"I've been thinking it all out about you, Uncle
+Jethro."
+
+"A-about me?"
+
+"Yes, I know why you are able to send men to Congress and make judges of
+them. It's because the people have chosen you to do all that for
+them--you are so great and good."
+
+Jethro did not answer.
+
+Although the month was March, it was one of those wonderful still nights
+that sometimes come in the mountain-country when the wind is silent in
+the notches and the stars seem to burn nearer to the earth. Cynthia awoke
+and lay staring for an instant at the red planet which hung over the
+black and ragged ridge, and then she arose quickly and knocked at the
+door across the passage.
+
+"Are you ill, Uncle Jethro?"
+
+"No," he answered, "no, Cynthy. Go to bed. Er--I was just
+thinkin'--thinkin', that's all, Cynthy."
+
+Though all his life he had eaten sparingly, Cynthia noticed that he
+scarcely touched his breakfast the next morning, and two hours later he
+went unexpectedly to the state capital. That day, too, Coniston was
+clothed in clouds, and by afternoon a wild March snowstorm was sweeping
+down the face of the mountain, piling against doorways and blocking the
+roads. Through the storm Cynthia fought her way to the harness shop, for
+Ephraim Prescott had taken to his bed, bound hand and foot by rheumatism.
+
+Much of that spring Ephraim was all but helpless, and Cynthia spent many
+days nursing him and reading to him. Meanwhile the harness industry
+languished. Cynthia and Ephraim knew, and Coniston guessed, that Jethro
+was taking care of Ephraim, and strong as was his affection for Jethro
+the old soldier found dependence hard to bear. He never spoke of it to
+Cynthia, but he used to lie and dream through the spring days of what he
+might have done if the war had not crippled him. For Ephraim Prescott,
+like his grandfather, was a man of action--a keen, intelligent American
+whose energy, under other circumstances, might have gone toward the
+making of the West. Ephraim, furthermore, had certain principles which
+some in Coniston called cranks; for instance, he would never apply for a
+pension, though he could easily have obtained one. Through all his
+troubles, he held grimly to the ideal which meant more to him than ease
+and comfort,--that he had served his country for the love of it.
+
+With the warm weather he was able to be about again, and occasionally to
+mend a harness, but Doctor Rowell shook his head when Jethro stopped his
+buggy in the road one day to inquire about Ephraim. Whereupon Jethro went
+on to the harness shop. The inspiration, by the way, had come from
+Cynthia.
+
+"Er--Ephraim, how'd you like to, be postmaster? H-haven't any objections
+to that kind of a job, hev you?"
+
+"Why no," said Ephraim. "We hain't agoin' to hev a post-office at
+Coniston--air we?"
+
+"H-how'd you like to be postmaster at Brampton?" demanded Jethro,
+abruptly.
+
+Ephraim dropped the trace he was shaving.
+
+"Postmaster at Brampton!" he exclaimed.
+
+"H-how'd you like it?" said Jethro again.
+
+"Well," said Ephraim, "I hain't got any objections."
+
+Jethro started out of the shop, but paused again at the door.
+
+"W-won't say nothin' about it, will you, Eph?" he inquired.
+
+"Not till I git it," answered Ephraim. The sorrows of three years were
+suddenly lifted from his shoulders, and for an instant Ephraim wanted to
+dance until he remembered the rheumatism and the Wilderness leg. Suddenly
+a thought struck him, and he hobbled to the door and called out after
+Jethro's retreating figure. Jethro returned.
+
+"Well?" he said, "well?"
+
+"What's the pay?" said Ephraim, in a whisper.
+
+Jethro named the sum instantly, also in a whisper.
+
+"You don't tell me!" said Ephraim, and sank stupefied into the chair in
+front of the shop, where lately he had spent so much of his time.
+
+Jethro chuckled twice on his way home: he chuckled twice again to
+Cynthia's delight at supper, and after supper he sent Millicent Skinner
+to find Jake Wheeler. Jake as usual, was kicking his heels in front of
+the store, talking to Rias and others about the coming Fourth of July
+celebration at Brampton. Brampton, as we know, was famous for its Fourth
+of July celebrations. Not neglecting to let it be known that Jethro had
+sent for him, Jake hurried off through the summer twilight to the tannery
+house, bowed ceremoniously to Cynthia under the butternut tree, and
+discovered Jethro behind the shed. It was usually Jethro's custom to
+allow the other man to begin the conversation, no matter how trivial the
+subject--a method which had commended itself to Mr. Bixby and other minor
+politicians who copied him. And usually the other man played directly
+into Jethro's hands. Jake Wheeler always did, and now, to cover the
+awkwardness of the silence, he began on the Brampton celebration.
+
+"They tell me Heth Sutton's a-goin' to make the address--seems prouder
+than ever sence he went to Congress. I guess you'll tell him what to say
+when the time comes, Jethro."
+
+"Er--goin' to Clovelly after wool this week, Jake?"
+
+"I kin go to-morrow," said Jake, scenting an affair.
+
+"Er--goin' to Clovelly after wool this week, Jake?"
+
+Jake reflected. He saw it was expedient that this errand should not smell
+of haste.
+
+"I was goin' to see Cutter on Friday," he answered.
+
+"Er--if you should happen to meet Heth--"
+
+"Yes," interrupted Jake.
+
+"If by chance you should happen to meet Heth, or Bije" (Jethro knew that
+Jake never went to Clovelly without a conference with one or the other of
+these personages, if only to be able to talk about it afterward at the
+store), "er--what would you say to 'em?"
+
+"Why," said Jake, scratching his head for the answer, "I'd tell him you
+was at Coniston."
+
+"Think we'll have rain, Jake?" inquired Jethro, blandly.
+
+Jake wended his way back to the store, filled with renewed admiration for
+the great man. Jethro had given him no instructions whatever, could deny
+before a jury if need be that he had sent him (Jake) to Clovelly to tell
+Heth Sutton to come to Coniston for instructions on the occasion of his
+Brampton speech. And Jake was filled with a mysterious importance when he
+took his seat once more in the conclave.
+
+Jake Wheeler, although in many respects a fool, was one of the most
+efficient pack of political hounds that the state has ever known. By six
+o'clock on Friday morning he was descending a brook valley on the
+Clovelly side of the mountain, and by seven was driving between the
+forest and river meadows of the Rajah's domain, and had come in sight of
+the big white house with its somewhat pretentious bay-windows and Gothic
+doorway; it might be dubbed the palace of these parts. The wide river
+flowed below it, and the pastures so wondrously green in the morning sun
+were dotted with fat cattle and sheep. Jake was content to borrow a cut
+of tobacco from the superintendent and wonder aimlessly around the farm
+until Mr. Sutton's family prayers and breakfast were accomplished. We
+shall not concern ourselves with the message or the somewhat lengthy
+manner in which it was delivered. Jake had merely dropped in by accident,
+but the Rajah listened coldly while he picked his teeth, said he didn't
+know whether he was going to Brampton or not--hadn't decided; didn't know
+whether he could get to Coniston or not--his affairs were multitudinous
+now. In short, he set Jake to thinking deeply as his horse walked up the
+western heights of Coniston on the return journey. He had, let it be
+repeated, a sure instinct once his nose was fairly on the scent, and he
+was convinced that a war of great magnitude was in the air, and he; Jake
+Wheeler, was probably the first in all the elate to discover it! His
+blood leaped at the thought.
+
+The hill-Rajah's defiance, boiled down, could only mean one thing,--that
+somebody with sufficient power and money was about to lock horns with
+Jethro Bass. Not for a moment did Jake believe that, for all his pomp and
+circumstance, the Honorable Heth Sutton was a big enough man to do this.
+Jake paid to the Honorable Heth all the outward respect that his high
+position demanded, but he knew the man through and through. He thought of
+the Honorable Heth's reform speech in Congress, and laughed loudly in the
+echoing woods. No, Mr. Sutton was not the man to lead a fight. But to
+whom had he promised his allegiance? This question puzzled Mr. Wheeler
+all the way home, and may it be said finally for many days thereafter. He
+slid into Coniston in the dusk, big with impending events, which he could
+not fathom. As to giving Jethro the careless answer of the hill-Rajah,
+that was another matter.
+
+The Fourth of July came at last, nor was any contradiction made in the
+Brampton papers that the speech of the Honorable Heth Sutton had been
+cancelled. Instead, advertisements appeared in the 'Brampton Clarion'
+announcing the fact in large letters. When Cynthia read this
+advertisement to Jethro, he chuckled again. They were under the butternut
+tree, for the evenings were long now.
+
+"Will you take me to Brampton, Uncle Jethro?" said she, letting fall the
+paper on her lap.
+
+"W-who's to get in the hay?" said Jethro.
+
+"Hay on the Fourth of July!" exclaimed Cynthia, "why, that's--sacrilege!
+You'd much better come and hear Mr. Sutton's speech--it will do you
+good."
+
+Cynthia could see that Jethro was intensely amused, for his eyes had a
+way of snapping on such occasions when he was alone with her. She was
+puzzled and slightly offended, because, to tell the truth, Jethro had
+spoiled her.
+
+"Very well, then," she said, "I'll go with the Painter-man."
+
+Jethro came and stood over her, his expression the least bit wistful.
+
+"Er--Cynthy," he said presently, "hain't fond of that Painter-man, be
+you?"
+
+"Why, yes," said Cynthia, "aren't you?"
+
+"He's fond of you," said Jethro, "sh-shouldn't be surprised if he was in
+love with you."
+
+Cynthia looked up at him, the corners of her mouth twitching, and then
+she laughed. The Rev. Mr. Satterlee, writing his Sunday sermon in his
+study, heard her and laid down his pen to listen.
+
+"Uncle Jethro," said Cynthia, "sometimes I forget that you're a great,
+wise man, and I think that you are just a silly old goose."
+
+Jethro wiped his face with his blue cotton handkerchief.
+
+"Then you hain't a-goin' to marry the Painter-man?" he said.
+
+"I'm not going to marry anybody," cried Cynthia, contritely; "I'm going
+to live with you and take care of you all my life."
+
+On the morning of the Fourth, Cynthia drove to Brampton with the
+Painter-man, and when he perceived that she was dreaming, he ceased to
+worry her with his talk. He liked her dreaming, and stole many glances at
+her face of which she knew nothing at all. Through the cool and fragrant
+woods, past the mill-pond stained blue and white by the sky, and scented
+clover fields and wayside flowers nodding in the morning air--Cynthia saw
+these things in the memory of another journey to Brampton. On that Fourth
+her father had been with her, and Jethro and Ephraim and Moses and Amanda
+Hatch and the children. And how well she recalled, too, standing amidst
+the curious crowd before the great house which Mr. Worthington had just
+built.
+
+There are weeks and months, perhaps, when we do not think of people, when
+our lives are full and vigorous, and then perchance a memory will bring
+them vividly before us--so vividly that we yearn for them. There rose
+before Cynthia now the vision of a boy as he stood on the Gothic porch of
+the house, and how he had come down to the wondering country people with
+his smile and his merry greeting, and how he had cajoled her into
+lingering in front of the meeting-house. Had he forgotten her? With just
+a suspicion of a twinge, Cynthia remembered that Janet Duncan she had
+seen at the capital, whom she had been told was the heiress of the state.
+When he had graduated from Harvard, Bob would, of course, marry her. That
+was in the nature of things.
+
+To some the great event of that day in Brampton was to be the speech of
+the Honorable Heth Sutton in the meeting-house at eleven; others (and
+this party was quite as numerous) had looked forward to the base-ball
+game between Brampton and Harwich in the afternoon. The painter would
+have preferred to walk up meeting-house hill with Cynthia, and from the
+cool heights look down upon the amphitheatre in which the town was built.
+But Cynthia was interested in history, and they went to the meeting-house
+accordingly, where she listened for an hour and a half to the patriotic
+eloquence of the representative. The painter was glad to see and hear so
+great a man in the hour of his glory, though so much as a fragment of the
+oration does not now remain in his memory. In size, in figure, in
+expression, in the sonorous tones of his voice, Mr. Sutton was everything
+that a congressman should be. "The people," said Isaac D. Worthington in
+presenting him, "should indeed be proud of such an able and high-minded
+representative." We shall have cause to recall that word high-minded.
+
+Many persons greeted Cynthia outside the meetinghouse, for the girl
+seemed genuinely loved by all who knew her--too much loved, her companion
+thought, by certain spick-and-span young men of Brampton. But they ate
+the lunch Cynthia had brought, far from the crowd, under the trees by
+Coniston Water. It was she who proposed going to the base-ball game, and
+the painter stifled a sigh and acquiesced. Their way brought them down
+Brampton Street, past a house with great iron dogs on the lawn, so
+imposing and cityfied that he hung back and asked who lived there.
+
+"Mr. Worthington," answered Cynthia, making to move on impatiently.
+
+Her escort did not think much of the house, but it interested him as the
+type which Mr. Worthington had built. On that same Gothic porch,
+sublimely unconscious of the covert stares and subdued comments of the
+passers-by, the first citizen himself and the Honorable Heth Sutton might
+be seen. Mr. Worthington, whose hawklike look had become more pronounced,
+sat upright, while the Honorable Heth, his legs crossed, filled every
+nook and cranny of an arm-chair, and an occasional fragrant whiff from
+his cigar floated out to those on the tar sidewalk. Although the
+pedestrians were but twenty feet away, what Mr. Worthington said never
+reached them; but the Honorable Heth on public days carried his voice of
+the Forum around with him.
+
+"Come on," said Cynthia, in one of those startling little tempers she was
+subject to; "don't stand there like an idiot."
+
+Then the voice of Mr. Sutton boomed toward them.
+
+"As I understand, Worthington," they heard him say, "you want me to
+appoint young Wheelock for the Brampton post-office." He stuck his thumb
+into his vest pocket and recrossed his legs "I guess it can be arranged."
+
+When the painter at last overtook Cynthia the jewel paints he had so
+often longed to catch upon a canvas were in her eyes. He fell back,
+wondering how he could so greatly have offended, when she put her hand on
+his sleeve.
+
+"Did you hear what he said about the Brampton postoffice?" she cried.
+
+"The Brampton post-office?" he repeated; dazed.
+
+"Yes," said Cynthia; "Uncle Jethro has promised it to Cousin Ephraim, who
+will starve without it. Did you hear this man say he would give it to Mr.
+Wheelock?"
+
+Here was a new Cynthia, aflame with emotions on a question of politics of
+which he knew nothing. He did, understand, however, her concern for
+Ephraim Prescott, for he knew that she loved the soldier. She turned from
+the painter now with a gesture which he took to mean that his profession
+debarred him from such vital subjects, and she led the way to the
+fair-grounds. There he meekly bought tickets, and they found themselves
+hurried along in the eager crowd toward the stand.
+
+The girl was still unaccountably angry over that mysterious affair of the
+post-office, and sat with flushed cheeks staring out on the green field,
+past the line of buggies and carryalls on the farther side to the
+southern shoulder of Coniston towering, above them all. The painter,
+already, beginning to love his New England folk, listened to the homely
+chatter about him, until suddenly a cheer starting in one corner ran like
+a flash of gunpowder around the field, and eighteen young men trotted
+across the turf. Although he was not a devotee of sport, he noticed that
+nine of these, as they took their places on the bench, wore blue,--the
+Harwich Champions. Seven only of those scattering over the field wore
+white; two young gentlemen, one at second base and the other behind the
+batter, wore gray uniforms with crimson stockings, and crimson piping on
+the caps, and a crimson H embroidered on the breast--a sight that made
+the painter's heart beat a little faster, the honored livery of his own
+college.
+
+"What are those two Harvard men doing here?" he asked.
+
+Cynthia, who was leaning forward, started, and turned to him a face which
+showed him that his question had been meaningless. He repeated it.
+
+"Oh," said she, "the tall one, burned brick-red like an Indian, is Bob
+Worthington."
+
+"He's a good type," the artist remarked.
+
+"You're right, Mister, there hain't a finer young feller anywhere,"
+chimed in Mr. Dodd, a portly person with a tuft of yellow beard on his
+chin. Mr. Dodd kept the hardware store in Brampton.
+
+"And who," asked the painter, "is the bullet-headed little fellow, with
+freckles and short red hair, behind the bat?"
+
+"I don't know," said Cynthia, indifferently.
+
+"Why," exclaimed Mr. Dodd, with just a trace of awe in his voice, "that's
+Somers Duncan, son of Millionaire Duncan down to the capital. I guess,"
+he added, "I guess them two will be the richest men in the state some
+day. Duncan come up from Harvard with Bob."
+
+In a few minutes the game was in full swing, Brampton against Harwich,
+the old rivalry in another form. Every advantage on either side awoke
+thundering cheers from the partisans; beribboned young women sprang to
+their feet and waved the Harwich blue at a home run, and were on the
+verge of tears when the Brampton pitcher struck out their best batsman.
+But beyond the facts that the tide was turning in Brampton's favor; that
+young Mr. Worthington stopped a ball flying at a phenomenal speed and
+batted another at a still more phenomenal speed which was not stopped;
+that his name and Duncan's were mingled generously in the cheering, the
+painter remembered little of the game. The exhibition of human passions
+which the sight of it drew from an undemonstrative race: the shouting,
+the comments wrung from hardy spirits off their guard, the joy and the
+sorrow,--such things interested him more. High above the turmoil
+Coniston, as through the ages, looked down upon the scene impassive.
+
+He was aroused from these reflections by an incident. Some one had leaped
+over the railing which separated the stand from the field and stood
+before Cynthia,--a tanned and smiling young man in gray and crimson. His
+honest eyes were alight with an admiration that was unmistakable to the
+painter--perhaps to Cynthia also, for a glow that might have been of
+annoyance or anger, and yet was like the color of the mountain sunrise,
+answered in her cheek. Mr. Worthington reached out a large brown hand and
+seized the girl's as it lay on her lap.
+
+"Hello, Cynthia," he cried, "I've been looking for you all day. I thought
+you might be here. Where were you?"
+
+"Where did you look?" answered Cynthia, composedly, withdrawing her hand.
+
+"Everywhere," said Bob, "up and down the street, all through the hotel. I
+asked Lem Hallowell, and he didn't know where you were. I only got here
+last night myself."
+
+"I was in the meeting-house," said Cynthia.
+
+"The meeting-house!" he echoed. "You don't mean to tell me that you
+listened to that silly speech of Sutton's?"
+
+This remark, delivered in all earnestness, was the signal for uproarious
+laughter from Mr. Dodd and others sitting near by, attending earnestly to
+the conversation.
+
+Cynthia bit her lip.
+
+"Yes, I did," she said; "but I'm sorry now."
+
+"I should think you would be," said Bob; "Sutton's a silly, pompous old
+fool. I had to sit through dinner with him. I believe I could represent
+the district better myself."
+
+"By gosh!" exploded Mr. Dodd, "I believe you could!"
+
+But Bob paid no attention to him. He was looking at Cynthia.
+
+"Cynthia, you've grown up since I saw you," he said. "How's Uncle Jethro.
+
+"He's well--thanks," said Cynthia, and now she was striving to put down a
+smile.
+
+"Still running the state?" said Bob. "You tell him I think he ought to
+muzzle Sutton. What did he send him down to Washington for?"
+
+"I don't know," said Cynthia.
+
+"What are you going to do after the game?" Bob demanded.
+
+"I'm going home of course," said Cynthia.
+
+His face fell.
+
+"Can't you come to the house for supper and stay for the fireworks?" he
+begged pleadingly. "We'd be mighty glad to have your friend, too."
+
+Cynthia introduced her escort.
+
+"It's very good of you, Bob," she said, with that New England demureness
+which at times became her so well, "but we couldn't possibly do it. And
+then I don't like Mr. Sutton."
+
+"Oh, hang him!" exclaimed Bob. He took a step nearer to her. "Won't you
+stay this once? I have to go West in the morning."
+
+"I think you are very lucky," said Cynthia.
+
+Bob scanned her face searchingly, and his own fell.
+
+"Lucky!" he cried, "I think it's the worst thing that ever happened to
+me. My father's so hard-headed when he gets his mind set--he's making me
+do it. He wants me to see the railroads and the country, so I've got to
+go with the Duncans. I wanted to stay--" He checked himself, "I think
+it's a blamed nuisance."
+
+"So do I," said a voice behind him.
+
+It was not the first time that Mr. Somers Duncan had spoken, but Bob
+either had not heard him or pretended not to. Mr. Duncan's freckled face
+smiled at them from the top of the railing, his eyes were on Cynthia's
+face, and he had been listening eagerly. Mr. Duncan's chief
+characteristic, beyond his freckles, was his eagerness--a quality
+probably amounting to keenness.
+
+"Hello," said Bob, turning impatiently, "I might have known you couldn't
+keep away. You're the cause of all my troubles--you and your father's
+private car."
+
+Somers became apologetic.
+
+"It isn't my fault," he said; "I'm sure I hate going as much as you do.
+It's spoiled my summer, too."
+
+Then he coughed and looked at Cynthia.
+
+"Well," said Bob, "I suppose I'll have to introduce you. This," he added,
+dragging his friend over the railing, "is Mr. Somers Duncan."
+
+"I'm awfully glad to meet you, Miss. Wetherell," said Somers, fervently;
+"to tell you the truth, I thought he was just making up yarns."
+
+"Yarns?" repeated Cynthia, with a look that set Mr. Duncan floundering.
+
+"Why, yes," he stammered. "Worthy said that you were up here, but I
+thought he was crazy the way he talked--I didn't think--"
+
+"Think what?" inquired Cynthia, but she flushed a little.
+
+"Oh, rot, Somers!" said Bob, blushing furiously under his tan; "you ought
+never to go near a woman--you're the darndest fool with 'em I ever saw."
+
+This time even the painter laughed outright, and yet he was a little
+sorrowful, too, because he could not be even as these youths. But Cynthia
+sat serene, the eternal feminine of all the ages, and it is no wonder
+that Bob Worthington was baffled as he looked at her. He lapsed into an
+awkwardness quite as bad as that of his friend.
+
+"I hope you enjoyed the game," he said at last, with a formality that was
+not at all characteristic.
+
+Cynthia did not seem to think it worth while to answer this, so the
+painter tried to help him out.
+
+"That was a fine stop you made, Mr. Worthington," he said; "wasn't it,
+Cynthia?"
+
+"Everybody seemed to think so," answered Cynthia, cruelly; "but if I were
+a man and had hands like that" (Bob thrust them in his pockets), "I
+believe I could stop a ball, too."
+
+Somers laughed uproariously.
+
+"Good-by," said Bob, with uneasy abruptness, "I've got to go into the
+field now. When can I see you?"
+
+"When you get back from the West--perhaps," said Cynthia.
+
+"Oh," cried Bob (they were calling him), "I must see you to-night!" He
+vaulted over the railing and turned. "I'll come back here right after the
+game," he said; "there's only one more inning."
+
+"We'll come back right after the game," repeated Mr. Duncan.
+
+Bob shot one look at him,--of which Mr. Duncan seemed blissfully
+unconscious,--and stalked off abruptly to second base.
+
+The artist sat pensive for a few moments, wondering at the ways of women,
+his sympathies unaccountably enlisted in behalf of Mr. Worthington.
+
+"Weren't you a little hard on him?" he said.
+
+For answer Cynthia got to her feet.
+
+"I think we ought to be going home," she said.
+
+"Going home!" he ejaculated in amazement.
+
+"I promised Uncle Jethro I'd be there for supper," and she led the way
+out of the grand stand.
+
+So they drove back to Coniston through the level evening light, and when
+they came to Ephraim Prescott's harness shop the old soldier waved at
+them cheerily from under the big flag which he had hung out in honor of
+the day. The flag was silk, and incidentally Ephraim's most valued
+possession. Then they drew up before the tannery house, and Cynthia
+leaped out of the buggy and held out her hand to the painter with a
+smile.
+
+"It was very good of you to take me," she said.
+
+Jethro Bass, rugged, uncouth, in rawhide boots and swallowtail and
+coonskin cap, came down from the porch to welcome her, and she ran toward
+him with an eagerness that started the painter to wondering afresh over
+the contrasts of life. What, he asked himself, had Fate in store for
+Cynthia Wetherell?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+"H-have a good time, Cynthy?" said Jethro, looking down into her face.
+Love had wrought changes in Jethro; mightier changes than he suspected,
+and the girl did not know how zealous were the sentries of that love, how
+watchful they were, and how they told him often and again whether her
+heart, too, was smiling.
+
+"It was very gay," said Cynthia.
+
+"P-painter-man gay?" inquired Jethro.
+
+Cynthia's eyes were on the orange line of the sunset over Coniston, but
+she laughed a little, indulgently.
+
+"Cynthy?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Er--that Painter-man hain't such a bad fellow--w-why didn't you ask him
+in to supper?"
+
+"I'll give you three guesses," said Cynthia, but she did not wait for
+them. "It was because I wanted to be alone with you. Milly's gone out,
+hasn't she?"
+
+"G-gone a-courtin'," said Jethro.
+
+She smiled, and went into the house to see whether Milly had done her
+duty before she left. It was characteristic of Cynthia not to have
+mentioned the subject which was agitating her mind until they were seated
+on opposite sides of the basswood table.
+
+"Uncle Jethro," she said, "I thought you told Mr. Sutton to give Cousin
+Eph the Brampton post-office? Do you trust Mr. Sutton?" she demanded
+abruptly.
+
+"Er--why?" said Jethro. "Why?"
+
+"Because I don't," she answered with conviction; "I think he's a big
+fraud. He must have deceived you, Uncle Jethro. I can't see why you ever
+sent him to Congress."
+
+Although Jethro was in no mood for mirth, he laughed in spite of himself,
+for he was an American. His lifelong habit would have made him defend
+Heth to any one but Cynthia.
+
+"'D you see Heth, Cynthy?" he asked.
+ "Yes," replied the girl, disgustedly, "I should say I did, but not to
+speak to him. He was sitting on Mr. Worthington's porch, and I heard him
+tell Mr. Worthington he would give the Brampton post-office to Dave
+Wheelock. I don't want you to think that I was eavesdropping," she added
+quickly; "I couldn't help hearing it."
+
+Jethro did not answer.
+
+"You'll make him give the post-office to Cousin Eph, won't you, Uncle
+Jethro?"
+
+"Yes;" said Jethro, very simply, "I will." He meditated awhile, and then
+said suddenly, "W-won't speak about it--will you, Cynthy?"
+
+"You know I won't," she answered.
+
+Let it not be thought by any chance that Coniston was given over to
+revelry and late hours, even on the Fourth of July. By ten o'clock the
+lights were out in the tannery house, but Cynthia was not asleep. She sat
+at her window watching the shy moon peeping over Coniston ridge, and she
+was thinking, to be exact, of how much could happen in one short day and
+how little in a long month. She was aroused by the sound of wheels and
+the soft beat of a horse's hoofs on the dirt road: then came stifled
+laughter, and suddenly she sprang up alert and tingling. Her own name
+came floating to her through the darkness.
+
+The next thing that happened will be long remembered in Coniston. A
+tentative chord or two from a guitar, and then the startled village was
+listening with all its might to the voices of two young men singing "When
+I first went up to Harvard"--probably meant to disclose the identity of
+the serenaders, as if that were necessary! Coniston, never having
+listened to grand opera, was entertained and thrilled, and thought the
+rendering of the song better on the whole than the church choir could
+have done it, or even the quartette that sung at the Brampton
+celebrations behind the flowers. Cynthia had her own views on the
+subject.
+
+There were five other songs--Cynthia remembers all of them, although she
+would not confess such a thing. "Naughty, naughty Clara," was another
+one; the other three were almost wholly about love, some treating it
+flippantly, others seriously--this applied to the last one, which had
+many farewells in it. Then they went away, and the crickets and frogs on
+Coniston Water took up the refrain.
+
+Although the occurrence was unusual,--it might almost be said
+epoch-making,--Jethro did not speak of it until they had reached the
+sparkling heights of Thousand Acre Hill the next morning. Even then he
+did not look at Cynthia.
+
+"Know who that was last night, Cynthy?" he inquired, as though the matter
+were a casual one.
+
+"I believe," said Cynthia heroically, "I believe it was a boy named
+Somers Duncan-and Bob Worthington."
+
+"Er--Bob Worthington," repeated Jethro, but said nothing more.
+
+Of course Coniston, and presently Brampton, knew that Bob Worthington had
+serenaded Cynthia--and Coniston and Brampton talked. It is noteworthy
+that (with the jocular exceptions of Ephraim and Lem Hallowell) they did
+not talk to the girl herself. The painter had long ago discovered that
+Cynthia was an individual. She had good blood in her: as a mere child she
+had shouldered the responsibility of her father; she had a natural
+aptitude for books--a quality reverenced in the community; she visited,
+as a matter of habit; the sick and the unfortunate; and lastly (perhaps
+the crowning achievement) she had bound Jethro Bass, of all men, with the
+fetters of love. Of course I have ended up by making her a paragon,
+although I am merely stating what people thought of her. Coniston decided
+at once that she was to marry the heir to the Brampton Mills.
+
+But the heir had gone West, and as the summer wore on, the gossip died
+down. Other and more absorbing gossip took its place: never distinctly
+formulated, but whispered; always wishing for more definite news that
+never came. The statesmen drove out from Brampton to the door of the
+tannery house, as usual, only it was remarked by astute observers and
+Jake Wheeler that certain statesmen did not come who had been in the
+habit of coming formerly. In short, those who made it a custom to observe
+such matters felt vaguely a disturbance of some kind. The organs of the
+people felt it, and became more guarded in their statements. What no one
+knew, except Jake and a few in high places, was that a war of no mean
+magnitude was impending.
+
+There were three men in the State--and perhaps only three--who realized
+from the first that all former political combats would pale in comparison
+to this one to come. Similar wars had already started in other states,
+and when at length they were fought out another twist had been given to
+the tail of a long-suffering Constitution; political history in the
+United States had to be written from an entirely new and unforeseen
+standpoint, and the unsuspecting people had changed masters.
+
+This was to be a war of extermination of one side or the other. No
+quarter would be given or asked, and every weapon hitherto known to
+politics would be used. Of the three men who realized this, and all that
+would happen if one side or the other were victorious, one was Alexander
+Duncan, another Isaac D. Worthington, and the third was Jethro Bass.
+
+Jethro would never have been capable of being master of the state had he
+not foreseen the time when the railroads, tired of paying tribute, would
+turn and try to exterminate the boss. The really astonishing thing about
+Jethro's foresight (known to few only) was that he perceived clearly that
+the time would come when the railroads and other aggregations of capital
+would exterminate the boss, or at least subserviate him. This alone, the
+writer thinks, gives him some right to greatness. And Jethro Bass made up
+his mind that the victory of the railroads, in his state at least, should
+not come in his day. He would hold and keep what he had fought all his
+life to gain.
+
+Jethro knew, when Jake Wheeler failed to bring him a message back from
+Clovelly, that the war had begun, and that Isaac D. Worthington,
+commander of the railroad forces in the field, had captured his pawn, the
+hill-Rajah. By getting through to Harwich, the Truro had made a sad
+muddle in railroad affairs. It was now a connecting link; and its
+president, the first citizen of Brampton, a man of no small importance in
+the state. This fact was not lost upon Jethro, who perceived clearly
+enough the fight for consolidation that was coming in the next
+Legislature.
+
+Seated on an old haystack on Thousand Acre Hill, that sits in turn on the
+lap of Coniston, Jethro smiled as he reflected that the first trial of
+strength in this mighty struggle was to be over (what the unsuspecting
+world would deem a trivial matter) the postmastership of Brampton. And
+Worthington's first move in the game would be to attempt to capture for
+his faction the support of the Administration itself.
+
+Jethro thought the view from Thousand Acre Hill, especially in September,
+to be one of the sublimest efforts of the Creator. It was September,
+first of the purple months in Coniston, not the red-purple of the Maine
+coast, but the blue-purple of the mountain, the color of the bloom on the
+Concord grape. His eyes, sweeping the mountain from the notch to the
+granite ramp of the northern buttress, fell on the weather-beaten little
+farmhouse in which he had lived for many years, and rested lovingly on
+the orchard, where the golden early apples shone among the leaves. But
+Jethro was not looking at the apples.
+
+"Cynthy," he called out abruptly, "h-how'd you like to go to Washington?"
+
+"Washington!" exclaimed Cynthia. "When?"
+
+"N-now--to-morrow." Then he added uneasily, "C-can't you get ready?"
+
+Cynthia laughed.
+
+"Why, I'll go to-night, Uncle Jethro," she answered.
+
+"Well," he said admiringly, "you hain't one of them clutterin' females.
+We can get some finery for you in New York, Cynthy. D-don't want any of
+them town ladies to put you to shame. Er--not that they would," he added
+hastily--"not that they would."
+
+Cynthia climbed up beside him on the haystack.
+
+"Uncle Jethro," she said solemnly, "when you make a senator or a judge, I
+don't interfere, do I?"
+
+He looked at her uneasily, for there were moments when he could not for
+the life of him make out her drift.
+
+"N-no," he assented, "of course not, Cynthy."
+
+"Why is it that I don't interfere?"
+
+"I callate," answered Jethro, still more uneasily, "I callate it's
+because you're a woman."
+
+"And don't you think," asked Cynthia, "that a woman ought to know what
+becomes her best?"
+
+Jethro reflected, and then his glance fell on her approvingly.
+
+"G-guess you're right, Cynthy," he said. "I always had some success in
+dressin' up Listy, and that kind of set me up."
+
+On such occasions he spoke of his wife quite simply. He had been
+genuinely fond of her, although she was no more than an episode in his
+life. Cynthia smiled to herself as they walked through the orchard to the
+place where the horse was tied, but she was a little remorseful. This
+feeling, on the drive homeward, was swept away by sheer elation at the
+prospect of the trip before her. She had often dreamed of the great world
+beyond Coniston, and no one, not even Jethro, had guessed the longings to
+see it which had at times beset her. Often she had dropped her book to
+summon up a picture of what a great city was like, to reconstruct the
+Boston of her early childhood. She remembered the Mall, where she used to
+walk with her father, and the row of houses where the rich dwelt, which
+had seemed like palaces. Indeed, when she read of palaces, these houses
+always came to her mind. And now she was to behold a palace even greater
+than these,--and the house where the President himself dwelt. But why was
+Jethro going to Washington?
+
+As if in answer to the question, he drove directly to the harness shop
+instead of to the tannery house. Ephraim greeted them from within with a
+cheery hail, and hobbled out and stood between the wheels of the buggy.
+
+"That bridle bust again?" he inquired.
+
+"Er--Ephraim," said Jethro, "how long since you b'en away from
+Coniston--how long?"
+
+Ephraim reflected.
+
+"I went to Harwich with Moses before that bad spell I had in March," he
+answered.
+
+Cynthia smiled from pure happiness, for she began to see the drift of
+things now.
+
+"H-how long since you've b'en in foreign parts?" said Jethro.
+
+"'Sixty-five," answered Ephraim, with astonishing promptness.
+
+"Er--like to go to Washington with us to-morrow like to go to
+Washington?"
+
+Ephraim gasped, even as Cynthia had.
+
+"Washin'ton!" he ejaculated.
+
+"Cynthy and I was thinkin' of takin' a little trip," said Jethro, almost
+apologetically, "and we kind of thought we'd like to have you with us.
+Didn't we, Cynthy? Er--we might see General Grant," he added meaningly.
+
+Ephraim was a New Englander, and not an adept in expressing his emotions.
+Both Cynthia and Jethro felt that he would have liked to have said
+something appropriate if he had known how. What he actually said
+was:--"What time to-morrow?"
+
+"C-callate to take the nine o'clock from Brampton," said Jethro.
+
+"I'll report for duty at seven," said Ephraim, and it was then he
+squeezed the hand that he found in his. He watched them calmly enough
+until they had disappeared in the barn behind the tannery house, and
+then his thoughts became riotous. Rumors had been rife that summer,
+prophecies of changes to come, and the resignation of the old man who had
+so long been postmaster at Brampton was freely discussed--or rather the
+matter of his successor. As the months passed, Ephraim had heard David
+Wheelock mentioned with more and more assurance for the place. He had had
+many nights when sleep failed him, but it was characteristic of the old
+soldier that he had never once broached the subject since Jethro had
+spoken to him two months before. Ephraim had even looked up the law to
+see if he was eligible, and found that he was, since Coniston had no
+post-office, and was within the limits of delivery of the Brampton
+office.
+
+The next morning Coniston was treated to a genuine surprise. After
+loading up at the store, Lem Hallowell, instead of heading for Brampton,
+drove to the tannery house, left his horses standing as he ran in, and
+presently emerged with a little cowhide trunk that bore the letter W.
+Following the trunk came a radiant Cynthia, following Cynthia, Jethro
+Bass in a stove-pipe hat, with a carpetbag, and hobbling after Jethro,
+Ephraim Prescott, with another carpet-bag. It was remarked in the buzz of
+query that followed the stage's departure that Ephraim wore the blue suit
+and the army hat with a cord around it which he kept for occasions.
+Coniston longed to follow them, in spirit at least, but even Milly
+Skinner did not know their destination.
+
+Fortunately we can follow them. At Brampton station they got into the
+little train that had just come over Truro Pass, and steamed, with many
+stops, down the valley of Coniston Water until it stretched out into a
+wide range of shimmering green meadows guarded by blue hills veiled in
+the morning haze. Then, bustling Harwich, and a wait of half an hour
+until the express from the north country came thundering through the Gap;
+then a five-hours' journey down the broad river that runs southward
+between the hills, dinner in a huge station amidst a pleasant buzz of
+excitement and the ringing of many bells. Then into another train,
+through valleys and factory towns and cities until they came, at
+nightfall, to the metropolis itself.
+
+Cynthia will always remember the awe with which that first view of New
+York inspired her, and Ephraim confessed that he, too, had felt it, when
+he had first seen the myriad lights of the city after the long, dusty
+ride from the hills with his regiment. For all the flags and bunting it
+had held in '61, Ephraim thought that city crueller than war itself. And
+Cynthia thought so too, as she clung to Jethro's arm between the
+carriages and the clanging street-cars, and looked upon the riches and
+poverty around her. There entered her soul that night a sense of that
+which is the worst cruelty of all--the cruelty of selfishness. Every man
+going his own pace, seeking to gratify his own aims and desires,
+unconscious and heedless of the want with which he rubs elbows. Her
+natural imagination enhanced by her life among the hills, the girl
+peopled the place in the street lights with all kinds of strange
+evil-doers of whose sins she knew nothing, adventurers, charlatans, alert
+cormorants, who preyed upon the unwary. She shrank closer to Ephraim from
+a perfumed lady who sat next to her in the car, and was thankful when at
+last they found themselves in the corridor of the Astor House standing
+before the desk.
+
+Hotel clerks, especially city ones, are supernatural persons. This one
+knew Jethro, greeted him deferentially as Judge Bass, and dipped the pen
+in the ink and handed it to him that he might register. By half-past nine
+Cynthia was dreaming of Lem Hallowell and Coniston, and Lem was driving a
+yellow street-car full of queer people down the road to Brampton.
+
+There were few guests in the great dining room when they breakfasted at
+seven the next morning. New York, in the sunlight, had taken on a more
+kindly expression, and those who were near by smiled at them and seemed
+full of good-will. Persons smiled at them that day as they walked the
+streets or stood spellbound before the shop windows, and some who saw
+them felt a lump rise in their throats at the memories they aroused of
+forgotten days: the three seemed to bring the very air of the hills with
+them into that teeming place, and many who, had come to the city with
+high hopes, now in the shackles of drudgery; looked after them. They were
+a curious party, indeed: the straight, dark girl with the light in her
+eyes and the color in her cheeks; the quaint, rugged figure of the
+elderly man in his swallow-tail and brass buttons and square-toed,
+country boots; and the old soldier hobbling along with the aid of his
+green umbrella, clad in the blue he had loved and suffered for. Had they
+remained until Sunday, they might have read an amusing account of their
+visit,--of Jethro's suppers of crackers and milk at the Astor House, of
+their progress along Broadway. The story was not lacking in pathos,
+either, and in real human feeling, for the young reporter who wrote it
+had come, not many years before, from the hills himself. But by that time
+they had accomplished another marvellous span in their journey, and were
+come to Washington itself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+Cynthia was deprived, too, of that thrilling first view of the capital
+from the train which she had pictured, for night had fallen when they
+reached Washington likewise. As the train slowed down, she leaned a
+little out of the window and looked at the shabby houses and shabby
+streets revealed by the flickering lights in the lamp-posts. Finally they
+came to a shabby station, were seized upon by a grinning darky hackman,
+who would not take no for an answer, and were rattled away to the hotel.
+Although he had been to Washington but once in his life before, as a
+Lincoln elector, Jethro was greeted as an old acquaintance by this clerk
+also.
+
+"Glad to see you, Judge," said he, genially. "Train late? You've come
+purty nigh, missin' supper."
+
+A familiar of great men, the clerk was not offended when he got no
+response to his welcome. Cynthia and Ephraim, intent on getting rid
+of some of the dust of their journey, followed the colored hallboy
+up the stairs. Jethro stood poring over the register, when a
+distinguished-looking elderly gentleman with a heavy gray beard and eyes
+full of shrewdness and humor paused at the desk to ask a question.
+
+"Er--Senator?"
+
+The senator (for such he was, although he did not represent Jethro's
+state) turned and stared, and then held out his hand with unmistakable
+warmth.
+
+"Jethro Bass," he exclaimed, "upon my word! What are you doing in
+Washington?"
+
+Jethro took the hand, but he did not answer the question.
+
+"Er--Senator--when can I see the President?"
+
+"Why," answered the senator, somewhat taken aback, "why, to-night, if you
+like. I'm going to the White House in a few minutes and I think I can
+arrange it."
+
+"T-to-morrow afternoon--t-to-morrow afternoon?"
+
+The senator cast his eye over the swallow-tail coat and stove-pipe hat
+tilted back, and laughed.
+
+"Thunder!" he exclaimed, "you haven't changed a bit. I'm beginning to
+look like an old man; but that milk-and-crackers diet seems to keep you
+young, Jethro. I'll fix it for to-morrow afternoon."
+
+"W-what time--two?"
+
+"Well, I'll fix it for two to-morrow afternoon. I never could understand
+you, Jethro; you don't do things like other men. Do I smell gunpowder?
+What's up now--what do you want to see Grant about?"
+
+Jethro cast his eye around the corridor, where a few men were taking
+their ease after supper, and looked at the senator mysteriously.
+
+"Any place where we can talk?" he demanded.
+
+"We can go into the writing room and shut the door," answered the
+senator, more amused than ever.
+
+When Cynthia came downstairs, Jethro was standing with the gentleman in
+the corridor leading to the dining room, and she heard the gentleman say
+as he took his departure:--"I haven't forgotten what you did for us in
+'70, Jethro. I'll go right along and see to it now."
+
+Cynthia liked the gentleman's looks, and rightly surmised that he was one
+of the big men of the nation. She was about to ask Jethro his name when
+Ephraim came limping along and put the matter out of her mind, and the
+three went into the almost empty dining room. There they were served with
+elaborate attention by a darky waiter who had, in some mysterious way,
+learned Jethro's name and title. Cynthia reflected with pride that
+Jethro, too, was one of the nation's great men, who could get anything he
+wanted simply by coming to the capital and asking for it.
+
+Ephraim was very much excited on finding himself in Washington, the sight
+of the place reviving in his mind a score of forgotten incidents of the
+war. After supper they found seats in a corner of the corridor, where a
+number of people were scattered about, smoking and talking. It did not
+occur to Jethro or Cynthia, or even to Ephraim, that these people were
+all of the male sex, and on the other hand the guests of the hotel were
+apparently used once in a while to see a lady from the country seated
+there. At any rate, Cynthia was but a young girl, and her two companions,
+however unusual their appearance, were clearly most respectable. Jethro,
+his hands in his pockets and his hat tilted, sat on the small of his back
+rapt in meditation; Cynthia, her head awhirl, looked around her with
+sparkling eyes; while Ephraim was smoking a cigar he had saved for just
+such a festal occasion. He did not see the stout man with the button and
+corded hat until he was almost on top of him.
+
+"Eph Prescott, I believe!" exclaimed the stout one. "How be you,
+Comrade?"
+
+Heedless of his rheumatism, Ephraim sprang to his feet and dropped the
+cigar, which the stout one picked up with much difficulty.
+
+"Well," said Ephraim, in a voice that shook with unwonted emotion, "you
+kin skin me if it ain't Amasy Beard!" His eye travelled around Amasa's
+figure. "Wouldn't a-knowed you, I swan, I wouldn't. Why, when I seen you
+last, Amasy, your stomach was havin' all it could do to git hold of your
+backbone."
+
+Cynthia laughed outright, and even Jethro sat up and smiled.
+
+"When was it?" said Amasa, still clinging on to Ephraim's hand and
+incidentally to the cigar, which Ephraim had forgotten; "Beaver Creek,
+wahn't it?"
+
+"July 10, 1863," said Ephraim, instantly.
+
+Gradually they reached a sitting position, the cigar was restored to its
+rightful owner, and Mr. Beard was introduced, with some ceremony, to
+Cynthia and Jethro. From Beaver Creek they began to fight the war over
+again, backward and forward, much to Cynthia's edification, when her
+attention was distracted by the entrance of a street band of wind
+instruments. As the musicians made their way to another corner and began
+tuning up, she glanced mischievously at Jethro, for she knew his
+peculiarities by heart. One of these was a most violent detestation of
+any but the best music. He had often given her this excuse, laughingly,
+for not going to meeting in Coniston. How he had come by his love for
+good music, Cynthia never knew--he certainly had not heard much of it.
+
+Suddenly a great volume of sound filled the corridor, and the band burst
+forth into what many supposed to be "The Watch on the Rhine." Some people
+were plainly delighted; the veterans, once recovered from their surprise,
+shouted their reminiscences above the music, undismayed; Jethro held on
+to himself until the refrain, when he began to squirm, and as soon as the
+tune was done and the scattering applause had died down, he reached over
+and grabbed Mr. Amasa Beard by the knee. Mr. Beard did not immediately
+respond, being at that moment behind logworks facing a rebel charge; he
+felt vaguely that some one was trying to distract his attention, and in
+some lobe of his brain was registered the fact that that particular knee
+had gout in it. Jethro increased the pressure, and then Mr. Beard
+abandoned his logworks and swung around with a snort of pain.
+
+"H-how much do they git for that noise--h-how much do they git?"
+
+Mr. Beard tenderly lifted the hand from his knee and stared at Jethro
+with his mouth open, like a man aroused from a bad dream.
+
+"Who? What noise?" he demanded.
+
+"The Dutchmen," said Jethro. "H-how much do they git for that noise?"
+
+"Oh!" Mr. Beard glanced at the band and began to laugh. He thought Jethro
+a queer customer, no doubt, but he was a friend of Comrade Prescott's.
+"By gum!" said Mr. Beard, "I thought for a minute a rebel chain-shot had
+took my leg off. Well, sir, I guess that band gets about two dollars.
+They've come in here every evening since I've been at the hotel."
+
+"T-two dollars? Is that the price? Er--you say two dollars is their
+price?"
+
+"Thereabouts," answered Mr. Beard, uneasily. Veteran as he was, Jethro's
+appearance and earnestness were a little alarming.
+
+"You say two dollars is their price?"
+
+"Thereabouts," shouted Mr. Beard, seating himself on the edge of his
+chair.
+
+But Jethro paid no attention to him. He rose, unfolding by degrees his
+six feet two, and strode diagonally across the corridor toward the band
+leader. Conversation was hushed at the sight of his figure, a titter ran
+around the walls, but Jethro was oblivious to these things. He drew a
+great calfskin wallet from an inside pocket of his coat, and the band
+leader, a florid German, laid down his instrument and made an elaborate
+bow. Jethro waited until the man had become upright and then held out a
+two-dollar bill.
+
+"Is that about right for the performance?" he said "is that about right?"
+
+"Ja, mein Herr," said the man, nodding vociferously.
+
+"I want to pay what's right--I want to pay what's right," said Jethro.
+
+"I thank you very much, sir," said the leader, finding his English, "you
+haf pay for all."
+
+"P-paid for everything--everything to-night?" demanded Jethro.
+
+The leader spread out his hands.
+
+"You haf pay for one whole evening," said he, and bowed again.
+
+"Then take it, take it," said Jethro, pushing the bill into the man's
+palm; "but don't you come back to-night--don't you come back to-night."
+
+The amazed leader stared at Jethro--and words failed him. There was
+something about this man that compelled him to obey, and he gathered up
+his followers and led the way silently out of the hotel. Roars of
+laughter and applause arose on all sides; but Jethro was as one who heard
+them not as he made his way back to his seat again.
+
+"You did a good job, my friend," said Mr. Beard, approvingly. "I'm going
+to take Eph Prescott down the street to see some of the boys. Won't you
+come, too?"
+
+Mr. Beard doubtless accepted it as one of the man's eccentricities that
+Jethro did not respond to him, for without more ado he departed arm in
+arm with Ephraim. Jethro was looking at Cynthia, who was staring toward
+the desk at the other end of the corridor, her face flushed, and her
+fingers closed over the arms of her chair. It never occurred to Jethro
+that she might have been embarrassed.
+
+"W-what's the matter, Cynthy?" he asked, sinking into the chair beside
+her.
+
+Her breath caught sharply, but she tried to smile at him. He did not
+discover what was the matter until long afterward, when he recalled that
+evening to mind. Jethro was a man used to hotel corridors, used to
+sitting in an attitude that led the unsuspecting to believe he was half
+asleep; but no person of note could come or go whom he did not remember.
+He had seen the distinguished party arrive at the desk, preceded by a
+host of bell-boys with shawls and luggage. On the other hand, some of the
+distinguished party had watched the proceeding of paying off the band
+with no little amusement. Miss Janet Duncan had giggled audibly, her
+mother had smiled, while her father and Mr. Worthington had pretended to
+be deeply occupied with the hotel register. Somers was not there. Bob
+Worthington laughed heartily with the rest until his eye, travelling down
+the line of Jethro's progress, fell on Cynthia, and now he was striding
+across the floor toward them. And even in the horrible confusion of that
+moment Cynthia had a vagrant thought that his clothes had an enviable cut
+and became him remarkably.
+
+"Well, of all things, to find you here!" he cried; "this is the best luck
+that ever happened. I am glad to see you. I was going to steal away to
+Brampton for a couple of days before the term opened, and I meant to look
+you up there. And Mr. Bass," said Bob, turning to Jethro, "I'm glad to
+see you too."
+
+Jethro looked at the young man and smiled and held out his hand. It was
+evident that Bob was blissfully unaware that hostilities between powers
+of no mean magnitude were about to begin; that the generals themselves
+were on the ground, and that he was holding treasonable parley with the
+enemy. The situation appealed to Jethro, especially as he glanced at the
+backs of the two gentlemen facing the desk. These backs seemed to him
+full of expression. "Th-thank you, Bob, th-thank you," he answered.
+
+"I like the way you fixed that band," said Bob; "I haven't laughed as
+much for a year. You hate music, don't you? I hope you'll forgive that
+awful noise we made outside of your house last July, Mr. Bass."
+
+"You--you make that noise, Bob, you--you make that?"
+
+"Well," said Bob, "I'm afraid I did most of it. There was another fellow
+that helped some and played the guitar. It was pretty bad," he added,
+with a side glance at Cynthia, "but it was meant for a compliment."
+
+"Oh," said she, "it was meant for a compliment, was it?"
+
+"Of course," he answered, glad of the opportunity to turn his attention
+entirely to her. "I was for slipping away right after supper, but my
+father headed us off."
+
+"Slipping away?" repeated Cynthia.
+
+"You see, he had a kind of a reception and fireworks afterward. We didn't
+get away till after nine, and then I thought I'd have a lecture when I
+got home."
+
+"Did you?" asked Cynthia.
+
+"No," said Bob, "he didn't know where I'd been."
+
+Cynthia felt the blood rush to her temples, but by habit and instinct she
+knew when to restrain herself.
+
+"Would it have made any difference to him where you had been?" she asked
+calmly enough.
+
+Bob had a presentiment that he was on dangerous ground. This new and
+self-possessed Cynthia was an enigma to him--certainly a fascinating
+enigma.
+
+"My father world have thought I was a fool to go off serenading," he
+answered, flushing. Bob did not like a lie; he knew that his father would
+have been angry if he had heard he had gone to Coniston; he felt, in the
+small of his back, that his father was angry mow, and guessed the reason.
+
+She regarded him gravely as he spoke, and then her eyes left his face and
+became fixed upon an object at the far end of the corridor. Bob turned in
+time to see Janet Duncan swing on her heel and follow her mother up the
+stairs. He struggled to find words to tide over what he felt was an
+awkward moment.
+
+"We've had a fine trip;" he said, "though I should much rather have
+stayed at home. The West is a wonderful country, with its canons and
+mountains and great stretches of plain. My father met us in Chicago, and
+we came here. I don't know why, because Washington's dead at this time of
+the year. I suppose it must be on account of politics." Looking at Jethro
+with a sudden inspiration, "I hadn't thought of that."
+
+Jethro had betrayed no interest in the conversation. He was seated, as
+usual, on the small of his back. But he saw a young man of short stature,
+with a freckled face and close-cropped, curly red hair, come into the
+corridor by another entrance; he saw Isaac D. Worthington draw him aside
+and speak to him, and he saw the young man coming towards them.
+
+"How do you do, Miss Wetherell?" cried the young man joyously, while
+still ten feet away, "I'm awfully glad to see you, upon my word; I am.
+How long are you going to be in Washington?"
+
+"I don't know, Mr. Duncan," answered Cynthia.
+
+"Did Worthy know you were here?" demanded Mr. Duncan, suspiciously.
+
+"He did when he saw me," said Cynthia, smiling.
+
+"Not till then?" asked Mr. Duncan. "Say, Worthy; your father wants to see
+you right away. I'm going to be in Washington a day or two--will you go
+walking with me to-morrow morning, Miss Wetherell?"
+
+"She's going walking with me," said Bob, not in the best of tempers.
+
+"Then I'll go along," said Mr. Duncan, promptly.
+
+By this time Cynthia got up and was holding out her hand to Bob
+Worthington. "I'm not going walking with either of you," she said "I have
+another engagement. And I think I'll have to say good night, because I'm
+very tired."
+
+"When can I see you?" Both the young men asked the question at once.
+
+"Oh, you'll have plenty of chances," she answered, and was gone.
+
+The young men looked at each other somewhat blankly; and then down at
+Jethro, who did not seem to know that they were there, and then they made
+their way toward the desk. But Isaac D. Worthington and his friends had
+disappeared.
+
+A few minutes later the distinguished-looking senator with whom Jethro
+had been in conversation before supper entered the hotel. He seemed
+preoccupied, and heedless of the salutations he received; but when he
+caught sight of Jethro he crossed the corridor rapidly and sat down
+beside him. Jethro did not move. The corridor was deserted now, save for
+the two.
+
+"Bass," began the senator, "what's the row up in your state?"
+
+"H-haven't heard of any row," said Jethro.
+
+"What did you come to Washington for?" demanded the senator, somewhat
+sharply.
+
+"Er--vacation," said Jethro, "vacation--to show my gal, Cynthy, the
+capital."
+
+"Now see here, Bass," said the senator, "I don't forget what happened in
+'70. I don't object to wading through a swarm of bees to get a little
+honey for a friend, but I think I'm entitled to know why he wants it."
+
+"G-got the honey?" asked Jethro.
+
+The senator took off his hat and wiped his brow, and then he stole a look
+at Jethro, with apparently barren results.
+
+"Jethro," he said, "people say you run that state of yours right up to
+the handle. What's all this trouble about a two-for-a-cent
+postmastership?"
+
+"H-haven't heard of any trouble," said Jethro.
+
+"Well, there is trouble," said the senator, losing patience at last. "When
+I told Grant you were here and mentioned that little Brampton matter to
+him,--it didn't seem much to me,--the bees began to fly pretty thick, I
+can tell you. I saw right away that somebody had been stirring 'em up. It
+looks to me, Jethro," said the senator gravely, "it looks to me as if you
+had something of a rebellion on your hands."
+
+"W-what'd Grant say?" Jethro inquired.
+
+"Well, he didn't say a great deal--he isn't much of a talker, you know,
+but what he did say was to the point. It seems that your man, Prescott,
+doesn't come from Brampton, in the first place, and Grant says that while
+he likes soldiers, he hasn't any use for the kind that want to lie down
+and make the government support 'em. I'll tell you what I found out.
+Worthington and Duncan wired the President this morning, and they've gone
+up to the White House now. They've got a lot of railroad interests back
+of them, and they've taken your friend Sutton into camp; but I managed to
+get the President to promise not to do anything until he saw you tomorrow
+afternoon at two."
+
+Jethro sat silent so long that the senator began to think he wasn't going
+to answer him at all. In his opinion, he had told Jethro some very grave
+facts.
+
+"W-when are you going to see the President again?" said Jethro, at last.
+
+"To-morrow morning," answered the senator; "he wants me to walk over with
+him to see the postmaster-general, who is sick in bed."
+
+"What time do you leave the White House?--"
+
+"At eleven," said the senator, very much puzzled.
+
+"Er--Grant ever pay any attention to an old soldier on the street?"
+
+The senator glanced at Jethro, and a twinkle came into his eye.
+
+"Sometimes he has been known to," he answered.
+
+"You--you ever pay any attention to an old soldier on the street?"
+
+Then the senator's eyes began to snap.
+
+"Sometimes I have been known to."
+
+"Er--suppose an old soldier was in front of the White House at eleven
+o'clock--an old soldier with a gal suppose?"
+
+The senator saw the point, and took no pains to restrain his admiration.
+
+"Jethro," he said, slapping him on the shoulder, "I'm willing to bet a
+few thousand dollars you'll run your state for a while yet."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+"Heard you say you was goin' for a walk this morning, Cynthy," Jethro
+remarked, as they sat at breakfast the next morning.
+
+"Why, of course," answered Cynthia, "Cousin Eph and I are going out to
+see Washington, and he is to show me the places that he remembers." She
+looked at Jethro appealingly. "Aren't you coming with us?" she asked.
+
+"M-meet you at eleven, Cynthy," he said.
+
+"Eleven!" exclaimed Cynthia in dismay, "that's almost dinner-time."
+
+"M-meet you in front of the White House at eleven," said Jethro, "plumb
+in front of it, under a tree."
+
+By half-past seven, Cynthia and Ephraim with his green umbrella were in
+the street, but it would be useless to burden these pages with a
+description of all the sights they saw, and with the things that Ephraim
+said about them, and incidentally about the war. After New York, much of
+Washington would then have seemed small and ragged to any one who lacked
+ideals and a national sense, but Washington was to Cynthia as Athens to a
+Greek. To her the marble Capitol shining on its hill was a sacred temple,
+and the great shaft that struck upward through the sunlight, though yet
+unfinished, a fitting memorial to him who had led the barefoot soldiers
+of the colonies through ridicule to victory. They looked up many
+institutions and monument, they even had time to go to the Navy Yard, and
+they saved the contemplation of the White House till the last. The White
+House, which Cynthia thought the finest and most graceful mansion in all
+the world, in its simplicity and dignity, a fitting dwelling for the
+chosen of the nation. Under the little tree which Jethro had mentioned,
+Ephraim stood bareheaded before the walls which had sheltered Lincoln,
+which were now the home of the greatest of his captains, Grant: and
+wondrous emotions played upon the girl's spirit, too, as she gazed. They
+forgot the present in the past and the future, and they did not see the
+two gentlemen who had left the portico some minutes before and were now
+coming toward them along the sidewalk.
+
+The two gentlemen, however, slowed their steps involuntarily at a sight
+which was uncommon, even in Washington. The girl's arm was in the
+soldier's, and her face, which even in repose had a true nobility, now
+was alight with an inspiration that is seen but seldom in a lifetime. In
+marble, could it have been wrought by a great sculptor, men would have
+dreamed before it of high things.
+
+The two, indeed, might have stood for a group, the girl as the spirit,
+the man as the body which had risked and suffered all for it, and still
+held it fast. For the honest face of the soldier reflected that spirit as
+truly as a mirror.
+
+Ephraim was aroused from his thoughts by Cynthia nudging his arm. He
+started, put on his hat, and stared very hard at a man smoking a cigar
+who was standing before him. Then he stiffened and raised his hand in an
+involuntary salute. The man smiled. He was not very tall, he had a
+closely trimmed light beard that was growing a little gray, he wore a
+soft hat something like Ephraim's, a black tie on a white pleated shirt,
+and his eyeglasses were pinned to his vest. His eyes were all kindness.
+
+"How do you do, Comrade?" he said, holding out his hand.
+
+"General," said Ephraim, "Mr. President," he added, correcting himself,
+"how be you?" He shifted the green umbrella, and shook the hand timidly
+but warmly.
+
+"General will do," said the President, with a smiling glance at the tall
+senator beside him, "I like to be called General."
+
+"You've growed some older, General," said Ephraim, scanning his face with
+a simple reverence and affection, "but you hain't changed so much as I'd
+a thought since I saw you whittlin' under a tree beside the Lacy house in
+the Wilderness."
+
+"My duty has changed some," answered the President, quite as simply. He
+added with a touch of sadness, "I liked those days best, Comrade."
+
+"Well, I guess!" exclaimed Ephraim, "you're general over everything now,
+but you're not a mite bigger man to me than you was."
+
+The President took the compliment as it was meant.
+
+"I found it easier to run an army than I do to run a country," he said.
+
+Ephraim's blue eyes flamed with indignation.
+
+"I don't take no stock in the bull-dogs and the gold harness at Long
+Branch and--and all them lies the dratted newspapers print about
+you,"--Ephraim hammered his umbrella on the pavement as an expression of
+his feelings,--"and what's more, the people don't."
+
+The President glanced at the senator again, and laughed a little,
+quietly.
+
+"Thank you; Comrade," he said.
+
+"You're a plain, common man," continued Ephraim, paying the highest
+compliment known to rural New England; "the people think a sight of you,
+or they wouldn't hev chose you twice, General."
+
+"So you were in the Wilderness?" said the President, adroitly changing
+the subject.
+
+"Yes, General. I was pressed into orderly duty the first day--that's when
+I saw you whittlin' under the tree, and you didn't seem to have no more
+consarn than if it had been a company drill. Had a cigar then, too. But
+the second day; May the 6th, I was with the regiment. I'll never forget
+that day," said Ephraim, warming to the subject, "when we was fightin'
+Ewell up and down the Orange Plank Road, playin' hide-and-seek with the
+Johnnies in the woods. You remember them woods, General?"
+
+The President nodded, his cigar between his teeth. He looked as though
+the scene were coming back to him.
+
+"Never seen such woods," said Ephraim, "scrub oak and pine and cedars and
+young stuff springin' up until you couldn't see the length of a company,
+and the Rebs jumpin' and hollerin' around and shoutin' every which way.
+After a while a lot of them saplings was mowed off clean by the bullets,
+and then the woods caught afire, and that was hell."
+
+"Were you wounded?" asked the President, quickly.
+
+"I was hurt some, in the hip," answered Ephraim.
+
+"Some!" exclaimed Cynthia, "why, you have walked lame ever since." She
+knew the story by heart, but the recital of it never failed to stir her
+blood! They carried him out just as he was going to be burned up, in a
+blanket hung from rifles, and he was in the hospital nine months, and had
+to come home for a while."
+
+"Cynthy," said Ephraim in gentle reproof, "I callate the General don't
+want to hear that."
+
+Cynthia flushed, but the President looked at her with an added interest.
+
+"My dear young lady," he said, "that seems to me the vital part of the
+story. If I remember rightly," he added, turning again to Ephraim, the
+Fifth Corps was on the Orange turnpike. What brigade were you in?"
+
+"The third brigade of the First Division," answered Ephraim.
+
+"Griffin's," said the President. "There were several splendid New England
+regiments in that brigade. I sent them with Griffin to help Sheridan at
+Five Forks."
+
+"I was thar too," cried Ephraim.
+
+"What!" said the President, "with the lame hip?"
+
+"Well, General, I went back, I couldn't help it. I couldn't stay away
+from the boys--just couldn't. I didn't limp as bad then as I do now. I
+wahn't much use anywhere else, and I had l'arned to fight. Five Forks!"
+exclaimed Ephraim. "I call that day to mind as if it was yesterday. I
+remember how the boys yelled when they told us we was goin' to Sheridan.
+We got started about daylight, and it took us till four o'clock in the
+afternoon to git into position. The woods was just comin' a little green,
+and the white dogwoods was bloomin' around. Sheridan, he galloped up to
+the line with that black horse of his'n and hollered out, 'Come on, boys,
+go in at a clean, jump or You won't ketch one of 'em.' You know how men,
+even veterans like that Fifth Corps, sometimes hev to be pushed into a
+fight. There was a man from a Maine regiment got shot in the head fust
+thing. 'I'm killed,' said he. 'Oh, no, you're not,' says Sheridan,
+'pickup your gun and go for 'em.' But he was killed. Well, we went for
+'em through all the swamps and briers and everything, and Sheridan, thar
+in front, had got the battle-flag and was rushin' round with it swearin'
+and prayin' and shoutin', and the first thing we knowed he'd jumped his
+horse clean over their logworks and landed right on top of the
+Johnnie's."
+
+"Yes," said the President, "that was Sheridan, sure enough."
+
+"Mr. President," said the senator, who stood by wonderingly while General
+Grant had lost himself in this conversation, "do you realize what time it
+is?"
+
+"Yes, yes," said the President, "we must go on. What was your rank,
+Comrade?"
+
+"Sergeant, General."
+
+"I hope you have got a good pension for that hip," said the President,
+kindly. It may be well to add that he was not always so incautious, but
+this soldier bore the unmistakable stamp of simplicity and sincerity on
+his face.
+
+Ephraim hesitated.
+
+"He never would ask for a pension, General," said Cynthia.
+
+"What!" exclaimed the President in real astonishment, "are you so rich as
+all that?" and he glanced at the green umbrella.
+
+"Well, General," said Ephraim, uncomfortably, "I never liked the notion
+of gittin' paid for it. You see, I was what they call a war-Democrat."
+
+"Good Lord!" said the President, but more to himself. "What do you do
+now?"
+
+"I callate to make harness," answered Ephraim.
+
+"Only he can't make it any more on account of his rheumatism, Mr.
+President," Cynthia put in.
+
+"I think you might call me General, too," he said, with the grace that
+many simple people found inherent in him. "And may I ask your name, young
+lady?"
+
+"Cynthia Wetherell--General," she said smiling.
+
+"That sounds more natural," said the President, and then to Ephraim,
+"Your daughter?"
+
+"I couldn't think more of her if she was," answered Ephraim; "Cynthy's
+pulled me through some tight spells. Her mother was my cousin, General.
+My name's Prescott--Ephraim Prescott."
+
+"Ephraim Prescott!" ejaculated the President, sharply, taking his cigar
+from his mouth, "Ephraim Prescott!"
+
+"Prescott--that's right--Prescott, General," repeated Ephraim, sorely
+puzzled by these manifestations of amazement.
+
+"What did you come to Washington for?" asked the President.
+
+"Well, General, I kind of hate to tell you--I didn't intend to mention
+that. I guess I won't say nothin' about it," he added, "we've had such a
+sociable time. I've always b'en a little mite ashamed of it, General,
+ever since 'twas first mentioned."
+
+"Good Lord!" said the President again, and then he looked at Cynthia.
+"What is it, Miss Cynthia?" he asked.
+
+It was now Cynthia's turn to be a little confused.
+
+"Uncle Jethro--that is, Mr. Bass" (the President nodded), "went to Cousin
+Eph when he couldn't make harness any more and said he'd give him the
+Brampton post-office."
+
+The President's eyes met the senator's, and both gentlemen laughed.
+Cynthia bit her lip, not seeing any cause for mirth in her remark, while
+Ephraim looked uncomfortable and mopped the perspiration from his brow.
+
+"He said he'd give it to him, did he?" said the President. "Is Mr. Bass
+your uncle?"
+
+"Oh, no, General," replied Cynthia, "he's really no relation. He's done
+everything for me, and I live with him since my father died. He was going
+to meet us here," she continued, looking around hurriedly, "I'm sure I
+can't think what's kept him."
+
+"Mr. President, we are half an hour late already," said the senator,
+hurriedly.
+
+"Well, well," said the President, "I suppose I must go. Good-by, Miss
+Cynthia," said he, taking the girl's hand warmly. "Good-by, Comrade. If
+ever you want to see General Grant, just send in your name. Good-by."
+
+The President lifted his hat politely to Cynthia and passed. He said
+something to the senator which they did not hear, and the senator laughed
+heartily. Ephraim and Cynthia watched them until they were out of sight.
+
+"Godfrey!" exclaimed Ephraim, "they told me he was hard to talk to. Why,
+Cynthy, he's as simple as a child."
+
+"I've always thought that all great men must be simple," said Cynthia;
+"Uncle Jethro is."
+
+"To think that the President of the United States stood talkin' to us on
+the sidewalk for half an hour," said Ephraim, clutching Cynthia's arm.
+"Cynthy, I'm glad we didn't press that post-office matter it was worth
+more to me than all the post-offices in the Union to have that talk with
+General Grant."
+
+They waited some time longer under the tree, happy in the afterglow of
+this wonderful experience. Presently a clock struck twelve.
+
+"Why, it's dinner-time, Cynthy," said Ephraim. "I guess Jethro haint'
+a-comin'--must hev b'en delayed by some of them politicians."
+
+"It's the first time I ever knew him to miss an appointment," said
+Cynthia, as they walked back to the hotel.
+
+Jethro was not in the corridor, so they passed on to the dining room and
+looked eagerly from group to group. Jethro was not there, either, but
+Cynthia heard some one laughing above the chatter of the guests, and drew
+back into the corridor. She had spied the Duncans and the Worthingtons
+making merry by themselves at a corner table, and it was Somers's laugh
+that she heard. Bob, too, sitting next to Miss Duncan, was much amused
+about something. Suddenly Cynthia's exaltation over the incident of the
+morning seemed to leave her, and Bob Worthington's words which she had
+pondered over in the night came back to her with renewed force. He did
+not find it necessary to steal away to see Miss Duncan. Why should he
+have "stolen away" to see her? Was it because she was a country girl, and
+poor? That was true; but on the other hand, did she not live in the
+sunlight, as it were, of Uncle Jethro's greatness, and was it not an
+honor to come to his house and see any one? And why had Mr. Worthington
+turned hid back on Jethro, and sent for Bob when he was talking to them?
+Cynthia could not understand these things, and her pride was sorely
+wounded by them.
+
+"Perhaps Jethro's in his room," suggested Ephraim.
+
+And indeed they found him there seated on the bed, poring over some
+newspapers, and both in a breath demanded where he had been. Ephraim did
+not wait for an answer.
+
+"We seen General Grant, Jethro," he cried; "while we was waitin' for you
+under the tree he come up and stood talkin' to us half an hour. Full half
+an hour, wahn't it, Cynthy?"
+
+"Oh, yes," answered Cynthia, forgetting her own grievance at the
+recollection; "only it didn't seem nearly that long."
+
+"W-want to know!" exclaimed Jethro, in astonishment, putting down his
+paper. "H-how did it happen?"
+
+"Come right up and spoke to us," said Ephraim, in a tone he might have
+used to describe a miracle, "jest as if he was common folk. Never had a
+more sociable talk with anybody. Why, there was times when I clean forgot
+he was President of the United States. The boys won't believe it when we
+git back at Coniston."
+
+And Ephraim, full of his subject, began to recount from the beginning the
+marvellous affair, occasionally appealing to Cynthia for confirmation.
+How he had lived over again the Wilderness and Five Forks; how the
+General had changed since he had seen him whittling under a tree; how the
+General had asked about his pension.
+
+"D-didn't mention the post-office, did you, Ephraim?"
+
+"Why, no," replied Ephraim, "I didn't like to exactly. You see, we was
+havin' such a good time I didn't want to spoil it, but Cynthy--"
+
+"I told the President about it, Uncle Jethro; I told him how sick Cousin
+Eph had been, and that you were going to give him the postmastership
+because he couldn't work any more with his hands."
+
+The training of a lifetime had schooled Jethro not to betray surprise.
+
+"K-kind of mixin' up in politics, hain't you, Cynthy? P-President say
+he'd give you the postmastership, Eph?" he asked.
+
+"He didn't say nothin' about it, Jethro," answered Ephraim slowly; "I
+callate he has other views for the place, and he was too kind to come
+right out with 'em and spoil our mornin'. You see, Jethro, I wahn't only
+a sergeant, and Brampton's gittin' to be a big town."
+
+"But, surely," cried Cynthia, who could scarcely wait for him to finish,
+"surely you're going to give Cousin Eph the post-office, aren't you,
+Uncle Jethro? All you have to do is to tell the President that you want
+it for him. Why, I had an idea that we came down for that."
+
+"Now, Cynthy," Ephraim put in, deprecatingly.
+
+"Who else would get the post-office?" asked Cynthia. "Surely you're not
+going to let Mr. Sutton have it for Dave Wheelock!"
+
+"Er--Cynthy," said Jethro, slyly, "w-what'd you say to me once about
+interferin' with women's fixin's?"
+
+Cynthia saw the point. She perceived also that the mazes of politics were
+not to be understood by a young woman, of even by an old soldier. She
+laughed and seized Jethro's hands and pulled him from the bed.
+
+"We won't get any dinner unless we hurry," she said.
+
+When they reached the dining room she was relieved to discover that the
+party in the corner had gone.
+
+In the afternoon there were many more sights to be viewed, but they were
+back in the hotel again by half-past four, because Ephraim's Wilderness
+leg had its limits of endurance. Jethro (though he had not mentioned the
+fact to them) had gone to the White House.
+
+It was during the slack hours that our friend the senator, whose interest
+in the matter of the Brampton post office out-weighed for the present
+certain grave problems of the Administration in which he was involved,
+hurried into the Willard Hotel, looking for Jethro Bass. He found him
+without much trouble in his usual attitude, occupying one of the chairs
+in the corridor.
+
+"Well," exclaimed the senator, with a touch of eagerness he did not often
+betray, "did you see Grant? How about your old soldier? He's one of the
+most delightful characters I ever met--simple as a child," and he laughed
+at the recollection. "That was a masterstroke of yours, Bass, putting him
+under that tree with that pretty girl. I doubt if you ever did anything
+better in your life. Did they tell you about it?"
+
+"Yes," said Jethro, "they told me about it."
+
+"And how about Grant? What did he say to you?"
+
+"W-well, I went up there and sent in my card. D-didn't have to wait a
+great while, as I was pretty early, and soon he came in, smokin' a black
+cigar, head bent forward a little. D-didn't ask me to sit down, and what
+talkin' we did we did standin'. D-didn't ask me what he could do for me,
+what I wanted, or anything else, but just stood there, and I stood there.
+F-fust time in my life I didn't know how to commerce or what to say;
+looked--looked at me--didn't take his eye off me. After a while I got
+started, somehow; told him I was there to ask him to appoint Ephraim
+Prescott to the Brampton postoffice--t-told him all about Ephraim from
+the time he was locked in the cradle--never was so hard put that I could
+remember. T-told him how Ephraim shook butternuts off my fathers
+tree--for all I know. T-told him all about Ephraim's war
+record--leastways all I could call to mind--and, by Godfrey! before I got
+through, I wished I'd listened to more of it. T-told him about Ephraim's
+Wilderness bullets--t-told him about Ephraim's rheumatism,--how it
+bothered him when he went to bed and when he got up again."
+
+If Jethro had glanced at his companion, he would have seen the senator
+was shaking with silent and convulsive laughter.
+
+"All the time I talked to him I didn't see a muscle move in his face,"
+Jethro continued, "so I started in again, and he looked--looked--looked
+right at me. W-wouldn't wink--don't think he winked once while I was in
+that room. I watched him as close as I could, and I watched to see if a
+muscle moved or if I was makin' any impression. All he would do was to
+stand there and look--look--look. K-kept me there ten minutes and never
+opened his mouth at all. Hardest man to talk to I ever met--never see a
+man before but what I could get him to say somethin', if it was only a
+cuss word. I got tired of it after a while, made up my mind that I had
+found one man I couldn't move. Then what bothered me was to get out of
+that room. If I'd a had a Bible I believe I'd a read it to him. I didn't
+know what to say, but I did say this after a while:--"'W-well, Mr.
+President, I guess I've kept you long enough--g-guess you're a pretty
+busy man. H-hope you'll give Mr. Prescott that postmastership. Er--er
+good-by.'
+
+"'Wait, sir,' he said.
+
+"'Yes,' I said, 'I-I'll wait.'
+
+"Thought you was goin' to give him that postmastership, Mr. Bass,' he
+said."
+
+At this point the senator could not control his mirth, and the empty
+corridor echoed his laughter.
+
+"By thunder! what did you say to that?"
+
+"Er--I said, 'Mr. President, I thought I was until a while ago.'
+
+"'And when did you change your mind?' says he."
+
+Then he laughed a little--not much--but he laughed a little.
+
+"'I understand that your old soldier lives within the limits of the
+delivery of the Brampton office,' said he."
+
+"'That's correct, Mr. President,' said I."
+
+"'Well,' said he, 'I will app'int him postmaster at Brampton, Mr. Bass.'"
+
+"'When?' said I."
+
+Then he laughed a little more.
+
+"I'll have the app'intment sent to your hotel this afternoon,' said he."
+
+"'Then I said to him, 'This has come out full better than I expected, Mr.
+President. I'm much obliged to you.' He didn't say nothin' more, so I
+come out."
+
+"Grant didn't say anything about Worthington or Duncan, did he?" asked
+the senator, curiously, as he rose to go.
+
+"G-guess I've told you all he said," answered Jethro; "'twahn't a great
+deal."
+
+The senator held out his hand.
+
+"Bass," he said, laughing, "I believe you came pretty near meeting your
+match. But if Grant's the hardest man in the Union to get anything out
+of, I've a notion who's the second." And with this parting shot the
+senator took his departure, chuckling to himself as he went.
+
+As has been said, there were but few visitors in Washington at this time,
+and the hotel corridor was all but empty. Presently a substantial-looking
+gentleman came briskly in from the street, nodding affably to the colored
+porters and bell-boys, who greeted him by name. He wore a flowing Prince
+Albert coat, which served to dignify a growing portliness, and his
+coal-black whiskers glistened in the light. A voice, which appeared to
+come from nowhere in particular, brought the gentleman up standing.
+
+"How be you, Heth?"
+
+It may not be that Mr. Sutton's hand trembled, but the ashes of his cigar
+fell to the floor. He was not used to visitations, and for the instant,
+if the truth be told, he was not equal to looking around.
+
+"Like Washington, Heth--like Washington?"
+
+Then Mr. Sutton turned. His presence of mind, and that other presence of
+which he was so proud, seemed for the moment to have deserted him.
+
+"S-stick pretty close to business, Heth, comin' down here out of session
+time. S-stick pretty close to business, don't you, since the people sent
+you to Congress?"
+
+Mr. Sutton might have offered another man a cigar or a drink, but (as is
+well known) Jethro was proof against tobacco or stimulants.
+
+"Well," said the Honorable Heth, catching his breath and making a dive,
+"I am surprised to see you, Jethro," which was probably true.
+
+"Th-thought you might be," said Jethro. "Er--glad to see me, Heth--glad
+to see me?"
+
+As has been recorded, it is peculiarly difficult to lie to people who are
+not to be deceived.
+
+"Why, certainly I am," answered the Honorable Heth, swallowing hard,
+"certainly I am, Jethro. I meant to have got to Coniston this summer, but
+I was so busy--"
+
+"Peoples' business, I understand. Er--hear you've gone in for high-minded
+politics, Heth--r-read a highminded speech of yours--two high-minded
+speeches. Always thought you was a high-minded man, Heth."
+
+"How did you like those speeches, Jethro?" asked Mr. Sutton, striving as
+best he might to make some show of dignity.
+
+"Th-thought they was high-minded," said Jethro.
+
+Then there was a silence, for Mr. Sutton could think of nothing more to
+say. And he yearned to depart with a great yearning, but something held
+him there.
+
+"Heth," said Jethro after a while, "you was always very friendly and
+obliging. You've done a great many favors for me in your life."
+
+"I've always tried to be neighborly, Jethro," said Mr. Sutton, but his
+voice sounded a little husky even to himself.
+
+"And I may have done one or two little things for you, Heth," Jethro
+continued, "but I can't remember exactly. Er--can you remember, Heth."
+
+Mr. Sutton was trying with becoming nonchalance to light the stump of his
+cigar. He did not succeed this time. He pulled himself together with a
+supreme effort.
+
+"I think we've both been mutually helpful, Jethro," he said, "mutually
+helpful."
+
+"Well," said Jethro, reflectively, "I don't know as I could have put it
+as well as that--there's somethin' in being an orator."
+
+There was another silence, a much longer one. The Honorable Heth threw
+his butt away, and lighted another cigar. Suddenly, as if by magic, his
+aplomb returned, and in a flash of understanding he perceived the
+situation. He saw himself once more as the successful congressman, the
+trusted friend of the railroad interests, and he saw Jethro as a
+discredited boss. He did not stop to reflect that Jethro did not act like
+a discredited boss, as a keener man might have done. But if the Honorable
+Heth had been a keener man, he would not have been at that time a
+congressman. Mr. Sutton accused himself of having been stupid in not
+grasping at once that the tables were turned, and that now he was the one
+to dispense the gifts.
+
+"K-kind of fortunate you stopped to speak to me, Heth. N-now I come to
+think of it, I hev a little favor to ask of you."
+
+"Ah!" exclaimed Mr. Sutton, blowing out the smoke; "of course anything I
+can do, Jethro--anything in reason."
+
+"W-wouldn't ask a high-minded man to do anything he hadn't ought to,"
+said Jethro; "the fact is, I'd like to git Eph Prescott appointed at the
+Brampton post-office. You can fix that, Heth--can't you--you can fix
+that?"
+
+Mr. Sutton stuck his thumb into his vest pocket and cleared his throat.
+
+"I can't tell you how sorry I am not to oblige you, Jethro, but I've
+arranged to give that post-office to Dave Wheelock."
+
+"A-arranged it, hev You--a-arranged it?"
+
+"Why, yes," said Mr. Sutton, scarcely believing his own ears. Could it be
+possible that he was using this patronizingly kind tone to Jethro Bass?
+
+"Well, that's too bad," said Jethro; "g-got it all fixed, hev you?"
+
+"Practically," answered Mr. Sutton, grandly; "indeed, I may go as far as
+to say that it is as certain as if I had the appointment here in my
+pocket. I'm sorry not to oblige you, Jethro; but these are matters which
+a member of Congress must look after pretty closely." He held out his
+hand, but Jethro did not appear to see it,--he had his in his pockets.
+"I've an important engagement," said the Honorable Heth, consulting a
+large gold watch. "Are you going to be in Washington long?"
+
+"G-guess I've about got through, Heth--g-guess I've about got through,"
+said Jethro.
+
+"Well, if you have time and there's any other little thing, I'm in Room
+29," said Mr. Sutton, as he put his foot on the stairway.
+
+"T-told Worthington you got that app'intment for Wheelock--t-told
+Worthington?" Jethro called out after him.
+
+Mr. Sutton turned and waved his cigar and smiled in acknowledgment of
+this parting bit of satire. He felt that he could afford to smile. A few
+minutes later he was ensconced on the sofa of a private sitting room
+reviewing the incident, with much gusto, for the benefit of Mr. Isaac D.
+Worthington and Mr. Alexander Duncan. Both of these gentlemen laughed
+heartily, for the Honorable Heth Sutton knew the art of telling a story
+well, at least, and was often to be seen with a group around him in the
+lobbies of Congress.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+About five o'clock that afternoon Ephraim was sitting in his
+shirt-sleeves by the window of his room, and Cynthia was reading aloud to
+him an article (about the war, of course) from a Washington paper, which
+his friend, Mr. Beard, had sent him. There was a knock at the door, and
+Cynthia opened it to discover a colored hall-boy with a roll in his hand.
+
+"Mistah Ephum Prescott?" he said.
+
+"Yes," answered Ephraim, "that's me."
+
+Cynthia shut the door and gave him the roll, but Ephraim took it as
+though he were afraid of its contents.
+
+"Guess it's some of them war records from Amasy," he said.
+
+"Oh, Cousin Eph," exclaimed Cynthia, excitedly, "why don't you open it?
+If you don't I will."
+
+"Guess you'd better, Cynthy," and he held it out to her with a trembling
+hand.
+
+Cynthia did open it, and drew out a large document with seals and
+printing and signatures.
+
+"Cousin Eph," she cried, holding it under his nose, "Cousin Eph, you're
+postmaster of Brampton!"
+
+Ephraim looked at the paper, but his eyes swam, and he could only make
+out a dancing, bronze seal.
+
+"I want to know!" he exclaimed. "Fetch Jethro."
+
+But Cynthia had already flown on that errand. Curiously enough, she ran
+into Jethro in the hall immediately outside of Ephraim's door. Ephraim
+got to his feet; it was very difficult for him to realize that his
+troubles were ended, that he was to earn his living at last. He looked at
+Jethro, and his eyes filled with tears. "I guess I can't thank you as I'd
+ought to, Jethro," he said, "leastways, not now."
+
+"I'll thank him for you, Cousin Eph," said Cynthia. And she did.
+
+"D-don't thank me," said Jethro, "I didn't have much to do with it, Eph.
+Thank the President."
+
+Ephraim did thank the President, in one of the most remarkable letters,
+from a literary point of view, ever received at the White House. For the
+art of literature largely consists in belief in what one is writing, and
+Ephraim's letter had this quality of sincerity, and no lack of vividness
+as well. He spent most of the evening in composing it.
+
+Cynthia, too, had received a letter that day--a letter which she had read
+several times, now with a smile, and again with a pucker of the forehead
+which was meant for a frown. "Dear Cynthia," it said. "Where do you keep
+yourself? I am sure you would not be so cruel if you knew that I was
+aching to see you." Aching! Cynthia repeated the word, and remembered the
+glimpse she had had of him in the dining room with Miss Janet Duncan.
+"Whenever I have been free" (Cynthia repeated this also, somewhat
+ironically, although she conceded it the merit of frankness), "Whenever I
+have been free, I have haunted the corridors for a sight of you. Think of
+me as haunting the hotel desk for an answer to this, telling me when I
+can see you--and where. P.S. I shall be around all evening." And it was
+signed, "Your friend and playmate, R. Worthington."
+
+It is a fact--not generally known--that Cynthia did answer the
+letter--twice. But she sent neither answer. Even at that age she was
+given to reflection, and much as she may have approved of the spirit of
+the letter, she liked the tone of it less. Cynthia did not know a great
+deal of the world, it is true, but the felt instinctively that something
+was wrong when Bob resorted to such means of communication. And she was
+positively relieved, or thought that she was, when she went down to
+supper and discovered that the table in the corner was empty.
+
+After supper Ephraim had his letter to write, and Jethro wished to sit in
+the corridor. But Cynthia had learned that the corridor was not the place
+for a girl, so she explained--to Jethro that he would find her in the
+parlor if he wanted her, and that she was going there to read. That
+parlor Cynthia thought a handsome room, with its high windows and lace
+curtains, its long mirrors and marble-topped tables. She established
+herself under a light, on a sofa in one corner, and sat, with the book on
+her lap watching the people who came and went. She had that delicious
+sensation which comes to the young when they first travel--the sensation
+of being a part of the great world; and she wished that she knew these
+people, and which were the great, and which the little ones. Some of them
+looked at her intently, she thought too intently, and at such times she
+pretended to read. She was aroused by hearing some one saying:--"Isn't
+this Miss Wetherell?"
+
+Cynthia looked up and caught her breath, for the young lady who had
+spoken was none other than Miss Janet Duncan herself. Seen thus
+startlingly at close range, Miss Duncan was not at all like what Cynthia
+had expected--but then most people are not. Janet Duncan was, in fact,
+one of those strange persons who do not realize the picture which their
+names summon up. She was undoubtedly good-looking; her hair, of a more
+golden red than her brother's, was really wonderful; her neck was
+slender; and she had a strange, dreamy face that fascinated Cynthia, who
+had never seen anything like it.
+
+She put down her book on the sofa and got up, not without a little tremor
+at this unexpected encounter.
+
+"Yes, I'm Cynthia Wetherell," she replied.
+
+To add to her embarrassment, Miss Duncan seized both her hands
+impulsively and gazed into her face.
+
+"You're really very beautiful," she said. "Do you know it?"
+
+Cynthia's only answer to this was a blush. She wondered if all city girls
+were like Miss Duncan.
+
+"I was determined to come up and speak to you the first chance I had,"
+Janet continued. "I've been making up stories about you."
+
+"Stories!" exclaimed Cynthia, drawing away her hands.
+
+"Romances," said Miss Duncan--"real romances. Sometimes I think I'm going
+to be a novelist, because I'm always weaving stories about people that I
+see people who interest me, I mean. And you look as if you might be the
+heroine of a wonderful romance."
+
+Cynthia's breath was now quite taken away.
+
+"Oh," she said, "I--had never thought that I looked like that."
+
+"But you do," said Miss Duncan; "you've got all sorts of possibilities in
+your face--you look as if you might have lived for ages."
+
+"As old as that?" exclaimed Cynthia, really startled.
+
+"Perhaps I don't express myself very well" said the other, hastily; "I
+wish you could see what I've written about you already. I can do it so
+much better with pen and ink. I've started quite a romance already."
+
+"What is it?" asked Cynthia, not without interest.
+
+"Sit down on the sofa and I'll tell you," said Miss Duncan; "I've done it
+all from your face, too. I've made you a very poor girl brought up by
+peasants, only you are really of a great family, although nobody knows
+it. A rich duke sees you one day when he is hunting and falls in love
+with you, and you have to stand a lot of suffering and persecution
+because of it, and say nothing. I believe you could do that," added
+Janet, looking critically at Cynthia's face.
+
+"I suppose I could if I had to," said Cynthia, "but I shouldn't like it."
+
+"Oh, it would do you good," said Janet; "it would ennoble your character.
+Not that it needs it," she added hastily. "And I could write another
+story about that quaint old man who paid the musicians to go away, and
+who made us all laugh so much."
+
+Cynthia's eye kindled.
+
+"Mr. Bass isn't a quaint old man," she said; "he's the greatest man in
+the state."
+
+Miss Duncan's patronage had been of an unconscious kind. She knew that
+she had offended, but did not quite realize how.
+
+"I'm so sorry," she cried, "I didn't mean to hurt you. You live with him,
+don't you--Coniston?"
+
+"Yes," replied Cynthia, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.
+
+"I've heard about Coniston. It must be quite a romance in itself to live
+all the year round in such a beautiful place and to make your own
+clothes. Yours become you very well," said Miss Duncan, "although I don't
+know why. They're not at all in style, and yet they give you quite an air
+of distinction. I wish I could live in Coniston for a year, anyway, and
+write a book about you. My brother and Bob Worthington went out there one
+night and serenaded you, didn't they?"
+
+"Yes," said Cynthia, that peculiar flash coming into her eyes again, "and
+I think it was very foolish of them."
+
+"Do you?" exclaimed Miss Duncan, in surprise; "I wish somebody would
+serenade me. I think it was the most romantic thing Bob ever did. He's
+wild about you, and so is Somers they have both told me so in
+confidence."
+
+Cynthia's face was naturally burning now.
+
+"If it were true," she said, "they wouldn't have told you about it."
+
+"I suppose that's so," said Miss Duncan, thoughtfully, "only you're very
+clever to have seen it. Now that I know you, I think you a more
+remarkable person than ever. You don't seem at all like a country girl,
+and you don't talk like one."
+
+Cynthia laughed outright. She could not help liking Janet Duncan, mere
+flesh and blood not being proof against such compliments.
+
+"I suppose it's because my father was an educated man," she said; "he
+taught me to read and speak when I was young."
+
+"Why, you are just like a person out of a novel! Who was your father?"
+
+"He kept the store at Coniston," answered Cynthia, smiling a little
+sadly. She would have liked to have added that William Wetherell would
+have been a great man if he had had health, but she found it difficult to
+give out confidences, especially when they were in the nature of
+surmises.
+
+"Well," said Janet, stoutly, "I think that is more like a story than
+ever. Do you know," she continued, "I saw you once at the state capital
+outside of our grounds the day Bob ran after you. That was when I was in
+love with him. We had just come back from Europe then, and I thought he
+was the most wonderful person I had ever seen."
+
+If Cynthia had felt any emotion from this disclosure, she did not betray
+it. Janet, moreover, was not looking for it.
+
+"What made you change your mind?" asked Cynthia, biting her lip.
+
+"Oh, Bob hasn't the temperament," said Janet, making use of a word that
+she had just discovered; "he's too practical--he never does or says the
+things you want him to. He's just been out West with us on a trip, and he
+was always looking at locomotives and brakes and grades and bridges and
+all such tiresome things. I should like to marry a poet," said Miss
+Duncan, dreamily; "I know they want me to marry Bob, and Mr. Worthington
+wants it. I'm sure, of that. But he wouldn't at all suit me."
+
+If Cynthia had been able to exercise an equal freedom of speech, she
+might have been impelled to inquire what young Mr. Worthington's views
+were in the matter. As it was, she could think of nothing appropriate to
+say, and just then four people entered the room and came towards them.
+Two of these were Janet's mother and father, and the other two were Mr.
+Worthington, the elder, and the Honorable Heth Sutton. Mrs. Duncan, whom
+Janet did not at all resemble was a person who naturally commanded
+attention. She had strong features, and a very decided, though not
+disagreeable, manner.
+
+"I couldn't imagine what had become of you, Janet," she said, coming
+forward and throwing off her lace shawl. "Whom have you found--a school
+friend?"
+
+"No, Mamma," said Janet, "this is Cynthia Wetherell." "Oh," said Mrs.
+Duncan, looking very hard at Cynthia in a near-sighted way, and, not
+knowing in the least who she was; "you haven't seen Senator and Mrs.
+Meade, have you, Janet? They were to be here at eight o'clock."
+
+"No," said Janet, turning again to Cynthia and scarcely hearing the
+question.
+
+"Janet hasn't seen them, Dudley," said Mrs. Duncan, going up to Mr.
+Worthington, who was pulling his chop whiskers by the door. "Janet has
+discovered such a beautiful creature," she went on, in a voice which she
+did not take the trouble to lower. "Do look at her, Alexander. And you,
+Mr. Sutton--who are such a bureau of useful information, do tell me who
+she is. Perhaps she comes from your part of the country--her name's
+Wetherell."
+
+"Wetherell? Why, of course I know her," said Mr. Sutton, who was greatly
+pleased because Mrs. Duncan had likened him to an almanac: greatly
+pleased this evening in every respect, and even the diamond in his bosom
+seemed to glow with a brighter fire. He could afford to be generous
+to-night, and he turned to Mr. Worthington and laughed knowingly. "She's
+the ward of our friend Jethro," he explained.
+
+"What is she?" demanded Mrs. Duncan, who knew and cared nothing about
+politics, a country girl, I suppose."
+
+"Yes," replied Mr. Sutton, "a country girl from a little village not far
+from Clovelly. A good girl, I believe, in spite of the atmosphere in
+which she has been raised."
+
+"It's really wonderful, Mr. Sutton, how you seem to know every one in
+your district, including the women and children," said the lady; "but I
+suppose you wouldn't be where you are if you didn't."
+
+The Honorable Heth cleared his throat.
+
+"Wetherell," Mr. Duncan was saying, staring at Cynthia through his
+spectacles, "where have I heard that name?"
+
+He must suddenly have remembered, and recalled also that he and his ally
+Worthington had been on opposite sides in the Woodchuck Session, for he
+sat down abruptly beside the door, and remained there for a while. For
+Mr. Duncan had never believed Mr. Merrill's explanation concerning poor
+William Wetherell' s conduct.
+
+"Pretty, ain't she?" said Mr. Sutton to Mr. Worthington. "Guess she's
+more dangerous than Jethro, now that we've clipped his wings a little."
+The congressman had heard of Bob's infatuation.
+
+Isaac D. Worthington, however, was in a good humor this evening and was
+moved by a certain curiosity to inspect the girl. Though what he had seen
+and heard of his son's conduct with her had annoyed him, he did not
+regard it seriously.
+
+"Aren't you going to speak to your constituent, Mr. Sutton?" said Mrs.
+Duncan, who was bored because her friends had not arrived; "a congressman
+ought to keep on the right side of the pretty girls, you know."
+
+It hadn't occurred to the Honorable Heth to speak to his constituent. The
+ways of Mrs. Duncan sometimes puzzled him, and he could not see why that
+lady and her daughter seemed to take more than a passing interest in the
+girl. But if they could afford to notice her, certainly he could; so he
+went forward graciously and held out his hand to Cynthia; interrupting
+Miss Duncan in the middle of a discourse upon her diary.
+
+"How do you do, Cynthia?" said Mr. Sutton. Had he been in Coniston, he
+would have said, "How be you?"
+
+Cynthia took the hand, but did not rise, somewhat to Mr. Sutton's
+annoyance. A certain respect was due to a member of Congress and the
+Rajah of Clovelly.
+
+"How do you do, Mr. Sutton?" said Cynthia, very coolly.
+
+"I like her," remarked Mrs. Duncan to Mr. Worthington.
+
+"This is a splendid trip for you, eh, Cynthia?" Mr. Sutton persisted,
+with a praiseworthy determination to be pleasant.
+
+"It has turned out to be so, Mr. Sutton," replied Cynthia. This was not
+precisely the answer Mr. Sutton expected, and to tell the truth, he
+didn't know quite what to make of it.
+
+"A great treat to see Washington and New York, isn't it?" said Mr.
+Sutton, kindly, "a great treat for a Coniston girl. I suppose you came
+through New York and saw the sights?"
+
+"Is there another way to get to Washington?" asked Cynthia.
+
+Mrs. Duncan nudged Mr. Worthington and drew a little nearer, while Mr.
+Sutton began to wish he had not been lured into the conversation. Cynthia
+had been very polite, but there was something in the quiet manner in
+which the girl's eyes were fixed upon him that made him vaguely uneasy.
+He could not back out with dignity, and he felt himself on the verge of
+becoming voluble. Mr. Sutton prided himself on never being voluble.
+
+"Why, no," he answered, "we have to go to New York to get anywhere in
+these days." There was a slight pause. "Uncle Jethro taking you and Mr.
+Prescott on a little pleasure trip?" He had not meant to mention Jethro's
+name, but he found himself, to his surprise, a little at a loss for a
+subject.
+
+"Well, partly a pleasure trip. It's always a pleasure for Uncle Jethro to
+do things for others," said Cynthia, quietly, "although people do not
+always appreciate what he does for them."
+
+The Honorable Heth coughed. He was now very uncomfortable, indeed. How
+much did this astounding young person know, whom he had thought so
+innocent?
+
+"I didn't discover he was in town until I ran across him in the corridor
+this evening. Should have liked to have introduced him to some of the
+Washington folks--some of the big men, although not many of 'em are
+here," Mr. Sutton ran on, not caring to notice the little points of light
+in Cynthia's eyes. (The idea of Mr. Sutton introducing Uncle Jethro to
+anybody!) "I haven't seen Ephraim Prescott. It must be a great treat for
+him, too, to get away on a little trip and see his army friends. How is
+he?"
+
+"He's very happy," said Cynthia.
+
+"Happy!" exclaimed Mr. Sutton. "Oh, yes, of course, Ephraim's always
+happy, in spite of his troubles and his rheumatism. I always liked
+Ephraim Prescott."
+
+Cynthia did not answer this remark at all, and Mr. Sutton suspected
+strongly that she did not believe it, therefore he repeated it.
+
+"I always liked Ephraim. I want you to tell Jethro that I'm downright
+sorry I couldn't get him that Brampton postmastership."
+
+"I'll tell him that you are sorry, Mr. Sutton," replied Cynthia, gravely,
+"but I don't think it'll do any good."
+
+Not do any good!--What did the girl mean? Mr. Sutton came to the
+conclusion that he had been condescending enough, that somehow he was
+gaining no merit in Mrs. Duncan's eyes by this kindness to a constituent.
+He buttoned up his coat rather grandly.
+
+"I hope you won't misunderstand me, Cynthia," he said. "I regret
+extremely that my sense of justice demanded that I should make David
+Wheelock postmaster at Brampton, and I have made him so."
+
+It was now Cynthia's turn to be amazed.
+
+"But," she exclaimed, "but Cousin Ephraim is postmaster of Brampton."
+
+Mr. Sutton started violently, and that part of his face not hidden by his
+whiskers seemed to pale, and Mr: Worthington, usually self-possessed,
+took a step forward and seized him by the arm.
+
+"What does this mean, Sutton?" he said.
+
+Mr. Sutton pulled himself together, and glared at Cynthia.
+
+"I think you are mistaken," said he, "the congressman of the district
+usually arranges these matters, and the appointment will be sent to Mr.
+Wheelock to-morrow."
+
+"But Cousin Ephraim already has the appointment," said Cynthia; "it was
+sent to him this afternoon, and he is up in his room now writing to thank
+the President for it."
+
+"What in the world's the matter?" cried Mrs. Duncan, in astonishment.
+
+Cynthia's simple announcement had indeed caused something of a panic
+among the gentlemen present. Mr. Duncan had jumped up from his seat
+beside the door, and Mr. Worthington, his face anything but impassive,
+tightened his hold on the congressman's arm.
+
+"Good God, Sutton!" he exclaimed, "can this be true?"
+
+As for Cynthia, she was no less astonished than Mrs. Duncan. by the fact
+that these rich and powerful gentlemen were so excited over a little
+thing like the postmastership of Brampton. But Mr. Sutton laughed; it was
+not hearty, but still it might have passed muster for a laugh.
+
+"Nonsense," he exclaimed, making a fair attempt to regain his composure,
+"the girl's got it mixed up with something else--she doesn't know what
+she's talking about."
+
+Mrs. Duncan thought the girl did look uncommonly as if she knew what she
+was talking about, and Mr. Duncan and Mr. Worthington had some such
+impression, too, as they stared at her. Cynthia's eyes flashed, but her
+voice was no louder than before.
+
+"I am used to being believed, Mr. Sutton," she said, "but here's Uncle
+Jethro himself. You might ask him."
+
+They all turned in amazement, and one, at least, in trepidation, to
+perceive Jethro Bass standing behind them with his hands in his pockets,
+as unconcerned as though he were under the butternut tree in Coniston.
+
+"How be you, Heth?" he said. "Er--still got that appointment
+p-practically in your pocket?"
+
+"Uncle Jethro," said Cynthia, "Mr. Sutton does not believe me when I tell
+him that Cousin Ephraim has been made postmaster of Brampton. He would
+like to have you tell him whether it is so or not."
+
+But this, as it happened, was exactly what the Honorable Heth did not
+want to have Jethro tell him. How he got out of the parlor of the Willard
+House he has not to this day a very clear idea. As a matter of fact, he
+followed Mr. Worthington and Mr. Duncan, and they made their exit by the
+farther door. Jethro did not appear to take any notice of their
+departure.
+
+"Janet," said Mrs. Duncan, "I think Senator and Mrs. Meade must have gone
+to our sitting room." Then, to Cynthia's surprise, the lady took her by
+the hand. "I can't imagine what you've done, my dear," she said
+pleasantly, "but I believe that you are capable of taking care of
+yourself, and I like you."
+
+Thus it will be seen that Mrs. Duncan was an independent person.
+Sometimes heiresses are apt to be.
+
+"And I like you, too," said Janet, taking both of Cynthia's hands, "and I
+hope to see you very, very often."
+
+Jethro looked after them.
+
+"Er--the women folks seem to have some sense," he said. Then he turned to
+Cynthia. "B-be'n havin' some fun with Heth, Cynthy?" he inquired.
+
+"I haven't any respect for Mr. Sutton," said Cynthia, indignantly; "it
+serves him right for presuming to think that he could give a post-office
+to any one."
+
+Jethro made no remark concerning this presumption on the part of the
+congressman of the district. Cynthia's indignation against Mr. Sutton was
+very real, and it was some time before she could compose herself
+sufficiently to tell Jethro what had happened. His enjoyment as he
+listened may be imagined but presently he forgot this, and became aware
+that something really troubled her.
+
+"Uncle Jethro," she asked suddenly, "why do they treat me as they do?"
+
+He did not answer at once. This was because of a pain around his
+heart--had she known it. He had felt that pain before.
+
+"H-how do they treat you, Cynthy?"
+
+She hesitated. She had not yet learned to use the word patronize in the
+social sense, and she was at a loss to describe the attitude of Mrs.
+Duncan and her daughter, though her instinct had registered it. She was
+at a loss to account for Mr. Worthington's attitude, too. Mr. Sutton's
+she bitterly resented.
+
+"Are they your enemies?" she demanded.
+
+Jethro was in real distress.
+
+"If they are," she continued, "I won't speak to them again. If they can't
+treat me as--as your daughter ought to be treated, I'll turn my back on
+them. I am--I am just like your daughter--am I not, Uncle Jethro?"
+
+He put out his hand and seized hers roughly, and his voice was thick with
+suffering.
+
+"Yes, Cynthy," he said, "you--you're all I've got in the world."
+
+She squeezed his hand in return.
+
+"I know it, Uncle Jethro," she cried contritely, "I oughtn't to have
+troubled you by asking. You--you have done everything for me, much more
+than I deserve. And I shan't be hurt after this when people are too small
+to appreciate how good you are, and how great."
+
+The pain tightened about Jethro's heart--tightened so sharply that he
+could not speak, and scarcely breathe because of it. Cynthia picked up
+her novel, and set the bookmark.
+
+"Now that Cousin Eph is provided for, let's go back to Coniston, Uncle
+Jethro." A sudden longing was upon her for the peaceful life in the
+shelter of the great ridge, and she thought of the village maples all red
+and gold with the magic touch of the frosts. "Not that I haven't enjoyed
+my trip," she added; "but we are so happy there."
+
+He did not look at her, because he was afraid to.
+
+"C-Cynthy," he said, after a little pause, "th-thought we'd go to
+Boston."
+
+"Boston, Uncle Jethro!"
+
+"Er--to-morrow--at one--to-morrow--like to go to Boston?"
+
+"Yes," she said thoughtfully, "I remember parts of it. The Common, where
+I used to walk with Daddy, and the funny old streets that went uphill. It
+will be nice to go back to Coniston that way--over Truro Pass in the
+train."
+
+That night a piece of news flashed over the wires to New England, and the
+next morning a small item appeared in the Newcastle Guardian to the
+effect that one Ephraim Prescott had bean appointed postmaster at
+Brampton. Copied in the local papers of the state, it caused some
+surprise in Brampton, to be sure, and excitement in Coniston. Perhaps
+there were but a dozen men, however, who saw its real significance, who
+knew through this item that Jethro Bass was still supreme--that the
+railroads had failed to carry this first position in their war against
+him.
+
+It was with a light heart the next morning that Cynthia, packed the
+little leather trunk which had been her father's. Ephraim was in the
+corridor regaling his friend, Mr. Beard, with that wonderful encounter
+with General Grant which sounded so much like a Fifth Reader anecdote of
+a chance meeting with royalty. Jethro's room was full of visiting
+politicians. So Cynthia, when she had finished her packing, went out to
+walk about the streets alone, scanning the people who passed her, looking
+at the big houses, and wondering who lived in them. Presently she found
+herself, in the middle of the morning, seated on a bench in a little
+park, surrounded by colored mammies and children playing in the paths. It
+seemed a long time since she had left the hills, and this glimpse of
+cities had given her many things to think and dream about. Would she
+always live in Coniston? Or was her future to be cast among those who
+moved in the world and helped to sway it? Cynthia felt that she was to be
+of these, though she could not reason why, and she told herself that the
+feeling was foolish. Perhaps it was that she knew in the bottom of her
+heart that she had been given a spirit and intelligence to cope with a
+larger life than that of Coniston. With a sense that such imaginings were
+vain, she tried to think what the would do if she were to become a great
+lady like Mrs. Duncan.
+
+She was aroused from these reflections by a distant glimpse, through the
+trees, of Mr. Robert Worthington. He was standing quite alone on the edge
+of the park, his hands in his pockets, staring at the White House.
+Cynthia half rose, and then sat down and looked at him again. He wore a
+light gray, loose-fitting suit and a straw hat, and she could not but
+acknowledge that there was something stalwart and clean and altogether
+appealing in him. She wondered, indeed, why he now failed to appeal to
+Miss Duncan, and she began to doubt the sincerity of that young lady's
+statements. Bob certainly was not romantic, but he was a man--or would be
+very soon.
+
+Cynthia sat still, although her impulse was to go away. She scarcely
+analyzed her feeling of wishing to avoid him. It may not be well, indeed,
+to analyze them on paper too closely. She had an instinct that only pain
+could come from frequent meetings, and she knew now what but a week ago
+was a surmise, that he belonged to the world of which she had been
+dreaming--Mrs. Duncan's world. Again, there was that mysterious barrier
+between them of which she had seen so many evidences. And yet she sat
+still on her bench and looked at him.
+
+Presently he turned, slowly, as if her eyes had compelled his. She sat
+still--it was too late, then. In less than a minute he was standing
+beside her, looking down at her with a smile that had in it a touch of
+reproach.
+
+"How do you do, Mr. Worthington?" said Cynthia, quietly.
+
+"Mr. Worthington!" he cried, "you haven't called me that before. We are
+not children any more," she said.
+
+"What difference does that make?"
+
+"A great deal," said Cynthia, not caring to define it.
+
+"Cynthia," said Mr. Worthington, sitting down on the beach and facing
+her, "do you think you've treated me just right?"
+
+"Of course I do," she said, "or I should have treated you differently."
+
+Bob ignored such quibbling.
+
+"Why did you run away from that baseball game in Brampton? And why
+couldn't you have answered my letter yesterday, if it were only a line?
+And why have you avoided me here in Washington?"
+
+It is very difficult to answer for another questions which one cannot
+answer for one's self.
+
+"I haven't avoided you," said Cynthia.
+
+"I've been looking for you all over town this morning," said Bob, with
+pardonable exaggeration, "and I believe that idiot Somers has, too."
+
+"Then why should you call him an idiot?" Cynthia flashed.
+
+Bob laughed.
+
+"How you do catch a fellow up!" said he; admiringly. "We both found out
+you'd gone out for a walk alone."
+
+"How did you find it out?"
+
+"Well," said Bob, hesitating, "we asked the colored doorkeeper."
+
+"Mr. Worthington," said Cynthia, with an indignation that made him quail,
+"do you think it right to ask a doorkeeper to spy on my movements?"
+
+"I'm sorry, Cynthia," he gasped, "I--I didn't think of it that way--and
+he won't tell. Desperate cases require desperate remedies, you know."
+
+But Cynthia was not appeased.
+
+"If you wanted to see me," she said, "why didn't you send your card to my
+room, and I would have come to the parlor."
+
+"But I did send a note, and waited around all day."
+
+How was she to tell him that it was to the tone of the note she
+objected--to the hint of a clandestine meeting? She turned the light of
+her eyes full upon him.
+
+"Would you have been content to see me in the parlor?" she asked. "Did
+you mean to see me there?"
+
+"Why, yes," said he; "I would have given my head to see you anywhere,
+only--"
+
+"Only what?"
+
+"Duncan might have came in and spoiled it."
+
+"Spoiled what?"
+
+Bob fidgeted.
+
+"Look here, Cynthia," he said, "you're not stupid--far from it. Of course
+you know a fellow would rather talk to you alone."
+
+"I should have been very glad to have seen Mr. Duncan, too."
+
+"You would, would you!" he exclaimed. "I shouldn't have thought that."
+
+"Isn't he your friend?" asked Cynthia.
+
+"Oh, yes," said Bob, "and one of the best in the world. Only--I shouldn't
+have thought you'd care to talk to him." And he looked around for fear
+the vigilant Mr. Duncan was already in the park and had discovered them.
+Cynthia smiled, and immediately became grave again.
+
+"So it was only on Mr. Duncan's account that you didn't ask me to come
+down to the parlor?" she said.
+
+Bob was in a quandary. He was a truthful person, and he had learned
+something of the world through his three years at Cambridge. He had seen
+many young women, and many kinds of them. But the girl beside him was
+such a mixture of innocence and astuteness that he was wholly at a loss
+how to deal with her--how to parry her searching questions.
+
+"Naturally--I wanted to have you all to myself," he said; "you ought to
+know that."
+
+Cynthia did not commit herself on this point. She wished to go
+mercilessly to the root of the matter, but the notion of what this would
+imply prevented her. Bob took advantage of her silence.
+
+"Everybody who sees you falls a victim, Cynthia," he went on; "Mrs.
+Duncan and Janet lost their hearts. You ought to have heard them praising
+you at breakfast." He paused abruptly, thinking of the rest of that
+conversation, and laughed. Bob seemed fated to commit himself that day.
+"I heard the way you handled Heth Sutton," he said, plunging in. "I'll
+bet he felt as if he'd been dropped out of the third-story window," and
+Bob laughed again. "I'd have given a thousand dollars to have been there.
+Somers and I went out to supper with a classmate who lives in Washington,
+in that house over there," and he pointed casually to one of the imposing
+mansions fronting on the park. "Mrs. Duncan said she'd never heard
+anybody lay it on the way you did. I don't believe you half know what
+happened, Cynthia. You made a ten-strike."
+
+"A ten-strike?" she repeated.
+
+"Well," he said, "you not only laid out Heth, but my father and Mr.
+Duncan, too. Mrs. Duncan laughed at 'em--she isn't afraid of anything.
+But they didn't say a word all through breakfast. I've never seen my
+father so mad. He ought to have known better than to run up against Uncle
+Jethro."
+
+"How did they run up against Uncle Jethro?" asked Cynthia, now keenly
+interested.
+
+"Don't you know?" exclaimed Bob, in astonishment.
+
+"No," said Cynthia, "or I shouldn't have asked."
+
+"Didn't Uncle Jethro tell you about it?"
+
+"He never tells me anything about his affairs," she answered.
+
+Bob's astonishment did not wear off at once. Here was a new phase, and he
+was very hard put. He had heard, casually, a good deal of abuse of Jethro
+and his methods in the last two days.
+
+"Well," he said, "I don't know anything about politics. I don't know
+myself why father and Mr. Duncan were so eager for this post-mastership.
+But they were. And I heard them say something about the President going
+back on them when they had telegraphed from Chicago and come to see him
+here. And maybe they didn't let Heth in for it. It seems Uncle Jethro
+only had to walk up to the White House. They ought to have sense enough
+to know that he runs the state. But what's the use of wasting time over
+this business?" said Bob. "I told you I was going to Brampton before the
+term begins just to see you, didn't I?"
+
+"Yes, but I didn't believe you," said Cynthia.
+
+"Why not?" he demanded.
+
+"Because it's my nature, I suppose," she replied.
+
+This was too much for Bob, exasperated though he was, and he burst into
+laughter.
+
+"You're the queerest girl I've ever known," he said.
+
+Not a very original remark.
+
+"That must be saying a great deal," she answered.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"You must have known many."
+
+"I have," he admitted, "and none of 'em, no matter how much they'd
+knocked about, were able to look out for themselves any better than you."
+
+"Not even Cassandra Hopkins?" Cynthia could not resist saying. She saw
+that she had scored; his expressions registered his sensations so
+accurately.
+
+"What do you know about her?" he said.
+
+"Oh," said Cynthia, mysteriously, "I heard that you were very fond of her
+at Andover."
+
+Bob could not help pluming himself a little. He thought the fact that she
+had mentioned the matter a flaw in Cynthia's armor, as indeed it was. And
+yet he was not proud of the Cassandra Hopkins episode in his career.
+
+"Cassandra is one of the institutions at Andover," said he; "most fellows
+have to take a course in Cassandra to complete their education."
+
+"Yours seems to be very complete," Cynthia retorted.
+
+"Great Scott!" he exclaimed, looking at her, "no wonder you made
+mince-meat of the Honorable Heth. Where did you learn it all, Cynthia?"
+
+Cynthia did not know. She merely wondered where she would be if she
+hadn't learned it. Something told her that if it were not for this anchor
+she would be drifting out to sea: might, indeed, soon be drifting out to
+sea in spite of it. It was one thing for Mr. Robert Worthington, with his
+numerous resources, to amuse himself with a girl in her position; it
+would be quite another thing for the girl. She got to her feet and held
+out her hand to him.
+
+"Good-by," she said.
+
+"Good-by?"
+
+"We are leaving Washington at one o'clock, and Uncle Jethro will be
+worried if I am not in time for dinner."
+
+"Leaving at one! That's the worst luck I've had yet. But I'm going back
+to the hotel myself."
+
+Cynthia didn't see how she was to prevent him walking with her. She would
+not have admitted to herself that she had enjoyed this encounter, since
+she was trying so hard not to enjoy it. So they started together out of
+the park. Bob, for a wonder, was silent awhile, glancing now and then at
+her profile. He knew that he had a great deal to say, but he couldn't
+decide exactly what it was to be. This is often the case with young men
+in his state of mind: in fact, to be paradoxical again, he might hardly
+be said at this time to have had a state of mind. He lacked both an
+attitude and a policy.
+
+"If you see Duncan before I do, let me know," he remarked finally.
+
+Cynthia bit her lip. "Why should I?" she asked.
+
+"Because we've only got five minutes more alone together, at best. If we
+see him in time, we can go down a side street."
+
+"I think it would be hard to get away from Mr. Duncan if we met him--even
+if we wanted to," she said, laughing outright.
+
+"You don't know how true that is," he replied, with feeling.
+
+"That sounds as though you'd tried it before."
+
+He paid no attention to this thrust.
+
+"I shan't see you again till I get to Brampton," he said; "that will be a
+whole week. And then," he ventured to look at her, "I shan't see you
+until the Christmas holidays. You might be a little kind, Cynthia. You
+know I've--I've always thought the world of you. I don't know how I'm
+going to get through the three months without seeing you."
+
+"You managed to get through a good many years," said Cynthia, looking at
+the pavement.
+
+"I know," he said; "I was sent away to school and college, and our lives
+separated."
+
+"Yes, our lives separated," she assented.
+
+"And I didn't know you were going to be like--like this," he went on,
+vaguely enough, but with feeling.
+
+"Like what?"
+
+"Like--well, I'd rather be with you and talk to you than any girl I ever
+saw. I don't care who she is," Bob declared, "or how much she may have
+traveled." He was running into deep water. "Why are you so cold,
+Cynthia?" "Why can't you be as you used to be? You used to like me well
+enough."
+
+"And I like you now," answered Cynthia. They were very near the hotel by
+this time.
+
+"You talk as if you were ten years older than I," he said, smiling
+plaintively.
+
+She stopped and turned to him, smiling. They had reached the steps.
+
+"I believe I am, Bob," she replied. "I haven't seen much of the world,
+but I've seen something of its troubles. Don't be foolish. If you're
+coming to Brampton just to see me, don't come. Good-by." And she gave him
+her hand frankly.
+
+"But I will come to Brampton," he cried, taking her hand and squeezing
+it. "I'd like to know why I shouldn't come."
+
+As Cynthia drew her hand away a gentleman came out of the hotel, paused
+for a brief moment by the door and stared at them, and then passed on
+without a word or a nod of recognition. It was Mr. Worthington. Bob
+looked after his father, and then glanced at Cynthia. There was a trifle
+more color in her cheeks, and her head was raised a little, and her eyes
+were fixed upon him gravely.
+
+"You should know why not," she said, and before he could answer her she
+was gone into the hotel. He did not attempt to follow her, but stood
+where she had left him in the sunlight.
+
+He was aroused by the voice of the genial colored doorkeeper.
+
+"Wal, suh, you found the lady, Mistah Wo'thington. Thought you would,
+suh. T'other young gentleman come in while ago--looked as if he was
+feelin' powerful bad, Mistah Wo'thington."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+When they reached Boston, Cynthia felt almost as if she were home again,
+and Ephraim declared that he had had the same feeling when he returned
+from the war. Though it be the prosperous capital of New England, it is a
+city of homes, and the dwellers of it have held stanchly to the belief of
+their forefathers that the home is the very foundation-rock of the
+nation. Held stanchly to other beliefs, too: that wealth carries with it
+some little measure of responsibility. The stranger within the gates of
+that city feels that if he falls, a heedless world will not go charging
+over his body: that a helping hand will be stretched out,--a helping and
+a wise hand that will inquire into the circumstances of his fall--but
+still a human hand.
+
+They were sitting in the parlor of the Tremont House that morning with
+the sun streaming in the windows, waiting for Ephraim.
+
+"Uncle Jethro," Cynthia asked, abruptly, "did you ever know my mother?"
+
+Jethro started, and looked at her quickly.
+
+"W-why, Cynthy?" he asked.
+
+"Because she grew up in Coniston," answered Cynthia. "I never thought of
+it before, but of course you must have known her."
+
+"Yes, I knew her," he said.
+
+"Did you know her well?" she persisted.
+
+Jethro got up and went over to the window, where he stood with his back
+toward her.
+
+"Yes, Cynthy," he answered at length.
+
+"Why haven't you ever told me about her?" asked Cynthia. How was she to
+know that her innocent questions tortured him cruelly; that the spirit of
+the Cynthia who had come to him in the tannery house had haunted him all
+his life, and that she herself, a new Cynthia, was still that spirit? The
+bygone Cynthia had been much in his thoughts since they came to Boston.
+
+"What was she like?"
+
+"She--she was like you, Cynthy," he said, but he did not turn round. "She
+was a clever woman, and a good woman, and--a lady, Cynthy."
+
+The girl said nothing for a while, but she tingled with pleasure because
+Jethro had compared her to her mother. She determined to try to be like
+that, if he thought her so.
+
+"Uncle Jethro," she said presently, "I'd like to go to see the house
+where she lived."
+
+"Er--Ephraim knows it," said Jethro.
+
+So when Ephraim came the three went over the hill; past the State House
+which Bulfinch set as a crown on the crest of it looking over the sweep
+of the Common, and on into the maze of quaint, old-world streets on the
+slope beyond: streets with white porticos, and violet panes in the
+windows. They came to an old square hidden away on a terrace of the hill,
+and after that the streets grew narrower and dingier. Ephraim, whose
+memory never betrayed him, hobbled up to a shabby house in the middle of
+one of these blocks and rang the bell.
+
+"Here's where I found Will when I come back from the war," he said, and
+explained the matter in full to the slatternly landlady who came to the
+door. She was a good-natured woman, who thought her boarder would not
+mind, and led the way up the steep stairs to the chamber over the roofs
+where Wetherell and Cynthia had lived and hoped and worked together;
+where he had written those pages by which, with the aid of her loving
+criticism, he had thought to become famous. The room was as bare now as
+it had been then, and Ephraim, poking his stick through a hole in the
+carpet, ventured the assertion that even that had not been changed.
+Jethro, staring out over the chimney tops, passed his hand across his
+eyes. Cynthia Ware had come to this!
+
+"I found him right here in that bed," Ephraim was saying, and he poked
+the bottom boards, too. "The same bed. Had a shack when I saw him.
+Callate he wouldn't have lived two months if the war hadn't bust up and I
+hadn't come along."
+
+"Oh, Cousin Eph!" exclaimed Cynthia.
+
+The old soldier turned and saw that there were tears in her eyes. But,
+stranger than that, Cynthia saw that there were tears in his own. He took
+her gently by the arm and led her down the stairs again, she supporting
+him, and Jethro following.
+
+That same morning, Jethro, whose memory was quite as good as Ephraim's,
+found a little shop tucked away in Cornhill which had been miraculously
+spared in the advance of prosperity. Mr. Judson's name, however, was no
+longer in quaint lettering over the door. Standing before it, Jethro told
+the story in his droll way, of a city clerk and a country bumpkin, and
+Cynthia and Ephraim both laughed so heartily that the people who were
+passing turned round to look at them and laughed too. For the three were
+an unusual group, even in Boston. It was not until they were seated at
+dinner in the hotel, Ephraim with his napkin tucked under his chin, that
+Jethro gave them the key to the characters in this story.
+
+"And who was the locket for, Uncle Jethro?" demanded Cynthia.
+
+Jethro, however, shook his head, and would not be induced to tell.
+
+They were still so seated when Cynthia perceived coming toward them
+through the crowded dining roam a merry, middle-aged gentleman with a
+bald head. He seemed to know everybody in the room, for he was kept busy
+nodding right and left at the tables until he came to theirs. He was Mr.
+Merrill who had come to see her father in Coniston, and who had spoken so
+kindly to her on that occasion.
+
+"Well, well, well," he said; "Jethro, you'll be the death of me yet.
+'Don't write-send,' eh? Well, as long as you sent word you were here, I
+don't complain. So you licked 'em again, eh--down in Washington? Never
+had a doubt but what you would. Is this the new postmaster? How are you,
+Mr. Prescott--and Cynthia--a young lady! Bless my soul," said Mr.
+Merrill, looking her over as he shook her hand. "What have you done to
+her, Jethro? What kind of beauty powder do they use in Coniston?"
+
+Mr. Merrill took the seat next to her and continued to talk, scattering
+his pleasantries equally among the three, patting her arm when her own
+turn came. She liked Mr. Merrill very much; he seemed to her (as, indeed,
+he was) honest and kind-hearted. Cynthia was not lacking in a proper
+appreciation of herself--that may have been discovered. But she was
+puzzled to know why this gentleman should make it a point to pay such
+particular attention to a young country girl. Other railroad presidents
+whom she could name had not done so. She was thinking of these things,
+rather than listening to Mr. Merrill's conversation, when the sound of
+Mr. Worthington's name startled her.
+
+"Well, Jethro," Mr. Merrill was saying, "you certainly nipped this little
+game of Worthington's in the bud. Thought he'd take you in the rear by
+going to Washington, did he? Ha, ha! I'd like to know how you did it.
+I'll get you to tell me to-night--see if I don't. You're all coming in to
+supper to-night, you know, at seven o'clock."
+
+Ephraim laid down his knife and fork for the first time. Were the wonders
+of this journey never to cease? And Jethro, once in his life, looked
+nervous.
+
+"Er--er--Cyn'thy'll go, Steve--Cynthy'll go."
+
+"Yes, Cynthy'll go," laughed Mr. Merrill, "and you'll go, and Ephraim'll
+go." Although he by no means liked everybody, as would appear at first
+glance, Mr. Merrill had a way of calling people by their first names when
+he did fancy them.
+
+"Er--Steve," said Jethro, "what would your wife say if I was to drink
+coffee out of my saucer?"
+
+"Let's see," said Mr. Merrill grave for once. "What's the punishment for
+that in my house? I know what she'd do if you didn't drink it. What do
+you think she'd do, Cynthy?"
+
+"Ask him what was the matter with it," said Cynthia, promptly.
+
+"Well, Cynthy," said he, "I know why these old fellows take you round
+with 'em. To take care of 'em, eh? They're not fit to travel alone."
+
+And so it was settled, after much further argument, that they were all to
+sup at Mr. Merrill's house, Cynthia stoutly maintaining that she would
+not desert them. And then Mr. Merrill, having several times repeated the
+street and number, went, back to his office. There was much mysterious
+whispering between Ephraim and Jethro in the hotel parlor after dinner,
+while Cynthia was turning over the leaves of a magazine, and then Ephraim
+proposed going out to see the sights.
+
+"Where's Uncle Jethro going?" she asked.
+
+"He'll meet us," said Ephraim, promptly, but his voice was not quite
+steady.
+
+"Oh, Uncle Jethro!" cried Cynthia, "you're trying to get out of it. You
+remember you promised to meet us in Washington."
+
+"Guess he'll keep this app'intment," said Ephraim, who seemed to be full
+of a strange mirth that bubbled over, for he actually winked at Jethro.
+ Cynthia's mind flew to Bunker Bill and the old North Church, but they
+went first to Faneuil Hall. Presently they found themselves among the
+crowd in Washington Street, where Ephraim confessed the trepidation which
+he felt over the coming supper party: a trepidation greater, so he
+declared many times, than he had ever experienced before any of his
+battles in the war. He stopped once or twice in the eddy of the crowd to
+glance up at the numbers; and finally came to a halt before the windows
+of a large dry-goods store.
+
+"I guess I ought to buy a new shirt for this occasion, Cynthy," he said,
+staring hard at the articles of apparel displayed there: "Let's go in."
+
+Cynthia laughed outright, since Ephraim could not by any chance have worn
+any of the articles in question.
+
+"Why, Cousin Ephraim," she exclaimed, "you can't buy gentlemen's things
+here."
+
+"Oh, I guess you can," said Ephraim, and hobbled confidently in at the
+doorway. There we will leave him for a while conversing in an undertone
+with a floor-walker, and follow Jethro. He, curiously enough, had some
+fifteen minutes before gone in at the same doorway, questioned the same
+floor-walker, and he found himself in due time walking amongst a
+bewildering lot of models on the third floor, followed by a giggling
+saleswoman.
+
+"What kind of a dress do you want, sir?" asked the saleslady,--for we are
+impelled to call her so.
+
+"S-silk cloth," said Jethro.
+
+"What shades of silk would you like, sir?"
+
+"Shades? shades? What do you mean by shades?"
+
+"Why, colors," said the saleslady, giggling openly.
+
+"Green," said Jethro, with considerable emphasis.
+
+The saleslady clapped her hand over her mouth and led the way to another
+model.
+
+"You don't call that green--do you? That's not green enough."
+
+They inspected another dress, and then another and another,--not all of
+them were green,--Jethro expressing very decided if not expert views on
+each of them. At last he paused before two models at the far end of the
+room, passing his hand repeatedly over each as he had done so often with
+the cattle of Coniston.
+
+"These two pieces same kind of goods?" he demanded.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Er-this one is a little shinier than that one?"
+
+"Perhaps the finish is a little higher," ventured the saleslady.
+
+"Sh-shinier," said Jethro.
+
+"Yes, shinier, if you please to call it so."
+
+"W-what would you call it?"
+
+By this time the saleslady had become quite hysterical, and altogether
+incapable of performing her duties. Jethro looked at her for a moment in
+disgust, and in his predicament cast around for another to wait on him.
+There was no lack of these, at a safe distance, but they all seemed to be
+affected by the same mania. Jethro's eye alighted upon the back of
+another customer. She was, apparently, a respectable-looking lady of
+uncertain age, and her own attention was so firmly fixed in the
+contemplation of a model that she had not remarked the merriment about
+her, nor its cause. She did not see Jethro, either, as he strode across
+to her. Indeed, her first intimation of his presence was a dig in her
+arm. The lady turned, gave a gasp of amazement at the figure confronting
+her, and proceeded to annihilate it with an eye that few women possess.
+
+"H-how do, Ma'am," he said. Had he known anything about the appearance of
+women in general, he might have realized that he had struck a tartar.
+This lady was at least sixty-five, and probably unmarried. Her face,
+though not at all unpleasant, was a study in character-development: she
+wore ringlets, a peculiar bonnet of a bygone age, and her clothes had
+certain eccentricities which, for, lack of knowledge, must be omitted. In
+short, the lady was no fool, and not being one she glanced at the
+giggling group of saleswomen and--wonderful to relate--they stopped
+giggling. Then she looked again at Jethro and gave him a smile. One of
+superiority, no doubt, but still a smile.
+
+"How do you do, sir?"
+
+"T-trying to buy a silk cloth gown for a woman. There's two over here I
+fancied a little. Er--thought perhaps you'd help me."
+
+"Where are the dresses?" she demanded abruptly.
+
+Jethro led the way in silence until they came to the models. She planted
+herself in front of them and looked them over swiftly but critically.
+
+"What is the age of the lady?"
+
+"W-what difference does that make?" said Jethro, whose instinct was
+against committing himself to strangers.
+
+"Difference!" she exclaimed sharply, "it makes a considerable difference.
+Perhaps not to you, but to the lady. What coloring is she?"
+
+"C-coloring? She's white."
+
+His companion turned her back on him.
+
+"What size is she?"
+
+"A-about that size," said Jethro, pointing to a model.
+
+"About! about!" she ejaculated, and then she faced him. "Now look here,
+my friend," she said vigorously, "there's something very mysterious about
+all this. You look like a good man, but you may be a very wicked one for
+all I know. I've lived long enough to discover that appearances,
+especially where your sex is concerned, are deceitful. Unless you are
+willing to tell me who this lady is for whom you are buying silk dresses,
+and what your relationship is to her, I shall leave you. And mind, no
+evasions. I can detect the truth pretty well when I hear it."
+
+Unexpected as it was, Jethro gave back a step or two before this
+onslaught of feminine virtue, and the movement did not tend to raise him
+in the lady's esteem. He felt that he would rather face General Grant a
+thousand times than this person. She was, indeed, preparing to sweep away
+when there came a familiar tap-tap behind them on the bare floor, and he
+turned to behold Ephraim hobbling toward them with the aid of his green
+umbrella, Cynthia by his side.
+
+"Why, it's Uncle Jethro," cried Cynthia, looking at him and the lady in
+astonishment, and then with equal astonishment at the models. "What in
+the world are you doing here?" Then a light seemed to dawn on her.
+
+"You frauds! So this is what you were whispering about! This is the way
+Cousin Ephraim buys his shirts!"
+
+"C-Cynthy," said Jethro, apologetically, "d-don't you think you ought to
+have a nice city dress for that supper party?"
+
+"So you're ashamed of my country clothes, are you?" she asked gayly.
+
+"W-want you to have the best, Cynthy," he replied. "I-I-meant to have it
+all chose and bought when you come, but I got into a kind of argument
+with this lady."
+
+"Argument!" exclaimed the lady. But she did not seem displeased. She had
+been staring very fixedly at Cynthia. "My dear," she continued kindly,
+"you look like some one I used to know a long, long time ago, and I'll be
+glad to help you. Your uncle may be sensible enough in other matters, but
+I tell him frankly he is out of place here. Let him go away and sit down
+somewhere with the other gentleman, and we'll get the dress between us,
+if he'll tell us how much to pay."
+
+"P-pay anything, so's you get it," said Jethro.
+
+"Uncle Jethro, do you really want it so much?"
+
+It must not be thought that Cynthia did not wish for a dress, too. But
+the sense of dependence on Jethro and the fear of straining his purse
+never quite wore off. So Jethro and Ephraim took to a bench at some
+distance, and at last a dress was chosen--not one of the gorgeous models
+Jethro had picked out, but a pretty, simple, girlish gown which Cynthia
+herself had liked and of which the lady highly approved. Not content with
+helping to choose it, the lady must satisfy herself that it fit, which it
+did perfectly. And so Cynthia was transformed into a city person, though
+her skin glowed with a health with which few city people are blessed.
+
+"My dear," said the lady, still staring at her, "you look very well. I
+should scarcely have supposed it." Cynthia took the remark in good part,
+for she thought the lady a character, which she was. "I hope you will
+remember that we women were created for a higher purpose than mere
+beauty. The Lord gave us brains, and meant that we should use them. If
+you have a good mind, as I believe you have, learn to employ it for the
+betterment of your sex, for the time of our emancipation is at hand."
+Having delivered this little lecture, the lady continued to stare at her
+with keen eyes. "You look very much like someone I used to love when I
+was younger. What is your name."
+
+"Cynthia Wetherell."
+
+"Cynthia Wetherell? Was your mother Cynthia Ware, from Coniston?"
+
+"Yes," said Cynthia, amazed.
+
+In an instant the strange lady had risen and had taken Cynthia in her
+embrace, new dress and all.
+
+"My dear," she said, "I thought your face had a familiar look. It was
+your mother I knew and loved. I'm Miss Lucretia Penniman."
+
+Miss Lucretia Penniman! Could this be, indeed, the authoress of the "Hymn
+to Coniston," of whom Brampton was so proud? The Miss Lucretia Penniman
+who sounded the first clarion note for the independence of American
+women, the friend of Bryant and Hawthorne and Longfellow? Cynthia had
+indeed heard of her. Did not all Brampton point to the house which had
+held the Social Library as to a shrine?
+
+"Cynthia," said Miss Lucretia, "I have a meeting now of a girls' charity
+to which I must go, but you will come to me at the offices of the Woman's
+Hour to-morrow morning at ten. I wish to talk to you about your mother
+and yourself."
+
+Cynthia promised, provided they did not leave for Coniston earlier, and
+in that event agreed to write. Whereupon Miss Lucretia kissed her again
+and hurried off to her meeting. On the way back to the Tremont House
+Cynthia related excitedly the whole circumstance to Jethro and Ephraim.
+Ephraim had heard of Miss Lucretia, of course. Who had not? But he did
+not read the Woman's Hour. Jethro was silent. Perhaps he was thinking of
+that fresh summer morning, so long ago, when a girl in a gig had
+overtaken him in the canon made by the Brampton road through the woods.
+The girl had worn a poke bonnet, and was returning a book to this same
+Miss Lucretia Penniman's Social Library. And the book was the "Life of
+Napoleon Bonaparte."
+
+"Uncle Jethro, shall we still be in Boston to-morrow morning?" Cynthia
+asked.
+
+He roused himself. "Yes," he said, "yes." "When are you going home?"
+
+He did not answer this simple question, but countered. "Hain't you
+enjoyin' yourself, Cynthy?"
+
+"Of course I am," she declared. But she thought it strange that he would
+not tell her when they would be in Coniston.
+
+Ephraim did buy a new shirt, and also (in view of the postmastership in
+his packet) a new necktie, his old one being slightly frayed.
+
+The grandeur of the approaching supper party and the fear of Mrs. Merrill
+hung very heavy over him; nor was Jethro's mind completely at rest.
+Ephraim even went so far as to discuss the question as to whether Mr.
+Merrill had not surpassed his authority in inviting him, and full
+expected to be met at the door by that gentleman uttering profuse
+apologies, which Ephraim was quite prepared and willing to take in good
+faith.
+
+Nothing of the kind happened, however. Mr. Merrill's railroad being a
+modest one, his house was modest likewise. But Ephraim thought it grand
+enough, and yet acknowledged a homelike quality in its grandeur. He began
+by sitting on the edge of the sofa and staring at the cut-glass
+chandelier, but in five minutes he discovered with a shock of surprise
+that he was actually leaning back, describing in detail how his regiment
+had been cheered as they marched through Boston. And incredible as it may
+seem, the person whom he was entertaining in this manner was Mrs. Stephen
+Merrill herself. Mrs. Merrill was as tall as Mr. Merrill was short. She
+wore a black satin dress with a big cameo brooch pinned at her throat,
+her hair was gray, and her face almost masculine until it lighted up with
+a wonderfully sweet smile. That smile made Ephraim and Jethro feel at
+home; and Cynthia, too, who liked Mrs. Merrill the moment she laid eyes
+on her.
+
+Then there were the daughters, Jane and Susan, who welcomed her with a
+hospitality truly amazing for city people. Jane was big-boned like her
+mother, but Susan was short and plump and merry like her father. Susan
+talked and laughed, and Jane sat and listened and smiled, and Cynthia
+could not decide which she liked the best. And presently they all went
+into the dining room to supper, where there was another chandelier over
+the table. There was also real silver, which shone brilliantly on the
+white cloth--but there was nothing to eat.
+
+"Do tell us another story, Mr. Prescott," said Susan, who had listened to
+his last one.
+
+The sight of the table, however, had for the moment upset Ephraim, "Get
+Jethro to tell you how he took dinner with Jedge Binney," he said.
+
+This suggestion, under the circumstances, might not have been a happy
+one, but its lack of appropriateness did not strike Jethro either. He
+yielded to the demand.
+
+"Well," he said, "I supposed I was goin' to set down same as I would at
+home, where we put the vittles on the table. W-wondered what I was goin'
+to eat--wahn't nothin' but a piece of bread on the table. S-sat there and
+watched 'em--nobody ate anything. Presently I found out that Binney's
+wife ran her house same as they run hotels. Pretty soon a couple of girls
+come in and put down some food and took it away again before you had a
+chance. A-after a while we had coffee, and when I set my cup on the
+table, I noticed Mis' Binney looked kind of cross and began whisperin' to
+the girls. One of 'em fetched a small plate and took my cup and set it on
+the plate. That was all right. I used the plate.
+
+"Well, along about next summer Binney had to come to Coniston to see me
+on a little matter and fetched his wife. Listy, my wife, was alive then.
+I'd made up my mind that if I could ever get Mis' Binney to eat at my
+place I would, so I asked 'em to stay to dinner. When we set down, I
+said: 'Now, Mis' Binney, you and the Judge take right hold, and anything
+you can't reach, speak out and we'll wait on you.' And Mis' Binney?'
+
+"Yes," she said. She was a little mite scared, I guess. B-begun to
+suspect somethin'."
+
+"Mis' Binney," said I, "y-you can set your cup and sarcer where you've a
+mind to.' O-ought to have heard the Judge laugh. Says he to his wife:
+'Fanny, I told you Jethro'd get even with you some time for that sarcer
+business.'"
+
+This story, strange as it may seem, had a great success at Mr. Merrill's
+table. Mr. Merrill and his daughter Susan shrieked with laughter when it
+was finished, while Mrs. Merrill and Jane enjoyed themselves quite as
+much in their quiet way. Even the two neat Irish maids, who were serving
+the supper very much as poor Mis' Binney's had been served, were fain to
+leave the dining room abruptly, and one of them disgraced herself at
+sight of Jethro when she came in again, and had to go out once mare. Mrs.
+Merrill insisted that Jethro should pour out his coffee in what she was
+pleased to call the old-fashioned way. All of which goes to prove that
+table-silver and cut glass chandeliers do not invariably make their
+owners heartless and inhospitable. And Ephraim, whose plan of campaign
+had been to eat nothing to speak of and have a meal when he got back to
+the hotel, found that he wasn't hungry when he arose from the table.
+
+There was much bantering of Jethro by Mr. Merrill, which the ladies did
+not understand--talk of a mighty coalition of the big railroads which was
+to swallow up the little railroads. Fortunately, said Mr. Merrill,
+humorously, fortunately they did not want his railroad. Or unfortunately,
+which was it? Jethro didn't know. He never laughed at anybody's jokes.
+But Cynthia, who was listening with one ear while Susan talked into the
+other, gathered that Jethro had been struggling with the railroads, and
+was sooner or later to engage in a mightier struggle with them. How, she
+asked herself in her innocence, was any one, even Uncle Jethro, to
+struggle with a railroad? Many other people in these latter days have
+asked themselves that very question.
+
+All together the evening at Mr. Merrill's passed off so quickly and so
+happily that Ephraim was dismayed when he discovered that it was ten
+o'clock, and he began to make elaborate apologies to the ladies. But
+Jethro and Mr. Merrill were still closeted together in the dining room:
+once Mrs. Merrill had been called to that conference, and had returned
+after a while to take her place quietly again among the circle of
+Ephraim's listeners. Now Mr. Merrill came out of the dining room alone.
+
+"Cynthia," he said, and his tone was a little more grave than usual,
+"your Uncle Jethro wants to speak to you."
+
+Cynthia rose, with a sense of something in the air which concerned her,
+and went into the dining room. Was it the light falling from above that
+brought out the lines of his face so strongly? Cynthia did not know, but
+she crossed the room swiftly and sat down beside him.
+
+"What is it, Uncle Jethro?"
+
+"C-Cynthy," he said, putting his hand over hers on the table, "I want you
+to do something for me er--for me," he repeated, emphasizing the last
+word.
+
+"I'll do anything in the world for you, Uncle Jethro," she answered; "you
+know that. What--what is it?"
+
+"L-like Mr. Merrill, don't you?" "Yes, indeed."
+
+"L-like Mrs. Merrill--like the gals--don't you?" "Very much," said
+Cynthia, perplexedly.
+
+"Like 'em enough to--to live with 'em a winter?"
+
+"Live with them a winter!"
+
+"C-Cynthy, I want you should stay in Boston this winter and go to a young
+ladies' school."
+
+It was out. He had said it, though he never quite knew where he had found
+the courage.
+
+"Uncle Jethro!" she cried. She could only look at him in dismay, but the
+tears came into her eyes and sparkled.
+
+"You--you'll be happy here, Cynthy. It'll be a change for you. And I
+shan't be so lonesome as you'd think. I'll--I'll be busy this winter,
+Cynthy."
+
+"You know that I wouldn't leave you, Uncle Jethro," she said
+reproachfully. "I should be lonesome, if you wouldn't. You would be
+lonesome--you know you would be."
+
+"You'll do this for me, Cynthy. S-said you would, didn't you--said you
+would?"
+
+"Why do you want me to do this?"
+
+"W-want you to go to school for a winter, Cynthy. Shouldn't think I'd
+done right by you if I didn't."
+
+"But I have been to school. Daddy taught me a lot, and Mr. Satterlee has
+taught me a great deal more. I know as much as most girls of my age, and
+I will study so hard in Coniston this winter, if that is what you want.
+I've never neglected my lessons, Uncle Jethro."
+
+"Tain't book-larnin'--'tain't what you'd get in book larnin' in Boston,
+Cynthy."
+
+"What, then?" she asked.
+
+"Well," said Jethro, "they'd teach you to be a lady, Cynthy."
+
+"A lady!"
+
+"Your father come of good people, and--and your mother was a lady. I'm
+only a rough old man, Cynthy, and I don't know much about the ways of
+fine folks. But you've got it in ye, and I want you should be equal to
+the best of 'em: You can. And I shouldn't die content unless I'd felt
+that you'd had the chance. Er--Cynthy--will you do it for me?"
+
+She was silent a long while before she turned to him, and then the tears
+were running very swiftly down her cheeks.
+
+"Yes, I will do it for you," she answered. "Uncle Jethro, I believe you
+are the best man, in the world."
+
+"D-don't say that, Cynthy--d-don't say that," he exclaimed, and a sharp
+agony was in his voice. He got to his feet and went to the folding doors
+and opened them. "Steve!" he called, "Steve!"
+
+"S-says she'll stay, Steve."
+
+Mr. Merrill had come in, followed by his wife. Cynthia saw them but dimly
+through her tears. And while she tried to wipe the tears away she felt
+Mrs. Merrill's arm about her, and heard that lady say:--"We'll try to
+make you very happy, my dear, and send you back safely in the spring."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+An attempt will be made in these pages to set down such incidents which
+alone may be vital to this chronicle, now so swiftly running on. The
+reasons why Mr. Merrill was willing to take Cynthia into his house must
+certainly be clear to the reader. In the first place, he was under very
+heavy obligations to Jethro Bass for many favors; in the second place,
+Mr. Merrill had a real affection for Jethro, which, strange as it may
+seem to some, was quite possible; and in the third place, Mr. Merrill had
+taken a fancy to Cynthia, and he had never forgotten the unintentional
+wrong he had done William Wetherell. Mr. Merrill was a man of impulses,
+and generally of good impulses. Had he not himself urged upon Jethro the
+arrangement, it would never have come about. Lastly, he had invited
+Cynthia to his house that his wife might inspect her, and Mrs. Merrill's
+verdict had been instant and favorable--a verdict not given in words. A
+single glance was sufficient, for these good people so understood each
+other that Mrs. Merrill had only to raise her eyes to her husband's, and
+this she did shortly after the supper party began; while she was pouring
+the coffee, to be exact. Thus the compact that Cynthia was to spend the
+winter in their house was ratified.
+
+There was, first of all, the parting with Jethro and the messages with
+which he and Ephraim were laden for the whole village and town of
+Coniston. It was very hard, that parting, and need not be dwelt upon.
+Ephraim waved his blue handkerchief as the train pulled out, but Jethro
+stood on the platform, silent and motionless: more eloquent in his
+sorrow--so Mr. Merrill thought--than any human being he had ever known.
+Mr. Merrill wondered if Jethro's sorrow were caused by this parting
+alone; he believed it was not, and suddenly guessed at the true note of
+it. Having come by chance upon the answer to the riddle, Mr. Merrill
+stood still with his hand on the carriage door and marvelled that he had
+not seen it all sooner. He was a man to take to heart the troubles of his
+friends. A subtle change had indeed come over Jethro, and he was not the
+same man Mr. Merrill had known for many years. Would others, the men with
+whom Jethro contended and the men he commanded, mark this change? And
+what effect would it have on the conflict for the mastery of a state
+which was to be waged from now on?
+
+"Father," said his daughter Susan, "if you don't get in and close the
+door, we'll drive off and leave you standing on the sidewalk."
+
+Thus Cynthia went to her new friends in their own carriage. Mrs. Merrill
+was goodness itself, and loved the girl for what she was. How, indeed,
+was she to help loving her? Cynthia was scrupulous in her efforts to give
+no trouble, and yet she never had the air of a dependent or a
+beneficiary; but held her head high, and when called upon gave an opinion
+as though she had a right to it. The very first morning Susan, who was
+prone to be late to breakfast, came down in a great state of excitement
+and laughter.
+
+"What do you think Cynthia's done, Mother?" she cried. "I went into her
+room a while ago, and it was all swept and aired, and she was making up
+the bed."
+
+"That's an excellent plan," said Mrs. Merrill, "tomorrow morning you
+three girls will have a race to see who makes up her room first."
+
+It is needless to say that the race at bed-making never came off, Susan
+and Jane having pushed Cynthia into a corner as soon as breakfast was
+over, and made certain forcible representations which she felt bound to
+respect, and a treaty was drawn up and faithfully carried out, between
+the three, that she was to do her own room if necessary to her happiness.
+The chief gainer by the arrangement was the chambermaid.
+
+Odd as it may seem, the Misses Merrill lived amicably enough with
+Cynthia. It is a difficult matter to force an account of the relationship
+of five people living in one house into a few pages, but the fact that
+the Merrills had large hearts makes this simpler. There are few families
+who can accept with ease the introduction of a stranger into their midst,
+even for a time, and there are fewer strangers who can with impunity be
+introduced. The sisters quarrelled among themselves as all sisters will,
+and sometimes quarrelled with Cynthia. But oftener they made her the
+arbiter of their disputes, and asked her advice on certain matters.
+Especially was this true of Susan, whom certain young gentlemen from
+Harvard College called upon more or less frequently, and Cynthia had all
+of Susan's love affairs--including the current one--by heart in a very
+short time.
+
+As for Cynthia, there were many subjects on which she had to take the
+advice of the sisters. They did not criticise the joint creations of
+herself and Miss Sukey Kittredge as frankly as Janet Duncan had done; but
+Jethro had left in Mrs. Merrill's hands a certain sufficient sum for new
+dresses for Cynthia, and in due time the dresses were got and worn. To do
+them justice, the sisters were really sincere in their rejoicings over
+the very wonderful transformation which they had been chiefly
+instrumental in effecting.
+
+It is not a difficult task to praise a heroine, and one that should be
+indulged in but charily. But let some little indulgence be accorded this
+particular heroine by reason of the life she had led, and the situation
+in which she now found herself: a poor Coniston girl, dependent on one
+who was not her father, though she loved him as a father; beholden to
+these good people who dwelt in a world into which she had no reasonable
+expectations of entering, and which, to tell the truth, she now feared.
+
+It was inevitable that Cynthia should be brought into contact with many
+friends and relations of the family. Some of these noticed and admired
+her; others did neither; others gossiped about Mrs. Merrill behind her
+back at her own dinners and sewing circles and wondered what folly could
+have induced her to bring the girl into her house. But Mrs. Merrill, like
+many generous people who do not stop to calculate a kindness, was always
+severely criticised.
+
+And then there were Jane's and Susan's friends, in and out of Miss
+Sadler's school. For Mrs. Merrill's influence had been sufficient to
+induce Miss Sadler to take Cynthia as a day scholar with her own
+daughters. This, be it known, was a great concession on the part of Miss
+Sadler, who regarded Cynthia's credentials as dubious enough; and her
+young ladies were inclined to regard them so, likewise. Some of these
+young ladies came from other cities,--New York and Philadelphia and
+elsewhere,--and their fathers and mothers were usually people to be
+mentioned as a matter of course--were, indeed, frequently so mentioned by
+Miss Sadler, especially when a visitor called at the school.
+
+"Isabel, I saw that your mother sailed for Europe yesterday," or, "Sally,
+your father tells me he is building a gallery for his collection." Then
+to the visitor, "You know the Broke house in Washington Square, of
+course."
+
+Of course the visitor did. But Sally or Isabel would often imitate Miss
+Sadler behind her back, showing how well they understood her
+snobbishness.
+
+Miss Sadler was by no means the type which we have come to recognize in
+the cartoons as the Boston school ma'am. She was a little, round person
+with thin lips and a sharp nose all out of character with her roundness,
+and bright eyes like a bird's. To do her justice, so far as instruction
+went, her scholars were equally well cared for, whether they hailed from
+Washington Square or Washington Court House. There were, indeed, none
+from such rural sorts of places--except Cynthia. But Miss Sadler did not
+take her hand on the opening day--or afterward--and ask her about Uncle
+Jethro. Oh, no. Miss Sadler had no interest for great men who did not
+sail for Europe or add picture galleries on to their houses. Cynthia
+laughed, a little bitterly, perhaps, at the thought of a picture gallery
+being added to the tannery house. And she told herself stoutly that Uncle
+Jethro was a greater man than any of the others, even if Miss Sadler did
+not see fit to mention him. So she had her first taste of a kind of
+wormwood that is very common in the world though it did not grow in
+Coniston.
+
+For a while after Cynthia's introduction to the school she was calmly
+ignored by many of the young ladies there, and once openly--snubbed, to
+use the word in its most disagreeable sense. Not that she gave any of
+them any real cause to snub her. She did not intrude her own affairs upon
+them, but she was used to conversing kindly with the people about her as
+equals, and for this offence; on the third day, Miss Sally Broke snubbed
+her. It is hard not to make a heroine of Cynthia, not to be able to
+relate that she instantly put Miss Sally's nose out of joint. Susan
+Merrill tried to do that, and failed signally, for Miss Sally's nose was
+not easily dislodged. Susan fought more than one of Cynthia's battles. As
+a matter of fact, Cynthia did not know that she had been affronted until
+that evening. She did not tell her friends how she spent the night
+yearning fiercely for Coniston and Uncle Jethro, at times weeping for
+them, if the truth be told; how she had risen before the dawn to write a
+letter, and to lay some things in the rawhide trunk. The letter was never
+sent, and the packing never finished. Uncle Jethro wished her to stay and
+to learn to be a lady, and stay she would, in spite of Miss Broke and the
+rest of them. She went to school the next day, and for many days and
+weeks thereafter, and held communion with the few alone who chose to
+treat her pleasantly. Unquestionably this is making a heroine of Cynthia.
+
+If young men are cruel in their schools, what shall be written of young
+women? It would be better to say that both are thoughtless. Miss Sally
+Broke, strange as it may seem, had a heart, and many of the other young
+ladies whose fathers sailed for Europe and owned picture galleries; but
+these young ladies were absorbed, especially after vacation, in affairs
+of which a girl from Coniston had no part. Their friends were not her
+friends, their amusements not her amusements, and their talk not her
+talk. But Cynthia watched them, as was her duty, and gradually absorbed
+many things which are useful if not essential--outward observances of
+which the world takes cognizance, and which she had been sent there by
+Uncle Jethro to learn. Young people of Cynthia's type and nationality are
+the most adaptable in the world.
+
+Before the December snows set in Cynthia had made one firm friend, at
+least, in Boston; outside of the Merrill family. That friend was Miss
+Lucretia Penniman, editress of the Woman's Hour. Miss Lucretia lived in
+the queerest and quaintest of the little houses tucked away under the
+hill, with the back door a story higher than the fronts an arrangement
+which in summer enabled the mistress to walk out of her sitting-room
+windows into a little walled garden. In winter that sitting room was the
+sunniest, cosiest room in the city, and Cynthia spent many hours there,
+reading or listening to the wisdom that fell from the lips of Miss
+Lucretia or her guests. The sitting room had uneven, yellow-white
+panelling that fairly shone with enamel, mahogany bookcases filled with
+authors who had chosen to comply with Miss Lucretia's somewhat rigorous
+censorship; there was a table laden with such magazines as had to do with
+the uplifting of a sex, a delightful wavy floor covered with a rose
+carpet; and, needless to add, not a pin or a pair of scissors out of
+place in the whole apartment.
+
+There is no intention of enriching these pages with Miss Lucretia's
+homilies. Their subject-matter may be found in the files of the Woman's
+Hour. She did not always preach, although many people will not believe
+this statement. Miss Lucretia, too, had a heart, though she kept it
+hidden away, only to be brought out on occasions when she was sure of its
+appreciation, and she grew strangely interested in this self-contained
+girl from Coniston whose mother she had known. Miss Lucretia understood
+Cynthia, who also was the kind who kept her heart hidden, the kind who
+conceal their troubles and sufferings because they find it difficult to
+give them out. So Miss Lucretia had Cynthia to take supper with her at
+least once in the week, and watched her quietly, and let her speak of as
+much of her life as she chose--which was not much, at first. But Miss
+Lucretia was content to wait, and guessed at many things which Cynthia
+did not tell her, and made some personal effort, unknown to Cynthia, to
+find out other things. It will be said that she had designs on the girl.
+If so, they were generous designs; and perhaps it was inevitable that
+Miss Lucretia should recognize in every young woman of spirit and brains
+a possible recruit for the cause.
+
+It has now been shown in some manner and as briefly as possible how
+Cynthia's life had changed, and what it had become. We have got her
+partly through the winter, and find her still dreaming of the sparkling
+snow on Coniston and of the wind whirling it on clear, cold days like
+smoke among the spruces; of Uncle Jethro sitting by his stove through the
+long evenings all alone; of Rias in his store and Moses Hatch and Lem
+Hallowell, and Cousin Ephraim in his new post-office. Uncle Jethro wrote
+for the first time in his life--letters: short letters, but in his own
+handwriting, and deserving of being read for curiosity's sake if there
+were time. The wording was queer enough and guarded enough, but they were
+charged with a great affection which clung to them like lavender.
+
+And Cynthia kept them every one, and read them over on such occasions
+when she felt that she could not live another minute out of sight of her
+mountain.
+
+Such was the state of affairs one gray afternoon in December when
+Cynthia, who was sitting in Mrs. Merrill's parlor, suddenly looked up
+from her book to discover that two young men were in the room. The young
+men were apparently quite as much surprised as she, and the parlor maid
+stood grinning behind them.
+
+"Tell Miss Susan and Miss Jane, Ellen," said Cynthia, preparing to
+depart. One of the young men she recognized from a photograph on Susan's
+bureau. He was, for the time being, Susan's. His name, although it does
+not matter much, was Morton Browne, and he would have been considerably
+astonished if he had guessed how much of his history Cynthia knew. It was
+Mr. Browne's habit to take Susan for a walk as often as propriety
+permitted, and on such occasions he generally brought along a
+good-natured classmate to take care of Jane. This, apparently, was one of
+the occasions. Mr. Browne was tall and dark and generally good-looking,
+while his friends were usually distinguished for their good nature.
+
+Mr. Browne stood between her and the door and looked at her rather
+fixedly. Then he said:--"Excuse me."
+
+A great many friendships, and even love affairs, have been inaugurated by
+just such an opening.
+
+"Certainly," said Cynthia, and tried to pass out. But Mr. Browne had no
+intention of allowing her to do so if he could help it.
+
+"I hope I am not intruding," he said politely.
+
+"Oh, no," answered Cynthia, wondering how she could get by him.
+
+"Were you waiting for Miss Merrill?"
+
+"Oh, no," said Cynthia again.
+
+The other young man turned his back and became absorbed in the picture of
+a lion getting ready to tear a lady to pieces. But Mr. Browne was of that
+mettle which is not easily baffled in such matters. He introduced
+himself, and desired to know whom he had the honor of addressing. Cynthia
+could not but enlighten him. Mr. Browne was greatly astonished, and
+showed it.
+
+"So you are the mysterious young lady who has been staying here in the
+house this winter," he exclaimed, as though it were a marvellous thing.
+"I have heard Miss Merrill speak of you. She admires you very much. Is it
+true that you come from--Coniston?"
+
+"Yes," she said.
+
+"Let me see--where is Coniston?" inquired Mr. Browne.
+
+"Do you know where Brampton is?" asked Cynthia. "Coniston is near
+Brampton."
+
+"Brampton!" exclaimed Mr. Browne, "I have a classmate who comes from
+Brampton--Bob Worthington--You must know Bob, then."
+
+Yes, Cynthia knew Mr. Worthington.
+
+"His father's got a mint of money, they say. I've been told that old
+Worthington was the whole show up in those parts. Is that true?"
+
+"Not quite," said Cynthia.
+
+Not quite! Mr. Morton Browne eyed her in surprise, and from that moment
+she began to have decided possibilities. Just then Jane and Susan entered
+arrayed for the walk, but Mr. Browne showed himself in no hurry to
+depart: began to speak, indeed, in a deprecating way about the weather,
+appealed to his friend, Mr. King, if it didn't look remarkably like rain,
+or hail, or snow. Susan sat down, Jane sat down, Mr. Browne and his
+friend prepared to sit down when Cynthia moved toward the door.
+
+"You're not going, Cynthia!" cried Susan, in a voice that may have had a
+little too much eagerness in it. "You must stay and help us entertain Mr.
+Browne." (Mr. King, apparently, was not to be entertained.) "We've tried
+so hard to make her come down when people called, Mr. Browne, but she
+never would."
+
+Cynthia was not skilled in the art of making excuses. She hesitated for
+one, and was lost. So she sat down, as far from Mr. Browne as possible,
+next to Jane. In a few minutes Mr. Browne was seated beside her, and how
+he accomplished this manoeuvre Cynthia could not have said, so skilfully
+and gradually was it done. For lack of a better subject he chose Mr.
+Robert Worthington. Related, for Cynthia's delectation, several of Bob's
+escapades in his freshman year: silly escapades enough, but very bold and
+daring and original they sounded to Cynthia, who listened (if Mr. Browne
+could have known it) with almost breathless interest, and forgot all
+about poor Susan talking to Mr. King. Did Mr. Worthington still while
+away his evenings stealing barber poles and being chased around Cambridge
+by irate policemen? Mr. Browne laughed at the notion. O dear, no! seniors
+never descended to that. Had not Miss Wetherell heard the song wherein
+seniors were designated as grave and reverend? Yes, Miss Wetherell had
+heard the song. She did not say where, or how. Mr. Worthington, said his
+classmate, had become very serious-minded this year. Was captain of the
+base-ball team and already looking toward the study of law.
+
+"Study law!" exclaimed Cynthia, "I thought he would go into his father's
+mills."
+
+"Do you know Bob very well?" asked Mr. Browne.
+
+She admitted that she did not.
+
+"He's been away from Brampton a good deal, of course," said Mr. Browne,
+who seemed pleased by her admission. To do him justice, he would not
+undermine a classmate, although he had other rules of conduct which might
+eventually require a little straightening out. "Worthy's a first-rate
+fellow, a little quick-tempered, perhaps, and inclined to go his own way.
+He's got a good mind, and he's taken to using it lately. He has come
+pretty near being suspended once or twice."
+
+Cynthia wanted to ask what "suspended" was. It sounded rather painful.
+But at this instant there was the rattle of a latch key at the door, and
+Mr. Merrill walked in.
+
+"Well, well," he said, spying Cynthia, "so you have got Cynthia to come
+down and entertain the young men at last."
+
+"Yes," said Susan, "we have got Cynthia to come down at last."
+
+Susan did not go to Cynthia's room that night to chat, as usual, and Mr.
+Morton Browne's photograph was mysteriously removed from the prominent
+position it had occupied. If Susan had carried out a plan which she
+conceived in a moment of folly of placing that photograph on Cynthia's
+bureau, there would undoubtedly have been a quarrel. Cynthia's own
+feelings--seeing that Mr. Browne had not dazzled her--were not--enviable.
+
+But she held her peace, which indeed was all she could do, and the next
+time Mr. Browne called, though he took care to mention her name
+particularly at the door, she would not go down to entertain him: though
+Susan implored and Jane appealed, she would not go down. Mr. Browne
+called several times again, with the same result. Cynthia was
+inexorable--she would have none of him. Then Susan forgave her. There was
+no quarrel, indeed, but there was a reconciliation, which is the best
+part of a quarrel. There were tears, of Susan's shedding; there was a
+character-sketch of Mr. Browne, of Susan's drawing, and that gentleman
+flitted lightly out of Susan's life.
+
+Some ten days subsequent to this reconciliation Ellen, the parlor maid,
+brought up a card to Cynthia's room. The card bore the name of Mr. Robert
+Worthington. Cynthia stared at it, and bent it in her fingers, while
+Ellen explained how the gentleman had begged that she might see him. To
+tell the truth, Cynthia had wondered more than once why he had not come
+before, and smiled when she thought of all the assurances of undying
+devotion she had heard in Washington. After all, she reflected, why
+should she not see him--once? He might give her news of Brampton and
+Coniston. Thus willingly deceiving herself, she told Ellen that she would
+go down: much to the girl's delight, for Cynthia was a favorite in the
+house.
+
+As she entered the parlor Mr. Worthington was standing in the window.
+When he turned and saw her he started to come forward in his old
+impetuous way, and stopped and looked at her in surprise. She herself did
+not grasp the reason for this.
+
+"Can it be possible," he said, "can it be possible that this is my friend
+from the country?" And he took her hand with the greatest formality,
+pressed it the least little bit, and released it. "How do you do, Miss
+Wetherell? Do you remember me?"
+
+"How do you do--Bob," she answered, laughing in spite of herself at his
+banter. "You haven't changed, anyway."
+
+"It was Mr. Worthington in Washington," said he. "Now it is 'Bob' and
+'Miss Wetherell.' Rank patronage! How did you do it, Cynthia?"
+
+"You are like all men," said Cynthia, "you look at the clothes, and not
+the woman. They are not very fine clothes; but if they were much finer,
+they wouldn't change me."
+
+"Then it must be Miss Sadler."
+
+"Miss Sadler would willingly change me--if she could," said Cynthia, a
+little bitterly. "How did you find out I was at Miss Sadler's?"
+
+"Morton Browne told me yesterday," said Bob. "I felt like punching his
+head."
+
+"What did he tell you?" she asked with some concern.
+
+"He said that you were here, visiting the Merrills, among other things,
+and said that you knew me."
+
+The "other things" Mr. Browne had said were interesting, but flippant. He
+had seen Bob at a college club and declared that he had met a witch of a
+country girl at the Merrills. He couldn't make her out, because she had
+refused to see him every time he called again. He had also repeated
+Cynthia's remark about Bob's father not being quite the biggest man in
+his part of the country, and ventured the surmise that she was the
+daughter of a rival mill owner.
+
+"Why didn't you let me know you were in Boston?" said Bob, reproachfully.
+
+"Why should I?" asked Cynthia, and she could not resist adding, "Didn't
+you find it out when you went to Brampton--to see me?"
+
+"Well," said he, getting fiery red, "the fact is--I didn't go to
+Brampton."
+
+"I'm glad you were sensible enough to take my advice, though I suppose
+that didn't make any difference. But--from the way you spoke, I should
+have thought nothing could have kept you away."
+
+"To tell you the truth," said Bob, "I'd promised to visit a fellow named
+Broke in my class, who lives in New York. And I couldn't get out of it.
+His sister, by the way, is in Miss Sadler's. I suppose you know her. But
+if I'd thought you'd see me, I should have gone to Brampton, anyway. You
+were so down on me in Washington."
+
+"It was very good of you to take the trouble to come to see me here.
+There must be a great many girls in Boston you have to visit."
+
+He caught the little note of coolness in her voice. Cynthia was asking
+herself whether, if Mr. Browne had not seen fit to give a good report of
+her, he would have come at all. He would have come, certainly. It is to
+be hoped that Bob Worthington's attitude up to this time toward Cynthia
+has been sufficiently defined by his conversation and actions. There had
+been nothing serious about it. But there can be no question that Mr.
+Browne's openly expressed admiration had enhanced her value in his eyes.
+
+"There's no girl in Boston that I care a rap for," he said.
+
+"I'm relieved to hear it," said Cynthia, with feeling.
+
+"Are you really?"
+
+"Didn't you expect me to be, when you said it?"
+
+He laughed uncomfortably.
+
+"You've learned more than one thing since you've been in the city," he
+remarked, "I suppose there are a good many fellows who come here all the
+time."
+
+"Yes, there are," she said demurely.
+
+"Well," he remarked, "you've changed a lot in three months. I always
+thought that, if you had a chance, there'd be no telling where you'd end
+up."
+
+"That doesn't sound very complimentary," said Cynthia. She had, indeed,
+changed. "In what terrible place do you think I'll end up?"
+
+"I suppose you'll marry one of these Boston men."
+
+"Oh," she laughed, "that wouldn't be so terrible, would it?"
+
+"I believe you're engaged to one of 'em now," he remarked, looking very
+hard at her.
+
+"If you believed that, I don't think you would say it," she answered.
+
+"I can't make you out. You used to be so frank with me, and now you're
+not at all so. Are you going to Coniston for the holidays?"
+
+Her face fell at the question.
+
+"Oh, Bob," she cried, surprising him utterly by a glimpse of the real
+Cynthia, "I wish I were--I wish I were! But I don't dare to."
+
+"Don't dare to?"
+
+"If I went, I should' never come back--never. I should stay with Uncle
+Jethro. He's so lonesome up there, and I'm so lonesome down here, without
+him. And I promised him faithfully I'd stay a whole winter at school in
+Boston."
+
+"Cynthia," said Bob, in a strange voice as he leaned toward her, "do
+you--do you care for him as much as all that?"
+
+"Care for him?" she repeated.
+
+"Care for--for Uncle Jethro?"
+
+"Of course I care for him," she cried, her eyes flashing at the thought.
+"I love him better than anybody in the world. Certainly no one ever had
+better reason to care for a person. My father failed when he came to
+Coniston--he was not meant for business, and Uncle Jethro took care of
+him all his life, and paid his debts. And he has taken care of me and
+given me everything that a girl could wish. Very few people know what a
+fine character Uncle Jethro has," continued Cynthia, carried away as she
+was by the pent-up flood of feeling within her. "I know what he has done
+for others, and I should love him for that even if he never had done
+anything for me."
+
+Bob was silent. He was, in the first place, utterly amazed at this
+outburst, revealing as it did a depth of passionate feeling in the girl
+which he had never suspected, and which thrilled him. It was unlike her,
+for she was usually so self-repressed; and, being unlike her, accentuated
+both sides of her character the more.
+
+But what was he to say of the defence of Jethro Bass? Bob was not a young
+man who had pondered much over the problems of life, because these
+problems had hitherto never touched him. But now he began to perceive,
+dimly, things that might become the elements of a tragedy, even as Mr.
+Merrill had perceived them some months before. Could a union endure
+between so delicate a creature as the girl before him and Jethro Bass?
+Could Cynthia ever go back to him again, and live with him happily,
+without seeing many things which before were hidden by reason of her
+youth and innocence?
+
+Bob had not been nearly four years at college without learning something
+of the world; and it had not needed the lecture from his father, which he
+got upon leaving Washington, to inform him of Jethro's political
+practices. He had argued soundly with his father on that occasion, having
+the courage to ask Mr. Worthington in effect whether he did not sanction
+his underlings to use the same tools as Jethro used. Mr. Worthington was
+righteously angry, and declared that Jethro had inaugurated those
+practices in the state, and had to be fought with his own weapons. But
+Mr. Worthington had had the sense at that time not to mention Cynthia's
+name. He hoped and believed that that affair was not serious, and merely
+a boyish fancy--as indeed it was.
+
+It remains to be said, however, that the lecture had not been without its
+effect upon Bob. Jethro Bass, after all, was--Jethro Bass. All his life
+Bob had heard him familiarly and jokingly spoken of as the boss of the
+state, and had listened to the tales, current in all the country towns,
+of how Jethro had outwitted this man or that. Some of them were not
+refined tales. Jethro Bass as the boss of the state--with the tolerance
+with which the public in general regard politics--was one thing. Bob was
+willing to call him "Uncle Jethro," admire his great strength and
+shrewdness, and declare that the men he had outwitted had richly deserved
+it. But Jethro Bass as the ward of Cynthia Wetherell was quite another
+thing.
+
+It was not only that Cynthia had suddenly and inevitably become a lady.
+That would not have mattered, for such as she would have borne Coniston
+and the life of Coniston cheerfully. But Bob reflected, as he walked back
+to his rooms in the dark through the snow-laden streets, that Cynthia,
+young though she might be, possessed principles from which no love would
+sway her a hair's breadth. How, indeed, was she to live with Jethro once
+her eyes were opened?
+
+The thought made him angry, but returned to him persistently during the
+days that followed,--in the lecture room, in the gymnasium, in his own
+study, where he spent more time than formerly. By these tokens it will be
+perceived that Bob, too, had changed a little. And the sight of Cynthia
+in Mrs. Merrill's parlor had set him to thinking in a very different
+manner than the sight of her in Washington had affected him. Bob had
+managed to shift the subject from Jethro, not without an effort, though
+he had done it in that merry, careless manner which was so characteristic
+of him. He had talked of many things,--his college life, his
+friends,--and laughed at her questions about his freshman escapades. But
+when at length, at twilight, he had risen to go, he had taken both her
+hands and looked down into her face with a very different expression than
+she had seen him wear before--a much more serious expression, which
+puzzled her. It was not the look of a lover, nor yet that of a man who
+imagines himself in love. With either of these her instinct would have
+told her how to deal. It was more the look of a friend, with much of the
+masculine spirit of protection in it.
+
+"May I come to see you again?" he asked.
+
+Gently she released her hands, and she did not answer at once. She went
+to the window, and stared across the sloping street at the grilled
+railing before the big house opposite, thinking. Her reason told her that
+he should not come, but her spirit rebelled against that reason. It was a
+pleasure to see him, so she freely admitted to herself. Why should she
+not have that pleasure? If the truth be told, she had argued it all out
+before, when she had wondered whether he would come. Mrs. Merrill, she
+thought, would not object to his coming. But--there was the question she
+had meant to ask him.
+
+"Bob," she said, turning to him, "Bob, would your father want you to
+come?"
+
+It was growing dark, and she could scarcely see his face. He hesitated,
+but he did not attempt to evade the question.
+
+"No, he would not," he answered. And added, with a good deal of force and
+dignity: "I am of age, and can choose my own friends. I am my own master.
+If he knew you as I knew you, he would look at the matter in a different
+light."
+
+Cynthia felt that this was not quite true. She smiled a little sadly.
+
+"I am afraid you don't know me very well, Bob." He was about to protest,
+but she went on, bravely, "Is it because he has quarrelled with Uncle
+Jethro?"
+
+"Yes," said Bob. She was making it terribly hard for him, sparing indeed
+neither herself nor him.
+
+"If you come here to see me, it will cause a quarrel between you and your
+father. I--I cannot do that."
+
+"There is nothing wrong in my seeing you," said Bob, stoutly; "if he
+cares to quarrel with me for that, I cannot help it. If the people I
+choose for my friends are good people, he has no right to an objection,
+even though he is my father."
+
+Cynthia had never come so near real admiration for him as at that moment.
+
+"No, Bob, you must not come," she said. "I will not have you quarrel with
+him on my account."
+
+"Then I will quarrel with him on my own account," he had answered.
+"Good-by. You may expect me this day week."
+
+He went into the hall to put on his overcoat. Cynthia stood still on the
+spot of the carpet where he had left her. He put his head in at the door.
+
+"This day week," he said.
+
+"Bob, you must not come," she answered. But the street door closed after
+him as he spoke.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+"You must not come." Had Cynthia made the prohibition strong enough?
+Ought she not to have said, "If you do come, I will not see you?" Her
+knowledge of the motives of the men and women in the greater world was
+largely confined to that which she had gathered from novels--not trashy
+novels, but those by standard authors of English life. And many another
+girl of nineteen has taken a novel for a guide when she has been suddenly
+confronted with the first great problem outside of her experience.
+Somebody has declared that there are only seven plots in the world. There
+are many parallels in English literature to Cynthia's position,--so far
+as she was able to define that position,--the wealthy young peer, the
+parson's or physician's daughter, and the worldly, inexorable parents who
+had other plans.
+
+Cynthia was, of course, foolish. She would not look ahead, yet there was
+the mirage in the sky when she allowed herself to dream. It can
+truthfully be said that she was not in love with Bob Worthington. She
+felt, rather than knew, that if love came to her the feeling she had for
+Jethro Bass--strong though that was--would be as nothing to it. The girl
+felt the intensity of her nature, and shrank from it when her thoughts
+ran that way, for it frightened her.
+
+"Mrs. Merrill" she said, a few days later, when she found herself alone
+with that lady, "you once told me you would have no objection if a friend
+came to see me here."
+
+"None whatever, my dear," answered Mrs. Merrill. "I have asked you to
+have your friends here."
+
+Mrs. Merrill knew that a young man had called on Cynthia. The girls had
+discussed the event excitedly, had teased Cynthia about it; they had
+discovered, moreover, that the young man had not been a tiller of the
+soil or a clerk in a country store. Ellen, with the enthusiasm of her
+race, had painted him in glowing colors--but she had neglected to read
+the name on his card.
+
+"Bob Worthington came to see me last week, and he wants to come again. He
+lives in Brampton," Cynthia explained, "and is at Harvard College."
+
+Mrs. Merrill was decidedly surprised. She went on with her sewing,
+however, and did not betray the fact. She knew of Dudley Worthington as
+one of the richest and most important men in his state; she had heard her
+husband speak of him often; but she had never meddled with politics and
+railroad affairs.
+
+"By all means let him come, Cynthia," she replied.
+
+When Mr. Merrill got home that evening she spoke of the matter to him.
+
+"Cynthia is a strange character," she said. "Sometimes I can't understand
+her--she seems so much older than our girls, Stephen. Think of her
+keeping this to herself for four days!"
+
+Mr. Merrill laughed, but he went off to a little writing room he had and
+sat for a long time looking into the glowing coals. Then he laughed
+again. Mr. Merrill was a philosopher. After all, he could not forbid
+Dudley Worthington's son coming to his house, nor did he wish to.
+
+That same evening Cynthia wrote a letter and posted it. She found it a
+very difficult letter to write, and almost as difficult to drop into the
+mail-box. She reflected that the holidays were close at hand, and then he
+would go to Brampton and forget, even as he had forgotten before. And she
+determined when Wednesday afternoon came around that she would take a
+long walk in the direction of Brookline. Cynthia loved these walks, for
+she sadly missed the country air,--and they had kept the color in her
+cheeks and the courage in her heart that winter. She had amazed the
+Merrill girls by the distances she covered, and on more than one occasion
+she had trudged many miles to a spot from which there was a view of Blue
+Hills. They reminded her faintly of Coniston.
+
+Who can speak or write with any certainty of the feminine character, or
+declare what unexpected twists perversity and curiosity may give to it?
+Wednesday afternoon came, and Cynthia did not go to Brookline. She put on
+her coat, and took it off again. Would he dare to come in the face of the
+mandate he had received? If he did come, she wouldn't see him. Ellen had
+received her orders.
+
+At four o'clock the doorbell rang, and shortly thereafter Ellen appeared,
+simpering and apologetic enough, with a card. She had taken the trouble
+to read it this time. Cynthia was angry, or thought she was, and her
+cheeks were very red.
+
+"I told you to excuse me, Ellen. Why did you let him in?"
+
+"Miss Cynthia, darlin'," said Ellen, "if it was made of flint I was,
+wouldn't he bring the tears out of me with his wheedlin' an' coaxin'? An'
+him such a fine young gintleman! And whin he took to commandin' like,
+sure I couldn't say no to him at all at all. 'Take the card to her,
+Ellen,' he says--didn't he know me name!--'an' if she says she won't see
+me, thin I won't trouble her more.' Thim were his words, Miss."
+
+There he was before the fire, his feet slightly apart and his hands in
+his pockets, waiting for her. She got a glimpse of him standing thus, as
+she came down the stairs. It was not the attitude of a culprit. Nor did
+he bear the faintest resemblance to a culprit as he came up to her in the
+doorway. The chief recollection she carried away of that moment was that
+his teeth were very white and even when he smiled. He had the impudence
+to smile. He had the impudence to seize one of her hands in his, and to
+hold aloft a sheet of paper in the other.
+
+"What does this mean?" said he.
+
+"What do you thick it means?" retorted Cynthia, with dignity.
+
+"A summons to stay away," said Bob, thereby more or less accurately
+describing it. "What would you have thought of me if I had not come?"
+
+Cynthia was not prepared for any such question as this. She had meant to
+ask the questions herself. But she never lacked for words to protect
+herself.
+
+"I'll tell you what I think of you for coming, Bob, for insisting upon
+seeing me as you did," she said, remembering with shame Ellen's account
+of that proceeding. "It was very unkind and very thoughtless of you."
+
+"Unkind?" Thus she succeeded in putting him on the defensive.
+
+"Yes, unkind, because I know it is best for you not to come to see me,
+and you know it, and yet you will not help me when I try to do what is
+right. I shall be blamed for these visits," she said. The young ladies in
+the novels always were. But it was a serious matter for poor Cynthia, and
+her voice trembled a little. Her troubles seemed very real.
+
+"Who will blame you?" asked Bob, though he knew well enough. Then he
+added, seeing that she did not answer: "I don't at all agree with you
+that it is best for me not to see you. I know of nobody in the world it
+does me more good to see than yourself. Let's sit down and talk it all
+over," he said, for she still remained standing uncompromisingly by the
+door.
+
+The suspicion of a smile came over Cynthia's face. She remembered how
+Ellen had been wheedled. Her instinct told her that now was the time to
+make a stand or never.
+
+"It wouldn't do any good, Bob," she replied, shaking her head; "we talked
+it all over last week."
+
+"Not at all," said he, "we only touched upon a few points last week. We
+ought to thrash it out. Various aspects of the matter have occurred to me
+which I ought to call to your attention."
+
+He could not avoid this bantering tone, but she saw that he was very much
+in earnest too. He realized the necessity of winning; likewise, and he
+had got in and meant to stay.
+
+"I don't want to argue," said Cynthia. "I've thought it all out."
+
+"So have I," said Bob. "I haven't thought of anything else, to speak of.
+And by the way," he declared, shaking the envelope, "I never got a colder
+and more formal letter in my life. You must have taken it from one of
+Miss Sadler's copy books."
+
+"I'm sorry I haven't been able to equal the warmth of your other
+correspondents," said Cynthia, smiling at the mention of Miss Sadler.
+
+"You've got a good many degrees yet to go," he replied.
+
+"I have no idea of doing so," said Cynthia.
+
+If Cynthia had lured him there, and had carefully thought out a plan of
+fanning his admiration into a flame, she could not have done better than
+to stand obstinately by the door. Nothing appeals to a man like
+resistance--resistance for a principle appealed to Bob, although he did
+not care a fig about that particular principle. In his former dealings
+with young women--and they had not been few--the son of Dudley
+Worthington had encountered no resistance worth the mentioning. He looked
+at the girl before him, and his blood leaped at the thought of a conquest
+over her. She was often demure, but behind that demureness was firmness:
+she was mistress of herself, and yet possessed a marvellous vitality.
+
+"And now," said Cynthia, "don't you think you had better go?"
+
+Go! He laughed outright. Never! He would sit down under that fortress,
+and some day he meant to scale the walls. Like John Paul Jones, he had
+not yet begun to fight. But he did not sit down just yet, because Cynthia
+remained standing.
+
+"I'm here now," he said, "what's the good of going away? I might as well
+stay the rest of the afternoon."
+
+"You will find a photograph album on the table," said Cynthia, "with
+pictures of all the Merrill family and their friends and relations."
+
+In spite of the threat this remark conveyed, he could not help laughing
+at it. Mrs. Merrill in her sitting room heard the laugh, and felt that
+she would like Bob Worthington.
+
+"It's a heavy album, Cynthia," he said; "perhaps you would hold up one
+side of it."
+
+It was Cynthia's turn to laugh. She could not decide whether he were a
+man or a boy. Sometimes, she had to admit, he was very much of a man.
+
+"Where are you going?" he cried.
+
+"Upstairs, of course," she answered.
+
+This was really alarming. But fate thrust a final weapon into his hands.
+
+"All right," said he, "I'll look at the album. What time does Mr. Merrill
+get home?"
+
+"About six," answered Cynthia. "Why?"
+
+"When he comes," said Bob, "I shall put on my most disconsolate
+expression. He'll ask me what I'm doing, and I'll tell him you went
+upstairs at half-past four and haven't come down. He'll sympathize, I'll
+bet anything."
+
+Whether Bob were really capable of doing this, Cynthia could not tell.
+She believed he was. Perhaps she really did not intend to go upstairs
+just then. To his intense relief she seated herself on a straight-backed
+chair near the door, although she had the air of being about to get up
+again at any minute. It was not a surrender, not at all--but a parley, at
+least.
+
+"I really want to talk to you seriously, Bob," she said, and her voice
+was serious. "I like you very much--I always have--and I want you to
+listen seriously. All of us have friends. Some people--you, for
+instance--have a great many. We have but one father." Her voice failed a
+little at the word. "No friend can ever be the same to you as your
+father, and no friendship can make up what his displeasure will cost you.
+I do not mean to say that I shan't always be your friend, for I shall
+be."
+
+Young men seldom arrive at maturity by gradual steps--something sets them
+thinking, a week passes, and suddenly the world has a different aspect.
+Bob had thought much of his father during that week, and had considered
+their relationship very carefully. He had a few precious memories of his
+mother before she had been laid to rest under that hideous and
+pretentious monument in the Brampton hill cemetery. How unlike her was
+that monument! Even as a young boy, when on occasions he had wandered
+into the cemetery, he used to stand before it with a lump in his throat
+and bitter resentment in his heart, and once he had shaken his fist at
+it. He had grown up out of sympathy with his father, but he had never
+until now began to analyze the reasons for it. His father had given him
+everything except that communion of which Cynthia spoke so feelingly. Mr.
+Worthington had acted according to his lights: of all the people in the
+world he thought first of his son. But his thoughts and care had been
+alone of what the son would be to the world: how that son would carry on
+the wealth and greatness of Isaac D. Worthington.
+
+Bob had known this before, but it had had no such significance for him
+then as now. He was by no means lacking in shrewdness, and as he had
+grown older he had perceived clearly enough Mr. Worthington's reasons for
+throwing him socially with the Duncans. Mr. Worthington had never been a
+plain-spoken man, but he had as much as told his son that it was decreed
+that he should marry the heiress of the state. There were other plans
+connected with this. Mr. Worthington meant that his son should eventually
+own the state itself, for he saw that the man who controlled the highways
+of a state could snap his fingers at governor and council and legislature
+and judiciary: could, indeed, do more--could own them even more
+completely than Jethro Bass now owned them, and without effort. The
+dividends would do the work: would canvass the counties and persuade this
+man and that with sufficient eloquence. By such tokens it will be seen
+that Isaac D. Worthington is destined to become great, though the
+greatness will be akin to that possessed by those gentlemen who in past
+ages had built castles across the highway between Venice and the North
+Sea. All this was in store for Bob Worthington, if he could only be
+brought to see it. These things would be given him, if he would but
+confine his worship to the god of wealth.
+
+We are running ahead, however, of Bob's reflections in Mr. Merrill's
+parlor in Mount Vernon Street, and the ceremony of showing him the cities
+of his world from Brampton hill was yet to be gone through. Bob knew his
+father's plans only in a general way, but in the past week he had come to
+know his father with a fair amount of thoroughness. If Isaac D.
+Worthington had but chosen a worldly wife, he might have had a more
+worldly son. As it was, Bob's thoughts were a little bitter when Cynthia
+spoke of his father, and he tried to think instead what his mother would
+have him do. He could not, indeed, speak of Mr. Worthington's
+shortcomings as he understood them, but he answered Cynthia vigorously
+enough--even if his words were not as serious as she desired.
+
+"I tell you I am old enough to judge for myself, Cynthia," said he, "and
+I intend to judge for myself. I don't pretend to be a paragon of virtue,
+but I have a kind of a conscience which tells me when I am doing wrong,
+if I listen to it. I have not always listened to it. It tells me I'm
+doing right now, and I mean to listen to it."
+
+Cynthia could not but think there was very little self-denial attached to
+this. Men are not given largely to self-denial.
+
+"It is easy enough to listen to your conscience when you think it impels
+you to do that which you want to do, Bob," she answered, laughing at his
+argument in spite of herself.
+
+"Are you wicked?" he demanded abruptly.
+
+"Why, no, I don't think I am," said Cynthia, taken aback. But she
+corrected herself swiftly, perceiving his bent. "I should be doing wrong
+to let you come here."
+
+He ignored the qualification.
+
+"Are you vain and frivolous?"
+
+She remembered that she had looked in the glass before she had come down
+to him, and bit her lip.
+
+"Are you given over to idle pursuits, to leading young men from their
+occupations and duties?"
+
+"If you've come here to recite the Blue Laws," said she, laughing again,
+"I have something better to do than to listen to them."
+
+"Cynthia," he cried, "I'll tell you what you are. I'll draw your
+character for you, and then, if you can give me one good reason why I
+should not associate with you, I'll go away and never come back."
+
+"That's all very well," said Cynthia, "but suppose I don't admit your
+qualifications for drawing my character. And I don't admit them, not for
+a minute."
+
+"I will draw it," said he, standing up in front of her. "Oh, confound
+it!"
+
+This exclamation, astonishing and out of place as it was, was caused by a
+ring at the doorbell. The ring was followed by a whispering and giggling
+in the hall, and then by the entrance of the Misses Merrill into the
+parlor. Curiosity had been too strong for them. Susan was human, and here
+was the opportunity for a little revenge. In justice to her, she meant
+the revenge to be very slight.
+
+"Well, Cynthia, you should have come to the concert," she said; "it was
+fine, wasn't it, Jane? Is this Mr. Worthington? How do you do. I'm Miss
+Susan Merrill, and this is Miss Jane Merrill." Susan only intended to
+stay a minute, but how was Bob to know that? She was tempted into staying
+longer. Bob lighted the gas, and she inspected him and approved. Her
+approval increased when he began to talk to her in his bantering way, as
+if he had known her always. Then, when she was fully intending to go, he
+rose to take his leave.
+
+"I'm awfully glad to have met you at last," he said to Susan, "I've heard
+so much about you." His leave-taking of Jane was less effusive, and then
+he turned to Cynthia and took her hand. "I'm going to Brampton on
+Friday," he said, "for the holidays. I wish you were going."
+
+"We couldn't think of letting her go, Mr. Worthington," cried Susan, for
+the thought of the hills had made Cynthia incapable of answering. "We're
+only to have her for one short winter, you know."
+
+"Yes, I know," said Mr. Worthington, gravely. "I'll see old Ephraim, and
+tell him you're well, and what a marvel of learning, you've become.
+And--and I'll go to Coniston if that will please you."
+
+"Oh, no, Bob, you mustn't do anything of the kind," answered Cynthia,
+trying to keep back the tears. "I--I write to Uncle Jethro very often.
+Good-by. I hope you will enjoy your holidays."
+
+"I'm coming to see you the minute I get back and tell you all about
+everybody," said he.
+
+How was she to forbid him to come before Susan and Jane! She could only
+be silent.
+
+"Do come, Mr. Worthington," said Susan, warmly, wondering at Cynthia's
+coldness and, indeed, misinterpreting it. "I am sure she will be glad to
+see you. And we shall always make you welcome, at any rate."
+
+As soon as he was out of the door, Susan became very repentant, and
+slipped her hand about Cynthia's waist.
+
+"We shouldn't have come in at all if we had known he would go so soon,
+indeed we shouldn't, Cynthia." And seeing that Cynthia was still silent,
+she added: "I wouldn't do such a mean thing, Cynthia, I really wouldn't.
+Won't you believe me and forgive me?"
+
+Cynthia scarcely heard her at first. She was thinking of Coniston
+mountain, and how the sun had just set behind it. The mountain would be
+ultramarine against the white fields, and the snow on the hill pastures
+to the east stained red as with wine. What would she not have given to be
+going back to-morrow--yes, with Bob. She confessed--though startled by
+the very boldness of the thought--that she would like to be going there
+with Bob. Susan's appeal brought her back to Boston and the gas-lit
+parlor.
+
+"Forgive you, Susan! There's nothing to forgive. I wanted him to go."
+
+"You wanted him to go?" repeated Susan, amazed. She may be pardoned if
+she did not believe this, but a glance at Cynthia's face scarcely left a
+room for doubt. "Cynthia Wetherell, you're the strangest girl I've ever
+known in all my life. If I had a--a friend" (Susan had another word on
+her tongue) "if I had such a friend as Mr. Worthington, I shouldn't be in
+a hurry to let him leave me. Of course," she added, "I shouldn't let him
+know it."
+
+Cynthia's heart was very heavy during the next few days, heavier by far
+than her friends in Mount Vernon Street imagined. They had grown to love
+her almost as one of themselves, and because of the sympathy which comes
+of such love they guessed that her thoughts would be turning homeward at
+Christmastide. At school she had listened, perforce, to the festival
+plans of thirty girls of her own age; to accounts of the probable
+presents they were to receive, the cost of some of which would support a
+family in Coniston for several months; to arrangements for visits, during
+which there were to be theatre-parties and dances and other gaieties.
+Cynthia could not help wondering, as she listened in silence to this
+talk, whether Uncle Jethro had done wisely in sending her to Miss
+Sadler's; whether she would not have been far happier if she had never
+known about such things.
+
+Then came the last day of school, which began with leave-takings and
+embraces. There were not many who embraced Cynthia, though, had she known
+it, this was largely her own fault. Poor Cynthia! how was she to know it?
+Many more of them than she imagined would have liked to embrace her had
+they believed that the embrace would be returned. Secretly they had grown
+to admire this strange, dark girl, who was too proud to bend for the good
+opinion of any one--even of Miss Sally Broke. Once during the term
+Cynthia had held some of them--in the hollow of her hand, and had
+incurred the severe displeasure of Miss Sadler by refusing to tell what
+she knew of certain mischief-makers.
+
+Now, Miss Sadler was going about among them in the school parlor saying
+good-by, sending particular remembrance to such of the fathers and
+mothers as she thought worthy of that honor; kissing some, shaking, hands
+with all. It was then that a dramatic incident occurred--dramatic for a
+girls' school, at least. Cynthia deliberately turned her back on Miss
+Sadler and looked out of the window. The chatter in the room was hushed,
+and for a moment a dangerous wrath flamed in Miss Sadler's eyes. Then she
+passed on with a smile, to send most particular messages to the mother of
+Miss Isabel Burrage.
+
+Some few moments afterward Cynthia felt a touch on her arm, and turned to
+find herself confronted by Miss Sally Broke. Unfortunately there is not
+much room for Miss Broke in this story, although she may appear in
+another one yet to be written. She was extremely good-looking, with real
+golden hair and mischievous blue eyes. She was, in brief, the leader of
+Miss Sadler's school.
+
+"Cynthia," she said, "I was rude to you when you first came here, and I'm
+sorry for it. I want to beg your pardon." And she held out her hand.
+
+There was a moment's suspense for those watching to see if Cynthia would
+take it. She did take it.
+
+"I'm sorry, too," said Cynthia, simply, "I couldn't see what I'd done to
+offend you. Perhaps you'll explain now."
+
+Miss Broke blushed violently, and for an instant looked decidedly
+uncomfortable. Then she burst into laughter,--merry, irresistible
+laughter that carried all before it.
+
+"I was a snob, that's all," said she, "just a plain, low down snob. You
+don't understand what that means, because you're not one." (Cynthia did
+understand, ) "But I like you, and I want you to be my friend. Perhaps
+when I get to know you better, you will come home with me sometime for a
+visit."
+
+Go home with her for a visit to that house in Washington Square with the
+picture gallery!
+
+"I want to say that I'd give my head to have been able to turn my back on
+Miss Sadler as you did," continued Miss Broke; "if you ever want a
+friend, remember Sally Broke."
+
+Some of Cynthia's trouble, at least, was mitigated by this episode; and
+Miss Broke having led the way, Miss Broke's followers came shyly, one by
+one, with proffers of friendship. To the good-hearted Merrill girls the
+walk home that day was a kind of a triumphal march, a victory over Miss
+Sadler and a vindication of their friend. Mrs. Merrill, when she heard of
+it, could not find it in her heart to reprove Cynthia. Miss Sadler had
+got her just deserts. But Miss Sadler was not a person who was likely to
+forget such an incident. Indeed, Mrs. Merrill half expected to receive a
+note before the holidays ended that Cynthia's presence was no longer
+desired at the school. No such note came, however.
+
+If one had to be away from home on Christmas, there could surely be no
+better place to spend that day than in the Merrill household. Cynthia
+remembers still, when that blessed season comes around, how each member
+of the family vied with the others to make her happy; how they showered
+presents on her, and how they strove to include her in the laughter and
+jokes at the big family dinner. Mr. Merrill's brother was there with his
+wife, and Mrs. Merrill's aunt and her husband, and two broods of cousins.
+It may be well to mention that the Merrill relations, like Sally Broke,
+had overcome their dislike for Cynthia.
+
+There were eatables from Coniston on that board. A turkey sent by Jethro
+for which, Mr. Merrill declared, the table would have to be strengthened;
+a saddle of venison--Lem Hallowell having shot a deer on the mountain two
+Sundays before; and mince-meat made by Amanda Hatch herself. Other
+presents had come to Cynthia from the hills: a gorgeous copy of Mr.
+Longfellow's poems from Cousin Ephraim, and a gold locket from Uncle
+Jethro. This locket was the precise counterpart (had she but known it) of
+a silver one bought at Mr. Judson's shop many years before, though the
+inscription "Cynthy, from Uncle Jethro," was within. Into the other side
+exactly fitted that daguerreotype of her mother which her father had
+given her when he died. The locket had a gold chain with a clasp, and
+Cynthia wore it hidden beneath her gown-too intimate a possession to be
+shown.
+
+There was still another and very mysterious present, this being a huge
+box of roses, addressed to Miss Cynthia Wetherell, which was delivered on
+Christmas morning. If there had been a card, Susan Merrill would
+certainly have found it. There was no card. There was much pretended
+speculation on the part of the Merrill girls as to the sender, sly
+reference to Cynthia's heightened color, and several attempts to pin on
+her dress a bunch of the flowers, and Susan declared that one of them
+would look stunning in her hair. They were put on the dining-room table
+in the centre of the wreath of holly, and under the mistletoe which hung
+from the chandelier. Whether Cynthia surreptitiously stole one has never
+been discovered.
+
+So Christmas came and went: not altogether unhappily, deferring for a day
+at least the knotty problems of life. Although Cynthia accepted the
+present of the roses with such magnificent unconcern, and would not make
+so much as a guess as to who sent them, Mr. Robert Worthington was
+frequently in her thoughts. He had declared his intention of coming to
+Mount Vernon Street as soon as the holidays ended, and had been cordially
+invited by Susan to do so. Cynthia took the trouble to procure a Harvard
+catalogue from the library, and discovered that he had many holidays yet
+to spend. She determined to write another letter, which he would find in
+his rooms when he returned. Just what terrible prohibitory terms she was
+to employ in that letter Cynthia could not decide in a moment, nor yet in
+a day, or a week. She went so far as to make several drafts, some of
+which she destroyed for the fault of leniency, and others for that of
+severity. What was she to say to him? She had expended her arguments to
+no avail. She could wound him, indeed, and at length made up her mind
+that this was the only resource left her, although she would thereby
+wound herself more deeply. When she had arrived at this decision, there
+remained still more than a week in which to compose the letter.
+
+On the morning after New Year's, when the family were assembled around
+the breakfast table, Mrs. Merrill remarked that her husband was
+neglecting a custom which had been his for many years.
+
+"Didn't the newspaper come, Stephen?" she asked.
+
+Mr. Merrill had read it.
+
+"Read it!" repeated his wife, in surprise, "you haven't been down long
+enough to read a column."
+
+"It was full of trash," said Mr. Merrill, lightly, and began on his usual
+jokes with the girls. But Mrs. Merrill was troubled. She thought his
+jokes not as hearty as they were wont to be, and disquieting surmises of
+business worries filled her mind. The fact that he beckoned her into his
+writing room as soon as breakfast was over did not tend to allay her
+suspicions. He closed and locked the door after her, and taking the paper
+from a drawer in his desk bade her read a certain article in it.
+
+The article was an arraignment of Jethro Bass--and a terrible arraignment
+indeed. Step by step it traced his career from the beginning, showing
+first of all how he had debauched his own town of Coniston; how,
+enlarging on the same methods, he had gradually extended his grip over
+the county and finally over the state; how he had bought and sold men for
+his own power and profit, deceived those who had trusted in him,
+corrupted governors and legislators, congressmen and senators, and even
+justices of the courts: how he had trafficked ruthlessly in the
+enterprises of the people. Instance upon instance was given, and men of
+high prominence from whom he had received bribes were named, not the
+least important of these being the Honorable Alva Hopkins of Gosport.
+
+Mrs. Merrill looked up from the paper in dismay.
+
+"It's copied from the Newcastle Guardian," she said, for lack of
+immediate power to comment. "Isn't the Guardian the chief paper in that
+state?"
+
+"Yes, Worthington's bought it, and he instigated the article, of course.
+I've been afraid of this for a long time, Carry," said Mr. Merrill,
+pacing up and down. "There's a bigger fight than they've ever had coming
+on up there, and this is the first gun. Worthington, with Duncan behind
+him, is trying to get possession of and consolidate all the railroads in
+the western part of that state. If he succeeds, it will mean the end of
+Jethro's power. But he won't succeed."
+
+"Stephen," said his wife, "do you mean to say that Jethro Bass will try
+to defeat this consolidation simply to keep his power?"
+
+"Well, my dear," answered Mr. Merrill, still pacing, "two wrongs don't
+make a right, I admit. I've known these things a long time, and I've
+thought about them a good deal. But I've had to run along with the tide,
+or give place to another man who would; and--and starve."
+
+Mrs. Merrill's eyes slowly filled with tears.
+
+"Stephen," she began, "do you mean to say--?" There she stopped, utterly
+unable to speak. He ceased his pacing and sat down beside her and took
+her hand.
+
+"Yes, my dear, I mean to say I've submitted to these things. God knows
+whether I've been right or wrong, but I have. I've often thought I'd be
+happier if I resigned my office as president of my road and became a
+clerk in a store. I don't attempt to excuse myself, Carry, but my sin has
+been in holding on to my post. As long as I remain president I have to
+cope with things as I find them."
+
+Mr. Merrill spoke thickly, for the sight of his wife's tears wrung his
+heart.
+
+"Stephen," she said, "when we were first married and you were a district
+superintendent, you used to tell me everything."
+
+Stephen Merrill was a man, and a good man, as men go. How was he to tell
+her the degrees by which he had been led into his present situation? How
+was he to explain that these degrees had been so gradual that his
+conscience had had but a passing wrench here and there? Politics being
+what they were, progress and protection had to be obtained in accordance
+with them, and there was a duty to the holders of bonds and stocks.
+
+His wife had a question on her lips, a question for which she had to
+summon all her courage. She chose that form for it which would hurt him
+least.
+
+"Mr. Worthington is going to try to change these things?"
+
+Mr. Merrill roused himself at the words, and his eyes flashed. He became
+a different man.
+
+"Change them!" he cried bitterly, "change them for the worse, if he can.
+He will try to wrest the power from Jethro Bass. I don't defend him. I
+don't defend myself. But I like Jethro Bass. I won't deny it. He's human,
+and I like him, and whatever they say about him I know that he's been a
+true friend to me. And I tell you as I hope for happiness here and
+hereafter, that if Worthington succeeds in what he is trying to do, if
+the railroads win in this fight, there will be no mercy for the people of
+that state. I'm a railroad man myself, though I have no interest in this
+affair. My turn may come later. Will come later, I suppose. Isaac D.
+Worthington has a very little heart or soul or mercy himself; but the
+corporation which he means to set up will have none at all. It will grind
+the people and debase them and clog their progress a hundred times more
+than Jethro Bass has done. Mark my words, Carry. I'm running ahead of the
+times a little, but I can see it all as clearly as if it existed now."
+
+Mrs. Merrill went about her duties that morning with a heavy heart, and
+more than once she paused to wipe away a tear that would have fallen on
+the linen she was sorting. At eleven o'clock the doorbell rang, and Ellen
+appeared at the entrance to the linen closet with a card in her hand.
+Mrs. Merrill looked at it with a, flurry of surprise. It read:--
+
+           MISS LUCRETIA PENNIMAN
+
+            The Woman's Hour
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+It was certainly affinity that led Miss Lucretia to choose the rosewood
+sofa of a bygone age, which was covered with horsehair. Miss Lucretia's
+features seemed to be constructed on a larger and more generous principle
+than those of women are nowadays. Her face was longer. With her curls and
+her bonnet and her bombazine,--which she wore in all seasons,--she was in
+complete harmony with the sofa. She had thrown aside the storm cloak
+which had become so familiar to pedestrians in certain parts of Boston.
+
+"My dear Miss Penniman," said Mrs. Merrill, "I am delighted and honored.
+I scarcely hoped for such a pleasure. I have so long admired you and your
+work, and I have heard Cynthia speak of you so kindly."
+
+"It is very good of you to say so, Mrs. Merrill" answered Miss Lucretia,
+in her full, deep voice. It was by no means an unpleasant voice. She
+settled herself, though she sat quite upright, in the geometrical centre
+of the horsehair sofa, and cleared her throat. "To be quite honest with
+you, Mrs. Merrill," she continued, "I came upon particular errand, though
+I believe it would not be a perversion of the truth if I were to add that
+I have had for a month past every intention of paying you a friendly
+call."
+
+Good Mrs. Merrill's breath was a little taken away by this extremely
+scrupulous speech. She also began to feel a misgiving about the cause of
+the visit, but she managed to say something polite in reply.
+
+"I have come about Cynthia," announced Miss Lucretia, without further
+preliminaries.
+
+"About Cynthia?" faltered Mrs. Merrill.
+
+Miss Lucretia opened a reticule at her waist and drew forth a newspaper
+clipping, which she unfolded and handed to Mrs. Merrill.
+
+"Have you seen this?" she demanded.
+
+Mrs. Merrill took it, although she guessed very well what it was, glanced
+at it with a shudder, and handed it back.
+
+"Yes, I have read it," she said.
+
+"I have come to ask you, Mrs. Merrill" said Miss Lucretia, "if it is
+true."
+
+Here was a question, indeed, for the poor lady to answer! But Mrs.
+Merrill was no coward.
+
+"It is partly true, I believe."
+
+"Partly?" said Miss Lucretia, sharply.
+
+"Yes, partly," said Mrs. Merrill, rousing herself for the trial; "I have
+never yet seen a newspaper article which was wholly true."
+
+"That is because newspapers are not edited by women," observed Miss
+Lucretia. "What I wish you to tell me, Mrs. Merrill, is this: how much of
+that article is true, and how much of it is false?"
+
+"Really, Miss Penniman," replied Mrs. Merrill, with spirit, "I don't see
+why you should expect me to know."
+
+"A woman should take an intelligent interest in her husband's affairs,
+Mrs. Merrill. I have long advocated it as an entering wedge."
+
+"An entering wedge!" exclaimed Mrs. Merrill, who had never read a page of
+the Woman's Hour.
+
+"Yes. Your husband is the president of a railroad, I believe, which is
+largely in that state. I should like to ask him whether these statements
+are true in the main. Whether this Jethro Bass is the kind of man they
+declare him to be."
+
+Mrs. Merrill was in a worse quandary than ever. Her own spirits were none
+too good, and Miss Lucretia's eye, in its search for truth, seemed to
+pierce into her very soul. There was no evading that eye. But Mrs.
+Merrill did what few people would have had the courage or good sense to
+do.
+
+"That is a political article, Miss Penniman," she said, "inspired by a
+bitter enemy of Jethro Bass, Mr, Worthington, who has bought the
+newspaper from which it was copied. For that reason, I was right in
+saying that it is partly true. You nor I, Miss Penniman, must not be the
+judges of any man or woman, for we know nothing of their problems or
+temptations. God will judge them. We can only say that they have acted
+rightly or wrongly according to the light that is in us. You will find it
+difficult to get a judgment of Jethro Bass that is not a partisan
+judgment, and yet I believe that that article is in the main a history of
+the life of Jethro Bass. A partisan history, but still a history. He has
+unquestionably committed many of the acts of which he is accused."
+
+Here was talk to make the author of the "Hymn to Coniston" sit up, if she
+hadn't been sitting up already.
+
+"And don't you condemn him for those acts?" she gasped.
+
+"Ah," said Mrs. Merrill, thinking of her own husband. Yesterday she would
+certainly have condemned. Jethro Bass. But now! "I do not condemn
+anybody, Miss Penniman."
+
+Miss Lucretia thought this extraordinary, to say the least.
+
+"I will put the question in another way, Mrs. Merrill," said she. "Do you
+think this Jethro Bass a proper guardian for Cynthia Wetherell?"
+
+To her amazement Mrs. Merrill did not give her an instantaneous answer to
+this question. Mrs. Merrill was thinking of Jethro's love for the girl,
+manifold evidences of which she had seen, and her heart was filled with a
+melting pity. It was such a love, Mrs. Merrill knew, as is not given to
+many here below. And there was Cynthia's love for him. Mrs. Merrill had
+suffered that morning thinking of this tragedy also.
+
+"I do not think he is a proper guardian for her, Miss Penniman."
+
+It was then that the tears came to Mrs. Merrill's eyes for there is a
+limit to all human endurance. The sight of these caused a remarkable
+change in Miss Lucretia, and she leaned forward and seized Mrs. Merrill's
+arm.
+
+"My dear," she cried, "my dear, what are we to do? Cynthia can't go back
+to that man. She loves him, I know, she loves him as few girls are
+capable of loving. But when she, finds out what he is! When she finds out
+how he got the money to support her father!" Miss Lucretia fumbled in her
+reticule and drew forth a handkerchief and brushed her own eyes--eyes
+which a moment ago were so piercing. "I have seen many young women," she
+continued; "but I have known very few who were made of as fine a fibre
+and who have such principles as Cynthia Wetherell."
+
+"That is very true," assented Mrs. Merrill too much cast down to be
+amazed by this revelation of Miss Lucretia's weakness.
+
+"But what are we to do?" insisted that lady; "who is to tell her what he
+is? How is it to be kept from her, indeed?"
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Merrill, "there will be more, articles. Mr. Merrill says
+so. It seems there is to be a great political struggle in that state."
+
+"Precisely," said Miss Lucretia, sadly. "And whoever tells the girl will
+forfeit her friendship. I--I am very fond of her," and here she applied
+again to the reticule.
+
+"Whom would she believe?" asked Mrs. Merrill, whose estimation of Miss
+Lucretia was increasing by leaps and bounds.
+
+"Precisely," agreed Miss Lucretia. "But she must hear about it sometime."
+
+"Wouldn't it be better to let her hear?" suggested Mrs. Merrill; "we
+cannot very well soften that shock: I talked the matter over a little
+with Mr. Merrill, and he thinks that we must take time over it, Miss
+Penniman. Whatever we do, we must not act hastily."
+
+"Well," said Miss Lucretia, "as I said, I am very fond of the girl, and I
+am willing to do my duty, whatever it may be. And I also wished to say,
+Mrs. Merrill, that I have thought about another matter very carefully. I
+am willing to provide for the girl. I am getting too old to live alone. I
+am getting too old, indeed, to do my work properly, as I used to do it. I
+should like to have her to live with me."
+
+"She has become as one of my own daughters," said Mrs. Merrill. Yet she
+knew that this offer of Miss Lucretia's was not one to be lightly set
+aside, and that it might eventually be the best solution of the problem.
+After some further earnest discussion it was agreed between them that the
+matter was, if possible, to be kept from Cynthia for the present, and
+when Miss Lucretia departed Mrs. Merrill promised her an early return of
+her call.
+
+Mrs. Merrill had another talk with her husband, which lasted far into the
+night. This talk was about Cynthia alone, and the sorrow which threatened
+her. These good people knew that it would be no light thing to break the
+faith of such as she, and they made her troubles their own.
+
+Cynthia little guessed as she exchanged raillery with Mr. Merrill the
+next morning that he had risen fifteen minutes earlier than usual to
+search his newspaper through. He would read no more at breakfast, so he
+declared in answer to his daughters' comments; it was a bad habit which
+did not agree with his digestion. It was something new for Mr. Merrill to
+have trouble with his digestion.
+
+There was another and scarcely less serious phase of the situation which
+Mr. and Mrs. Merrill had yet to discuss between them--a phase of which
+Miss Lucretia Penniman knew nothing.
+
+The day before Miss Sadler's school was to reopen nearly a week before
+the Harvard term was to commence--a raging, wet snowstorm came charging
+in from the Atlantic. Snow had no terrors for a Coniston person, and
+Cynthia had been for her walk. Returning about five o'clock, she was
+surprised to have the door opened for her by Susan herself.
+
+"What a picture you are in those furs!" she cried, with an intention
+which for the moment was lost upon Cynthia. "I thought you would never
+come. You must have walked to Dedham this time. Who do you think is here?
+Mr. Worthington."
+
+"Mr. Worthington!"
+
+"I have been trying to entertain him, but I am afraid I have been a very
+poor substitute. However, I have persuaded him to stay for supper."
+
+"It needed but little persuasion," said Bob, appearing in the doorway.
+All the snowstorms of the wide Atlantic could not have brought such color
+to her cheeks. Cynthia, for all her confusion at the meeting, had not
+lost her faculty of observation. He seemed to have changed again, even
+during the brief time he had been absent. His tone was grave.
+
+"He needs to be cheered up, Cynthia," Susan went on, as though reading
+her thoughts. "I have done my best, without success. He won't confess to
+me that he has come back to make up some of his courses. I don't mind
+owning that I've got to finish a theme to be handed in tomorrow."
+
+With these words Susan departed, and left them standing in the hall
+together. Bob took hold of Cynthia's jacket and helped her off with it.
+He could read neither pleasure nor displeasure in her face, though he
+searched it anxiously enough. It was she who led the way into the parlor
+and seated herself, as before, on one of the uncompromising,
+straight-backed chairs. Whatever inward tremors the surprise of this
+visit had given her, she looked at him clearly and steadily, completely
+mistress of herself, as ever.
+
+"I thought your holidays did not end until next week," she said.
+
+"They do not."
+
+"Then why are you here?"
+
+"Because I could not stay away, Cynthia," he answered. It was not the
+manner in which he would have said it a month ago. There was a note of
+intense earnestness in his voice--now, and to it she could make no light
+reply. Confronted again with an unexpected situation, she could not
+decide at once upon a line of action.
+
+"When did you leave Brampton?" she asked, to gain time. But with the
+words her thoughts flew to the hill country.
+
+"This morning," he said, "on the early train. They have three feet of
+snow up there." He, too, seemed glad of a respite from something.
+"They're having a great fuss in Brampton about a new teacher for the
+village school. Miss Goddard has got married. Did you know Miss Goddard,
+the lanky one with the glasses?"
+
+"Yes," said Cynthia, beginning to be amused at the turn the conversation
+was taking.
+
+"Well, they can't find anybody smart enough to replace Miss Goddard. Old
+Ezra Graves, who's on the prudential committee, told Ephraim they ought
+to get you. I was in the post-office when they were talking about it.
+Just see what a reputation for learning you have in Brampton!"
+
+Cynthia was plainly pleased by the compliment.
+
+"How is Cousin Eph?" she asked.
+
+"Happy as a lark," said Bob, "the greatest living authority in New
+England on the Civil War. He's made the post-office the most popular
+social club I ever saw. If anybody's missing in Brampton, you can nearly
+always find them in the post-office. But I smiled at the notion of your
+being a school ma'am."
+
+"I don't see anything so funny about it," replied Cynthia, smiling too.
+"Why shouldn't I be? I should like it."
+
+"You were made for something different," he answered quietly.
+
+It was a subject she did not choose to discuss with him, and dropped her
+lashes before the plainly spoken admiration in his eyes. So a silence
+fell between them, broken only by the ticking of the agate clock on the
+mantel and the music of sleigh-bells in a distant street. Presently the
+sleigh-bells died away, and it seemed to Cynthia that the sound of her
+own heartbeats must be louder than the ticking of the clock. Her tact had
+suddenly deserted her; without reason, and she did not dare to glance
+again at Bob as he sat under the lamp. That minute--for it was a full
+minute--was charged with a presage which she could not grasp. Cynthia's
+instincts were very keen. She understood, of course, that he had cut
+short his holiday to come to see her, and she might have dealt with him
+had that been all. But--through that sixth sense with which some women
+are endowed--she knew that something troubled him. He, too, had never yet
+been at a loss for words.
+
+The silence forced him to speak first, and he tried to restore the light
+tone to the conversation.
+
+"Cousin Ephraim gave me a piece of news," he said. "Ezra Graves got it,
+too. He told us you were down in Boston at a fashionable school. Cousin
+Ephraim knows a thing or two. He says he always callated you were cut out
+for a fine lady."
+
+"Bob," said Cynthia, nerving herself for the ordeal, "did you tell Cousin
+Ephraim you had seen me?"
+
+"I told him and Ezra that I had been a constant and welcome visitor at
+this house."
+
+"Did, you tell your father that you had seen me?"
+
+This was too serious a question to avoid.
+
+"No, I did not. There was no reason why I should have."
+
+"There was every reason," said Cynthia, "and you know it. Did you tell
+him why you came to Boston to-day?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Why does he think you came?"
+
+"He doesn't think anything about it," said Bob. "He went off to Chicago
+yesterday to attend a meeting of the board of directors of a western
+railroad."
+
+"And so," she said reproachfully, "you slipped off as soon as his back
+was turned. I would not have believed that of you, Bob. Do you think that
+was fair to him or me?"
+
+Bob Worthington sprang to his feet and stood over her. She had spoken to
+a boy, but she had aroused a man, and she felt an amazing thrill at the
+result. The muscles in his face tightened, and deepened the lines about
+his mouth, and a fire was lighted about his eyes.
+
+"Cynthia," he said slowly, "even you shall not speak to me like that. If
+I had believed it were right, if I had believed that it would have done
+any good to you or me, I should have told my father the moment I got to
+Brampton. In affairs of this kind--in a matter of so much importance in
+my life," he continued, choosing his words carefully, "I am likely to
+know whether I am doing right or wrong. If my mother were alive, I am
+sure that she would approve of this--this friendship."
+
+Having got so far, he paused. Cynthia felt that she was trembling, as
+though the force and feeling that was in him had charged her also.
+
+"I did not intend to come so soon," he went on, "but--I had a reason for
+coming. I knew that you did not want me."
+
+"You know that that is not true, Bob," she faltered. His next words
+brought her to her feet.
+
+"Cynthia," he said, in a voice shaken by the intensity of his passion, "I
+came because I love you better than all the world--because I always will
+love you so. I came to protect you, and care for you whatever happens. I
+did not mean to tell you so, now. But it cannot matter, Cynthia!"
+
+He seized her, roughly indeed, in his arms, but his very roughness was a
+proof of the intensity of his love. For an instant she lay palpitating
+against him, and as long as he lives he will remember the first exquisite
+touch of her firm but supple figure and the marvellous communion of her
+lips. A current from the great store that was in her, pent up and all
+unknown, ran through him, and then she had struggled out of his arms and
+fled, leaving him standing alone in the parlor.
+
+It is true that such things happen, and no man or woman may foretell the
+day or the hour thereof. Cynthia fled up the stairs, miraculously
+arriving unnoticed at her own room, and locked the door and flung herself
+on the bed.
+
+Tears came--tears of shame, of joy, of sorrow, of rejoicing, of regret;
+tears that burned, and yet relieved her, tears that pained while they
+comforted. Had she sinned beyond the pardon of heaven, or had she
+committed a supreme act of right? One moment she gloried in it, and the
+next upbraided herself bitterly. Her heart beat with tumult, and again
+seemed to stop. Such, though the words but faintly describe them, were
+her feelings, for thoughts were still to emerge out of chaos. Love comes
+like a flame to few women, but so it came to Cynthia Wetherell, and
+burned out for a while all reason.
+
+Only for a while. Generations which had practised self-restraint were
+strong in her--generations accustomed, too, to thinking out, so far as in
+them lay, the logical consequences of their acts; generations ashamed of
+these very instants when nature has chosen to take command. After a time
+had passed, during which the world might have shuffled from its course,
+Cynthia sat up in the darkness. How was she ever to face the light again?
+Reason had returned.
+
+So she sat for another space, and thought of what she had done--thought
+with a surprising calmness now which astonished her. Then she thought of
+what she would do, for there was an ordeal still to be gone through.
+Although she shrank from it, she no longer lacked the courage to endure
+it. Certain facts began to stand out clearly from the confusion. The
+least important and most immediate of these was that she would have to
+face him, and incidentally face the world in the shape of the Merrill
+family, at supper. She rose mechanically and lighted the gas and bathed
+her face and changed her gown. Then she heard Susan's voice at the door.
+
+"Cynthia, what in the world are you doing?"
+
+Cynthia opened the door and the sisters entered. Was it possible that
+they did not read her terrible secret in her face? Apparently not. Susan
+was busy commenting on the qualities and peculiarities of Mr. Robert
+Worthington, and showering upon Cynthia a hundred questions which she
+answered she knew not how; but neither Susan nor Jane, wonderful as it
+may seem, betrayed any suspicion. Did he send the flowers? Cynthia had
+not asked him. Did he want to know whether she read the newspapers? He
+had asked Susan that, before Cynthia came. Susan was ready to repeat the
+whole of her conversation with him. Why did he seem so particular about
+newspapers? Had he notions that girls ought not to read them?
+
+The significance of Bob's remarks about newspapers was lost upon Cynthia
+then. Not till afterward did she think of them, or connect them with his
+unexpected visit. Then the supper bell rang, and they went downstairs.
+
+The reader will be spared Mr. Worthington's feelings after Cynthia left
+him, although they were intense enough, and absorbing and far-reaching
+enough. He sat down on a chair and buried his head in his hands. His
+impulse had been to leave the house and return again on the morrow, but
+he remembered that he had been asked to stay for supper, and that such a
+proceeding would cause comment. At length he got up and stood before the
+fire, his thoughts still above the clouds, and it was thus that Mr.
+Merrill found him when he entered.
+
+"Good evening," said that gentleman, genially, not knowing in the least
+who Bob was, but prepossessed in his favor by the way he came forward and
+shook his hand and looked him clearly in the eye.
+
+"I'm Robert Worthington, Mr. Merrill" said he.
+
+"Eh!" Mr. Merrill gasped, "eh! Oh, certainly, how do you do, Mr.
+Worthington?" Mr. Merrill would have been polite to a tax collector or a
+sheriff. He separated the office from the man, which ought not always to
+be done. "I'm glad to see you, Mr. Worthington. Well, well, bad storm,
+isn't it? I had an idea the college didn't open until next week."
+
+"Mr. Worthington's going to stay for supper, Papa," said Susan, entering.
+
+"Good!" cried Mr. Merrill. "Capital! You won't miss the old folks after
+supper, will you, girls? Your mother wants me to go to a whist party."
+
+"It can't be helped, Carry," said Mr. Merrill to his wife, as they walked
+up the hill to a neighbor's that evening.
+
+"He's in love with Cynthia," said Mrs. Merrill, somewhat sadly; "it's as
+plain as the nose on your face, Stephen."
+
+"That isn't very plain. Suppose he is! You can dam a mountain stream, but
+you can't prevent it reaching the sea, as we used to say when I was a boy
+in Edmundton. I like Bob," said Mr. Merrill, with his usual weakness for
+Christian names, "and he isn't any more like Dudley Worthington than I
+am. If you were to ask me, I'd say he couldn't do a better thing than
+marry Cynthia."
+
+"Stephen!" exclaimed Mrs. Merrill. But in her heart she thought so, too.
+"What will Mr. Worthington say when he hears the young man has been
+coming to our house to see her?"
+
+Mr. Merrill had been thinking of that very thing, but with more amusement
+than concern.
+
+To return to Mr. Merrill's house, the three girls and the one young man
+were seated around the fire, and their talk, Merrill as it had begun, was
+becoming minute by minute more stilted. This was largely the fault of
+Susan, who would not be happy until she had taken Jane upstairs and left
+Mr. Worthington and Cynthia together. This matter had been arranged
+between the sisters before supper. Susan found her opening at last, and
+upbraided Jane for her unfinished theme; Jane, having learned her lesson
+well, accused Susan. But Cynthia, who saw through the ruse, declared that
+both themes were finished. Susan, naturally indignant at such
+ingratitude, denied this. The manoeuvre, in short, was executed very
+clumsily and very obviously, but executed nevertheless--the sisters
+marching out of the room under a fire of protests. The reader, too, will
+no doubt think it a very obvious manoeuvre, but some things are managed
+badly in life as well as in books.
+
+Cynthia and Bob were left alone: left, moreover, in mortal terror of each
+other. It is comparatively easy to open the door of a room and rush into
+a lady's arms if the lady be willing and alone. But to be abandoned, as
+Susan had abandoned them, and with such obvious intent, creates quite a
+different atmosphere. Bob had dared to hope for such an opportunity: had
+made up his mind during supper, while striving to be agreeable, just what
+he would do if the opportunity came. Instead, all he could do was to sit
+foolishly in his chair and look at the coals, not so much as venturing to
+turn his head until the sound of footsteps had died away on the upper
+floors. It was Cynthia who broke the silence and took command--a very
+different Cynthia from the girl who had thrown herself on the bed not
+three hours before. She did not look at him, but stared with
+determination into the fire.
+
+"Bob, you must go," she said.
+
+"Go!" he cried. Her voice loosed the fetters of his passion, and he dared
+to seize the band that lay on the arm of her chair. She did not resist
+this.
+
+"Yes, you must go. You should not have stayed for supper."
+
+"Cynthia," he said, "how can I leave you? I will not leave you."
+
+"But you can and must," she replied.
+
+"Why?" he asked, looking at her in dismay.
+
+"You know the reason," she answered.
+
+"Know it?" he cried. "I know why I should stay. I know that I love you
+with my whole heart and soul. I know that I love you as few men have ever
+loved--and that you are the one woman among millions who can inspire such
+a love."
+
+"No, Bob, no," she said, striving hard to keep her head, withdrawing her
+hand that it might not betray the treason of her lips. Aware, strange as
+it may seem, of the absurdity of the source of what she was to say, for a
+trace of a smile was about her mouth as she gazed at the coals. "You will
+get over this. You are not yet out of college, and many such fancies
+happen there."
+
+For the moment he was incapable of speaking, incapable of finding an
+answer sufficiently emphatic. How was he to tell her of the rocks upon
+which his love was built?
+
+How was he to declare that the very perils which threatened her had made
+a man of him, with all of a man's yearning to share these perils and
+shield her from them? How was he to speak at all of those perils? He did
+not declaim, yet when he spoke, an enduring sincerity which she could not
+deny was in his voice.
+
+"You know in your heart that what you say is not true, Cynthia. Whatever
+happens, I shall always love you."
+
+Whatever happens: She shuddered at the words, reminding her as they did
+of all her vague misgivings and fears.
+
+"Whatever happens!" she found herself repeating them involuntarily.
+
+"Yes, whatever happens I will love you truly and faithfully. I will never
+desert you, never deny you, as long as I live. And you love me, Cynthia,"
+he cried, "you love me, I know it."
+
+"No, no," she answered, her breath coming fast. He was on his feet now,
+dangerously near her, and she rose swiftly to avoid him.
+
+She turned her head, that he might not read the denial in her eyes; and
+yet had to look at him again, for he was coming toward her quickly.
+"Don't touch me," she said, "don't touch me."
+
+He stopped, and looked at her so pitifully that she could scarce keep
+back her tears.
+
+"You do love me," he repeated.
+
+So they stood for a moment, while Cynthia made a supreme effort to speak
+calmly.
+
+"Listen, Bob," she said at last, "if you ever wish to see me again, you
+must do as I say. You must write to your father, and tell him what you
+have done and--and what you wish to do. You may come to me and tell me
+his answer, but you must not come to me before." She would have said
+more, but her strength was almost gone. Yes, and more would have implied
+a promise or a concession. She would not bind herself even by a hint. But
+of this she was sure: that she would not be the means of wrecking his
+opportunities. "And now--you must go."
+
+He stayed where he was, though his blood leaped within him, his
+admiration and respect for the girl outran his passion. Robert
+Worthington was a gentleman.
+
+"I will do as you say, Cynthia," he answered, "but I am doing it for you.
+Whatever my father's reply may be will not change my love or my
+intentions. For I am determined that you shall be my wife."
+
+With these words, and one long, lingering look, he turned and left her.
+He had lacked the courage to speak of his father's bitterness and
+animosity. Who will blame him? Cynthia thought none the less of him for
+not telling her. There was, indeed, no need now to describe Dudley
+Worthington's feelings.
+
+When the door had closed she stoke to the window, and listened to his
+footfalls in the snow until she heard them no more.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Coniston, Book III., by Winston Churchill
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+Project Gutenberg Etext Coniston, by Winston Churchill, Volume 3
+#16 in our series by this Winston Churchill
+
+This author is a cousin of Sir Winston Churchill the Prime Minister
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+Title: Coniston by Winston Churchill, v3
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+Author: Winston Churchill (a cousin of Sir Winston Churchill)
+
+Official Release Date: February, 2003  [Etext #3764]
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+Project Gutenberg Etext Coniston, by Winston Churchill, Volume 3
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+Note: This author is a cousin of Sir Winston Churchill the Prime Minister
+
+
+
+
+CONISTON
+
+
+BOOK III
+
+
+                              CHAPTER I
+
+One day, in the November following William Wetherell's death, Jethro Bass
+astonished Coniston by moving to the little cottage in the village which
+stood beside the disused tannery, and which had been his father's.  It
+was known as the tannery house.  His reasons for this step, when at
+length discovered, were generally commended: they were, in fact, a
+disinclination to leave a girl of Cynthia's tender age alone on Thousand
+Acre Hill while he journeyed on his affairs about the country.  The Rev.
+Mr. Satterlee, gaunt, red-faced, but the six feet of him a man and a
+Christian, from his square-toed boots to the bleaching yellow hair around
+his temples, offered to become her teacher.  For by this time Cynthia had
+exhausted the resources of the little school among the birches.
+
+The four years of her life in the tannery house which are now briefly to
+be chronicled were, for her, full of happiness and peace.  Though the
+young may sorrow, they do not often mourn.  Cynthia missed her father; at
+times, when the winds kept her wakeful at night, she wept for him.  But
+she loved Jethro Bass and served him with a devotion that filled his
+heart with strange ecstasies--yes, and forebodings.  In all his existence
+he had never known a love like this.  He may have imagined it once, back
+in the bright days of his youth; but the dreams of its fulfilment had
+fallen far short of the exquisite touch of the reality in which he now
+spent his days at home.  In summer, when she sat, in the face of all the
+conventions of the village, reading under the butternut tree before the
+house, she would feel his eyes upon her, and the mysterious yearning in
+them would startle her.  Often during her lessons with Mr. Satterlee in
+the parlor of the parsonage she would hear a noise outside and perceive
+Jethro leaning against the pillar.  Both Cynthia and Mr. Satterlee knew
+that he was there, and both, by a kind of tacit agreement, ignored the
+circumstance.
+
+Cynthia, in this period, undertook Jethro's education, too.  She could
+have induced him to study the making of Latin verse by the mere asking.
+During those days which he spent at home, and which he had grown to value
+beyond price, he might have been seen seated on the ground with his back
+to the butternut tree while Cynthia read aloud from the well-worn books
+which had been her father's treasures, books that took on marvels of
+meaning from her lips.  Cynthia's powers of selection were not remarkable
+at this period, and perhaps it was as well that she never knew the effect
+of the various works upon the hitherto untamed soul of her listener.
+Milton and Tennyson and Longfellow awoke in him by their very music
+troubled and half-formed regrets; Carlyle's "Frederick the Great" set up
+tumultuous imaginings; but the "Life of Jackson" (as did the story of
+Napoleon long ago) stirred all that was masterful in his blood. Unlettered
+as he was, Jethro had a power which often marks the American of action--
+a singular grasp of the application of any sentence or paragraph to his
+own life; and often, about this time, he took away the breath of a judge
+or a senator by flinging at them a chunk of Carlyle or Parton.
+
+It was perhaps as well that Cynthia was not a woman at this time, and
+that she had grown up with him, as it were.  His love, indeed, was that
+of a father for a daughter; but it held within it as a core the revived
+love of his youth for Cynthia, her mother.  Tender as were the
+manifestations of this love, Cynthia never guessed the fires within, for
+there was in truth something primeval in the fierceness of his passion.
+She was his now--his alone, to cherish and sweeten the declining years
+of his life, and when by a chance Jethro looked upon her and thought of
+the suitor who was to come in the fulness of her years, he burned with a
+hatred which it is given few men to feel.  It was well for Jethro that
+these thoughts came not often.
+
+Sometimes, in the summer afternoons, they took long drives through the
+town behind Jethro's white horse on business.  "Jethro's gal," as Cynthia
+came to be affectionately called, held the reins while Jethro went in to
+talk to the men folk.  One August evening found Cynthia thus beside a
+poplar in front of Amos Cuthbert's farmhouse, a poplar that shimmered
+green-gold in the late afternoon, and from the buggy-seat Cynthia looked
+down upon a thousand purple hilltops and mountain peaks of another state.
+The view aroused in the girl visions of the many wonders which life was
+to hold, and she did not hear the sharp voice beside her until the woman
+had spoken twice.  Jethro came out in the middle of the conversation,
+nodded to Mrs. Cuthbert, and drove off.
+
+"Uncle Jethro," asked Cynthia, presently, "what is a mortgage?"
+
+Jethro struck the horse with the whip, an uncommon action with him, and
+the buggy was jerked forward sharply over the boulders.
+
+"Er--who's b'en talkin' about mortgages, Cynthy?" he demanded.
+
+"Mrs. Cuthbert said that when folks had mortgage held over them they had
+to take orders whether they liked them or not.  She said that Amos had to
+do what you told him because there was a mortgage.  That isn't so is it?"
+
+Jethro did not speak.  Presently Cynthia laid her hand over his.
+
+"Mrs. Cuthbert is a spiteful woman," she said.  "I know the reason why
+people obey you--it's because you're so great.  And Daddy used to tell me
+so."
+
+A tremor shook Jethro's frame and the hand on which hers rested, and all
+the way down the mountain valleys to Coniston village he did not speak
+again.  But Cynthia was used to his silences, and respected them.
+
+To Ephraim Prescott, who, as the days went on, found it more and more
+difficult to sew harness on account of his rheumatism, Jethro was not
+only a great man but a hero.  For Cynthia was vaguely troubled at having
+found one discontent.  She was wont to entertain Ephraim on the days when
+his hands failed him, when he sat sunning himself before his door; and
+she knew that he was honest.
+
+"Who's b'en talkin' to you, Cynthia?" he cried.  "Why, Jethro's the
+biggest man I know, and the best.  I don't like to think where some of us
+would have b'en if he hadn't given us a lift."
+
+"But he has enemies, Cousin Eph," said Cynthia, still troubled.
+"What great man hain't?" exclaimed the soldier.  "Jethro's enemies hain't
+worth thinkin' about."
+
+The thought that Jethro had enemies was very painful to Cynthia, and she
+wanted to know who they were that she might show them a proper contempt
+if she met them.  Lem Hallowell brushed aside the subject with his usual
+bluff humor, and pinched her cheek and told her not to trouble her head;
+Amanda Hatch dwelt upon the inherent weakness in the human race, and the
+Rev. Mr. Satterlee faced the question once, during a history lesson.  The
+nation's heroes came into inevitable comparison with Jethro Bass.  Was
+Washington so good a man? and would not Jethro have been as great as the
+Father of his Country if he had had the opportunities?
+
+The answers sorely tried Mr. Satterlee's conscience, albeit he was not a
+man of the world.  It set him thinking.  He liked Jethro, this man of
+rugged power whose word had become law in the state.  He knew best that
+side of him which Cynthia saw; and--if the truth be told--as a native of
+Coniston Mr. Satterlee felt in the bottom of his heart a certain pride in
+Jethro.  The minister's opinions well represented the attitude of his
+time.  He had not given thought to the subject--for such matters had came
+to be taken for granted.  A politician now was a politician, his ways and
+standards set apart from those of other citizens, and not to be judged by
+men without the pale of public life.  Mr. Satterlee in his limited vision
+did not then trace the matter to its source, did not reflect that Jethro
+Bass himself was almost wholly responsible in that state for the
+condition of politics and politicians.  Coniston was proud of Jethro,
+prouder of him than ever since his last great victory in the Legislature,
+which brought the Truro Railroad through to Harwich and settled their
+townsman more firmly than ever before in the seat of power.  Every
+statesman who drove into their little mountain village and stopped at
+the tannery house made their blood beat faster.  Senators came, and
+representatives, and judges, and governors, "to git their orders," as
+Rias Richardson briefly put it, and Jethro could make or unmake them at
+a word.  Each was scanned from the store where Rias now reigned supreme,
+and from the harness shop across the road.  Some drove away striving to
+bite from their lips the tell-tale smile which arose in spite of them;
+others tried to look happy, despite the sentence of doom to which they
+had listened.
+
+Jethro Bass was indeed a great man to make such as these tremble or
+rejoice.  When he went abroad with Cynthia awheel or afoot, some took off
+their hats--an unheard-of thing in Coniston.  If he stopped at the store,
+they scanned his face for the mood he was in before venturing their
+remarks; if he lingered for a moment in front of the house of Amanda
+Hatch, the whole village was advised of the circumstance before
+nightfall.
+
+Two personages worthy of mention here visited the tannery house during
+the years that Cynthia lived with Jethro.  The Honorable Heth Sutton
+drove over from Clovelly attended by his prime minister, Mr. Bijah Bixby.
+The Honorable Heth did not attempt to conceal the smile with which he
+went away, and he stopped at the store long enough to enable Rias to
+produce certain refreshments from depths unknown to the United States
+Internal Revenue authorities.  Mr. Sutton shook hands with everybody,
+including Jake Wheeler.  Well he might.  He came to Coniston a private
+citizen, and drove away to all intents and purposes a congressman: the
+darling wish of his life realized after heaven knows how many caucuses
+and conventions of disappointment, when Jethro had judged it expedient
+for one reason or another that a north countryman should go.  By the time
+the pair reached Brampton, Chamberlain Bixby was introducing his chief as
+Congressman Sutton, and by this title he was known for many years to
+come.
+
+Another day, when the snow lay in great billows on the ground and filled
+the mountain valleys, when the pines were rusty from the long winter, two
+other visitors drove to Coniston in a two-horse sleigh.  The sun was
+shining brightly, the wind held its breath, and the noon-day warmth was
+almost like that of spring.  Those who know the mountain country will
+remember the joy of many such days.  Cynthia, standing in the sun on the
+porch, breathing deep of the pure air, recognized, as the sleigh drew
+near, the somewhat portly gentleman driving, and the young woman beside
+him regally clad in furs who looked patronizingly at the tannery house as
+she took the reins.  The young woman was Miss Cassandra Hopkins, and the
+portly gentleman, the Honorable Alva himself, patron of the drama, who
+had entered upon his governorship and now wished to be senator.
+
+"Jethro Bass home?" he called out.
+
+"Mr. Bass is home," answered Cynthia.  The girl in the sleigh murmured
+something, laughing a little, and Cynthia flushed.  Mr. Hopkins gave a
+somewhat peremptory knock at the door and was admitted by Millicent
+Skinner, but Cynthia stood staring at Cassandra in the sleigh, some
+instinct warning her of a coming skirmish.
+
+"Do you live here all the year round?"
+
+"Of course," said Cynthia.
+
+Miss Cassandra shrugged as though that were beyond her comprehension.
+
+"I'd die in a place like this," she said.  "No balls, or theatres.
+Doesn't your father take you around the state?"
+
+"My father's dead," said Cynthia.
+
+"Oh!  Your name's Cynthia Wetherell, isn't it?  You know Bob Worthington,
+don't you?  He's gone to Harvard now, but he was a great friend of mine
+at Andover."
+
+Cynthia didn't answer.  It would not be fair to say that she felt a pang,
+though it might add to the romance of this narrative.  But her dislike
+for the girl in the sleigh decidedly increased.  How was she, in her
+inexperience, to know that the radiant beauty in furs was what the boys
+at Phillips Andover called an "old stager."
+
+"So you live with Jethro Bass," was Miss Cassandra's next remark. "He's
+rich enough to take you round the state and give you everything you
+want."
+
+"I have everything I want," replied Cynthia.
+
+"I shouldn't call living here having everything I wanted," declared Miss
+Hopkins, with a contemptuous glance at the tannery house.
+
+"I suppose you wouldn't," said Cynthia.
+
+Miss Hopkins was nettled.  She was out of humor that day, besides she
+shared some of her father's political ambition.  If he went to
+Washington, she went too.
+
+"Didn't you know Jethro Bass was rich?" she demanded, imprudently.  "Why,
+my father gave twenty thousand dollars to be governor, and Jethro Bass
+must have got half of it."
+
+Cynthia's eyes were of that peculiar gray which, lighted by love or
+anger, once seen, are never forgotten.  One hand was on the dashboard of
+the cutter, the other had seized the seat.  Her voice was steady, and the
+three words she spoke struck Miss Hopkins with startling effect.
+
+Miss Hopkins's breath was literally taken away, and for once she found no
+retort.  Let it be said for her that this was a new experience with a new
+creature.  A demure country girl turn into a wildcat before her very
+eyes!  Perhaps it was as well for both that the door of the house opened
+and the Honorable Alva interrupted their talk, and without so much as a
+glance at Cynthia he got hurriedly into the sleigh and drove off.  When
+Cynthia turned, the points of color still high in her cheeks and the
+light still ablaze in her eyes, she surprised Jethro gazing at her from
+the porch, and some sorrow she felt rather than beheld stopped the
+confession on her lips.  It would be unworthy of her even to repeat such
+slander, and the color surged again into her face for very shame of her
+anger.  Cassandra Hopkins had not been worthy of it.
+
+Jethro did not speak, but slipped his hand into hers, and thus they stood
+for a long time gazing at the snow fields between the pines on the
+heights of Coniston.
+
+The next summer, was the first which the painter--pioneer of summer
+visitors there--spent at Coniston.  He was an unsuccessful painter, who
+became, by a process which he himself does not to-day completely
+understand, a successful writer of novels.  As a character, however, he
+himself confesses his inadequacy, and the chief interest in him for the
+readers of this narrative is that he fell deeply in love with Cynthia
+Wetherell at nineteen.  It is fair to mention in passing that other young
+men were in love with Cynthia at this time, notably Eben Hatch--history
+repeating itself.  Once, in a moment of madness, Eben confessed his love,
+the painter never did: and he has to this day a delicious memory which
+has made Cynthia the heroine of many of his stories.  He boarded with
+Chester Perkins, and he was humored by the village as a harmless but
+amiable lunatic.
+
+The painter had never conceived that a New England conscience and a
+temper of no mean proportions could dwell together in the body of a wood
+nymph.  When he had first seen Cynthia among the willows by Coniston
+Water, he had thought her a wood nymph.  But she scolded him for his
+impropriety with so unerring a choice of words that he fell in love with
+her intellect, too.  He spent much of his time to the neglect of his
+canvases under the butternut tree in front of Jethro's house trying to
+persuade Cynthia to sit for her portrait; and if Jethro himself had not
+overheard one of these arguments, the portrait never would have been
+painted.  Jethro focussed a look upon the painter.
+
+"Er--painter-man, be you?  Paint Cynthy's picture?"
+
+"But I don't want to be painted, Uncle Jethro.  I won't be painted!"
+
+"H-how much for a good picture?  Er--only want the best--only want the
+best."
+
+The painter said a few things, with pardonable heat, to the effect--well,
+never mind the effect.  His remarks made no impression whatever upon
+Jethro.
+
+"Er---paint the picture--paint the picture, and then we'll talk about the
+price.  Er--wait a minute."
+
+He went into the house, and they heard him lumbering up the stairs.
+Cynthia sat with her back to the artist, pretending to read, but
+presently she turned to him.
+
+"I'll never forgive you--never, as long as I live," she cried, "and I
+won't be painted!"
+
+"N-not to please me, Cynthy?"  It was Jethro's voice.
+
+Her look softened.  She laid down the book and went up to him on the
+porch and put her hand on his shoulder.
+
+"Do you really want it so much as all that, Uncle Jethro?" she said.
+
+"Callate I do, Cynthy," he answered.  He held a bundle covered with
+newspaper in his hand, he looked down at Cynthia.
+
+He seated himself on the edge of the porch and for the moment seemed lost
+in revery.  Then he began slowly to unwrap the newspaper from the bundle:
+there were five layers of it, but at length he disclosed a bolt of
+cardinal cloth.
+
+"Call this to mind, Cynthy?"
+
+"Yes," she answered with a smile.
+
+"H-how's this for the dress, Mr. Painter-man?" said Jethro, with a pride
+that was ill-concealed.
+
+The painter started up from his seat and took the material in his hands
+and looked at Cynthia.  He belonged to a city club where he was popular
+for his knack of devising costumes, and a vision of Cynthia as the
+daughter of a Doge of Venice arose before his eyes.  Wonder of wonders,
+the daughter of a Doge discovered in a New England hill village!  The
+painter seized his pad and pencil and with a few strokes, guided by
+inspiration, sketched the costume then and there and held it up to
+Jethro, who blinked at it in astonishment.  But Jethro was suspicious of
+his own sensations.
+
+"Er--well--Godfrey--g-guess that'll do."  Then came the involuntary: "W-
+wouldn't a-thought you had it in you.  How about it, Cynthy?" and he held
+it up for her inspection.
+
+"If you are pleased, it's all I care about, Uncle Jethro," she answered,
+and then, her face suddenly flushing, "You must promise me on your honor
+that nobody in Coniston shall know about it, "Mr. Painter-man."
+
+After this she always called him "Mr. Painter-man,"--when she was pleased
+with him.
+
+So the cardinal cloth was come to its usefulness at last.  It was
+inevitable that Sukey Kittredge, the village seamstress, should be taken
+into confidence.  It was no small thing to take Sukey into confidence,
+for she was the legitimate successor in more ways than one of Speedy
+Bates, and much of Cynthia and the artist's ingenuity was spent upon
+devising a form of oath which would hold Sukey silent.  Sukey, however,
+got no small consolation from the sense of the greatness of the trust
+confided in her, and of the uproar she could make in Coniston if she
+chose.  The painter, to do him justice, was the real dressmaker, and did
+everything except cut the cloth and sew it together.  He sent to friends
+of his in the city for certain paste jewels and ornaments, and one day
+Cynthia stood in the old tannery shed--hastily transformed into a studio-
+-before a variously moved audience.  Sukey, having adjusted the last pin,
+became hysterical over her handiwork, Millicent Skinner stared
+openmouthed, words having failed her for once, and Jethro thrust his
+hands in his pockets in a quiet ecstasy of approbation.
+
+"A-always had a notion that cloth'd set you off, Cynthy," said he, "er--
+next time I go to the state capital you come along--g-guess it'll
+surprise 'em some."
+
+"I guess it would, Uncle Jethro," said Cynthia, laughing.
+
+Jethro postponed two political trips of no small importance to be present
+at the painting of that picture, and he would sit silently by the hour in
+a corner of the shed watching every stroke of the brush.  Never stood
+Doge's daughter in her jewels and seed pearls amidst stranger
+surroundings,--the beam, and the centre post around which the old white
+horse had toiled in times gone by, and all the piled-up, disused
+machinery of forgotten days.  And never was Venetian lady more
+unconscious of her environment than Cynthia.
+
+The portrait was of the head and shoulders alone, and when he had given
+it the last touch, the painter knew that, for once in his life, he had
+done a good thing.  Never before; perhaps, had the fire of such
+inspiration been given him.  Jethro, who expressed himself in terms (for
+him) of great enthusiasm, was for going to Boston immediately to purchase
+a frame commensurate with the importance of such a work of art, but the
+artist had his own views on that subject and sent to New York for this
+also.
+
+The day after the completion of the picture a rugged figure in rawhide
+boots and coonskin cap approached Chester Perkins's house, knocked at the
+door, and inquired for the "Painter-man."  It was Jethro.  The "Painter-
+man" forthwith went out into the rain behind the shed, where a somewhat
+curious colloquy took place.
+
+"G-guess I'm willin' to pay you full as much as it's worth," said Jethro,
+producing a cowhide wallet.  "Er--what figure do you allow it comes to
+with the frame?"
+
+The artist was past taking offence, since Jethro had long ago become for
+him an engrossing study.
+
+"I will send you the bill for the frame, Mr. Bass," he said, "the picture
+belongs to Cynthia."
+
+"Earn your livin' by paintin', don't you--earn your livin'?"
+
+The painter smiled a little bitterly.
+
+"No," he said, "if I did, I shouldn't be--alive.  Mr. Bass, have you ever
+done anything the pleasure of doing which was pay enough, and to spare?"
+
+Jethro looked at him, and something very like admiration came into the
+face that was normally expressionless.
+
+He put up his wallet a little awkwardly, and held out his hand more
+awkwardly.
+
+"You be more of a feller than I thought for," he said, and strode off
+through the drizzle toward Coniston.  The painter walked slowly to the
+kitchen, where Chester Perkins and his wife were sitting down to supper.
+
+"Jethro got a mortgage on you, too?" asked Chester.
+
+The artist had his reward, for when the picture was hung at length in the
+little parlor of the tannery house it became a source of pride to
+Coniston second only to Jethro himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+Time passes, and the engines of the Truro Railroad are now puffing in and
+out of the yards of Worthington's mills in Brampton, and a fine layer of
+dust covers the old green stage which has worn the road for so many years
+over Truro Gap.  If you are ever in Brampton, you can still see the
+stage, if you care to go into the back of what was once Jim Sanborn's
+livery stable, now owned by Mr. Sherman of the Brampton House.
+
+Conventions and elections had come and gone, and the Honorable Heth
+Sutton had departed triumphantly to Washington, cheered by his neighbors
+in Clovelly.  Chamberlain Bixby was left in charge there, supreme.  Who
+could be more desirable as a member of Congress than Mr. Sutton, who had
+so ably served his party (and Jethro) by holding the House against the
+insurgents in the matter of the Truro Bill?  Mr. Sutton was, moreover, a
+gentleman, an owner of cattle and land, a man of substance whom lesser
+men were proud to mention as a friend--a very hill-Rajah with stock in
+railroads and other enterprises, who owed allegiance and paid tribute
+alone to the Great Man of Coniston.
+
+Mr. Sutton was one who would make himself felt even in the capital of the
+United States--felt and heard.  And he had not been long in the Halls of
+Congress before he made a speech which rang under the very dome of the
+Capitol.  So said the Brampton and Harwich papers, at least, though
+rivals and detractors of Mr. Sutton declared that they could find no
+matter in it which related to the subject of a bill, but that is neither
+here nor there.  The oration began with a lengthy tribute to the
+resources and history of his state, and ended by a declaration that the
+speaker was in Congress at no man's bidding, but as the servant of the
+common people of his district.
+
+Under the lamp of the little parlor in the tannery house, Cynthia (who
+has now arrived at the very serious age of nineteen) was reading the
+papers to Jethro and came upon Mr. Sutton's speech.  There were four
+columns of it, but Jethro seemed to take delight in every word; and
+portions of the noblest parts of it, indeed, he had Cynthia read over
+again.  Sometimes, in the privacy of his home, Jethro was known to
+chuckle, and to Cynthia's surprise he chuckled more than usual that
+evening.
+
+"Uncle Jethro," she said at length, when she had laid the paper down, "I
+thought that you sent Mr. Sutton to Congress."
+
+Jethro leaned forward.
+
+"What put that into your head, Cynthy?" he asked.
+
+"Oh," answered the girl, "everybody says so,--Moses Hatch, Rias, and
+Cousin Eph.  Didn't you?"
+
+Jethro looked at her, as she thought, strangely.
+
+"You're too young to know anything about such things, Cynthy,"  he said,
+"too young."
+
+"But you make all the judges and senators and congressmen in the state, I
+know you do.  Why," exclaimed Cynthia, indignantly, "why does Mr. Sutton
+say the people elected him when he owes everything to you?"
+
+Jethro, arose abruptly and flung a piece of wood into the stove, and then
+he stood with his back to her.  Her instinct told her that he was
+suffering, though she could not fathom the cause, and she rose swiftly
+and drew him down into the chair beside her.
+
+"What is it?" she said anxiously.  "Have you got rheumatism, too, like
+Cousin Eph?  All old men seem to have rheumatism."
+
+"No, Cynthy, it hain't rheumatism," he managed to answer; "wimmen folks
+hadn't ought to mix up in politics.  They--they don't understand 'em,
+Cynthy."
+
+"But I shall understand them some day, because I am your daughter--now
+that--now that I have only you, I am your daughter, am I not?"
+
+"Yes, yes," he answered huskily, with his hand on her hair.
+
+"And I know more than most women now," continued Cynthia, triumphantly.
+"I'm going to be such a help to you soon--very soon.  I've read a lot of
+history, and I know some of the Constitution by heart.  I know why old
+Timothy Prescott fought in the Revolution--it was to get rid of kings,
+wasn't it, and to let the people have a chance?  The people can always be
+trusted to do what is right, can't they, Uncle Jethro?"
+
+Jethro was silent, but Cynthia did not seem to notice that.  After a
+space she spoke again:--
+ "I've been thinking it all out about you, Uncle Jethro."
+
+"A-about me?"
+
+"Yes, I know why you are able to send men to Congresa and make judges of
+them.  It's because the people have chosen you to do all that for them--
+you are so great and good."
+
+Jethro did not answer.
+
+Although the month was March, it was one of those wonderful still nights
+that sometimes come in the mountain-country when the wind is silent in
+the notches and the stars seem to burn nearer to the earth.  Cynthia
+awoke and lay staring for an instant at the red planet which hung over
+the black and ragged ridge, and then she arose quickly and knocked at the
+door across the passage.
+
+"Are you ill, Uncle Jethro?"
+
+"No," he answered, "no, Cynthy.  Go to bed.  Er--I was just thinkin'--
+thinkin', that's all, Cynthy."
+
+Though all his life he had eaten sparingly, Cynthia noticed that he
+scarcely touched his breakfast the next morning, and two hours later he
+went unexpectedly to the state capital.  That day, too, Coniston was
+clothed in clouds, and by afternoon a wild March snowstorm was sweeping
+down the face of the mountain, piling against doorways and blocking the
+roads.  Through the storm Cynthia fought her way to the harness shop, for
+Ephraim Prescott had taken to his bed, bound hand and foot by rheumatism.
+
+Much of that spring Ephraim was all but helpless, and Cynthia spent many
+days nursing him and reading to him.  Meanwhile the harness industry
+languished.  Cynthia and Ephraim knew, and Coniston guessed, that Jethro
+was taking care of Ephraim, and strong as was his affection for Jethro
+the old soldier found dependence hard to bear.  He never spoke of it to
+Cynthia, but he used to lie and dream through the spring days of what he
+might have done if the war had not crippled him.  For Ephraim Prescott,
+like his grandfather, was a man of action--a keen, intelligent American
+whose energy, under other circumstances, might have gone toward the
+making of the West.  Ephraim, furthermore, had certain principles which
+some in Coniston called cranks; for instance, he would never apply for a
+pension, though he could easily have obtained one.  Through all his
+troubles, he held grimly to the ideal which meant more to him than ease
+and comfort,--that he had served his country for the love of it.
+
+With the warm weather he was able to be about again, and occasionally to
+mend a harness, but Doctor Rowell shook his head when Jethro stopped his
+buggy in the road one day to inquire about Ephraim.  Whereupon Jethro
+went on to the harness shop.  The inspiration, by the way, had come from
+Cynthia.
+
+"Er--Ephraim, how'd you like to, be postmaster?  H-haven't any objections
+to that kind of a job, hev you?"
+
+"Why no," said Ephraim.  "We hain't agoin' to hev a post-office at
+Coniston--air we?"
+
+"H-how'd you like to be postmaster at Brampton?" demanded Jethro,
+abruptly.
+
+Ephraim dropped the trace he was shaving.
+
+"Postmaster at Brampton!" he exclaimed.
+
+"H-how'd you like it?" said Jethro again.
+
+"Well," said Ephraim, "I hain't got any objections."
+
+Jethro started out of the shop, but paused again at the door.
+
+"W-won't say nothin' about it, will you, Eph?" he inquired.
+
+"Not till I git it," answered Ephraim.  The sorrows of three years were
+suddenly lifted from his shoulders, and for an instant Ephraim wanted to
+dance until he remembered the rheumatism and the Wilderness leg. Suddenly a
+thought struck him, and he hobbled to the door and called out
+after Jethro's retreating figure.  Jethro returned.
+
+"Well?" he said, "well?"
+
+"What's the pay?" said Ephraim, in a whisper.
+
+Jethro named the sum instantly, also in a whisper.
+
+"You don't tell me!" said Ephraim, and sank stupefied into the chair in
+front of the shop, where lately he had spent so much of his time.
+
+Jethro chuckled twice on his way home: he chuckled twice again to
+Cynthia's delight at supper, and after supper he sent Millicent Skinner
+to find Jake Wheeler.  Jake as usual, was kicking his heels in front of
+the store, talking to Rias and others about the coming Fourth of July
+celebration at Brampton.  Brampton, as we know, was famous for its Fourth
+of July celebrations.  Not neglecting to let it be known that Jethro had
+sent for him, Jake hurried off through the summer twilight to the tannery
+house, bowed ceremoniously to Cynthia under the butternut tree, and
+discovered Jethro behind the shed.  It was usually Jethro's custom to
+allow the other man to begin the conversation, no matter how trivial the
+subject--a method which had commended itself to Mr. Bixby and other minor
+politicians who copied him.  And usually the other man played directly
+into Jethro's hands.  Jake Wheeler always did, and now, to cover the
+awkwardness of the silence, he began on the Brampton celebration.
+
+"They tell me Heth Sutton's a-goin' to make the address--seems prouder
+than ever sence he went to Congress.  I guess you'll tell him what to say
+when the time comes, Jethro."
+
+"Er--goin' to Clovelly after wool this week, Jake?"
+
+"I kin go to-morrow," said Jake, scenting an affair.
+
+"Er--goin' to Clovelly after wool this week, Jake?"
+
+Jake reflected.  He saw it was expedient that this errand should not
+smell of haste.
+
+"I was goin' to see Cutter on Friday," he answered.
+
+"Er--if you should happen to meet Heth--"
+
+"Yes," interrupted Jake.
+
+"If by chance you should happen to meet Heth, or Bije" (Jethro knew that
+Jake never went to Clovelly without a conference with one or the other of
+these personages, if only to be able to talk about it afterward at the
+store), "er--what would you say to 'em?"
+
+"Why," said Jake, scratching his head for the answer, "I'd tell him you
+was at Coniston."
+
+"Think we'll have rain, Jake?" inquired Jethro, blandly.
+
+Jake wended his way back to the store, filled with renewed admiration for
+the great man.  Jethro had given him no instructions whatever, could deny
+before a jury if need be that he had sent him (Jake) to Clovelly to tell
+Heth Sutton to come to Coniston for instructions on the occasion of his
+Brampton speech.  And Jake was filled with a mysterious importance when
+he took his seat once more in the conclave.
+
+Jake Wheeler, although in many respects a fool, was one of the most
+efficient pack of political hounds that the state has ever known.  By six
+o'clook on Friday morning he was descending a brook valley on the
+Clovelly side of the mountain, and by seven was driving between the
+forest and river meadows of the Rajah's domain, and had come in sight of
+the big white house with its somewhat pretentious bay-windows and Gothic
+doorway; it might be dubbed the palace of these parts.  The wide river
+flowed below it, and the pastures so wondrously green in the morning sun
+were dotted with fat cattle and sheep.  Jake was content to borrow a cut
+of tobacco from the superintendent and wonder aimlessly around the farm
+until Mr. Sutton's family prayers and breakfast were accomplished.  We
+shall not concern ourselves with the message or the somewhat lengthy
+manner in which it was delivered.  Jake had merely dropped in by
+accident, but the Rajah listened coldly while he picked his teeth, said
+he didn't know whether he was going to Brampton or not -hadn't decided;
+didn't know whether he could get to Coniston or not--his affairs were
+multitudinous now.  In short, he set Jake to thinking deeply as his horse
+walked up the western heights of Coniston on the return journey.  He had,
+let it be repeated, a sure instinct once his nose was fairly on the
+scent, and he was convinced that a war of great magnitude was in the air,
+and he; Jake Wheeler, was probably the first in all the elate to discover
+it!  His blood leaped at the thought.
+
+The hill-Rajah's defiance, boiled down, could only mean one thing,--that
+somebody with sufficient power and money was about to lock horns with
+Jethro Bass.  Not for a moment did Jake believe that, for all his pomp
+and circumstance, the Honorable Heth Sutton was a big enough man to do
+this.  Jake paid to the Honorable Heth all the outward respect that his
+high position demanded, but he knew the man through and through.  He
+thought of the Honorable Heth's reform speech in Congress, and laughed
+loudly in the echoing woods.  No, Mr. Sutton was not the man to lead a
+fight.  But to whom had he promised his allegiance?  This question
+puzzled Mr. Wheeler all the way home, and may it be said finally for many
+days thereafter.  He slid into Coniston in the dusk, big with impending
+events, which he could not fathom.  As to giving Jethro the careless
+answer of the hill-Rajah, that was  another matter.
+
+The Fourth of July came at last, nor was any contradiction made in the
+Brampton papers that the speech of the Honorable Heth Sutton had been
+cancelled.  Instead, advertisemeuts appeared in the 'Brampton Clarion'
+announcing the fact in large letters.  When Cynthia read this
+advertisement to Jethro, he chuckled again.  They were under the
+butternut tree, for the evenings were long now.
+
+"Will you take me to Brampton, Uncle Jethro?" said she, letting fall the
+paper on her lap.
+
+"W-who's to get in the hay?" said Jethro.
+
+"Hay on the Fourth of July!" exclaimed Cynthia, "why, that's--sacrilege!
+You'd much better come and hear Mr. Sutton's speech--it will do you good."
+
+Cynthia could see that Jethro was intensely amused, for his eyes had a
+way of snapping on such occasions when he was alone with her.  She was
+puzzled and slightly offended, because, to tell the truth, Jethro had
+spoiled her.
+
+"Very well, then," she said, "I'll go with the Painter-man."
+
+Jethro came and stood over her, his expression the least bit wistful.
+
+"Er--Cynthy," he said presently, "hain't fond of that Painter-man, be
+you?"
+
+"Why, yes," said Cynthia, "aren't you?"
+
+"He's fond of you," said Jethro, "sh-shouldn't be surprised if he was in
+love with you."
+
+Cynthia looked up at him, the corners of her mouth twitching, and then
+she laughed.  The Rev. Mr. Satterlee, writing his Sunday sermon in his
+study, heard her and laid down his pen to listen.
+
+"Uncle Jethro," said Cynthia, "sometimes I forget that you're a great,
+wise man, and I think that you are just a silly old goose."
+
+Jethro wiped his face with his blue cotton handkerchief.
+
+"Then you hain't a-goin' to marry the Painter-man?" he said.
+
+"I'm not going to marry anybody," cried Cynthia, contritely; "I'm going
+to live with you and take care of you all my life."
+
+On the morning of the Fourth, Cynthia drove to Brampton with the Painter-
+man, and when he perceived that she was dreaming, he ceased to worry her
+with his talk.  He liked her dreaming, and stole many glances at her face
+of which she knew nothing at all.  Through the cool and fragrant woods,
+past the mill-pond stained blue and white by the sky, and scented clover
+fields and wayside flowers nodding in the morning air--Cynthia saw these
+things in the memory of another journey to Brampton.  On that Fourth her
+father had been with her, and Jethro and Ephraim and Moses and Amanda
+Hatch and the children.  And how well she recalled, too, standing amidst
+the curious crowd before the great house which Mr. Worthington had just
+built.
+
+There are weeks and months, perhaps, when we do not think of people, when
+our lives are full and vigorous, and then perchance a memory will bring
+them vividly before us--so vividly that we yearn for them.  There rose
+before Cynthia now the vision of a boy as he stood on the Gothic porch of
+the house, and how he had come down to the wondering country people with
+his smile and his merry greeting, and how he had cajoled her into
+lingering in front of the meeting-house.  Had he forgotten her?  With
+just a suspicion of a twinge, Cynthia remembered that Janet Duncan she
+had seen at the capital, whom she had been told was the heiress of the
+state.  When he had graduated from Harvard, Bob would, of course, marry
+her.  That was in the nature of things.
+
+To some the great event of that day in Brampton was to be the speech of
+the Honorable Heth Sutton in the meeting-house at eleven; others (and
+this party was quite as numerous) had looked forward to the base-ball
+game between Brampton and Harwich in the afternoon.  The painter would
+have preferred to walk up meeting-house hill with Cynthia, and from the
+cool heights look down upon the amphitheatre in which the town was built.
+But Cynthia was interested in history, and they went to the meeting-house
+accordingly, where she listened for an hour and a half to the patriotic
+eloquence of the representative.  The painter was glad to see and hear so
+great a man in the hour of his glory, though so much as a fragment of the
+oration does not now remain in his memory.  In size, in figure, in
+expression, in the sonorous tones of his voice, Mr. Sutton was everything
+that a congressman should be.  "The people," said Isaac D. Worthington in
+presenting him, "should indeed be proud of such an able and high-minded
+representative."  We shall have cause to recall that word high-minded.
+
+Many persons greeted Cynthia outside the meetinghouse, for the girl
+seemed genuinely loved by all who knew her--too much loved, her companion
+thought, by certain spick-and-span young men of Brampton.  But they ate
+the lunch Cynthia had brought, far from the crowd, under the trees by
+Coniston Water.  It was she who proposed going to the base-ball game, and
+the painter stifled a sigh and acquiesced.  Their way brought them down
+Brampton Street, past a house with great iron dogs on the lawn, so
+imposing and cityfied that he hung back and asked who lived there.
+
+"Mr. Worthington," answered Cynthia, making to move on impatiently.
+
+Her escort did not think much of the house, but it interested him as the
+type which Mr. Worthington had built.  On that same Gothic porch,
+sublimely unconscious of the covert stares and subdued comments of the
+passers-by, the first citizen himself and the Honorable Heth Sutton might
+be seen.  Mr. Worthington, whose hawklike look had become more
+pronounced, sat upright, while the Honorable Heth, his legs crossed,
+filled every nook and cranny of an arm-chair, and an occasional fragrant
+whiff from his cigar floated out to those on the tar sidewalk.  Although
+the pedestrians were but twenty feet away, what Mr. Worthington said
+never reached them; but the Honorable Heth on public days carried his
+voice of the Forum around with him.
+
+"Come on," said Cynthia, in one of those startling little tempers she was
+subject to; "don't stand there like an idiot."
+
+Then the voice of Mr. Sutton boomed toward them.
+
+"As I understand, Worthington," they heard him say, "you want me to
+appoint young Wheelock for the Brampton post-office."  He stuck his thumb
+into his vest pocket and recrossed his legs "I guess it can be arranged."
+
+When the painter at last overtook Cynthia the jewel paints he had so
+often longed to catch upon a canvas were in her eyes.  He fell back,
+wondering how he could so greatly have offended, when she put her hand on
+his sleeve.
+
+"Did you hear what he said about the Brampton postoffice?" she cried.
+
+"The Brampton post-office?" he repeated; dazed.
+
+"Yes," said Cynthia; "Uncle Jethro has promised it to Cousin Ephraim, who
+will starve without it.  Did you hear this man say he would give it to
+Mr. Wheelock?"
+
+Here was a new Cynthia, aflame with emotions on a question of politics of
+which he knew nothing.  He did, understand, however, her concern for
+Ephraim Prescott, for he knew that she loved the soldier.  She turned
+from the painter now with a gesture which he took to mean that his
+profession debarred him from such vital subjects, and she led the way to
+the fair-grounds.  There he meekly bought tickets, and they found
+themselves hurried along in the eager crowd toward the stand.
+
+The girl was still unaccountably angry over that mysterious affair of the
+post-office, and sat with flushed cheeks staring out on the green field,
+past the line of buggies and carryalls on the farther side to the
+southern shoulder of Coniston towering, above them all.  The painter,
+already, beginning to love his New England folk, listened to the homely
+chatter about him, until suddenly a cheer starting in one corner ran like
+a flash of gunpowder around the field, and eighteen young men trotted
+across the turf.  Although he was not a devotee of sport, he noticed that
+nine of these, as they took their places on the bench, wore  blue,--the
+Harwich Champions.  Seven only of those scattering over the field wore
+white; two young gentlemen, one at second base and the other behind the
+batter, wore gray uniforms with crimson stockings, and crimson piping on
+the caps, and a crimson H embroidered on the breast--a sight that made
+the painter's heart beat a little faster, the honored livery of his own
+college.
+
+"What are those two Harvard men doing here?" he asked.
+
+Cynthia, who was leaning forward, started, and turned to him a face which
+showed him that his question had been meaningless.  He repeated it.
+
+"Oh," said she, "the tall one, burned brick-red like an Indian, is Bob
+Worthington."
+
+"He's a good type," the artist remarked.
+
+"You're right, Mister, there hain't a finer young feller anywhere,"
+chimed in Mr. Dodd, a portly person with a tuft of yellow beard on his
+chin.  Mr. Dodd kept the hardware store in Brampton.
+
+"And who," asked the painter, "is the bullet-headed little fellow, with
+freckles and short red hair, behind the bat?"
+
+"I don't know," said Cynthia, indifferently.
+
+"Why," exclaimed Mr. Dodd, with just a trace of awe in his voice, "that's
+Somers Duncan, son of Millionnaire Duncan down to the capital.  I guess,"
+he added, "I guess them two will be the richest men in the state some
+day.  Duncan come up from Harvard with Bob."
+
+In a few minutes the game was in full swing, Brampton against Harwich,
+the old rivalry in another form.  Every advantage on either side awoke
+thundering cheers from the partisans; beribboned young women sprang to
+their feet and waved the Harwich blue at a home run, and were on the
+verge of tears when the Brampton pitcher struck out their best batsman.
+But beyond the facts that the tide was turning in Brampton's favor; that
+young Mr. Worthington stopped a ball flying at a phenomenal speed and
+batted another at a still more phenomenal speed which was not stopped;
+that his name and Duncan's were mingled generously in the cheering, the
+painter remembered little of the game.  The exhibition of human passions
+which the sight of it drew from an undemonstrative race: the shouting,
+the comments wrung from hardy spirits off their guard, the joy and the
+sorrow,--such things interested him more.  High above the turmoil
+Coniston, as through the ages, looked down upon the scene impassive.
+
+He was aroused from these reflections by an incident.  Some one had
+leaped over the railing which separated the stand from the field and
+stood before Cynthia,--a tanned and smiling young man in gray and
+crimson.  His honest eyes were alight with an admiration that was
+unmistakable to the painter--perhaps to Cynthia also, for a glow that
+might have been of annoyance or anger, and yet was like the color of the
+mountain sunrise, answered in her cheek.  Mr. Worthington reached out a
+large brown hand and seized the girl's as it lay on her lap.
+
+"Hello, Cynthia," he cried, "I've been looking for you all day.  I
+thought you might be here.  Where were you?"
+
+"Where did you look?" answered Cynthia, composedly, withdrawing her hand.
+
+"Everywhere," said Bob, "up and down the street, all through the hotel.
+I asked Lem Hallowell, and he didn't know where you were.  I only got
+here last night myself."
+
+"I was in the meeting-house," said Cynthia.
+
+"The meeting-house!" he echoed.  "You don't mean to tell me that you
+listened to that silly speech of Sutton's?"
+
+This remark, delivered in all earnestness, was the signal for uproarious
+laughter from Mr. Dodd and others sitting near by, attending earnestly to
+the conversation.
+
+Cynthia bit her lip.
+
+"Yes, I did," she said; "but I'm sorry now."
+
+"I should think you would be," said Bob; "Sutton's a silly, pompous old
+fool.  I had to sit through dinner with him.  I believe I could represent
+the district better myself."
+
+"By gosh!" exploded Mr. Dodd, "I believe you could!"
+
+But Bob paid no attention to him.  He was looking at Cynthia.
+
+"Cynthia, you've grown up since I saw you," he said.  "How's Uncle
+Jethro.
+
+"He's well--thanks," said Cynthia, and now she was striving to put down a
+smile.
+
+"Still running the state?" said Bob.  "You tell him I think he ought to
+muzzle Sutton.  What did he send him down to Washington for?"
+
+"I don't know," said Cynthia.
+
+"What are you going to do after the game?" Bob demanded.
+
+"I'm going home of course," said Cynthia.
+
+His face fell.
+
+"Can't you come to the house for supper and stay for the fireworks?" he
+begged pleadingly.  "We'd be mighty glad to have your friend, too."
+
+Cynthia introduced her escort.
+
+"It's very good of you, Bob," she said, with that New England demureness
+which at times became her so well, "but we couldn't possibly do it.  And
+then I don't like Mr. Sutton."
+
+"Oh, hang him!" exclaimed Bob.  He took a step nearer to her.  "Won't you
+stay this once?  I have to go West in the morning."
+
+"I think you are very lucky," said Cynthia.
+
+Bob scanned her face searchingly, and his own fell.
+
+"Lucky! " he cried, "I think it's the worst thing that ever happened to
+me.  My father's so hard-headed when he gets his mind set--he's making me
+do it.  He wants me to see the railroads and the country, so I've got to
+go with the Duncans.  I wanted to stay--" He checked himself, "I think
+it's a blamed nuisance."
+
+"So do I," said a voice behind him.
+
+It was not the first time that Mr. Somers Duncan had spoken, but Bob
+either had not heard him or pretended not to.  Mr. Duncan's freckled face
+smiled at them from the top of the railing, his eyes were on Cynthia's
+face, and he had been listening eagerly.  Mr. Duncan's chief
+characteristic, beyond his freckles, was his eagerness--a quality
+probably amounting to keenness.
+
+"Hello," said Bob, turning impatiently, "I might have known you couldn't
+keep away.  You're the cause of all my troubles--you and your father's
+private car."
+
+Somers became apologetic.
+
+"It isn't my fault," he said; "I'm sure I hate going as much as you do.
+It's spoiled my summer, too."
+
+Then he coughed and looked at Cynthia.
+
+"Well," said Bob, "I suppose I'll have to introduce you.  This," he
+added, dragging his friend over the railing, "is Mr. Somers Duncan."
+
+"I'm awfully glad to meet you, Miss. Wetherell," said Somers, fervently;
+"to tell you the truth, I thought he was just making up yarns."
+
+"Yarns?" repeated Cynthia, with a look that set Mr. Duncan floundering.
+
+"Why, yes," he stammered.  "Worthy said that you were up here, but I
+thought he was crazy the way he talked--I didn't think--"
+
+"Think what?" inquired Cynthia, but she flushed a little.
+
+"Oh, rot, Somers!" said Bob, blushing furiously under his tan; "you ought
+never to go near a woman--you're the darndest fool with 'em I ever saw."
+
+This time even the painter laughed outright, and yet he was a little
+sorrowful, too, because he could not be even as these youths.  But
+Cynthia sat serene, the eternal feminine of all the ages, and it is no
+wonder that Bob Worthington was baffled as he looked at her.  He lapsed
+into an awkwardness quite as bad as that of his friend.
+
+"I hope you enjoyed the game," he said at last, with a formality that was
+not at all characteristic.
+
+Cynthia did not seem to think it worth while to answer this, so the
+painter tried to help him out.
+
+"That was a fine stop you made, Mr. Worthington," he said; "wasn't it,
+Cynthia?"
+
+"Everybody seemed to think so," answered Cynthia, cruelly; "but if I were
+a man and had hands like that" (Bob thrust them in his pockets), "I
+believe I could stop a ball, too."
+
+Somers laughed uproariously.
+
+"Good-by," said Bob, with uneasy abruptness, "I've got to go into the
+field now.  When can I see you?"
+
+"When you get back from the West--perhaps," said Cynthia.
+
+"Oh," cried Bob (they were calling him), "I must see you to-night!"  He
+vaulted over the railing and turned.  "I'll come back here right after
+the game," he said; "there's only one more inning."
+
+"We'll come back right after the game," repeated Mr. Duncan.
+
+Bob shot one look at him,--of which Mr. Duncan seemed blissfully
+unconscious,--and stalked off abruptly to second base.
+
+The artist sat pensive for a few moments, wondering at the ways of women,
+his sympathies unaccountably enlisted in behalf of Mr. Worthington.
+
+"Weren't you a little hard on him?" he said.
+
+For answer Cynthia got to her feet.
+
+"I think we ought to be going home," she said.
+
+"Going home!" he ejaculated in amazement.
+
+"I promised Uncle Jethro I'd be there for supper," and she led the way
+out of the grand stand.
+
+So they drove back to Coniston through the level evening light, and when
+they came to Ephraim Prescott's harness shop the old soldier waved at
+them cheerily from under the big flag which he had hung out in honor of
+the day.  The flag was silk, and incidentally Ephraim's most valued
+possession.  Then they drew up before the tannery house, and Cynthia
+leaped out of the buggy and held out her hand to the painter with a
+smile.
+
+"It was very good of you to take me," she said.
+
+Jethro Bass, rugged, uncouth, in rawhide boots and swallowtail and
+coonskin cap, came down from the porch to welcome her, and she ran toward
+him with an eagerness that started the painter to wondering afresh over
+the contrasts of life.  What, he asked himself, had Fate in store for
+Cynthia Wetherell?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+"H-have a good time, Cynthy?" said Jethro, looking down into her face.
+Love had wrought changes in Jethro; mightier changes than he suspected,
+and the girl did not know how zealous were the sentries of that love, how
+watchful they were, and how they told him often and again whether her
+heart, too, was smiling.
+
+"It was very gay," said Cynthia.
+
+"P-painter-man gay?" inquired Jethro.
+
+Cynthia's eyes were on the orange line of the sunset over Coniston, but
+she laughed a little, indulgently.
+
+"Cynthy?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Er--that Painter-man hain't such a bad fellow--w-why didn't you ask him
+in to supper?"
+
+"I'll give you three guesses," said Cynthia, but she did not wait for
+them.  "It was because I wanted to be alone with you.  Milly's gone out,
+hasn't she?"
+
+"G-gone a-courtin'," said Jethro.
+
+She smiled, and went into the house to see whether Milly had done her
+duty before she left.  It was characteristic of Cynthia not to have
+mentioned the subject which was agitating her mind until they were seated
+on opposite sides of the basswood table.
+
+"Uncle Jethro," she said, "I thought you told Mr. Sutton to give Cousin
+Eph the Brampton post-office?  Do you trust Mr. Sutton?"  she demanded
+abruptly.
+
+"Er--why?" said Jethro.  "Why?"
+
+"Because I don't," she answered with conviction; "I think he's a big
+fraud.  He must have deceived you, Uncle Jethro.  I can't see why you
+ever sent him to Congress."
+
+Although Jethro was in no mood for mirth, he laughed in spite of himself,
+for he was an American.  His lifelong habit would have made him defend
+Heth to any one but Cynthia.
+
+"'D you see Heth, Cynthy?" he asked.
+  "Yes," replied the girl, disgustedly, "I should say I did, but not to
+speak to him.  He was sitting on Mr. Worthington's porch, and I heard him
+tell Mr. Worthington he would give the Brampton post-office to Dave
+Wheelock.  I don't want you to think that I was eavesdropping," she added
+quickly; "I couldn't help hearing it."
+
+Jethro did not answer.
+
+"You'll make him give the post-office to Cousin Eph,won't you, Uncle
+Jethro?"
+
+"Yes;" said Jethro, very simply, "I will."  He meditated awhile, and then
+said suddenly, "W-won't speak about it--will you, Cynthy?"
+
+"You know I won't," she answered.
+
+Let it not be thought by any chance that Coniston was given over to
+revelry and late hours, even on the Fourth of July.  By ten o'clock the
+lights were out in the tannery house, but Cynthia was not asleep.  She
+sat at her window watching the shy moon peeping over Coniston ridge, and
+she was thinking, to be exact, of how much could happen in one short day
+and how little in a long month.  She was aroused by the sound of wheels
+and the soft beat of a horse's hoofs on the dirt road: then came stifled
+laughter, and suddenly she sprang up alert and tingling.  Her own name
+came floating to her through the darkness.
+
+The next thing that happened will be long remembered in Coniston.  A
+tentative chord or two from a guitar, and then the startled village was
+listening with all its might to the voices of two young men singing "When
+I first went up to Harvard"--probably meant to disclose the identity of
+the serenaders, as if that were necessary!  Coniston, never having
+listened to grand opera, was entertained and thrilled, and thought the
+rendering of the song better on the whole than the church choir could
+have done it, or even the quartette that sung at the Brampton
+celebrations behind the flowers.  Cynthia had her own views on the
+subject.
+
+There were five other songs--Cynthia remembers all of them, although she
+would not confess such a thing.  "Naughty, naughty Clara," was another
+one; the other three were almost wholly about love, some treating it
+flippantly, others seriously--this applied to the last one, which had
+many farewells in it.  Then they went away, and the crickets and frogs on
+Coniston Water took up the refrain.
+
+Although the occurrence was unusual,--it might almost be said epoch-
+making,--Jethro did not speak of it until they had reached the sparkling
+heights of Thousand Acre Hill the next morning.  Even then he did not
+look at Cynthia.
+
+"Know who that was last night, Cynthy?" he inquired, as though the matter
+were a casual one.
+
+"I believe," said Cynthia heroically, "I believe it was a boy named
+Somers Duncan -and Bob Worthington."
+
+"Er--Bob Worthington," repeated Jethro, but said nothing more.
+
+Of course Coniston, and presently Brampton, knew that Bob Worthington had
+serenaded Cynthia--and Coniston and Brampton talked.  It is noteworthy
+that (with the jocular exceptions of Ephraim and Lem Hallowell) they did
+not talk to the girl herself.  The painter had long ago discovered that
+Cynthia was an individual.  She had good blood in her: as a mere child
+she had shouldered the responsibility of her father; she had a natural
+aptitude for books--a quality reverenced in the community; she visited,
+as a matter of habit; the sick and the unfortunate; and lastly (perhaps
+the crowning achievement) she had bound Jethro Bass, of all men, with the
+fetters of love.  Of course I have ended up by making her a paragon,
+although I am merely stating what people thought of her.  Coniston
+decided at once that she was to marry the heir to the Brampton Mills.
+
+But the heir had gone West, and as the summer wore on, the gossip died
+down.  Other and more absorbing gossip took its place: never distinctly
+formulated, but whispered; always wishing for more definite news that
+never came.  The statesmen drove out from Brampton to the door of the
+tannery house, as usual, only it was remarked by astute observers and
+Jake Wheeler that certain statesmen did not come who had been in the
+habit of coming formerly.  In short, those who made it a custom to
+observe such matters felt vaguely a disturbance of some kind.  The organs
+of the people felt it, and became more guarded in their statements.  What
+no one knew, except Jake and a few in high places, was that a war of no
+mean magnitude was impending.
+
+There were three men in the State--and perhaps only three--who realized
+from the first that all former political combats would pale in comparison
+to this one to come.  Similar wars had already started in other states,
+and when at length they were fought out another twist had been given to
+the tail of a long-suffering Constitution; political history in the
+United States had to be written from an entirely new and unforeseen
+standpoint, and the unsuspecting people had changed masters.
+
+This was to be a war of extermination of one side or the other.  No
+quarter would be given or asked, and every weapon hitherto known to
+politics would be used.  Of the three men who realized this, and all that
+would happen if one side or the other were victorious, one was Alexander
+Duncan, another Isaac D.  Worthington, and the third was Jethro Bass.
+
+Jethro would never have been capable of being master of the state had he
+not foreseen the time when the railroads, tired of paying tribute, would
+turn and try to exterminate the boss.  The really astonishing thing about
+Jethro's foresight (known to few only) was that he perceived clearly that
+the time would come when the railroads and other aggregations of capital
+would exterminate the boss, or at least subserviate him.  This alone, the
+writer thinks, gives him some right to greatness.  And Jethro Bass made
+up his mind that the victory of the railroads, in his state at least,
+should not come in his day.  He would hold and keep what he had fought
+all his life to gain.
+
+Jethro knew, when Jake Wheeler failed to bring him a message back from
+Clovelly, that the war had begun, and that Isaac D.  Worthington,
+commander of the railroad forces in the field, had captured his pawn,
+the hill-Rajah.  By getting through to Harwich, the Truro had made a sad
+muddle in railroad affairs.  It was now a connecting link; and its
+president, the first citizen of Brampton, a man of no small importance
+in the state.  This fact was not lost upon Jethro, who perceived clearly
+enough the fight for consolidation that was coming in the next
+Legislature.
+
+Seated on an old haystack on Thousand Acre Hill, that sits in turn on the
+lap of Coniston, Jethro smiled as he reflected that the first trial of
+strength in this mighty struggle was to be over (what the unsuspecting
+world would deem a trivial matter) the postmastership of Brampton.  And
+Worthington's first move in the game would be to attempt to capture for
+his faction the support of the Administration itself.
+
+Jethro thought the view from Thousand Acre Hill, especially in September,
+to be one of the sublimest efforts of the Creator.  It was September,
+first of the purple months in Coniston, not the red-purple of the Maine
+coast, but the blue-purple of the mountain, the color of the bloom on the
+Concord grape.  His eyes, sweeping the mountain from the notch to the
+granite ramp of the northern buttress, fell on the weather-beaten little
+farmhouse in which he had lived for many years, and rested lovingly on
+the orchard, where the golden early apples shone among the leaves.  But
+Jethro was not looking at the apples.
+
+"Cynthy," he called out abruptly, "h-how'd you like to go to Washington?"
+
+"Washington!" exclaimed Cynthia.  "When?"
+
+"N-now--to-morrow."  Then he added uneasily, "C-can't you get ready?"
+
+Cynthia laughed.
+
+"Why, I'll go to-night, Uncle Jethro," she answered.
+
+"Well," he said admiringly, "you hain't one of them clutterin' females.
+We can get some finery for you in New York, Cynthy.  D-don't want any of
+them town ladies to put you to shame.  Er--not that they would," he added
+hastily--"not that they would."
+
+Cynthia climbed up beside him on the haystack.
+
+"Uncle Jethro," she said solemnly, "when you make a senator or a judge,
+I don't interfere, do I?"
+
+He looked at her uneasily, for there were moments when he could not for
+the life of him make out her drift.
+
+"N-no," he assented, "of course not, Cynthy."
+
+"Why is it that I don't interfere?"
+
+"I callate," answered Jethro, still more uneasily, "I callate it's
+because you're a woman."
+
+"And don't you think," asked Cynthia, "that a woman ought to know what
+becomes her best?"
+
+Jethro reflected, and then his glance fell on her approvingly.
+
+"G-guess you're right, Cynthy," he said.  "I always had some success in
+dressin' up Listy, and that kind of set me up."
+
+On such occasions he spoke of his wife quite simply.  He had been
+genuinely fond of her, although she was no more than an episode in his
+life.  Cynthia smiled to herself as they walked through the orchard to
+the place where the horse was tied, but she was a little remorseful. This
+feeling, on the drive homeward, was swept away by sheer elation at
+the prospect of the trip before her.  She had often dreamed of the great
+world beyond Coniston, and no one, not even Jethro, had guessed the
+longings to see it which had at times beset her.  Often she had dropped
+her book to summon up a picture of what a great city was like, to
+reconstruct the Boston of her early childhood.  She remembered the Mall,
+where she used to walk with her father, and the row of houses where the
+rich dwelt, which had seemed like palaces.  Indeed, when she read of
+palaces, these houses always came to her mind.  And now she was to behold
+a palace even greater than these,--and the house where the President
+himself dwelt.  But why was Jethro going to Washington?
+
+As if in answer to the question, he drove directly to the harness shop
+instead of to the tannery house.  Ephraim greeted them from within with a
+cheery hail, and hobbled out and stood between the wheels of the buggy.
+
+"That bridle bust again?" he inquired.
+
+"Er--Ephraim," said Jethro, "how long since you b'en away from Coniston--
+how long?"
+
+Ephraim reflected.
+
+"I went to Harwich with Moses before that bad spell I had in March," he
+answered.
+
+Cynthia smiled from pure happiness, for she began to see the drift of
+things now.
+
+"H-how long since you've b'en in foreign parts?" said Jethro.
+
+"'Sixty-five," answered Ephraim, with astonishing promptness.
+
+"Er--like to go to Washington with us to-morrow like to go to
+Washington?"
+
+Ephraim gasped, even as Cynthia had.
+
+"Washin'ton!" he ejaculated.
+
+"Cynthy and I was thinkin' of takin' a little trip," said Jethro, almost
+apologetically, "and we kind of thought we'd like to have you with us.
+Didn't we, Cynthy?  Er--we might see General Grant," he added meaningly.
+
+Ephraim was a New Englander, and not an adept in expressing his emotions.
+Both Cynthia and Jethro felt that he would have liked to have said
+something appropriate if he had known how.  What he actually said was:--
+"What time to-morrow?"
+
+"C-callate to take the nine o'clock from Brampton," said Jethro.
+
+"I'll report for duty at seven," said Ephraim, and it was then he
+squeezed the hand that he found in his.  He watched them calmly enough
+until they had disappeared in the barn behind the tannery.  house, and
+then his thoughts became riotous.  Rumors had been rife that summer,
+prophecies of changes to come, and the resignation of the old man who had
+so long been postmaster at Brampton was freely discussed--or rather the
+matter of his successor.  As the months passed, Ephraim had heard David
+Wheelock mentioned with more and more assurance for the place.  He had
+had many nights when sleep failed him, but it was characteristic of the
+old soldier that he had never once broached the subject since Jethro had
+spoken to him two months before.  Ephraim had even looked up the law to
+see if he was eligible, and found that he was, since Coniston had no
+post-office, and was within the limits of delivery of the Brampton
+office.
+
+The next morning Coniston was treated to a genuine surprise.  After
+loading up at the store, Lem Hallowell, instead of heading for Brampton,
+drove to the tannery house, left his horses standing as he ran in, and
+presently emerged with a little cowhide trunk that bore the letter W.
+Following the trunk came a radiant Cynthia, following Cynthia, Jethro
+Bass in a stove-pipe hat, with a carpetbag, and hobbling after Jethro,
+Ephraim Prescott, with another carpet-bag.  It was remarked in the buzz
+of query that followed the stage's departure that Ephraim wore the blue
+suit and the army hat with a cord around it which he kept for occasions.
+Coniston longed to follow them, in spirit at least, but even Milly
+Skinner did not know their destination.
+
+Fortunately we can follow them.  At Brampton station they got into the
+little train that had just come over Truro Pass, and steamed, with many
+stops, down the valley of Coniston Water until it stretched out into a
+wide range of shimmering green meadows guarded by blue hills veiled in
+the morning haze.  Then, bustling Harwich, and a wait of half an hour
+until the express from the north country came thundering through the Gap;
+then a five-hours' journey down the broad river that runs southward
+between the hills, dinner in a huge station amidst a pleasant buzz of
+excitement and the ringing of many bells.  Then into another train,
+through valleys and factory towns and cities until they came, at
+nightfall, to the metropolis itself.
+
+Cynthia will always remember the awe with which that first view of New
+York inspired her, and Ephraim confessed that he, too, had felt it, when
+he had first seen the myriad lights of the city after the long, dusty
+ride from the hills with his regiment.  For all the flags and bunting it
+had held in '61, Ephraim thought that city crueller than war itself.  And
+Cynthia thought so too, as she clung to Jethro's arm between the
+carriages and the clanging street-cars, and looked upon the riches and
+poverty around her.  There entered her soul that night a sense of that
+which is the worst cruelty of all--the cruelty of selfishness.  Every man
+going his own pace, seeking to gratify his own aims and desires,
+unconscious and heedless of the want with which he rubs elbows.  Her
+natural imagination enhanced by her life among the hills, the girl
+peopled the place in the street lights with all kinds of strange evil-
+doers of whose sins she knew nothing, adventurers, charlatans, alert
+cormorants, who preyed upon the unwary.  She shrank closer to Ephraim
+from a perfumed lady who sat next to her in the car, and was thankful
+when at last they found themselves in the corridor of the Astor House
+standing before the desk.
+
+Hotel clerks, especially city ones, are supernatural persons.  This one
+knew Jethro, greeted him deferentially as Judge Bass, and dipped the pen
+in the ink and handed it to him that he might register.  By half-past
+nine Cynthia was dreaming of Lem Hallowell and Coniston, and Lem was
+driving a yellow street-car full of queer people down the road to
+Brampton.
+
+There were few guests in the great dining room when they breakfasted at
+seven the next morning.  New York, in the sunlight, had taken on a more
+kindly expression, and those who were near by smiled at them and seemed
+full of good-will.  Persons smiled at them that day as they walked the
+streets or stood spellbound before the shop windows, and some who saw
+them felt a lump rise in their throats at the memories they aroused of
+forgotten days: the three seemed to bring the very air of the hills with
+them into that teeming place, and many who, had come to the city with
+high hopes, now in the shackles of drudgery; looked after them.  They
+were a curious party, indeed: the straight, dark girl with the light in
+her eyes and the color in her cheeks; the quaint, rugged figure of the
+elderly man in his swallow-tail and brass buttons and square-toed,
+country boots; and the old soldier hobbling along with the aid of his
+green umbrella, clad in the blue he had loved and suffered for.  Had they
+remained until Sunday, they might have read an amusing account of their
+visit,--of Jethro's suppers of crackers and milk at the Astor House, of
+their progress along Broadway.  The story was not lacking in pathos, either,
+and in real human feeling, for the young reporter who wrote it had come,
+not many years before, from the hills himself.  But by that time they had
+accomplished another marvellous span in their journey, and were come to
+Washington itself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+Cynthia was deprived, too, of that thrilling first view of the capital
+from the train which she had pictured, for night had fallen when they
+reached Washington likewise.  As the train slowed down, she leaned a
+little out of the window and looked at the shabby houses and shabby
+streets revealed by the flickering lights in the lamp-posts.  Finally
+they came to a shabby station, were seized upon by a grinning darky
+hackman, who would not take no for an answer, and were rattled away to
+the hotel.  Although he had been to Washington but once in his life
+before, as a Lincoln elector, Jethro was greeted as an old acquaintance
+by this clerk also.
+
+"Glad to see you, Judge," said he, genially.  "Train late?  You've come
+purty nigh, missin' supper."
+
+A familiar of great men, the clerk was not offended when he got no
+response to his welcome.  Cynthia and Ephraim, intent on getting rid of
+some of the dust of their journey, followed the colored hallboy up the
+stairs.  Jethro stood poring over the register, when a distinguished-
+looking elderly gentleman with a heavy gray beard and eyes full of
+shrewdness and humor paused at the desk to ask a question.
+
+"Er--Senator? "
+
+The senator (for such he was, although he did not represent Jethro's
+state) turned and stared, and then held out his hand with unmistakable
+warmth.
+
+"Jethro Bass," he exclaimed, "upon my word!  What are you doing in
+Washington?"
+
+Jethro took the hand, but he did not answer the question.
+
+"Er--Senator--when can I see the President?"
+
+"Why," answered the senator, somewhat taken aback, "why, to-night, if you
+like.  I'm going to the White House in a few minutes and I think I can
+arrange it."
+
+"T-to-morrow afternoon--t-to-morrow afternoon?"
+
+The senator cast his eye over the swallow-tail coat and stove-pipe hat
+tilted back, and laughed.
+
+"Thunder!" he exclaimed, "you haven't changed a bit.  I'm beginning to
+look like an old man; but that milk-and-crackers diet seems to keep you
+young, Jethro.  I'll fix it for to-morrow afternoon."
+
+"W-what time--two?"
+
+"Well, I'll fix it for two to-morrow afternoon.  I never could understand
+you, Jethro; you don't do things like other men.  Do I smell gunpowder?
+What's up now--what do you want to see Grant about?"
+
+Jethro cast his eye around the corridor, where a few men were taking
+their ease after supper, and looked at the senator mysteriously.
+
+"Any place where we can talk?" he demanded.
+
+"We can go into the writing room and shut the door," answered the
+senator, more amused than ever.
+
+When Cynthia came downstairs, Jethro was standing with the gentleman in
+the corridor leading to the dining room, and she heard the gentleman say
+as he took his departure:--
+ "I haven't forgotten what you did for us in '70, Jethro.  I'll go right
+along and see to it now."
+
+Cynthia liked the gentleman's looks, and rightly surmised that he was one
+of the big men of the nation.  She was about to ask Jethro his name when
+Ephraim came limping along and put the matter out of her mind, and the
+three went into the almost empty dining room.  There they were served
+with elaborate attention.  by a darky waiter who had, in some mysterious
+way, learned Jethro's name and title.  Cynthia reflected with pride that
+Jethro, too, was one of the nation's great men, who could get anything he
+wanted simply by coming to the capital and asking for it.
+
+Ephraim was very much excited on finding himself in Washington, the sight
+of the place reviving in his mind a score of forgotten incidents of the
+war.  After supper they found seats in a corner of the corridor, where a
+number of people were scattered about, smoking and talking.  It did not
+occur to Jethro or Cynthia, or even to Ephraim, that these people were
+all of the male sex, and on the other hand the guests of the hotel were
+apparently used once in a while to see a lady from the country seated
+there.  At any rate, Cynthia was but a young girl, and her two
+companions, however unusual their appearance, were clearly most
+respectable.  Jethro, his hands in his pockets and his hat tilted, sat on
+the small of his back rapt in meditation; Cpnthia, her head awhirl,
+looked around her with sparkling eyes; while Ephraim was smoking a cigar
+he had saved for just such a festal occasion.  He did not see the stout
+man with the button and corded hat until he was almost on top of him.
+
+"Eph Prescott, I believe!" exclaimed the stout one.  "How be you,
+Comrade?"
+
+Heedless of his rheumatism, Ephraim sprang to his feet and  dropped the
+cigar, which the stout one picked up with much difficulty.
+
+"Well," said Ephraim, in a voice that shook with unwonted emotion, "you
+kin skin me if it ain't Amasy Beard!"  His eye travelled around Amasa's
+figure.  "Wouldn't a-knowed you, I swan, I wouldn't.  Why, when I seen
+you last, Amasy, your stomach was havin' all it could do to git hold of
+your backbone."
+
+Cynthia laughed outright, and even Jethro sat up and smiled.
+
+"When was it?" said Amasa, still clinging on to Ephraim's hand and
+incidentally to the cigar, which Ephraim had forgotten; "Beaver Creek,
+wahn't it?"
+
+"July 10, 1863," said Ephraim, instantly.
+
+Gradually they reached a sitting position, the cigar was restored to its
+rightful owner, and Mr. Beard was introduced, with some ceremony, to
+Cynthia and Jethro.  From Beaver Creek they began to fight the war over
+again, backward and forward, much to Cynthia's edification, when her
+attention was distracted by the entrance of a street band of wind
+instruments.  As the musicians made their way to another corner and began
+tuning up, she glanced mischievously at Jethro, for she knew his
+peculiarities by heart.  One of these was a most violent detestation of
+any but the best music.  He had often given her this excuse, laughingly,
+for not going to meeting in Coniston.  How he had come by his love for
+good music, Cynthia never knew--he certainly had not heard much of it.
+
+Suddenly a great volume of sound filled the corridor, and the band burst
+forth into what many supposed to be "The Watch on the Rhine."  Some
+people were plainly delighted; the veterans, once recovered from their
+surprise, shouted their reminiscences above the music, undismayed; Jethro
+held on to himself until the refrain, when he began to squirm, and as
+soon as the tune was done and the scattering applause had died down, he
+reached over and grabbed Mr. Amasa Beard by the knee.  Mr. Beard did not
+immediately respond, being at that moment behind logworks facing a rebel
+charge; he felt vaguely that some one was trying to distract his
+attention, and in some lobe of his brain was registered the fact that
+that particular knee had gout in it.  Jethro increased the pressure, and
+then Mr. Beard abandoned his logworks and swung around with a snort of
+pain.
+
+"H-how much do they git for that noise--h-how much do they git?"
+
+Mr. Beard tenderly lifted the hand from his knee and stared at Jethro
+with his mouth open, like a man aroused from a bad dream.
+
+"Who?  What noise?" he demanded.
+
+"The Dutchmen," said Jethro.  "H-how much do they git for that noise?"
+
+"Oh!"  Mr. Beard glanced at the band and began to laugh.  He thought
+Jethro a queer customer, no doubt, but he was a friend of Comrade
+Prescott's.  "By gum!" said Mr. Beard, "I thought for a minute a rebel
+chain-shot had took my leg off.  Well, sir, I guess that band gets about
+two dollars.  They've come in here every evening since I've been at the
+hotel."
+
+"T-two dollars?  Is that the price?  Er--you say two dollars is their
+price?"
+
+"Thereabouts," answered Mr. Beard, uneasily.  Veteran as he was,
+Jethro's appearance and earnestness were a little alarming.
+
+"You say two dollars is their price?"
+
+"Thereabouts," shouted Mr. Beard, seating himself on the edge of his
+chair.
+
+But Jethro paid no attention to him.  He rose, unfolding by degrees his
+six feet two, and strode diagonally across the corridor toward the band
+leader.  Conversation was hushed at the sight of his figure, a titter ran
+around the walls, but Jethro was oblivious to these things.  He drew a
+great calfskin wallet from an inside pocket of his coat, and the band
+leader, a florid Geranan, laid down his instrument and made an elaborate
+bow.  Jethro waited until the man had become upright and then held out a
+two-dollar bill.
+
+"Is that about right for the performance?" he said "is that about right?"
+
+"Ja, mein Herr," said the man, nodding vociferously.
+
+"I want to pay what's right--I want to pay what's right," said Jethro.
+
+"I thank you very much, sir," said the leader, finding his English, "you
+haf pay for all."
+
+"P-paid for everything--everything to-night?" demanded Jethro.
+
+The leader spread out his hands.
+
+"You haf pay for one whole evening," said he, and bowed again.
+
+"Then take it, take it," said Jethro, pushing the bill into the man's
+palm; "but don't you come back to-night--don't you come back to-night."
+
+The amazed leader stared at Jethro--and words failed him.  There was
+something about this man that compelled him to obey, and he gathered up
+his followers and led the way silently out of the hotel.  Roars of
+laughter and applause arose on all sides; but Jethro was as one who heard
+them not as he made his way back to his seat again.
+
+"You did a good job, my friend," said Mr. Beard, approvingly.  "I'm going
+to take Eph Prescott down the street to see some of the boys.  Won't you
+come, too?"
+
+Mr. Beard doubtless accepted it as one of the man's eccentricities that
+Jethro did not respond to him, for without more ado he departed arm in
+arm with Ephraim.  Jethro was looking at Cynthia, who was staring toward
+the desk at the other end of the corridor, her face flushed, and her
+fingers closed over the arms of her chair.  It never occurred to Jethro
+that she might have been embarrassed.
+
+"W-what's the matter, Cynthy?" he asked, sinking into the chair beside
+her.
+
+Her breath caught sharply, but she tried to smile at him.  He did not
+discover what was the matter until long afterward, when he recalled that
+evening to mind.  Jethro was a man used to hotel corridors, used to
+sitting in an attitude that led the unsuspecting to believe he was half
+asleep; but no person of note could come or go whom he did not remember.
+He had seen the distinguished party arrive at the desk, preceded by a
+host of bell-boys with shawls and luggage.  On the other hand, some of
+the distinguished party had watched the proceeding of paying off the band
+with no little amusement.  Miss Janet Duncan had giggled audibly, her
+mother had smiled, while her father and Mr. Worthington had pretended to
+be deeply occupied with the hotel register.  Somers was not there.  Bob
+Worthington laughed heartily with the rest until his eye, travelling down
+the line of Jethro's progress, fell on Cynthia, and now he was striding
+across the floor toward them.  And even in the horrible confusion of that
+moment Cynthia had a vagrant thought that his clothes had an enviable cut
+and became him remarkably.
+
+"Well, of all things, to find you here!" he cried; "this is the best luck
+that ever happened.  I am glad to see you.  I was going to steal away to
+Brampton for a couple of days before the term opened, and I meant to look
+you up there.  And Mr. Bass," said Bob, turning to Jethro, "I'm glad to
+see you too."
+
+Jethro looked at the young man and smiled and held out his hand.  It was
+evident that Bob was blissfully unaware that hostilities between powers
+of no mean magnitude were about to begin; that the generals themselves
+were on the ground, and that he was holding treasonable parley with the
+enemy.  The situation appealed to Jethro, especially as he glanced at the
+backs of the two gentlemen facing the desk.  These backs seemed to him
+full of expression.  "Th-thank you, Bob, th-thank you," he answered.
+
+"I like the way you fixed that band," said Bob; "I haven't laughed as
+much for a year.  You hate music, don't you?  I hope you'll forgive that
+awful noise we made outside of your house last July, Mr. Bass."
+
+"You--you make that noise, Bob, you--you make that?"
+
+"Well," said Bob, "I'm afraid I did most of it.  There was another fellow
+that helped some and played the guitar.  It was pretty bad," he added,
+with a side glance at Cynthia, "but it was meant for a compliment."
+
+"Oh," said she, "it was meant for a compliment, was it?"
+
+"Of course," he answered, glad of the opportunity to turn his attention
+entirely to her.  "I was for slipping away right after supper, but my
+father headed us off."
+
+"Slipping away?" repeated Cynthia.
+
+"You see, he had a kind of a reception and fireworks afterward.  We
+didn't get away till after nine, and then I thought I'd have a lecture
+when I got home."
+
+"Did you?"  asked Cynthia.
+
+"No," said Bob, "he didn't know where I'd been."
+
+Cynthia felt the blood rush to her temples, but by habit and instinct she
+knew when to restrain herself.
+
+"Would it have made any difference to him where you had been?" she asked
+calmly enough.
+
+Bob had a presentiment that he was on dangerous ground.  This new and
+self-possessed Cynthia was an enigma to him--certainly a fascinating
+enigma.
+
+"My father world have thought I was a fool to go off serenading," he
+answered, flushing.  Bob did not like a lie; he knew that his father
+would have been angry if he had heard he had gone to Coniston; he felt,
+in the small of his back, that his father was angry mow, and guessed the
+reason.
+
+She regarded him gravely as he spoke, and then her eyes left his face and
+became fixed upon an object at the far end of the corridor.  Bob turned
+in time to see Janet Duncan swing on her heel and follow her mother up
+the stairs.  He struggled to find words to tide over what he felt was an
+awkward moment.
+
+"We've had a fine trip;" he said, "though I should much rather have
+stayed at home.  The West is a wonderful country, with its canons and
+mountains and great stretches of plain.  My father met us in Chicago, and
+we came here.  I don't know why, because Washington's dead at this time
+of the year.  I suppose it must be on account of politics."  Looking at
+Jethro with a sudden inspiration, "I hadn't thought of that."
+
+Jethro had betrayed no interest in the conversation.  He was seated, as
+usual, on the small of his back.  But he saw a young man of short
+stature, with a freckled face and close-cropped, curly red hair, come
+into the corridor by another entrance; he saw Isaac D. Worthington draw
+him aside and speak to him, and he saw the young man coming towards them.
+
+"How do you do, Miss Wetherell?" cried the young man joyously, while
+still ten feet away, "I'm awfully glad to see you, upon my word; I am.
+How long are you going to be in Washington?"
+
+"I don't know, Mr. Duncan," answered Cynthia.
+
+"Did Worthy know you were here?" demanded Mr. Duncan, suspiciously.
+
+"He did when he saw me," said Cynthia, smiling.
+
+"Not till then?" asked Mr. Duncan.  "Say, Worthy; your father wants to
+see you right away.  I'm going to be in Washington a day or two--will you
+go walking with me to-morrow morning, Miss Wetherell?"
+
+"She's going walking with me," said Bob, not in the best of tempers.
+
+"Then I'll go along," said Mr. Duncan, promptly.
+
+By this time Cynthia got up and was holding out her hand to Bob
+Worthington.  "I'm not going walking with either of you," she said "I
+have another engagement.  And I think I'll have to say good night,
+because I'm very tired."
+
+"When can I see you?"  Both the young men asked the question at once.
+
+"Oh, you'll have plenty of chances," she answered, and was gone.
+
+The young men looked at each other somewhat blankly; and then down at
+Jethro, who did not seem to know that they were there, and then they made
+their way toward the desk.  But Isaac D.  Worthington and his friends had
+disappeared.
+
+A few minutes later the distinguished-looking senator with whom Jethro
+had been in conversation before supper entered the hotel.  He seemed
+preoccupied, and heedless of the salutations he received; but when he
+caught sight of Jethro he crossed the corridor rapidly and sat down
+beside him.  Jethro did not move.  The corridor was deserted now, save
+for the two.
+
+"Bass," began the senator, "what's the row up in your state?"
+
+"H-haven't heard of any row," said Jethro.
+
+"What did you come to Washington for?" demanded the senator, somewhat
+sharply.
+
+"Er--vacation," said Jethro, "vacation--to show my gal, Cynthy, the
+capital."
+
+"Now see here, Bass," said the senator, "I don't forget what happened in
+'70.  I don't object to wading through a swarm of bees to get a little
+honey for a friend, but I think I'm entitled to know why he wants it."
+
+"G-got the honey?" asked Jethro.
+
+The senator took off his hat and wiped his brow, and then he stole a look
+at Jethro, with apparently barren results.
+
+"Jethro," he said, "people say you run that state of yours right up to
+the handle.  What's all this trouble about a two-for-a-cent
+postmastership?"
+
+"H-haven't heard of any trouble," said Jethro.
+
+"Well, there is trouble," said the senator, losing patience at last.
+When I told Grant you were here and mentioned that little Brampton matter
+to him,--it didn't seem much to me,--the bees began to fly pretty thick,
+I can tell you.  I saw right away that somebody had been stirring 'em up.
+It looks to me, Jethro," said the senator gravely, "it looks to me as if
+you had something of a rebellion on your hands."
+
+"W-what'd Grant say?" Jethro inquired.
+
+"Well, he didn't say a great deal--he isn't much of a talker, you know,
+but what he did say was to the point.  It seems that your man, Prescott,
+doesn't come from Brampton, in the first place, and Grant says that while
+he likes soldiers, he hasn't any use for the kind that want to lie down
+and make the government support 'em.  I'll tell you what I found out.
+Worthington and Duncan wired the President this morning, and they've gone
+up to the White House now.  They've got a lot of railroad interests back
+of them, and they've taken your friend Sutton into camp; but I managed to
+get the President to promise not to do anything until he saw you tomorrow
+afternoon at two."
+
+Jethro sat silent so long that the senator began to think he wasn't going
+to answer him at all.  In his opinion, he had told Jethro some very grave
+facts.
+
+"W-when are you going to see the President again?" said Jethro, at last.
+
+"To-morrow morning," answered the senator; "he wants me to walk over with
+him to see the postmaster-general, who is sick in bed."
+
+"What time do you leave the White House?--"
+
+"At eleven," said the senator, very much puzzled.
+
+"Er- Grant ever pay any attention to an old soldier on the street?"
+
+The senator glanced at Jethro, and a twinkle came into his eye.
+
+"Sometimes he has been known to," he answered.
+
+"You--you ever pay any attention to an old soldier on the street?"
+
+Then the senator's eyes began to snap.
+
+"Sometimes I have been known to."
+
+"Er--suppose an old soldier was in front of the White House at eleven
+o'clock--an old soldier with a gal suppose?"
+
+The senator saw the point, and took no pains to restrain his admiration.
+
+"Jethro," he said, slapping him on the shoulder, "I'm willing to bet a
+few thousand dollars you'll run your state for a while yet."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+"Heard you say you was goin' for a walk this morning, Cynthy," Jethro
+remarked, as they sat at breakfast the next morning.
+
+"Why, of course," answered Cynthia, "Cousin Eph and I are going out to
+see Washington, and he is to show me the places that he remembers."  She
+looked at Jethro appealingly.  "Aren't you coming with us? " she asked.
+
+"M-meet you at eleven, Cynthy," he said.
+
+"Eleven!" exclaimed Cynthia in dismay, "that's almost dinner-time."
+
+"M-meet you in front of the White House at eleven," said Jethro, "plumb
+in front of it, under a tree."
+
+By half-past seven, Cynthia and Ephraim with his green umbrella were in
+the street, but it would be useless to burden these pages with a
+description of all the sights they saw, and with the things that Ephraim
+said about them, and incidentally about the war.  After New York, much of
+Washington would then have seemed small and ragged to any one who lacked
+ideals and a national sense, but Washington was to Cynthia as Athens to a
+Greek.  To her the marble Capitol shining on its hill was a sacred
+temple, and the great shaft that struck upward through the sunlight,
+though yet unfinished, a fitting memorial to him who had led the barefoot
+soldiers of the colonies through ridicule to victory.  They looked up
+many institutions and monument, they even had time to go to the Navy
+Yard, and they saved the contemplation of the White House till the last.
+The White House, which Cynthia thought the finest and most graceful
+mansion in all the world, in its simplicity and dignity, a fitting
+dwelling for the chosen of the nation.  Under the little tree which
+Jethro had mentioned, Ephraim stood bareheaded before the walls which
+had sheltered Lincoln, which were now the home of the greatest of his
+captains, Grant: and wondrous emotions played upon the girl's spirit,
+too, as she gazed.  They forgot the present in the past and the future,
+and they did not see the two gentlemen who had left the portico some
+minutes before and were now coming toward them along the sidewalk.
+
+The two gentlemen, however, slowed their steps involuntarily at a sight
+which was uncommon, even in Washington.  The girl's arm was in the
+soldier's, and her face, which even in repose had a true nobility, now
+was alight with an inspiration that is seen but seldom in a lifetime.
+In marble, could it have been wrought by a great sculptor, men would
+have dreamed before it of high things.
+
+The two, indeed, might have stood for a group, the girl as the spirit,
+the man as the body which had risked and suffered all for it, and still
+held it fast.  For the honest face of the soldier reflected that spirit
+as truly as a mirror.
+
+Ephraim was aroused from his thoughts by Cynthia nudging his arm.  He
+started, put on his hat, and stared very hard at a man smoking a cigar
+who was standing before him.  Then he stiffened and raised his hand in an
+involuntary salute.  The man smiled.  He was not very tall, he had a
+closely trimmed light beard that was growing a little gray, he wore a
+soft hat something like Ephraim's, a black tie on a white pleated shirt,
+and his eyeglasses were pinned to his vest.  His eyes were all kindness.
+
+"How do you do, Comrade?" he said, holding out his hand.
+
+"General," said Ephraim, "Mr. President," he added, correcting himself,
+"how be you?"  He shifted the green umbrella, and shook the hand timidly
+but warmly.
+
+"General will do," said the President, with a smiling glance at the tall
+senator beside him, "I like to be called General."
+
+"You've growed some older, General," said Ephraim, scanning his face with
+a simple reverence and affection, "but you hain't changed so much as I'd
+a thought since I saw you whittlin' under a tree beside the Lacy house in
+the Wilderness."
+
+"My duty has changed some," answered the President, quite as simply.  He
+added with a touch of sadness, "I liked those days best, Comrade."
+
+"Well, I guess!" exclaimed Ephraim, "you're general over everything now,
+but you're not a mite bigger man to me than you was."
+
+The President took the compliment as it was meant.
+
+"I found it easier to run an army than I do to run a country," he said.
+
+Ephraim's blue eyes flamed with indignation.
+
+"I don't take no stock in the bull-dogs and the gold harness at Long
+Branch and--and all them lies the dratted newspapers print about you,"--
+Ephraim hammered his umbrella on the pavement as an expression of his
+feelings,--"and what's more, the people don't."
+
+The President glanced at the senator again, and laughed a little,
+quietly.
+
+"Thank you; Comrade," he said.
+
+"You're a plain, common man," continued Ephraim, paying the highest
+compliment known to rural New England; "the people think a sight of you,
+or they wouldn't hev chose you twice, General."
+
+"So you were in the Wilderness?" said the President, adroitly changing
+the subject.
+
+"Yes, General.  I was pressed into orderly duty the first day--that's
+when I saw you whittlin' under the tree, and you didn't seem to have no
+more consarn than if it had been a company drill.  Had a cigar then, too.
+But the second day; May the 6th, I was with the regiment.  I'll never
+forget that day," said Ephraim, warming to the subject, "when we was
+fightin' Ewell up and down the Orange Plank Road, playin' hide-and-seek
+with the Johnnies in the woods.  You remember them woods, General?"
+
+The President nodded, his cigar between his teeth.  He looked as though
+the scene were coming back to him.
+
+"Never seen such woods," said Ephraim, "scrub oak and pine and cedars and
+young stuff springin' up until you couldn't see the length of a company,
+and the Rebs jumpin' and hollerin' around and shoutin' every which way.
+After a while a lot of them saplings was mowed off clean by the bullets,
+and then the woods caught afire, and that was hell."
+
+"Were you wounded?" asked the President, quickly.
+
+"I was hurt some, in the hip," answered Ephraim.
+
+"Some!" exclaimed Cynthia, "why, you have walked lame ever since."  She
+knew the story by heart, but the recital of it never failed to stir her
+blood! They carried him out just as he was going to be burned up, in a
+blanket hung from rifles, and he was in the hospital nine months, and had
+to come home for a while."
+
+"Cynthy," said Ephraim in gentle reproof, "I callate the General don't
+want to hear that."
+
+Cynthia flushed, but the President looked at her with an added interest.
+
+"My dear young lady," he said, "that seems to me the vital part of the
+story.  If I remember rightly," he added, turning again to Ephraim, the
+Fifth Corps was on the Orange turnpike.  What brigade were you in?"
+
+"The third brigade of the First Division," answered Ephraim.
+
+"Griffin's," said the President.  "There were several splendid New
+England regiments in that brigade.  I sent them with Griffin to help
+Sheridan at Five Forks."
+
+"I was thar too," cried Ephraim.
+
+"What!" said the President, "with the lame hip?"
+
+"Well, General, I went back, I couldn't help it.  I couldn't stay away
+from the boys--just couldn't.  I didn't limp as bad then as I do now.  I
+wahn't much use anywhere else, and I had l'arned to fight.  Five Forks!"
+exclaimed Ephraim.  "I call that day to mind as if it was yesterday.  I
+remember how the boys yelled when they told us we was goin' to Sheridan.
+We got started about daylight, and it took us till four o'clock in the
+afternoon to git into position.  The woods was just comin' a little
+green, and the white dogwoods was bloomin' around.  Sheridan, he galloped
+up to the line with that black horse of his'n and hollered out, 'Come on,
+boys, go in at a clean, jump or You won't ketch one of 'em.' You know how
+men, even veterans like that Fifth Corps, sometimes hev to be pushed into
+a fight.  There was a man from a Maine regiment got shot in the head fust
+thing.  'I'm killed,' said he.  'Oh, no, you're not,' says Sheridan,
+'pickup your gun and go for 'em.' But he was killed.  Well, we went for
+'em through all the swamps and briers and everything, and Sheridan, thar
+in front, had got the battle-flag and was rushin' round with it swearin'
+and prayin' and shoutin', and the first thing we knowed he'd jumped his
+horse clean over their logworks and landed right on top of the
+Johnnie's."
+
+"Yes," said the President, "that was Sheridan, sure enough."
+
+"Mr. President," said the senator, who stood by wonderingly while General
+Grant had lost himself in this conversation, "do you realize what time it
+is?"
+
+"Yes, yes," said the President, "we must go on.  What was your rank,
+Comrade?"
+
+"Sergeant, General."
+
+"I hope you have got a good pension for that hip," said the President,
+kindly.  It may be well to add that he was not always so incautious, but
+this soldier bore the unmistakable stamp of simplicity and sincerity on
+his face.
+
+Ephraim hesitated.
+
+"He never would ask for a pension, General," said Cynthia.
+
+"What!" exclaimed the President in real astonishment, "are you so rich as
+all that?" and he glanced at the green umbrella.
+
+"Well, General," said Ephraim, uncomfortably, "I never liked the notion
+of gittin' paid for it.  You see, I was what they call a war-Democrat."
+
+"Good Lord!" said the President, but more to himself.  "What do you do
+now?"
+
+"I callate to make harness," answered Ephraim.
+
+"Only he can't make it any more on account of his rheumatism, Mr.
+President," Cynthia put in.
+
+"I think you might call me General, too," he said, with the grace that
+many simple people found inherent in him.  "And may I ask your name,
+young lady?"
+
+"Cynthia Wetherell--General," she said smiling.
+
+"That sounds more natural," said the President, and then to Ephraim,
+"Your daughter?"
+
+"I couldn't think more of her if she was," answered Ephraim; "Cynthy's
+pulled me through some tight spells.  Her mother was my cousin, General.
+My name's Prescott--Ephraim Prescott."
+
+"Ephraim Prescott!" ejaculated the President, sharply, taking his cigar
+from his mouth, "Ephraim Prescott!"
+
+"Prescott--that's right--Prescott, General," repeated Ephraim, sorely
+puzzled by these manifestations of amazement.
+
+"What did you come to Washington for?" asked the President.
+
+"Well, General, I kind of hate to tell you--I didn't intend to mention
+that.  I guess I won't say nothin' about it," he added, "we've had such a
+sociable time.  I've always b'en a little mite ashamed of it, General,
+ever since 'twas first mentioned."
+
+"Good Lord!" said the President again, and then he looked at Cynthia.
+"What is it, Miss Cynthia?" he asked.
+
+It was now Cynthia's turn to be a little confused.
+
+"Uncle Jethro--that is, Mr. Bass" (the President nodded), "went to Cousin
+Eph when he couldn't make harness any more and said he'd give him the
+Brampton post-office."
+
+The President's eyes met the senator's, and both gentlemen laughed.
+Cynthia bit her lip, not seeing any cause for mirth in her remark, while
+Ephraim looked uncomfortable and mopped the perspiration from his brow.
+
+"He said he'd give it to him, did he?" said the President.  "Is Mr. Bass
+your uncle?"
+
+"Oh, no, General," replied Cynthia, "he's really no relation.  He's done
+everything for me, and I live with him since my father died.  He was
+going to meet us here," she continued, looking around hurriedly, "I'm
+sure I can't think what's kept him."
+
+"Mr. President, we are half an hour late already," said the senator,
+hurriedly.
+
+"Well, well," said the President, "I suppose I must go.  Good-by, Miss
+Cynthia," said he, taking the girl's hand warmly.  "Good-by, Comrade.
+If ever you want to see General Grant, just send in your name.  Good-by."
+
+The President lifted his hat politely to Cynthia and passed.  He said
+something to the senator which they did not hear, and the senator laughed
+heartily.  Ephraim and Cynthia watched them until they were out of sight.
+
+"Godfrey!" exclaimed Ephraim, "they told me he was hard to talk to.  Why,
+Cynthy, he's as simple as a child."
+
+"I've always thought that all great men must be simple," said Cynthia;
+"Uncle Jethro is."
+
+"To think that the President of the United States stood talkin' to us on
+the sidewalk for half an hour," said Ephraim, clutching Cynthia's arm.
+"Cynthy, I'm glad we didn't press that post-office matter it was worth
+more to me than all the post-offices in the Union to have that talk with
+General Grant."
+
+They waited some time longer under the tree, happy in the afterglow of
+this wonderful experience.  Presently a clock struck twelve.
+
+"Why, it's dinner-time, Cynthy," said Ephraim.  "I guess Jethro haint'
+a-comin'--must hev b'en delayed by some of them politicians."
+
+"It's the first time I ever knew him to miss an appointment," said
+Cynthia, as they walked back to the hotel.
+
+Jethro was not in the corridor, so they passed on to the dining room and
+looked eagerly from group to group.  Jethro was not there, either, but
+Cynthia heard some one laughing above the chatter of the guests, and drew
+back into the corridor.  She had spied the Duncans and the Worthingtons
+making merry by themselves at a corner table, and it was Somers's laugh
+that she heard.  Bob, too, sitting next to Miss Duncan, was much amused
+about something.  Suddenly Cynthia's exaltation over the incident of the
+morning seemed to leave her, and Bob Worthington's words which she had
+pondered over in the night came back to her with renewed force.  He did
+not find it necessary to steal away to see Miss Duncan.  Why should he
+have "stolen away" to see her?  Was it because she was a country girl,
+and poor?  That was true; but on the other hand, did she not live in the
+sunlight, as it were, of Uncle Jethro's greatness, and was it not an
+honor to come to his house and see any one?  And why had Mr. Worthington
+turned hid back on Jethro, and sent for Bob when he was talking to them?
+Cynthia could not understand these things, and her pride was sorely
+wounded by them.
+
+"Perhaps Jethro's in his room," suggested Ephraim.
+
+And indeed they found him there seated on the bed, poring over some
+newspapers, and both in a breath demanded where he had been.  Ephraim did
+not wait for an answer.
+
+"We seen General Grant, Jethro," he cried; "while we was waitin' for you
+under the tree he come up and stood talkin' to us half an hour.  Full
+half an hour, wahn't it, Cynthy?"
+
+"Oh, yes," answered Cynthia, forgetting her own grievance at the
+recollection; "only it didn't seem nearly that long."
+
+"W-want to know!" exclaimed Jethro, in astonishment, putting down his
+paper.  "H-how did it happen?"
+
+"Come right up and spoke to us," said Ephraim, in a tone he might have
+used to describe a miracle, "jest as if he was common folk.  Never had a
+more sociable talk with anybody.  Why, there was times when I clean
+forgot he was President of the United States.  The boys won't believe it
+when we git back at Coniston."
+
+And Ephraim, full of his subject, began to recount from the beginning the
+marvellous affair, occasionally appealing to Cynthia for confirmation.
+How he had lived over again the Wilderness and Five Forks; how the
+General had changed since he had seen him whittling under a tree;
+how the General had asked about his pension.
+
+"D-didn't mention the post-office, did you, Ephraim?"
+
+"Why, no," replied Ephraim, "I didn't like to exactly.  You see, we was
+havin' such a good time I didn't want to spoil it, but Cynthy--"
+
+"I told the President about it, Uncle Jethro; I told him how sick Cousin
+Eph had been, and that you were going to give him the postmastership
+because he couldn't work any more with his hands."
+
+The training of a lifetime had schooled Jethro not to betray surprise.
+
+"K-kind of mixin' up in politics, hain't you, Cynthy?  P-President say he'd
+give you the postmastership, Eph?" he asked.
+
+"He didn't say nothin' about it, Jethro," answered Ephraim slowly;
+"I callate he has other views for the place, and he was too kind to come
+right out with 'em and spoil our mornin'.  You see, Jethro, I wahn't only
+a sergeant, and Brampton's gittin' to be a big town."
+
+"But, surely," cried Cynthia, who could scarcely wait for him to finish,
+"surely you're going to give Cousin Eph the post-office, aren't you,
+Uncle Jethro?  All you have to do is to tell the President that you want
+it for him.  Why, I had an idea that we came down for that."
+
+"Now, Cynthy," Ephraim put in, deprecatingly.
+
+"Who else would get the post-office?" asked Cynthia.  "Surely you're not
+going to let Mr. Sutton have it for Dave Wheelock!"
+
+"Er--Cynthy," said Jethro, slyly, "w-what'd you say to me once about
+interferin' with women's fixin's?"
+
+Cynthia saw the point.  She perceived also that the mazes of politics
+were not to be understood by a young woman, of even by an old soldier.
+She laughed and seized Jethro's hands and pulled him from the bed.
+
+"We won't get any dinner unless we hurry," she said.
+
+When they reached the dining room she was relieved to discover that the
+party in the corner had gone.
+
+In the afternoon there were many more sights to be viewed, but they were
+back in the hotel again by half-past four, because Ephraim's Wilderness
+leg had its limits of endurance.  Jethro (though he had not mentioned the
+fact to them) had gone to the White House.
+
+It was during the slack hours that our friend the senator, whose interest
+in the matter of the Brampton post office out-weighed for the present
+certain grave problems of the Administration in which he was involved,
+hurried into the Willard Hotel, looking for Jethro Bass.  He found him
+without much trouble in his usual attitude, occupying one of the chairs
+in the corridor.
+
+"Well," exclaimed the senator, with a touch of eagerness he did not often
+betray, "did you see Grant?  How about your old soldier?  He's one of the
+most delightful characters I ever met--simple as a child," and he laughed
+at the recollection.  "That was a masterstroke of yours, Bass, putting
+him under that tree with that pretty girl.  I doubt if you ever did
+anything better in your life.  Did they tell you about it?"
+
+"Yes," said Jethro, "they told me about it."
+
+"And how about Grant?  What did he say to you?"
+
+"W-well, I went up there and sent in my card.  D-didn't have to wait a
+great while, as I was pretty early, and soon he came in, smokin' a black
+cigar, head bent forward a little.  D-didn't ask me to sit down, and what
+talkin' we did we did standin'.  D-didn't ask me what he could do for me,
+what I wanted, or anything else, but just stood there, and I stood there.
+F-fust time in my life I didn't know how to commerce or what to say;
+looked--looked at me--didn't take his eye off me.  After a while I got
+started, somehow; told him I was there to ask him to appoint Ephraim
+Prescott to the Brampton postoffice--t-told him all about Ephraim from
+the time he was locked in the cradle--never was so hard put that I could
+remember.  T-told him how Ephraim shook butternuts off my fathers tree--
+for all I know.  T-told him all about Ephraim's war record--leastways
+all I could call to mind--and, by Godfrey! before I got through, I wished
+I'd listened to more of it.  T-told him about Ephraim's Wilderness bullets
+--t-told him about Ephraim's rheumatism,--how it bothered him when he went
+to bed and when he got up again."
+
+If Jethro had glanced at his companion, he would have seen the senator
+was shaking with silent and convulsive laughter.
+
+"All the time I talked to him I didn't see a muscle move in his face,"
+Jethro continued, "so I started in again, and he looked--looked--looked
+right at me.  W-wouldn't wink--don't think he winked once while I was in
+that room.  I watched him as close as I could, and I watched to see if a
+muscle moved or if I was makin' any impression.  All he would do was to
+stand there and look--look--look.  K-kept me there ten minutes and never
+opened his mouth at all.  Hardest man to talk to I ever met--never see a
+man before but what I could get him to say somethin', if it was only a
+cuss word.  I got tired of it after a while, made up my mind that I had
+found one man I couldn't move.  Then what bothered me was to get out of
+that room.  If I'd a had a Bible I believe I'd a read it to him.  I
+didn't know what to say, but I did say this after a while:--
+ "'W-well, Mr. President, I guess I've kept you long enough--g-guess
+you're a pretty busy man.  H-hope you'll give Mr. Prescott that
+postmastership.  Er--er good-by.'
+
+"'Wait, sir,' he said.
+
+"'Yes,' I said, 'I-I'll wait.'
+
+"Thought you was goin' to give him that postmastership, Mr. Bass,' he
+said."
+
+At this point the senator could not control his mirth, and the empty
+corridor echoed his laughter.
+
+"By thunder! what did you say to that?"
+
+"Er--I said, 'Mr. President, I thought I was until a while ago.'
+
+"'And when did you change your mind?' says he.
+
+Then he laughed a little--not much--but he laughed a little.
+
+"'I understand that your old soldier lives within the limits of the
+delivery of the Brampton office,' said he.
+
+"'That's correct, Mr. President,' said I.
+
+"'Well,' said he, 'I will app'int him postmaster at Brampton, Mr. Bass.'
+
+"'When?' said I.
+
+Then he laughed a little more.
+
+"I'll have the app'intment sent to your hotel this afternoon,' said he.
+
+"'Then I said to him, 'This has come out full better than I expected, Mr.
+President.  I'm much obliged to you.'  He didn't say nothin' more, so I
+come out."
+
+"Grant didn't say anything about Worthington or Duncan, did he?" asked
+the senator, curiously, as he rose to go.
+
+"G-guess I've told you all he said," answered Jethro; "'twahn't a great
+deal."
+
+The senator held out his hand.
+
+"Bass," he said, laughing, "I believe you came pretty near meeting your
+match.  But if Grant's the hardest man in the Union to get anything out
+of, I've a notion who's the second."  And with this parting shot the
+senator took his departure, chuckling to himself as he went.
+
+As has been said, there were but few visitors in Washington at this time,
+and the hotel corridor was all but empty.  Presently a substantial-
+looking gentleman came briskly in from the street, nodding affably to the
+colored porters and bell-boys, who greeted him by name.  He wore a
+flowing Prince Albert coat, which served to dignify a growing portliness,
+and his coal-black whiskers glistened in the light.  A voice, which
+appeared to come from nowhere in particular, brought the gentleman up
+standing.
+
+"How be you, Heth?"
+
+It may not be that Mr. Sutton's hand trembled, but the ashes of his cigar
+fell to the floor.  He was not used to visitations, and for the instant,
+if the truth be told, he was not equal to looking around.
+
+"Like Washington, Heth--like Washington?"
+
+Then Mr. Sutton turned.  His presence of mind, and that other presence of
+which he was so proud, seemed for the moment to have deserted him.
+
+"S-stick pretty close to business, Heth, comin' down here out of session
+time.  S-stick pretty close to business, don't you, since the people sent
+you to Congress?"
+
+Mr. Sutton might have offered another man a cigar or a drink, but (as is
+well known) Jethro was proof against tobacco or stimulants.
+
+"Well," said the Honorable Heth, catching his breath and making a dive,
+"I am surprised to see you, Jethro," which was probably true.
+
+"Th-thought you might be," said Jethro.  "Er--glad to see me, Heth--glad
+to see me?"
+
+As has been recorded, it is peculiarly difficult to lie to people who are
+not to be deceived.
+
+"Why, certainly I am," answered the Honorable Heth, swallowing hard,
+"certainly I am, Jethro.  I meant to have got to Coniston this summer,
+but I was so busy--"
+
+"Peoples' business, I understand.  Er--hear you've gone in for high-
+minded politics, Heth--r-read a highminded speech of yours--two high-
+minded speeches.  Always thought you was a high-minded man, Heth."
+
+"How did you like those speeches, Jethro?" asked Mr. Sutton, striving as
+best he might to make some show of dignity.
+
+"Th-thought they was high-minded," said Jethro.
+
+Then there was a silence, for Mr. Sutton could think of nothing more to
+say.  And he yearned to depart with a great yearning, but something held
+him there.
+
+"Heth," said Jethafter a while, "you was always very friendly and
+obliging.  You've done a great many favors for me in your life."
+
+"I've always tried to be neighborly, Jethro," said Mr. Sutton, but his
+voice sounded a little husky even to himself.
+
+"And I may have done one or two little things for you, Heth," Jethro
+continued, "but I can't remember exactly.  Er--can you remember, Heth."
+
+Mr. Sutton was trying with becoming nonchalance to light the stump of his
+cigar.  He did not succeed this time.  He pulled himself together with a
+supreme effort.
+
+"I think we've both been mutually helpful, Jethro," he said, "mutually
+helpful."
+
+"Well," said Jethro, reflectively, "I don't know as I could have put it
+as well as that--there's somethin' in being an orator."
+
+There was another silence, a much longer one.  The Honorable Heth threw
+his butt away, and lighted another cigar.  Suddenly, as if by magic, his
+aplomb returned, and in a flash of understanding he perceived the
+situation.  He saw himself once more as the successful congressman, the
+trusted friend of the railroad interests, and he saw Jethro as a
+discredited boss.  He did not stop to reflect that Jethro did not act
+like a discredited boss, as a keener man might have done.  But if the
+Honorable Heth had been a keener man, he would not have been at that time
+a congressman.  Mr. Sutton accused himself of having been stupid in not
+grasping at once that the tables were turned, and that now he was the one
+to dispense the gifts.
+
+"K-kind of fortunate you stopped to speak to me, Heth.  N-now I come to
+think of it, I hev a little favor to ask of you."
+
+"Ah!" exclaimed Mr. Sutton, blowing out the smoke; "of course anything I
+can do, Jethro--anything in reason."
+
+"W-wouldn't ask a high-minded man to do anything he hadn't ought to,"
+said Jethro; "the fact is, I'd like to git Eph Prescott appointed at the
+Brampton post-office.  You can fix that, Heth--can't you--you can fix
+that?"
+
+Mr. Sutton stuck his thumb into his vest pocket and cleared his throat.
+
+"I can't tell you how sorry I am not to oblige you, Jethro, but I've
+arranged to give that post-office to Dave Wheelock."
+
+"A-arranged it, hev You--a-arranged it?"
+
+"Why, yes," said Mr. Sutton, scarcely believing his own ears.  Could it
+be possible that he was using this patronizingly kind tone to Jethro
+Bass?
+
+"Well, that's too bad," said Jethro; "g-got it all fixed, hev you?"
+
+"Practically," answered Mr. Sutton, grandly; "indeed, I may go as far as
+to say that it is as certain as if I had the appointment here in my
+pocket.  I'm sorry not to oblige you, Jethro; but these are matters which
+a member of Congress must look after pretty closely."  He held out his
+hand, but Jethro did not appear to see it,--he had his in his pockets.
+"I've an important engagement," said the Honorable Heth, consulting a
+large gold watch.  "Are you going to be in Washington long?"
+
+"G-guess I've about got through, Heth--g-guess I've about got through,"
+said Jethro.
+
+"Well, if you have time and there's any other little thing, I'm in Room
+29," said Mr. Sutton, as he put his foot on the stairway.
+
+"T-told Worthington you got that app'intment for Wheelock--t-told
+Worthington?"  Jethro called out after him.
+
+Mr. Sutton turned and waved his cigar and smiled in acknowledgment of
+this parting bit of satire.  He felt that he could afford to smile.  A
+few minutes later he was ensconced on the sofa of a private sitting room
+reviewing the incident, with much gusto, for the benefit of Mr. Isaac D.
+Worthington and Mr. Alexander Duncan.  Both of these gentlemen laughed
+heartily, for the Honorable Heth Sutton knew the art of telling a story
+well, at least, and was often to be seen with a group around him in the
+lobbies of Congress.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+About five o'clock that afternoon Ephraim was sitting in his shirt-
+sleeves by the window of his room, and Cynthia was reading aloud to him
+an article (about the war, of course) from a Washington paper, which his
+friend, Mr. Beard, had sent him.  There was a knock at the door, and
+Cynthia opened it to discover a colored hall-boy with a roll in his hand.
+
+"Mistah Ephum Prescott?" he said.
+
+"Yes," answered Ephraim, "that's me."
+
+Cynthia shut the door and gave him the roll, but Ephraim took it as
+though he were afraid of its contents.
+
+"Guess it's some of them war records from Amasy," he said.
+
+"Oh, Cousin Eph," exclaimed Cynthia, excitedly, "why don't you open it?
+If you don't I will."
+
+"Guess you'd better, Cynthy," and he held it out to her with a trembling
+hand.
+
+Cynthia did open it, and drew out a large document with seals and
+printing and signatures.
+
+"Cousin Eph," she cried, holding it under his nose, "Cousin Eph, you're
+postmaster of Brampton!"
+
+Ephraim looked at the paper, but his eyes swam, and he could only make
+out a dancidg, bronze seal.
+
+"I want to know!" he exclaimed.  "Fetch Jethro."
+
+But Cynthia had already flown on that errand.  Curiously enough, she ran
+into Jethro in the hall immediately outside of Ephraim's door.  Ephraim
+got to his feet; it was very difficult for him to realize that his
+troubles were ended, that he was to earn his living at last.  He looked
+at Jethro, and his eyes filled with tears. "I guess I can't thank you as
+I'd ought to, Jethro," he said, "leastways, not now."
+
+"I'll thank him for you, Cousin Eph," said Cynthia.  And she did.
+
+"D-don't thank me," said Jethro, "I didn't have much to do with it,
+Eph. Thank the President."
+
+Ephraim did thank the President, in one of the most remarkable letters,
+from a literary point of view, ever received at the White House.  For the
+art of literature largely consists in belief in what one is writing, and
+Ephraim's letter had this quality of sincerity, and no lack of vividness
+as well.  He spent most of the evening in composing it.
+
+Cynthia, too, had received a letter that day--a letter which she had read
+several times, now with a smile, and again with a pucker of the forehead
+which was meant for a frown.  "Dear Cynthia," it said.  "Where do you
+keep yourself?  I am sure you would not be so cruel if you knew that I
+was aching to see you."  Aching!  Cynthia repeated the word, and
+remembered the glimpse she had had of him in the dining room with Miss
+Janet Duncan.  "Whenever I have been free" (Cynthia repeated this also,
+somewhat ironically, although she conceded it the merit of frankness),
+"Whenever I have been free, I have haunted the corridors for a sight of
+you.  Think of me as haunting the hotel desk for an answer to this,
+telling me when I can see you--and where.  P.S.  I shall be around all
+evening."  And it was signed, "Your friend and playmate, R. Worthington."
+
+It is a fact--not generally known--that Cynthia did answer the letter--
+twice.  But she sent neither answer.  Even at that age she was given to
+reflection, and much as she may have approved of the spirit of the
+letter, she liked the tone of it less.  Cynthia did not know a great deal
+of the world, it is true, but the felt instinctively that something was
+wrong when Bob resorted to such means of communication.  And she was
+positively relieved, or  thought that she was, when she went down to
+supper and discovered that the table in the corner was empty.
+
+After supper Ephraim had his letter to write, and Jethro wished to sit in
+the corridor.  But Cynthia had learned that the corridor was not the
+place for a girl, so she explained--to Jethro that he would find her in
+the parlor if be wanted her, and that she was going there to read.  That
+parlor Cynthia thought a handsome room, with its high windows and lace
+curtains, its long mirrors and marble-topped tables.  She established
+herself under a light, on a sofa in one corner, and sat, with the book on
+her lap watching the people who came and went.  She had that delicious
+sensation which comes to the young when they first travel--the sensation
+of being a part of the great world; and she wished that she knew these
+people, and which were the great, and which the little ones.  Some of
+them looked at her intently, she thought too intently, and at such times
+she pretended to read.  She was aroused by hearing some one saying:--
+ "Isn't this Miss Wetherell?"
+
+Cynthia looked up and caught her breath, for the young lady who had
+spoken was none other than Miss Janet Duncan herself.  Seen thus
+startlingly at close range, Miss Duncan was not at all like what Cynthia
+had expected--but then most people are not.  Janet Duncan was, in fact,
+one of those strange persons who do not realize the picture which their
+names summon up.  She was undoubtedly good-looking; her hair, of a more
+golden red than her brother's, was really wonderful; her neck was
+slender; and she had a strange, dreamy face that fascinated Cynthia, who
+had never seen anything like it.
+
+She put down her book on the sofa and got up, not without a little tremor
+at this unexpected encounter.
+
+"Yes, I'm Cynthia Wetherell," she replied.
+
+To add to her embarrassment, Miss Duncan seized both her hands
+impulsively and gazed into her face.
+
+"You're really very beautiful," she said.  "Do you know it?"
+
+Cynthia's only answer to this was a blush.  She wondered if all city
+girls were like Miss Duncan.
+
+"I was determined to come up and speak to you the first chance I had,"
+Janet continued.  "I've been making up stories about you."
+
+"Stories!" exclaimed Cynthia, drawing away her hands.
+
+"Romances," said Miss Duncan--"real romances.  Sometimes I think I'm
+going to be a novelist, because I'm always weaving stories about people
+that I see people who interest me, I mean.  And you look as if you might
+be the heroine of a wonderful romance."
+
+Cynthia's breath was now quite taken away.
+
+"Oh," she said, "I--had never thought that I looked like that."
+
+"But you do," said Miss Duncan; "you've got all sorts of possibilities in
+your face--you look as if you might have lived for ages."
+
+"As old as that?" exclaimed Cynthia, really startled.
+
+"Perhaps I don't express myself very well" said the other, hastily; "I
+wish you could see what I've written about you already.  I can do it so
+much better with pen and ink.  I've started quite a romance already."
+
+"What is it?" asked Cynthia, not without interest.
+
+"Sit down on the sofa and I'll tell you," said Miss Duncan; "I've done it
+all from your face, too.  I've made you a very poor girl brought up by
+peasants, only you are really of a great family, although nobody knows
+it.  A rich duke sees you one day when he is hunting and falls in love
+with you, and you have to stand a lot of suffering and persecution
+because of it, and say nothing.  I believe you could do that," added
+Janet, looking critically at Cynthia's face.
+
+"I suppose I could if I had to," said Cynthia, "but I shouldn't like it."
+
+"Oh, it would do you good," said Janet; "it would ennoble your character.
+Not that it needs it," she added hastily.  "And I could write another
+story about that quaint old man who paid the musicians to go away, and
+who made us all laugh so much."
+
+Cynthia's eye kindled.
+
+"Mr. Bass isn't a quaint old man," she said; "he's the greatest man in
+the state."
+
+Miss Duncan's patronage had been of an unconscious kind.  She knew that
+she had offended, but did not quite realize how.
+
+"I'm so sorry," she cried, "I didn't mean to hurt you.  You live with
+him, don't you--Coniston?"
+
+"Yes," replied Cynthia, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.
+
+"I've heard about Coniston.  It must be quite a romance in itself to live
+all the year round in such a beautiful place and to make your own
+clothes.  Yours become you very well," said Miss Duncan, "although I
+don't know why.  They're not at all in style, and yet they give you quite
+an air of distinction.  I wish I could live in Coniston for a year,
+anyway, and write a book about you.  My brother and Bob Worthington went
+out there one night and serenaded you, didn't they?"
+
+"Yes," said Cynthia, that peculiar flash coming into her eyes again, "and
+I think it was very foolish of them."
+
+"Do you?" exclaimed Miss Duncan, in surprise; "I wish somebody would
+serenade me.  I think it was the most romantic thing Bob ever did.  He's
+wild about you, and so is Somers they have both told me so in
+confidence."
+
+Cynthia's face was naturally burning now.
+
+"If it were true," she said, "they wouldn't have told you about it."
+
+"I suppose that's so," said Miss Duncan, thoughtfully, "only you're very
+clever to have seen it.  Now that I know you, I think you a more
+remarkable person than ever.  You don't seem at all like a country girl,
+and you don't talk like one."
+
+Cynthia laughed outright.  She could not help liking Janet Duncan, mere
+flesh and blood not being proof against such compliments.
+
+"I suppose it's because my father was an educated man," she said; "he
+taught me to read and speak when I was young."
+
+"Why, you are just like a person out of a novel!  Who was your father?"
+
+"He kept the store at Coniston," answered Cynthia, smiling a little
+sadly.  She would have liked to have added that William Wetherell would
+have been a great man if he had had health, but she found it difficult to
+give out confidences, especially when they were in the nature of
+surmises.
+
+"Well," said Janet, stoutly, "I think that is more like a story than
+ever.  Do you know," she continued, "I saw you once at the state capital
+outside of our grounds the day Bob ran after you.  That was when I was in
+love with him.  We had just come back from Europe then, and I thought he
+was the most wonderful person I had ever seen."
+
+If Cynthia had felt any emotion from this disclosure, she did not betray
+it.  Janet, moreover, was not looking for it.
+
+"What made you change your mind?" asked Cynthia, biting her lip.
+
+"Oh, Bob hasn't the temperament," said Janet, making use of a word that
+she had just discovered; "he's too practical--he never does or says the
+things you want him to.  He's just been out West with us on a trip, and
+he was always looking at locomotives and brakes and grades and bridges
+and all such tiresome things.  I should like to marry a poet," said Miss
+Duncan, dreamily; "I know they want me to marry Bob, and Mr. Worthington
+wants it.  I'm sure, of that.  But he wouldn't at all suit me."
+
+If Cynthia had been able to exercise an equal freedom of speech, she
+might have been impelled to inquire what young Mr. Worthington's views
+were in the matter.  As it was, she could think of nothing appropriate to
+say, and just then four people entered the room and came towards them.
+Two of these were Janet's mother and father, and the other two were Mr.
+Worthington, the elder, and the Honorable Heth Sutton.  Mrs. Duncan, whom
+Janet did not at all resemble was a person who naturally commanded
+attention.  She had strong features, and a very decided, though not
+disagreeable, manner.
+
+"I couldn't imagine what had become of you, Janet," she said, coming
+forward and throwing off her lace shawl.  "Whom have you found--a school
+friend?"
+
+"No, Mamma," said Janet, "this is Cynthia Wetherell."  "Oh," said Mrs.
+Duncan, looking very hard at Cynthia in a near-sighted way, and, not
+knowing in the least who she was; "you haven't seen Senator and Mrs.
+Meade, have you, Janet?  They were to be here at eight o'clock."
+
+"No," said Janet, turning again to Cynthia and scarcely hearing the
+question.
+
+"Janet hasn't seen them, Dudley," said Mrs. Duncan, going up to Mr.
+Worthington, who was pulling his chop whiskers by the door.  "Janet has
+discovered such a beautiful creature," she went on, in a voice which she
+did not take the trouble to lower.  "Do look at her, Alexander.  And you,
+Mr. Sutton--who are such a bureau of useful information, do tell me who
+she is.  Perhaps she comes from your part of the country--her name's
+Wetherell."
+
+"Wetherell?  Why, of course I know her," said Mr. Sutton, who was greatly
+pleased because Mrs. Duncan had likened him to an almanac: greatly
+pleased this evening in every respect, and even the diamond in his bosom
+seemed to glow with a brighter fire.  He could afford to be generous to-
+night, and he turned to Mr. Worthington and laughed knowingly.  "She's
+the ward of our friend Jethro," he explained.
+
+"What is she?" demanded Mrs. Duncan, who knew and cared nothing about
+politics, a country girl, I suppose."
+
+"Yes," replied Mr. Sutton, "a country girl from a little village not far
+from Clovelly.  A good girl, I believe, in spite of the atmosphere in
+which she has been raised."
+
+"It's really wonderful, Mr. Sutton, how you seem to know every one in
+your district, including the women and children," said the lady; "but I
+suppose you wouldn't be where you are if you didn't."
+
+The Honorable Heth cleared his throat.
+
+"Wetherell," Mr. Duncan was saying, staring at Cynthia through his
+spectacles, "where have I heard that name?"
+
+He must suddenly have remembered, and recalled also that he and his ally
+Worthington had been on opposite sides in the Woodchuck Session, for he
+sat down abruptly beside the door, and remained there for a while.  For
+Mr. Duncan had never believed Mr. Merrill's explanation concerning poor
+William Wetherell' s conduct.
+
+"Pretty, ain't she?" said Mr. Sutton to Mr. Worthington.  "Guess she's
+more dangerous than Jethro, now that we've clipped his wings a little."
+The congressman had heard of Bob's infatuation.
+
+Isaac D. Worthington, however, was in a good humor this evening and was
+moved by a certain curiosity to inspect the girl.  Though what he had
+seen and heard of his son's conduct with her had annoyed him, he did not
+regard it seriously.
+
+"Aren't you going to speak to your constituent, Mr. Sutton?"  said Mrs.
+Duncan, who was bored because her friends had not arrived; "a congressman
+ought to keep on the right side of the pretty girls, you know."
+
+It hadn't occurred to the Honorable Heth to speak to his constituent.
+The ways of Mrs. Duncan sometimes puzzled him, and he could not see why
+that lady and her daughter seemed to take more than a passing interest in
+the girl.  But if they could afford to notice her, certainly he could; so
+he went forward graciously and held out his hand to Cynthia; interrupting
+Miss Duncan in the middle of a discourse upon her diary.
+
+"How do you do, Cynthia?" said Mr. Sutton.  Had he been in Coniston, he
+would have said, "How be you?"
+
+Cynthia took the hand, but did not rise, somewhat to Mr. Sutton's
+annoyance.  A certain respect was due to a member of Congress and the
+Rajah of Clovelly.
+
+"How do you do, Mr. Sutton?" said Cynthia, very coolly.
+
+"I like her," remarked Mrs. Duncan to Mr. Worthington.
+
+"This is a splendid trip for you, eh, Cynthia?"  Mr. Sutton persisted,
+with a praiseworthy determination to be pleasant.
+
+"It has turned out to be so, Mr. Sutton," replied Cynthia.  This was not
+precisely the answer Mr. Sutton expected, and to tell the truth, he
+didn't know quite what to make of it.
+
+"A great treat to see Washington and New York, isn't it?" said Mr.
+Sutton, kindly, "a great treat for a Coniston girl.  I suppose you came
+through New York and saw the sights?"
+
+"Is there another way to get to Washington?" asked Cynthia.
+
+Mrs. Duncan nudged Mr. Worthington and drew a little nearer, while Mr.
+Sutton began to wish he had not been lured into the conversation.
+Cynthia had been very polite, but there was something in the quiet manner
+in which the girl's eyes were fixed upon him that made him vaguely
+uneasy.  He could not back out with dignity, and he felt himself on the
+verge of becoming voluble.  Mr. Sutton prided himself on never being
+voluble.
+
+"Why, no," he answered, "we have to go to New York to get anywhere in
+these days."  There was a slight pause.  "Uncle Jethro taking you and Mr.
+Prescott on a little pleasure trip?"  He had not meant to mention
+Jethro's name, but he found himself, to his surprise, a little at a loss
+for a subject.
+
+"Well, partly a pleasure trip.  It's always a pleasure for Uncle Jethro
+to do things for others," said Cynthia, quietly, "although people do not
+always appreciate what he does for them."
+
+The Honorable Heth coughed.  He was now very uncomfortable, indeed.  How
+much did this astounding young person know, whom he had thought so
+innocent?
+
+"I didn't discover he was in town until I ran across him in the corridor
+this evening.  Should have liked to have introduced him to some of the
+Washington folks--some of the big men, although not many of 'em are
+here," Mr. Sutton ran on, not caring to notice the little points of light
+in Cynthia's eyes.  (The idea of Mr. Sutton introducing Uncle Jethro to
+anybody!) "I haven't seen Ephraim Prescott.  It must be a great treat for
+him, too, to get away on a little trip and see his army friends.  How is
+he?"
+
+"He's very happy," said Cynthia.
+
+"Happy!" exclaimed Mr. Sutton.  "Oh, yes, of course, Ephraim's always
+happy, in spite of his troubles and his rheumatism.  I always liked
+Ephraim Prescott."
+
+Cynthia did not answer this remark at all, and Mr. Sutton suspected
+strongly that she did not believe it, therefore he repeated it.
+
+"I always liked Ephraim.  I want you to tell Jethro that I'm downright
+sorry I couldn't get him that Brampton postmastership."
+
+"I'll tell him that you are sorry, Mr. Sutton," replied Cynthia, gravely,
+"but I don't think it'll do any good."
+
+Not do any good!--What did the girl mean?  Mr. Sutton came to the
+conclusion that he had been condescending enough, that somehow he was
+gaining no merit in Mrs. Duncan's eyes by this kindness to a constituent.
+He buttoned up his coat rather grandly.
+
+"I hope you won't misunderstand me, Cynthia," he said.  "I regret
+extremely that my sense of justice demanded that I should make David
+Wheelock postmaster at Brampton, and I have made him so."
+
+It was now Cynthia's turn to be amazed.
+
+"But," she exclaimed, "but Cousin Ephraim is postmaster of Brampton."
+
+Mr. Sutton started violently, and that part of his face not hidden by his
+whiskers seemed to pale, and Mr: Worthington, usually self-possessed,
+took a step forward and seized him by the arm.
+
+"What does this mean, Sutton?" he said.
+
+Mr. Sutton pulled himself together, and glared at Cynthia.
+
+"I think you are mistaken," said he, "the congressman of the district
+usually arranges these matters, and the appointment will be sent to Mr.
+Wheelock to-morrow."
+
+"But Cousin Ephraim already has the appointment," said Cynthia; "it was
+sent to him this afternoon, and he is up in his room now writing to thank
+the President for it."
+
+"What in the world's the matter?" cried Mrs. Duncan, in astonishment.
+
+Cynthia's simple announcement had indeed caused something of a panic
+among the gentlemen present.  Mr. Duncan had jumped up from his seat
+beside the door, and Mr. Worthington, his face anything but impassive,
+tightened his hold on the congressman's arm.
+
+"Good God, Sutton!" he exclaimed, "can this be true?"
+
+As for Cynthia, she was no less astonished than Mrs. Duncan.  by the fact
+that these rich and powerful gentlemen were so excited over a little
+thing like the postmastership of Brampton.  But Mr. Sutton laughed; it
+was not hearty, but still it might have passed muster for a laugh.
+
+"Nonsense," he exclaimed, making a fair attempt to regain his composure,
+"the girl's got it mixed up with something else--she doesn't know what
+she's talking about."
+
+Mrs. Duncan thought the girl did look uncommonly as if she knew what she
+was talking about, and Mr. Duncan and Mr. Worthington had some such
+impression, too, as they stared at her.  Cynthia's eyes flashed, but her
+voice was no louder than before.
+
+"I am used to being believed, Mr. Sutton," she said, "but here's Uncle
+Jethro himself.  You might ask him."
+
+They all turned in amazement, and one, at least, in trepidation, to
+perceive Jethro Bass standing behind them with his hands in his pockets,
+as unconcerned as though he were under the butternut tree in Coniston.
+
+"How be you, Heth?" he said.  "Er--still got that appointment
+p-practically in your pocket?"
+
+"Uncle Jethro," said Cynthia, "Mr. Sutton does not believe me when I tell
+him that Cousin Ephraim has been made postmaster of Brampton.  He would
+like to have you tell him whether it is so or not."
+
+But this, as it happened, was exactly what the Honorable Heth did not
+want to have Jethro tell him.  How he got out of the parlor of the
+Willard House he has not to this day a very clear idea.  As a matter of
+fact, he followed Mr. Worthington and Mr. Duncan, and they made their
+exit by the farther door.  Jethro did not appear to take any notice of
+their departure.
+
+"Janet," said Mrs. Duncan, "I think Senator and Mrs. Meade must have gone
+to our sitting room."  Then, to Cynthia's surprise, the lady took her by
+the hand.  "I can't imagine what you've done, my dear," she said
+pleasantly, "but I believe that you are capable of taking care of
+yourself, and I like you."
+
+Thus it will be seen that Mrs. Duncan was an independent person. Sometimes
+heiresses are apt to be.
+
+"And I like you, too," said Janet, taking both of Cynthia's hands, "and I
+hope to see you very, very often."
+
+Jethro looked after them.
+
+"Er--the women folks seem to have some sense," he said.  Then he turned
+to Cynthia.  "B-be'n havin' some fun with Heth, Cynthy?" he inquired.
+
+"I haven't any respect for Mr. Sutton," said Cynthia, indignantly; "it
+serves him right for presuming to think that he could give a post-office
+to any one."
+
+Jethro made no remark concerning this presumption on the part of the
+congressman of the district.  Cynthia's indignation against Mr. Sutton
+was very real, and it was some time before she could compose herself
+sufficiently to tell Jethro what had happened.  His enjoyment as he
+listened may be imagined but presently he forgot this, and became aware
+that something really troubled her.
+
+"Uncle Jethro," she asked suddenly, "why do they treat me as they do?"
+
+He did not answer at once.  This was because of a pain around his heart--
+had she known it.  He had felt that pain before.
+
+"H-how do they treat you, Cynthy?"
+
+She hesitated.  She had not yet learned to use the word patronize in the
+social sense, and she was at a loss to describe the attitude of Mrs.
+Duncan and her daughter, though her instinct had registered it.  She was
+at a loss to account for Mr. Worthington's attitude, too.  Mr. Sutton's
+she bitterly resented.
+
+"Are they your enemies?" she demanded.
+
+Jethro was in real distress.
+
+"If they are," she continued, "I won't speak to them again.  If they
+can't treat me as--as your daughter ought to be treated, I'll turn my
+back on them.  I am--I am just like your daughter--am I not, Uncle
+Jethro?"
+
+He put out his hand and seized hers roughly, and his voice was thick with
+suffering.
+
+"Yes, Cynthy," he said, "you--you're all I've got in the world."
+
+She squeezed his hand in return.
+
+"I know it, Uncle Jethro," she cried contritely, "I oughtn't to have
+troubled you by asking.  You--you have done everything for me, much more
+than I deserve.  And I shan't be hurt after this when people are too
+small to appreciate how good you are, and how great."
+
+The pain tightened about Jethro's heart--tightened so sharply that he
+could not speak, and scarcely breathe because of it.  Cynthia picked up
+her novel, and set the bookmark.
+
+"Now that Cousin Eph is provided for, let's go back to Coniston, Uncle
+Jethro."  A sudden longing was upon her for the peaceful life in the
+shelter of the great ridge, and she thought of the village maples all red
+and gold with the magic touch of the frosts.  "Not that I haven't enjoyed
+my trip," she added; "but we are so happy there."
+
+He did not look at her, because he was afraid to.
+
+"C-Cynthy," he said, after a little pause, "th-thought we'd go to
+Boston."
+
+"Boston, Uncle Jethro!"
+
+"Er--to-morrow--at one--to-morrow--like to go to Boston?"
+
+"Yes," she said thoughtfully, "I remember parts of it.  The Common, where
+I used to walk with Daddy, and the funny old streets that went uphill.
+It will be nice to go back to Coniston that way--over Truro Pass in the
+train."
+
+That night a piece of news flashed over the wires to New England, and the
+next morning a small item appeared in the Newcastle Guardian to the
+effect that one Ephraim Prescott had bean appointed postmaster at
+Brampton.  Copied in the local papers of the state, it caused some
+surprise in Brampton, to be sure, and excitement in Coniston.  Perhaps
+there were but a dozen men, however, who saw its real significance,
+who knew through this item that Jethro Bass was still supreme--
+that the railroads had failed to carry this first position in their
+war against him.
+
+It was with a light heart the next morning that Cynthia, packed the
+little leather trunk which had been her father's.  Ephraim was in the
+corridor regaling his friend, Mr. Beard, with that wonderful encounter
+with General Grant which sounded so much like a Fifth Reader anecdote of
+a chance meeting with royalty. Jethro's room was full of visiting
+politicians.  So Cynthia, when she had finished her packing, went out to
+walk about the streets alone, scanning the people who passed her, looking
+at the big houses, and wondering who lived in them.  Presently she found
+herself, in the middle of the morning, seated on a bench in a little
+park, surrounded by colored mammies and children playing in the paths.
+It seemed a long time since she had left the hills, and this glimpse of
+cities had given her many things to think and dream about.  Would she
+always live in Coniston?  Or was her future to be cast among those who
+moved in the world and helped to sway it?  Cynthia felt that she was to
+be of these, though she could not reason why, and she told herself that
+the feeling was foolish.  Perhaps it was that she knew in the bottom of
+her heart that she had been given a spirit and intelligence to cope with
+a larger life than that of Coniston.  With a sense that such imaginings
+were vain, she tried to think what the would do if she were to become a
+great lady like Mrs. Duncan.
+
+She was aroused from these reflections by a distant glimpse, through the
+trees, of Mr. Robert Worthington.  He was standing quite alone on the
+edge of the park, his hands in his pockets, staring at the White House.
+Cynthia half rose, and then sat down and looked at him again.  He wore a
+light gray, loose-fitting suit and a straw hat, and she could not but
+acknowledge that there was something stalwart and clean and altogether
+appealing in him.  She wondered, indeed, why he now failed to appeal to
+Miss Duncan, and she began to doubt the sincerity of that young lady's
+statements.  Bob certainly was not romantic, but he was a man--or would
+be very soon.
+
+Cynthia sat still, although her impulse was to go away.  She scarcely
+analyzed her feeling of wishing to avoid him.  It may not be well,
+indeed, to analyze them on paper too closely.  She had an instinct that
+only pain could come from frequent meetings, and she knew now what but a
+week ago was a surmise, that he belonged to the world of which she had
+been dreaming--Mrs. Duncan's world.  Again, there was that mysterious
+barrier between them of which she had seen so many evidences.  And yet
+she sat still on her bench and looked at him.
+
+Presently he turned, slowly, as if her eyes had compelled his.  She sat
+still--it was too late, then.  In less than a minute he was standing
+beside her, looking down at her with a smile that had in it a touch of
+reproach.
+
+"How do you do, Mr. Worthington?" said Cynthia, quietly.
+
+"Mr. Worthington!" he cried, "you haven't called me that before."
+We are not children any more," she said.
+
+"What difference does that make?"
+
+"A great deal," said Cynthia, not caring to define it.
+
+"Cynthia," said Mr. Worthington, sitting down on the beach and facing
+her, "do you think you've treated me just right?"
+
+"Of course I do," she said, "or I should have treated you differently:'
+
+Bob ignored such quibbling.
+
+"Why did you run away from that baseball game in Brampton?  And why
+couldn't you have answered my letter yesterday, if it were only a line?
+And why have you avoided me here in Washington?"
+
+It is very difficult to answer for another questions which one cannot
+answer for one's self.
+
+"I haven't avoided you," said Cynthia.
+
+"I've been looking for you all over town this morning," said Bob, with
+pardonable exaggeration, "and I believe that idiot Somers has, too."
+
+"Then why should you call him an idiot?" Cynthia flashed.
+
+Bob laughed.
+
+"How you do catch a fellow up!" said he; admiringly.  "We both found out
+you'd gone out for a walk alone."
+
+"How did you find it out?"
+
+"Well," said Bob, hesitating, "we asked the colored doorkeeper."
+
+"Mr. Worthington," said Cynthia, with an indignation that made him quail,
+"do you think it right to ask a doorkeeper to spy on my movements?"
+
+"I'm sorry, Cynthia," he gasped, "I--I didn't think of it that way--and
+he won't tell.  Desperate cases require desperate remedies, you know."
+
+But Cynthia was not appeased.
+
+"If you wanted to see me," she said, "why didn't you send your card to my
+room, and I would have come to the parlor."
+
+"But I did send a note, and waited around all day."
+
+How was she to tell him that it was to the tone of the note she objected
+--to the hint of a clandestine meeting?  She turned the light of her eyes
+full upon him.
+
+"Would you have been content to see me in the parlor?" she asked.  "Did
+you mean to see me there?"
+
+"Why, yes," said he; "I would have given my head to see you anywhere,
+only--"
+
+"Only what?"
+
+"Duncan might have came in and spoiled it."
+
+"Spoiled what?"
+
+Bob fidgeted.
+
+"Look here, Cynthia," he said, "you're not stupid--far from it.  Of
+course you know a fellow would rather talk to you alone."
+
+"I should have been very glad to have seen Mr. Duncan, too."
+
+"You would, would you!" he exclaimed.  "I shouldn't have thought that."
+
+"Isn't he your friend?" asked Cynthia.
+
+"Oh, yes," said Bob, "and one of the best in the world.  Only--I
+shouldn't have thought you'd care to talk to him."  And he looked around"
+for fear the vigilant Mr. Duncan was already in the park and had
+discovered them.  Cynthia smiled, and immediately became grave again.
+
+"So it was only on Mr. Duncan's account that you didn't ask me to come
+down to the parlor?" she said.
+
+Bob was in a quandary.  He was a truthful person, and he had learned
+something of the world through his three years at Cambridge.  He had seen
+many young women, and many kinds of them.  But the girl beside him was
+such a mixture of innocence and astuteness that he was wholly at a loss
+how to deal with her--how to parry her searching questions.
+
+"Naturally--I wanted to have you all to myself," he said; "you ought to
+know that."
+
+Cynthia did not commit herself on this point.  She wished to go
+mercilessly to the root of the matter, but the notion of what this would
+imply prevented her.  Bob took advantage of her silence.
+
+"Everybody who sees you falls a victim, Cynthia," he went on; "Mrs.
+Duncan and Janet lost their hearts.  You ought to have heard them
+praising you at breakfast."  He paused abruptly, thinking of the rest of
+that conversation, and laughed.  Bob seemed fated to commit himself that
+day.  "I heard the way you handled Heth Sutton," he said, plunging in.
+"I'll bet he felt as if he'd been dropped out of the third-story window,"
+and Bob laughed again.  "I'd have given a thousand dollars to have been
+there.  Somers and I went out to supper with a classmate who lives in
+Washington, in that house over there," and he pointed casually to one of
+the imposing mansions fronting on the park.  "Mrs. Duncan said she'd never
+heard anybody lay it on the way you did.  I
+don't believe you half know what happened, Cynthia.  You made a ten-
+strike."
+
+"A ten-strike?" she repeated.
+
+"Well," he said, "you not only laid out Heth, but my father and Mr.
+Duncan, too.  Mrs. Duncan laughed at 'em--she isn't afraid of anything.
+But they didn't say a word all through breakfast.  I've never seen my
+father so mad.  He ought to have known better than to run up against
+Uncle Jethro."
+
+"How did they run up against Uncle Jethro?" asked Cynthia, now keenly
+interested.
+
+"Don't you know?" exclaimed Bob, in astonishment.
+
+"No," said Cynthia, "or I shouldn't have asked."
+
+"Didn't Uncle Jethro tell you about it?"
+
+"He never tells me anything about his affairs," she answered.
+
+Bob's astonishment did not wear off at once.  Here was a new phase, and
+he was very hard put.  He had heard, casually, a good deal of abuse of
+Jethro and his methods in the last two days.
+
+"Well," he said, "I don't know anything about politics.  I don't know
+myself why father and Mr. Duncan were so eager for this post-mastership.
+But they were.  And I heard them say something about the President going
+back on them when they had telegraphed from Chicago and come to see him
+here.  And maybe they didn't let Heth in for it.  It seems Uncle Jethro
+only had to walk up to the White House.  They ought to have sense enough
+to know that he runs the state.  But what's the use of wasting time over
+this business?" said Bob.  "I told you I was going to Brampton before the
+term begins just to see you, didn't I?"
+
+"Yes, but I didn't believe you," said Cynthia.
+
+"Why not?" he demanded.
+
+"Because it's my nature, I suppose," she replied.
+
+This was too much for Bob, exasperated though he was, and he burst into
+laughter.
+
+"You're the queerest girl I've ever known," he said.
+
+Not a very original remark.
+
+"That must be saying a great deal," she answered.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"You must have known many."
+
+"I have," he admitted, "and none of 'em, no matter how much they'd
+knocked about, were able to look out for themselves any better than you."
+
+"Not even Cassandra Hopkins?" Cynthia could not resist saying.  She saw
+that she had scored; his expressions registered his sensations so
+accurately.
+
+"What do you know about her?" he said.
+
+"Oh," said Cynthia, mysteriously, "I heard that you were very fond of her
+at Andover."
+
+Bob could not help pluming himself a little.  He thought the fact that
+she had mentioned the matter a flaw in Cynthia's armor, as indeed it was.
+And yet he was not proud of the Cassandra Hopkins episode in his career.
+
+"Cassandra is one of the institutions at Andover," said he; "most fellows
+have to take a course in Cassandra to complete their education."
+
+"Yours seems to be very complete," Cynthia retorted.
+
+"Great Scott!" he exclaimed, looking at her, "no wonder you made mince-
+meat of the Honorable Heth.  Where did you learn it all, Cynthia?"
+
+Cynthia did not know.  She merely wondered where she would be if she
+hadn't learned it.  Something told her that if it were not for this
+anchor she would be drifting out to sea: might, indeed, soon be drifting
+out to sea in spite of it.  It was one thing for Mr. Robert Worthington,
+with his numerous resources, to amuse himself with a girl in her
+position; it would be quite another thing for the girl.  She got to her
+feet and held out her hand to him.
+
+"Good-by," she said.
+
+"Good-by?"
+
+"We are leaving Washington at one o'clock, and Uncle Jethro will be
+worried if I am not in time for dinner."
+
+"Leaving at one!  That's the worst luck I've had yet.  But I'm going back
+to the hotel myself."
+
+Cynthia didn't see how she was to prevent him walking with her.  She
+would not have admitted to herself that she had enjoyed this encounter,
+since she was trying so hard not to enjoy it.  So they started together
+out of the park.  Bob, for a wonder, was silent awhile, glancing now and
+then at her profile.  He knew that he had a great deal to say, but he
+couldn't decide exactly what it was to be.  This is often the case with
+young men in his state of mind: in fact, to be paradoxical again, he
+might hardly be said at this time to have had a state of mind.  He lacked
+both an attitude and a policy.
+
+"If you see Duncan before I do, let me know," he remarked finally.
+
+Cynthia bit her lip.  "Why should I?" she asked.
+
+"Because we've only got five minutes more alone together, at best.  If we
+see him in time, we can go down a side street."
+
+"I think it would be hard to get away from Mr. Duncan if we met him--even
+if we wanted to," she said, laughing outright.
+
+"You don't know how true that is," he replied, with feeling.
+
+"That sounds as though you'd tried it before."
+
+He paid no attention to this thrust.
+
+"I shan't see you again till I get to Brampton," he said; "that will be a
+whole week.  And then," he ventured to look at her, "I shan't see you
+until the Christmas holidays.  You might be a little kind, Cynthia.  You
+know I've--I've always thought the world of you.  I don't know how I'm
+going to get through the three months without seeing you."
+
+"You managed to get through a good many years," said Cynthia, looking at
+the pavement.
+
+"I know," he said; "I was sent away to school and college, and our lives
+separated."
+
+"Yes, our lives separated," she assented.
+
+"And I didn't know you were going to be like--like this," he went on,
+vaguely enough, but with feeling.
+
+"Like what?"
+
+"Like--well, I'd rather be with you and talk to you than any girl I ever
+saw.  I don't care who she is," Bob declared, "or how much she may have
+traveled."  He was running into deep water.  " Why are you so cold,
+Cynthia?"
+ "Why can't you be as you used to be?  You used to like me well enough."
+
+"And I like you now," answered Cynthia.  They were very near the hotel by
+this time.
+
+"You talk as if you were ten years older than I," he said, smiling
+plaintively.
+
+She stopped and turned to him, smiling.  They had reached the steps.
+
+"I believe I am, Bob," she replied.  "I haven't seen much of the world,
+but I've seen something of its troubles.  Don't be foolish.  If you're
+coming to Brampton just to see me, don't come.  Good-by."  And she gave
+him her hand frankly.
+
+"But I will come to Brampton," he cried, taking her hand and squeezing
+it.  "I'd like to know why I shouldn't come."
+
+As Cynthia drew her hand away a gentleman came out of the hotel, paused
+for a brief moment by the door and stared at them, and then passed on
+without a word or a nod of recognition.  It was Mr. Worthington.  Bob
+looked after his father, and then glanced at Cynthia.  There was a trifle
+more color in her cheeks, and her head was raised a little, and her eyes
+were fixed upon him gravely.
+
+"You should know why not," she said, and before he could answer her she
+was gone into the hotel.  He did not attempt to follow her, but stood
+where she had left him in the sunlight.
+
+He was aroused by the voice of the genial colored doorkeeper.
+
+"Wal, suh, you found the lady, Mistah Wo'thington.  Thought you would,
+suh.  T'other young gentleman come in while ago--looked as if he was
+feelin' powerful bad, Mistah Wo'thington."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+When they reached Boston, Cynthia felt almost as if she were home again,
+and Ephraim declared that he had had the same feeling when he returned
+from the war.  Though it be the prosperous capital of New England, it is
+a city of homes, and the dwellers of it have held stanchly to the belief
+of their forefathers that the home is the very foundation-rock of the
+nation.  Held stanchly to other beliefs, too: that wealth carries with it
+some little measure of responsibility.  The stranger within the gates of
+that city feels that if he falls, a heedless world will not go charging
+over his body: that a helping hand will be stretched out,--a helping and
+a wise hand that will inquire into the circumstances of his fall--but
+still a human hand.
+
+They were sitting in the parlor of the Tremont House that morning with
+the sun streaming in the windows, waiting for Ephraim.
+
+"Uncle Jethro," Cynthia asked, abruptly, "did you ever know my mother?"
+
+Jethro started, and looked at her quickly.
+
+"W-why, Cynthy?" he asked.
+
+"Because she grew up in Coniston," answered Cynthia.  "I never thought of
+it before, but of course you must have known her."
+
+"Yes, I knew her," he said.
+
+"Did you know her well?" she persisted.
+
+Jethro got up and went over to the window, where he stood with his back
+toward her.
+
+"Yes, Cynthy," he answered at length.
+
+"Why haven't you ever told me about her?" asked Cynthia.  How was she to
+know that her innocent questions tortured him cruelly; that the spirit of
+the Cynthia who had come to him in the tannery house had haunted him all
+his life, and that she herself, a new Cynthia, was still that spirit? The
+bygone Cynthia had been much in his thoughts since they came to
+Boston.
+
+"What was she like?"
+
+"She--she was like you, Cynthy," he said, but he did not turn round.
+"She was a clever woman, and a good woman, and--a lady, Cynthy."
+
+The girl said nothing for a while, but she tingled with pleasure because
+Jethro had compared her to her mother.  She determined to try to be like
+that, if he thought her so.
+
+"Uncle Jethro," she said presently, "I'd like to go to see the house
+where she lived."
+
+"Er--Ephraim knows it," said Jethro.
+
+So when Ephraim came the three went over the hill; past the State House
+which Bulfinch set as a crown on the crest of it looking over the sweep
+of the Common, and on into the maze of quaint, old-world streets on the
+slope beyond: streets with white porticos, and violet panes in the
+windows.  They came to an old square hidden away on a terrace of the
+hill, and after that the streets grew narrower and dingier.  Ephraim,
+whose memory never betrayed him, hobbled up to a shabby house in the
+middle of one of these blocks and rang the bell.
+
+"Here's where I found Will when I come back from the war," he said, and
+explained the matter in full to the slatternly landlady who came to the
+door.  She was a good-natured woman, who thought her boarder would not
+mind, and led the way up the steep stairs to the chamber over the roofs
+where Wetherell and Cynthia had lived and hoped and worked together;
+where he had written those pages by which, with the aid of her loving
+criticism, he had thought to become famous.  The room was as bare now as
+it had been then, and Ephraim, poking his stick through a hole in the
+carpet, ventured the assertion that even that had not been changed. Jethro,
+staring out over the chimney tops, passed his hand across his
+eyes.  Cynthia Ware had come to this!
+
+"I found him right here in that bed," Ephraim was saying, and he poked
+the bottom boards, too.  "The same bed.  Had a shack when I saw him.
+Callate he wouldn't have lived two months if the war hadn't bust up
+and I hadn't come along."
+
+"Oh, Cousin Eph!" exclaimed Cynthia.
+
+The old soldier turned and saw that there were tears in her eyes.  But,
+stranger than that, Cynthia saw that there were tears in his own.  He
+took her gently by the arm and led her down the stairs again, she
+supporting him, and Jethro following.
+
+That same morning, Jethro, whose memory was quite as good as Ephraim's,
+found a little shop tucked away in Cornhill which had been miraculously
+spared in the advance of prosperity.  Mr. Judson's name, however, was no
+longer in quaint lettering over the door.  Standing before it, Jethro
+told the story in his droll way, of a city clerk and a country bumpkin,
+and Cynthia and Ephraim both laughed so heartily that the people who were
+passing turned round to look at them and laughed too.  For the three were
+an unusual group, even in Boston.  It was not until they were seated at
+dinner in the hotel, Ephraim with his napkin tucked under his chin, that
+Jethro gave them the key to the characters in this story.
+
+"And who was the locket for, Uncle Jethro?" demanded Cynthia.
+
+Jethro, however, shook his head, and would not be induced to tell.
+
+They were still so seated when Cynthia perceived coming toward them
+through the crowded dining roam a merry, middle-aged gentleman with a
+bald head.  He seemed to know everybody in the room, for he was kept busy
+nodding right and left at the tables until he came to theirs.  He was Mr.
+Merrill who had come to see her father in Coniston, and who had spoken so
+kindly to her on that occasion.
+
+"Well, well, well," he said; "Jethro, you'll be the death of me yet.
+'Don't write-send,' eh?  Well, as long as you sent word you were here, I
+don't complain.  So you licked 'em again, eh--down in Washington?  Never
+had a doubt but what you would.  Is this the new postmaster?  How are
+you, Mr. Prescott--and Cynthia--a young lady!  Bless my soul," said Mr.
+Merrill, looking her over as he shook her hand.  "What have you done to
+her, Jethro?  What kind of beauty powder do they use in Coniston?"
+
+Mr. Merrill took the seat next to her and continued to talk, scattering
+his pleasantries equally among the three, patting her arm when her own
+turn came.  She liked Mr. Merrill very much; he seemed to her (as,
+indeed, he was) honest and kind-hearted.  Cynthia was not lacking in a
+proper appreciation of herself--that may have been discovered.  But she
+was puzzled to know why this gentleman should make it a point to pay such
+particular attention to a young country girl.  Other railroad presidents
+whom she could name had not done so.  She was thinking of these things,
+rather than listening to Mr. Merrill's conversation, when the sound of
+Mr. Worthington's name startled her.
+
+"Well, Jethro," Mr. Merrill was saying, "you certainly nipped this little
+game of Worthington's in the bud.  Thought he'd take you in the rear by
+going to Washington, did he?  Ha, ha!  I'd like to know how you did it.
+I'll get you to tell me to-night--see if I don't.  You're all coming in
+to supper to-night, you know, at seven o'clock."
+
+Ephraim laid down his knife and fork for the first time.  Were the
+wonders of this journey never to cease?  And Jethro, once in his life,
+looked nervous.
+
+"Er--er--Cyn'thy'll go, Steve--Cynthy'll go."
+
+"Yes, Cynthy'll go," laughed Mr. Merrill, "and you'll go, and Ephraim'll
+go."  Although he by no means liked everybody, as would appear at first
+glance, Mr. Merrill had a way of calling people by their first names when
+he did fancy them.
+
+"Er--Steve," said Jethro, "what would your wife say if I was to drink
+coffee out of my saucer?"
+
+"Let's see," said Mr. Merrill grave for once.  "What's the punishment for
+that in my house?  I know what she'd do if you didn't drink it.  What do
+you think she'd do, Cynthy?"
+
+"Ask him what was the matter with it," said Cynthia, promptly.
+
+"Well, Cynthy," said he, "I know why these old fellows take you round
+with 'em.  To take care of 'em, eh?  They're not fit to travel alone."
+
+And so it was settled, after much further argument, that they were all to
+sup at Mr. Merrill's house, Cynthia stoutly maintaining that she would
+not desert them.  And then Mr. Merrill, having several times repeated the
+street and number, went, back to his office.  There was much mysterious
+whispering between Ephraim and Jethro in the hotel parlor after dinner,
+while Cynthia was turning over the leaves of a magazine, and then Ephraim
+proposed going out to see the sights.
+
+"Where's Uncle Jethro going?" she asked.
+
+"He'll meet us," said Ephraim, promptly, but his voice was not quite
+steady.
+
+"Oh, Uncle Jethro!" cried Cynthia, "you're trying to get out of it.  You
+remember you promised to meet us in Washington."
+
+"Guess he'll keep this app'intment," said Ephraim, who seemed to be full
+of a strange mirth that bubbled over, for he actually winked at Jethro.
+  Cynthia's mind flew to Bunker Bill and the old North Church, but they
+went first to Faneuil Hall.  Presently they found themselves among the
+crowd in Washington Street, where Ephraim confessed the trepidation which
+he felt over the coming supper party: a trepidation greater, so he
+declared many times, than he had ever experienced before any of his
+battles in the war.  He stopped once or twice in the eddy of the crowd to
+glance up at the numbers; and finally came to a halt before the windows
+of a large dry-goods store.
+
+"I guess I ought to buy a new shirt for this occasion, Cynthy," he said,
+staring hard at the articles of apparel displayed there: "Let's go in."
+
+Cynthia laughed outright, since Ephraim could not by any chance have worn
+any of the articles in question.
+
+"Why, Cousin Ephraim," she exclaimed, "you can't buy gentlemen's things
+here."
+
+"Oh, I guess you can," said Ephraim, and hobbled confidently in  at the
+doorway.  There we will leave him for a while conversing in an undertone
+with a floor-walker, and follow Jethro.  He, curiously enough, had some
+fifteen minutes before gone in at the same doorway, questioned the same
+floor-walker, and he found himself in due time walking amongst a
+bewildering lot of models on the third floor, followed by a giggling
+saleswoman.
+
+"What kind of a dress do you want, sir?" asked the saleslady,--for we are
+impelled to call her so.
+
+"S-silk cloth," said Jethro.
+
+"What shades of silk would you like, sir?"
+
+"Shades? shades?  What do you mean by shades?"
+
+"Why, colors," said the saleslady, giggling openly.
+
+"Green," said Jethro, with considerable emphasis.
+
+The saleslady clapped her hand over her mouth and led the way to another
+model.
+
+"You don't call that green--do you?  That's not green enough."
+
+They inspected another dress, and then another and another,--not all of
+them were green,--Jethro expressing very decided if not expert views on
+each of them.  At last he paused before two models at the far end of the
+room, passing his hand repeatedly over each as he had done so often with
+the cattle of Coniston.
+
+"These two pieces same kind of goods?" he demanded.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Er-this one is a little shinier than that one?"
+
+"Perhaps the finish is a little higher," ventured the saleslady.
+
+"Sh-shinier," said Jethro.
+
+"Yes, shinier, if you please to call it so."
+
+"W-what would you call it?"
+
+By this time the saleslady had become quite hysterical, and altogether
+incapable of performing her duties.  Jethro looked at her for a moment in
+disgust, and in his predicament cast around for another to wait on him.
+There was no lack of these, at a safe distance, but they all seemed to be
+affected by the same mania.  Jethro's eye alighted upon the back of
+another customer.  She was, apparently, a respectable-looking lady of
+uncertain age, and her own attention was so firmly fixed in the
+contemplation of a model that she had not remarked the merriment about
+her, nor its cause.  She did not see Jethro, either, as he strode across
+to her.  Indeed, her first intimation of his presence was a dig in her
+arm.  The lady turned, gave a gasp of amazement at the figure confronting
+her, and proceeded to annihilate it with an eye that few women possess.
+
+"H-how do, Ma'am," he said.  Had he known anything about the appearance
+of women in general, he might have realized that he had struck a tartar.
+This lady was at least sixty-five, and probably unmarried.  Her face,
+though not at all unpleasant, was a study in character-development: she
+wore ringlets, a peculiar bonnet of a bygone age, and her clothes had
+certain eccentricities which, for, lack of knowledge, must be omitted.
+In short, the lady was no fool, and not being one she glanced at the
+giggling group of saleswomen and--wonderful to relate--they stopped
+giggling.  Then she looked again at Jethro and gave him a smile.
+One of superiority, no doubt, but still a smile.
+
+"How do you do, sir?"
+
+"T-trying to buy a silk cloth gown for a woman.  There's two over here I
+fancied a little.  Er--thought perhaps you'd help me."
+
+"Where are the dresses?" she demanded abruptly.
+
+Jethro led the way in silence until they came to the models.  She planted
+herself in front of them and looked them over swiftly but critically.
+
+"What is the age of the lady?"
+
+"W-what difference does that make?" said Jethro, whose instinct was
+against committing himself to strangers.
+
+"Difference!" she exclaimed sharply, "it makes a considerable difference.
+Perhaps not to you, but to the lady.  What coloring is she?"
+
+"C-coloring?  She's white."
+
+His companion turned her back on him.
+
+"What size is she?"
+
+"A-about that size," said Jethro, pointing to a model.
+
+"About! about!" she ejaculated, and then she faced him.  "Now look here,
+my friend," she said vigorously, "there's something very mysterious about
+all this.  You look like a good man, but you may be a very wicked one for
+all I know.  I've lived long enough to discover that appearances,
+especially where your sex is concerned, are deceitful.  Unless you are
+willing to tell me who this lady is for whom you are buying silk dresses,
+and what your relationship is to her, I shall leave you.  And mind, no
+evasions.  I can detect the truth pretty well when I hear it."
+
+Unexpected as it was, Jethro gave back a step or two before this
+onslaught of feminine virtue, and the movement did not tend to raise him
+in the lady's esteem.  He felt that he would rather face General Grant a
+thousand times than this person.  She was, indeed, preparing to sweep
+away when there came a familiar tap-tap behind them on the bare floor,
+and he turned to behold Ephraim hobbling toward them with the aid of his
+green umbrella, Cynthia by his side.
+
+"Why, it's Uncle Jethro," cried Cynthia, looking at him and the lady in
+astonishment, and then with equal astonishment at the models.  "What in
+the world are you doing here?"  Then a light seemed to dawn on her.
+
+"You frauds!  So this is what you were whispering about!  This is the way
+Cousin Ephraim buys his shirts!"
+
+"C-Cynthy," said Jethro, apologetically, "d-don't you think you ought to
+have a nice city dress for that supper party?"
+
+"So you're ashamed of my country clothes, are you?" she asked gayly.
+
+"W-want you to have the best, Cynthy," he replied.  "I-I-meant to have it
+all chose and bought when you come, but I got into a kind of argument
+with this lady."
+
+"Argument!" exclaimed the lady.  But she did not seem displeased.  She
+had been staring very fixedly at Cynthia.  "My dear," she continued
+kindly, "you look like some one I used to know a long, long time ago, and
+I'll be glad to help you.  Your uncle may be sensible enough in other
+matters, but I tell him frankly he is out of place here.  Let him go away
+and sit down somewhere with the other gentleman, and we'll get the dress
+between us, if he'll tell us how much to pay."
+
+"P-pay anything, so's you get it," said Jethro.
+
+"Uncle Jethro, do you really want it so much?"
+
+It must not be thought that Cynthia did not wish for a dress, too.  But
+the sense of dependence on Jethro and the fear of straining his purse
+never quite wore off.  So Jethro and Ephraim took to a bench at some
+distance, and at last a dress was chosen--not one of the gorgeous models
+Jethro had picked out, but a pretty, simple, girlish gown which Cynthia
+herself had liked and of which the lady highly approved.  Not content
+with helping to choose it, the lady must satisfy herself that it fit,
+which it did perfectly.  And so Cynthia was transformed into a city
+person, though her skin glowed with a health with which few city people
+are blessed.
+
+"My dear," said the lady, still staring at her, "you look very well.  I
+should scarcely have supposed it."  Cynthia took the remark in good part,
+for she thought the lady a character, which she was.  "I hope you will
+remember that we women were created for a higher purpose than mere
+beauty.  The Lord gave us brains, and meant that we should use them.  If
+you have a good mind, as I believe you have, learn to employ it for the
+betterment of your sex, for the time of our emancipation is at hand."
+Having delivered this little lecture, the lady continued to stare at her
+with keen eyes.  "You look very much like someone I used to love when I
+was younger.  What is your name."
+
+"Cynthia Wetherell."
+
+"Cynthia Wetherell?  Was your mother Cynthia Ware, from Coniston?"
+
+"Yes," said Cynthia, amazed.
+
+In an instant the strange lady had risen and had taken Cynthia in her
+embrace, new dress and all.
+
+"My dear," she said, "I thought your face had a familiar look.  It was
+your mother I knew and loved.  I'm Miss Lucretia Penniman."
+
+Miss Lucretia Penniman!  Could this be, indeed, the authoress of the
+"Hymn to Coniston," of whom Brampton was so proud?  The Miss Lucretia
+Penniman who sounded the first clarion note for the independence of
+American women, the friend of Bryant and Hawthorne and Longfellow?
+Cynthia had indeed heard of her.  Did not all Brampton point to the
+house which had held the Social Library as to a shrine?
+
+"Cynthia," said Miss Lucretia, "I have a meeting now of a girls' charity
+to which I must go, but you will come to me at the offices of the Woman's
+Hour to-morrow morning at ten.  I wish to talk to you about your mother
+and yourself."
+
+Cynthia promised, provided they did not leave for Coniston earlier, and
+in that event agreed to write.  Whereupon Miss Lucretia kissed her again
+and hurried off to her meeting.  On the way back to the Tremont House
+Cynthia related excitedly the whole circumstance to Jethro and Ephraim.
+Ephraim had heard of Miss Lucretia, of course.  Who had not?  But he did
+not read the Woman's Hour.  Jethro was silent.  Perhaps he was thinking
+of that fresh summer morning, so long ago, when a girl in a gig had
+overtaken him in the canon made by the Brampton road through the woods.
+The girl had worn a poke bonnet, and was returning a book to this same
+Miss Lucretia Penniman's Social Library.  And the book was the "Life of
+Napoleon Bonaparte."
+
+"Uncle Jethro, shall we still be in Boston to-morrow morning?"  Cynthia
+asked.
+
+He roused himself. "Yes," he said, "yes." "When are you going home?"
+
+He did not answer this simple question, but countered.  "Hain't you
+enjoyin' yourself, Cynthy?"
+
+"Of course I am," she declared.  But she thought it strange that he would
+not tell her when they would be in Coniston.
+
+Ephraim did buy a new shirt, and also (in view of the postmastership in
+his packet) a new necktie, his old one being slightly frayed.
+
+The grandeur of the approaching supper party and the fear of Mrs. Merrill
+hung very heavy over him; nor was Jethro's mind completely at rest.
+Ephraim even went so far as to discuss the question as to whether
+Mr. Merrill had not surpassed his authority in inviting him, and full
+expected to be met at the door by that gentleman uttering profuse
+apologies, which Ephraim was quite prepared and willing to take in good
+faith.
+
+Nothing of the kind happened, however.  Mr. Merrill's railroad being a
+modest one, his house was modest likewise.  But Ephraim thought it grand
+enough, and yet acknowledged a homelike quality in its grandeur.  He
+began by sitting on the edge of the sofa and staring at the cut-glass
+chandelier, but in five minutes he discovered with a shock of surprise
+that he was actually leaning back, describing in detail how his regiment
+had been cheered as they marched through Boston.  And incredible as it
+may seem, the person whom he was entertaining in this manner was Mrs.
+Stephen Merrill herself.  Mrs. Merrill was as tall as Mr. Merrill was
+short.  She wore a black satin dress with a big cameo brooch pinned at
+her throat, her hair was gray, and her face almost masculine until it
+lighted up with a wonderfully sweet smile.  That smile made Ephraim and
+Jethro feel at home; and Cynthia, too, who liked Mrs. Merrill the moment
+she laid eyes on her.
+
+Then there were the daughters, Jane and Susan, who welcomed her with a
+hospitality truly amazing for city people.  Jane was big-boned like her
+mother, but Susan was short and plump and merry like her father.  Susan
+talked and laughed, and Jane sat and listened and smiled, and Cynthia
+could not decide which she liked the best.  And presently they all went
+into the dining room to supper, where there was another chandelier over
+the table.  There was also real silver, which shone brilliantly on the
+white cloth--but there was nothing to eat.
+
+"Do tell us another story, Mr. Prescott," said Susan, who had listened to
+his last one.
+
+The sight of the table, however, had for the moment upset Ephraim, "Get
+Jethro to tell you how he took dinner with Jedge Binney," he said.
+
+This suggestion, under the circumstances, might not have been a happy
+one, but its lack of appropriateness did not strike Jethro either.  He
+yielded to the demand.
+
+"Well," he said, "I supposed I was goin' to set down same as I would at
+home, where we put the vittles on the table.  W-wondered what I was goin'
+to eat--wahn't nothin' but a piece of bread on the table.  S-sat there
+and watched 'em--nobody ate anything.  Presently I found out that
+Binney's wife ran her house same as they run hotels.  Pretty soon a
+couple of girls come in and put down some food and took it away again
+before you had a chance.  A-after a while we had coffee, and when I set
+my cup on the table, I noticed Mis' Binney looked kind of cross and began
+whisperin' to the girls.  One of 'em fetched a small plate and took my
+cup and set it on the plate.  That was all right.  I used the plate.
+
+"Well, along about next summer Binney had to come to Coniston to see me
+on a little matter and fetched his wife.  Listy, my wife, was alive then.
+I'd made up my mind that if I could ever get Mis' Binney to eat at my
+place I would, so I asked 'em to stay to dinner.  When we set down, I
+said: 'Now, Mis' Binney, you and the Judge take right hold, and anything
+you can't reach, speak out and we'll wait on you.' And Mis' Binney?'
+
+"Yes," she said.  She was a little mite scared, I guess.  B-begun to
+suspect somethin'."
+
+"Mis' Binney," said I, "y-you can set your cup and sarcer where you've a
+mind to.' O-ought to have heard the Judge laugh.  Says he to his wife:
+'Fanny, I told you Jethro'd get even with you some time for that sarcer
+business.'"
+
+This story, strange as it may seem, had a great success at Mr. Merrill's
+table.  Mr. Merrill and his daughter Susan shrieked with laughter when it
+was finished, while Mrs. Merrill and Jane enjoyed themselves quite as
+much in their quiet way.  Even the two neat Irish maids, who were serving
+the supper very much as poor Mis' Binney's had been served, were fain to
+leave the dining room abruptly, and one of them disgraced herself at
+sight of Jethro when she came in again, and had to go out once mare. Mrs.
+Merrill insisted that Jethro should pour out his coffee in what she
+was pleased to call the old-fashioned way.  All of which goes to prove
+that table-silver and cut glass chandeliers do not invariably make their
+owners heartless and inhospitable.  And Ephraim, whose plan of campaign
+had been to eat nothing to speak of and have a meal when he got back to
+the hotel, found that he wasn't hungry when he arose from the table.
+
+There was much bantering of Jethro by Mr. Merrill, which the ladies did
+not understand--talk of a mighty coalition of the big railroads which was
+to swallow up the little railroads.  Fortunately, said Mr. Merrill,
+humorously, fortunately they did not want his railroad.  Or
+unfortunately, which was it?  Jethro didn't know.  He never laughed at
+anybody's jokes.  But Cynthia, who was listening with one ear while Susan
+talked into the other, gathered that Jethro had been struggling with the
+railroads, and was sooner or later to engage in a mightier struggle with
+them.  How, she asked herself in her innocence, was any one, even Uncle
+Jethro, to struggle with a railroad?  Many other people in these latter
+days have asked themselves that very question.
+
+All together the evening at Mr. Merrill's passed off so quickly and so
+happily that Ephraim was dismayed when he discovered that it was ten
+o'clock, and he began to make elaborate apologies to the ladies.  But
+Jethro and Mr. Merrill were still closeted together in the dining room:
+once Mrs. Merrill had been called to that conference, and had returned
+after a while to take her place quietly again among the circle of
+Ephraim's listeners.  Now Mr. Merrill came out of the dining room alone.
+
+"Cynthia," he said, and his tone was a little more grave than usual,
+"your Uncle Jethro wants to speak to you."
+
+Cynthia rose, with a sense of something in the air which concerned her,
+and went into the dining room.  Was it the light falling from above that
+brought out the lines of his face so strongly?  Cynthia did not know, but
+she crossed the room swiftly and sat down beside him.
+
+"What is it, Uncle Jethro?"
+
+"C-Cynthy," he said, putting his hand over hers on the table, "I want you
+to do something for me er--for me," he repeated, emphasizing the last
+word.
+
+"I'll do anything in the world for you, Uncle Jethro," she answered; "you
+know that.  What--what is it?"
+
+"L-like Mr. Merrill, don't you?" "Yes, indeed."
+
+"L-like Mrs. Merrill--like the gals--don't you?" "Very much," said Cynthia,
+perplexedly.
+
+"Like 'em enough to--to live with 'em a winter?"
+
+"Live with them a winter!"
+
+"C-Cynthy, I want you should stay in Boston this winter and go to a young
+ladies' school."
+
+It was out.  He had said it, though he never quite knew where he had
+found the courage.
+
+"Uncle Jethro!" she cried.  She could only look at him in dismay, but the
+tears came into her eyes and sparkled.
+
+"You--you'll be happy here, Cynthy.  It'll be a change for you. And I
+shan't be so lonesome as you'd think.  I'll--I'll be busy this winter,
+Cynthy."
+
+"You know that I wouldn't leave you, Uncle Jethro," she said
+reproachfully.  "I should be lonesome, if you wouldn't.  You would be
+lonesome--you know you would be."
+
+"You'll do this for me, Cynthy.  S-said you would, didn't you--said you
+would?"
+
+"Why do you want me to do this?"
+
+"W-want you to go to school for a winter, Cynthy.  Shouldn't think I'd
+done right by you if I didn't."
+
+"But I have been to school.  Daddy taught me a lot, and Mr. Satterlee has
+taught me a great deal more.  I know as much as most girls of my age, and
+I will study so hard in Coniston this winter, if that is what you want.
+I've never neglected my lessons, Uncle Jethro."
+
+"Tain't book-larnin'--'tain't what you'd get in book larnin' in Boston,
+Cynthy."
+
+"What, then?" she asked.
+
+"Well," said Jethro, "they'd teach you to be a lady, Cynthy."
+
+"A lady!"
+
+"Your father come of good people, and--and your mother was a lady.  I'm
+only a rough old man, Cynthy, and I don't know much about the ways of
+fine folks.  But you've got it in ye, and I want you should be equal to
+the best of 'em: You can.  And I shouldn't die content unless I'd felt
+that you'd had the chance.  Er--Cynthy--will you do it for me?"
+
+She was silent a long while before she turned to him, and then the tears
+were running very swiftly down her cheeks.
+
+"Yes, I will do it for you," she answered.  "Uncle Jethro, I believe you
+are the best man, in the world."
+
+"D-don't say that, Cynthy--d-don't say that," he exclaimed, and a sharp
+agony was in his voice.  He got to his feet and went to the folding doors
+and opened them.  "Steve!" he called, "Steve!"
+
+"S-says she'll stay, Steve."
+
+Mr. Merrill had come in, followed by his wife.  Cynthia saw them but
+dimly through her tears.  And while she tried to wipe the tears away she
+felt Mrs. Merrill's arm about her, and heard that lady say:--
+ "We'll try to make you very happy, my dear, and send you back safely in
+the spring."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+An attempt will be made in these pages to set down such incidents which
+alone may be vital to this chronicle, now so swiftly running on.  The
+reasons why Mr. Merrill was willing to take Cynthia into his house must
+certainly be clear to the reader.  In the first place, he was under very
+heavy obligations to Jethro Bass for many favors; in the second place,
+Mr. Merrill had a real affection for Jethro, which, strange as it may
+seem to some, was quite possible; and in the third place, Mr. Merrill had
+taken a fancy to Cynthia, and he had never forgotten the unintentional
+wrong he had done William Wetherell.  Mr. Merrill was a man of impulses,
+and generally of good impulses.  Had he not himself urged upon Jethro the
+arrangement, it would never have come about.  Lastly, he had invited
+Cynthia to his house that his wife might inspect her, and Mrs. Merrill's
+verdict had been instant and favorable--a verdict not given in words.  A
+single glance was sufficient, for these good people so understood each
+other that Mrs. Merrill had only to raise her eyes to her husband's, and
+this she did shortly after the supper party began; while she was pouring
+the coffee, to be exact.  Thus the compact that Cynthia was to spend the
+winter in their house was ratified.
+
+There was, first of all, the parting with Jethro and the messages with
+which he and Ephraim were laden for the whole village and town of
+Coniston.  It was very hard, that parting, and need not be dwelt upon.
+Ephraim waved his blue handkerchief as the train pulled out, but Jethro
+stood on the platform, silent and motionless: more eloquent in his
+sorrow--so Mr. Merrill thought-- than any human being he had ever known.
+Mr. Merrill wondered if Jethro's sorrow were caused by this parting
+alone; he believed it was not, and suddenly guessed at the true note of
+it.  Having come by chance upon the answer to the riddle, Mr. Merrill
+stood still with his hand on the carriage door and marvelled that he had
+not seen it all sooner.  He was a man to take to heart the troubles of
+his friends.  A subtle change had indeed come over Jethro, and he was not
+the same man Mr. Merrill had known for many years.  Would others, the men
+with whom Jethro contended and the men he commanded, mark this change?
+And what effect would it have on the conflict for the mastery of a state
+which was to be waged from now on?
+
+"Father," said his daughter Susan, "if you don't get in and close the
+door, we'll drive off and leave you standing on the sidewalk."
+
+Thus Cynthia went to her new friends in their own carriage.  Mrs. Merrill
+was goodness itself, and loved the girl for what she was.  How, indeed,
+was she to help loving her?  Cynthia was scrupulous in her efforts to
+give no trouble, and yet she never had the air of a dependent or a
+beneficiary; but held her head high, and when called upon gave an opinion
+as though she had a right to it.  The very first morning Susan, who was
+prone to be late to breakfast, came down in a great state of excitement
+and laughter.
+
+"What do you think Cynthia's done, Mother?" she cried.  "I went into her
+room a while ago, and it was all swept and aired, and she was making up
+the bed."
+
+"That's an excellent plan," said Mrs. Merrill, "tomorrow morning you
+three girls will have a race to see who makes up her room first."
+
+It is needless to say that the race at bed-making never came off, Susan
+and Jane having pushed Cynthia into a corner as soon as breakfast was
+over, and made certain forcible representations which she felt bound to
+respect, and a treaty was drawn up and faithfully carried out, between
+the three, that she was to do her own room if necessary to her happiness.
+The chief gainer by the arrangement was the chambermaid.
+
+Odd as it may seem, the Misses Merrill lived amicably enough with
+Cynthia.  It is a difficult matter to force an account of the
+relationship of five people living in one house into a few pages, but the
+fact that the Merrills had large hearts makes this simpler.  There are
+few families who can accept with ease the introduction of a stranger into
+their midst, even for a time, and there are fewer strangers who can with
+impunity be introduced.  The sisters quarrelled among themselves as all
+sisters will, and sometimes quarrelled with Cynthia.  But oftener they
+made her the arbiter of their disputes, and asked her advice on certain
+matters.  Especially was this true of Susan, whom certain young gentlemen
+from Harvard College called upon more or less frequently, and Cynthia had
+all of Susan's love affairs--including the current one--by heart in a
+very short time.
+
+As for Cynthia, there were many subjects on which she had to take the
+advice of the sisters.  They did not criticise the joint creations of
+herself and Miss Sukey Kittredge as frankly as Janet Duncan had done; but
+Jethro had left in Mrs. Merrill's hands a certain sufficient sum for new
+dresses for Cynthia, and in due time the dresses were got and worn.  To
+do them justice, the sisters were really sincere in their rejoicings over
+the very wonderful transformation which they had been chiefly
+instrumental in effecting.
+
+It is not a difficult task to praise a heroine, and one that should be
+indulged in but charily.  But let some little indulgence be accorded this
+particular heroine by reason of the life she had led, and the situation
+in which she now found herself: a poor Coniston girl, dependent on one
+who was not her father, though she loved him as a father; beholden to
+these good people who dwelt in a world into which she had no reasonable
+expectations of entering, and which, to tell the truth, she now feared.
+
+It was inevitable that Cynthia should be brought into contact with many
+friends and relations of the family.  Some of these noticed and admired
+her; others did neither; others gossiped about Mrs. Merrill behind her
+back at her own dinners and sewing circles and wondered what folly could
+have induced her to bring the girl into her house.  But Mrs. Merrill,
+like many generous people who do not stop to calculate a kindness, was
+always severely criticised.
+
+And then there were Jane's and Susan's friends, in and out of Miss
+Sadler's school.  For Mrs. Merrill's influence had been sufficient to
+induce Miss Sadler to take Cynthia as a day scholar with her own
+daughters.  This, be it known, was a great concession on the part of Miss
+Sadler, who regarded Cynthia's credentials as dubious enough; and her
+young ladies were inclined to regard them so, likewise.  Some of these
+young ladies came from other cities,--New York and Philadelphia and
+elsewhere,--and their fathers and mothers were usually people to be
+mentioned as a matter of course--were, indeed, frequently so mentioned by
+Miss Sadler, especially when a visitor called at the school.
+
+"Isabel, I saw that your mother sailed for Europe yesterday," or, "Sally,
+your father tells me he is building a gallery for his collection."  Then
+to the visitor, "You know the Broke house in Washington Square, of
+course."
+
+Of course the visitor did.  But Sally or Isabel would often imitate Miss
+Sadler behind her back, showing how well they understood her
+snobbishness.
+
+Miss Sadler was by no means the type which we have come to recognize in
+the cartoons as the Boston school ma'am.  She was a little, round person
+with thin lips and a sharp nose all out of character with her roundness,
+and bright eyes like a bird's.  To do her justice, so far as instruction
+went, her scholars were equally well cared for, whether they hailed from
+Washington Square or Washington Court House.  There were, indeed, none
+from such rural sorts of places--except Cynthia.  But Miss Sadler did not
+take her hand on the opening day--or afterward--and ask her about Uncle
+Jethro.  Oh, no.  Miss Sadler had no interest for great men who did not
+sail for Europe or add picture galleries on to their houses.  Cynthia
+laughed, a little bitterly, perhaps, at the thought of a picture gallery
+being added to the tannery house.  And she told herself stoutly that
+Uncle Jethro was a greater man than any of the others, even if Miss
+Sadler did not see fit to mention him.  So she had her first taste of a
+kind of wormwood that is very common in the world though it did not grow
+in Coniston.
+
+For a while after Cynthia's introduction to the school she was calmly
+ignored by many of the young ladies there, and once openly--snubbed, to
+use the word in its most disagreeable sense.  Not that she gave any of
+them any real cause to snub her.  She did not intrude her own affairs
+upon them, but she was used to conversing kindly with the people about
+her as equals, and for this offence; on the third day, Miss Sally Broke
+snubbed her.  It is hard not to make a heroine of Cynthia, not to be able
+to relate that she instantly put Miss Sally's nose out of joint.  Susan
+Merrill tried to do that, and failed signally, for Miss Sally's nose was
+not easily dislodged.  Susan fought more than one of Cynthia's battles.
+As a matter of fact, Cynthia did not know that she had been affronted
+until that evening.  She did not tell her friends how she spent the night
+yearning fiercely for Coniston and Uncle Jethro, at times weeping for
+them, if the truth be told; how she had risen before the dawn to write a
+letter, and to lay some things in the rawhide trunk.  The letter was
+never sent, and the packing never finished.  Uncle Jethro wished her to
+stay and to learn to be a lady, and stay she would, in spite of Miss
+Broke and the rest of them.  She went to school the next day, and for
+many days and weeks thereafter, and held communion with the few alone who
+chose to treat her pleasantly.  Unquestionably this is making a heroine
+of Cynthia.
+
+If young men are cruel in their schools, what shall be written of young
+women?  It would be better to say that both are thoughtless.  Miss Sally
+Broke, strange as it may seem, had a heart, and many of the other young
+ladies whose fathers sailed for Europe and owned picture galleries; but
+these young ladies were absorbed, especially after vacation, in affairs
+of which a girl from Coniston had no part.  Their friends were not her
+friends, their amusements not her amusements, and their talk not her
+talk.  But Cynthia watched them, as was her duty, and gradually absorbed
+many things which are useful if not essential--outward observances of
+which the world takes cognizance, and which she had been sent there by
+Uncle Jethro to learn.  Young people of Cynthia's type and nationality
+are the most adaptable in the world.
+
+Before the December snows set in Cynthia had made one firm friend, at
+least, in Boston; outside of the Merrill family.  That friend was Miss
+Lucretia Penniman, editress of the Woman's Hour.  Miss Lucretia lived in
+the queerest and quaintest of the little houses tucked away under the
+hill, with the back door a story higher than the fronts an arrangement
+which in summer enabled the mistress to walk out of her sitting-room
+windows into a little walled garden.  In winter that sitting room was the
+sunniest, cosiest room in the city, and Cynthia spent many hours there,
+reading or listening to the wisdom that fell from the lips of Miss
+Lucretia or her guests.  The sitting room had uneven, yellow-white
+panelling that fairly shone with enamel, mahogany bookcases filled with
+authors who had chosen to comply with Miss Lucretia's somewhat rigorous
+censorship; there was a table laden with such magazines as had to do with
+the uplifting of a sex, a delightful wavy floor covered with a rose
+carpet; and, needless to add, not a pin or a pair of scissors out of
+place in the whole apartment.
+
+There is no intention of enriching these pages with Miss Lucretia's
+homilies.  Their subject-matter may be found in the files of the Woman's
+Hour.  She did not always preach, although many people will not believe
+this statement.  Miss Lucretia, too, had a heart, though she kept it
+hidden away, only to be brought out on occasions when she was sure of its
+appreciation, and she grew strangely interested in this self-contained
+girl from Coniston whose mother she had known.  Miss Lucretia understood
+Cynthia, who also was the kind who kept her heart hidden, the kind who
+conceal their troubles and sufferings because they find it difficult to
+give them out.  So Miss Lucretia had Cynthia to take supper with her at
+least once in the week, and watched her quietly, and let her speak of as
+much of her life as she chose--which was not much, at first.  But Miss
+Lucretia was content to wait, and guessed at many things which Cynthia
+did not tell her, and made some personal effort, unknown to Cynthia, to
+find out other things.  It will be said that she had designs on the girl.
+If so, they were generous designs; and perhaps it was inevitable that
+Miss Lucretia should recognize in every young woman of spirit and brains
+a possible recruit for the cause.
+
+It has now been shown in some manner and as briefly as possible how
+Cynthia's life had changed, and what it had become.  We have got her
+partly through the winter, and find her still dreaming of the sparkling
+snow on Coniston and of the wind whirling it on clear, cold days like
+smoke among the spruces; of Uncle Jethro sitting by his stove through the
+long evenings all alone; of Rias in his store and Moses Hatch and Lem
+Hallowell, and Cousin Ephraim in his new post-office.  Uncle Jethro wrote
+for the first time in his life--letters: short letters, but in his own
+handwriting, and deserving of being read for curiosity's sake if there
+were time.  The wording was queer enough and guarded enough, but they
+were charged with a great affection which clung to them like lavender.
+
+And Cynthia kept them every one, and read them over on such occasions
+when she felt that she could not live another minute out of sight of her
+mountain.
+
+Such was the state of affairs one gray afternoon in December when
+Cynthia, who was sitting in Mrs. Merrill's parlor, suddenly looked up
+from her book to discover that two young men were in the room.  The young
+men were apparently quite as much surprised as she, and the parlor maid
+stood grinning behind them.
+
+"Tell Miss Susan and Miss Jane, Ellen," said Cynthia, preparing to
+depart.  One of the young men she recognized from a photograph on Susan's
+bureau.  He was, for the time being, Susan's.  His name, although it does
+not matter much, was Morton Browne, and he would have been considerably
+astonished if he had guessed how much of his history Cynthia knew.  It
+was Mr. Browne's habit to take Susan for a walk as often as propriety
+permitted, and on such occasions he generally brought along a good-
+natured classmate to take care of Jane.  This, apparently, was one of the
+occasions.  Mr. Browne was tall and dark and generally good-looking,
+while his friends were usually distinguished for their good nature.
+
+Mr. Browne stood between her and the door and looked at her rather fixedly.
+Then he said:--"Excuse me."
+
+A great many friendships, and even love affairs, have been inaugurated by
+just such an opening.
+
+"Certainly," said Cynthia, and tried to pass out.  But Mr. Browne had no
+intention of allowing her to do so if he could help it.
+
+"I hope I am not intruding," he said politely.
+
+"Oh, no," answered Cynthia, wondering how she could get by him.
+
+"Were you waiting for Miss Merrill?"
+
+"Oh, no," said Cynthia again.
+
+The other young man turned his back and became absorbed in the picture of
+a lion getting ready to tear a lady to pieces.  But Mr. Browne was of
+that mettle which is not easily baffled in such matters.  He introduced
+himself, and desired to know whom he had the honor of addressing. Cynthia
+could not but enlighten him.  Mr. Browne was greatly astonished,
+and showed it.
+
+"So you are the mysterious young lady who has been staying here in the
+house this winter," he exclaimed, as though it were a marvellous thing.
+"I have heard Miss Merrill speak of you.  She admires you very much.
+Is it true that you come from--Coniston?"
+
+"Yes," she said.
+
+"Let me see--where is Coniston?" inquired Mr. Browne.
+
+"Do you know where Brampton is?" asked Cynthia.  "Coniston is near
+Brampton."
+
+"Brampton!" exclaimed Mr. Browne, "I have a classmate who comes from
+Brampton--Bob Worthington--You must know Bob, then."
+
+Yes, Cynthia knew Mr. Worthington.
+
+"His father's got a mint of money, they say.  I've been told that old
+Worthington was the whole show up in those parts.  Is that true?"
+
+"Not quite," said Cynthia.
+
+Not quite!  Mr. Morton Browne eyed her in surprise, and from that moment
+she began to have decided possibilities.  Just then Jane and Susan
+entered arrayed for the walk, but Mr. Browne showed himself in no hurry
+to depart: began to speak, indeed, in a deprecating way about the
+weather, appealed to his friend, Mr. King, if it didn't look remarkably
+like rain, or hail, or snow.  Susan sat down, Jane sat down, Mr. Browne
+and his friend prepared to sit down when Cynthia moved toward the door.
+
+"You're not going, Cynthia!" cried Susan, in a voice that may have had a
+little too much eagerness in it.  "You must stay and help us entertain
+Mr. Browne."  (Mr. King, apparently, was not to be entertained.) "We've
+tried so hard to make her come down when people called, Mr. Browne, but
+she never would."
+
+Cynthia was not skilled in the art of making excuses.  She hesitated for
+one, and was lost.  So she sat down, as far from Mr. Browne as possible,
+next to Jane.  In a few minutes Mr. Browne was seated beside her, and how
+he accomplished this manoeuvre Cynthia could not have said, so skilfully
+and gradually was it done.  For lack of a better subject he chose Mr.
+Robert Worthington.  Related, for Cynthia's delectation, several of Bob's
+escapades in his freshman year: silly escapades enough, but very bold and
+daring and original they sounded to Cynthia, who listened (if Mr. Browne
+could have known it) with almost breathless interest, and forgot all
+about poor Susan talking to Mr. King.  Did Mr. Worthington still while
+away his evenings stealing barber poles and being chased around Cambridge
+by irate policemen?  Mr. Browne laughed at the notion.  O dear, no!
+seniors never descended to that.  Had not Miss Wetherell heard the song
+wherein seniors were designated as grave and reverend?  Yes, Miss
+Wetherell had heard the song.  She did not say where, or how.  Mr.
+Worthington, said his classmate, had become very serious-minded this
+year.  Was captain of the base-ball team and already looking toward the
+study of law.
+
+"Study law!" exclaimed Cynthia, "I thought he would go into his father's
+mills."
+
+"Do you know Bob very well?" asked Mr. Browne.
+
+She admitted that she did not.
+
+"He's been away from Brampton a good deal, of course," said Mr. Browne,
+who seemed pleased by her admission.  To do him justice, he would not
+undermine a classmate, although he had other rules of conduct which might
+eventually require a little straightening out.  "Worthy's a first-rate
+fellow, a little quick-tempered, perhaps, and inclined to go his own way.
+He's got a good mind, and he's taken to using it lately.  He has come
+pretty near being suspended once or twice."
+
+Cynthia wanted to ask what "suspended" was.  It sounded rather painful.
+But at this instant there was the rattle of a latch key at the door,
+and Mr. Merrill walked in.
+
+"Well, well," he said, spying Cynthia, "so you have got Cynthia to come
+down and entertain the young men at last."
+
+"Yes," said Susan, "we have got Cynthia to come down at last."
+
+Susan did not go to Cynthia's room that night to chat, as usual, and Mr.
+Morton Browne's photograph was mysteriously removed from the prominent
+position it had occupied.  If Susan had carried out a plan which she
+conceived in a moment of folly of placing that photograph on Cynthia's
+bureau, there would undoubtedly have been a quarrel.  Cynthia's own
+feelings--seeing that Mr. Browne had not dazzled her--were not--enviable.
+
+But she held her peace, which indeed was all she could do, and the next
+time Mr. Browne called, though he took care to mention her name
+particularly at the door, she would not go down to entertain him: though
+Susan implored and Jane appealed, she would not go down.  Mr. Browne
+called several times again, with the same result.  Cynthia was
+inexorable--she would have none of him.  Then Susan forgave her.  There
+was no quarrel, indeed, but there was a reconciliation, which is the best
+part of a quarrel.  There were tears, of Susan's shedding; there was a
+character-sketch of Mr. Browne, of Susan's drawing, and that gentleman
+flitted lightly out of Susan's life.
+
+Some ten days subsequent to this reconciliation Ellen, the parlor maid,
+brought up a card to Cynthia's room.  The card bore the name of Mr.
+Robert Worthington.  Cynthia stared at it, and bent it in her fingers,
+while Ellen explained how the gentleman had begged that she might see
+him.  To tell the truth, Cynthia had wondered more than once why he had
+not come before, and smiled when she thought of all the assurances of
+undying devotion she had heard in Washington.  After all, she reflected,
+why should she not see him--once?  He might give her news of Brampton and
+Coniston.  Thus willingly deceiving herself, she told Ellen that she
+would go down: much to the girl's delight, for Cynthia was a favorite in
+the house.
+
+As she entered the parlor Mr. Worthington was standing in the window.
+When he turned and saw her he started to come forward in his old
+impetuous way, and stopped and looked at her in surprise.  She herself
+did not grasp the reason for this.
+
+"Can it be possible," he said, "can it be possible that this is my friend
+from the country?"  And he took her hand with the greatest formality,
+pressed it the least little bit, and released it.  "How do you do, Miss
+Wetherell?  Do you remember me?"
+
+"How do you do--Bob," she answered, laughing in spite of herself at his
+banter.  "You haven't changed, anyway."
+
+"It was Mr. Worthington in Washington," said he.  "Now it is 'Bob' and
+'Miss Wetherell.'  Rank patronage!  How did you do it, Cynthia?"
+
+"You are like all men," said Cynthia, "you look at the clothes, and not
+the woman.  They are not very fine clothes; but if they were much finer,
+they wouldn't change me."
+
+"Then it must be Miss Sadler."
+
+"Miss Sadler would willingly change me--if she could," said Cynthia, a
+little bitterly.  "How did you find out I was at Miss Sadler's?"
+
+"Morton Browne told me yesterday," said Bob. "I felt like punching his
+head."
+
+"What did he tell you?" she asked with some concern.
+
+"He said that you were here, visiting the Merrills, among other things,
+and said that you knew me."
+
+The "other things" Mr. Browne had said were interesting, but flippant.
+He had seen Bob at a college club and declared that he had met a witch of
+a country girl at the Merrills.  He couldn't make her out, because she
+had refused to see him every time he called again.  He had also repeated
+Cynthia's remark about Bob's father not being quite the biggest man in
+his part of the country, and ventured the surmise that she was the
+daughter of a rival mill owner.
+
+"Why didn't you let me know you were in Boston?" said Bob, reproachfully.
+
+"Why should I?" asked Cynthia, and she could not resist adding, "Didn't
+you find it out when you went to Brampton--to see me?"
+
+"Well," said he, getting fiery red, " the fact is--I didn't go to
+Brampton."
+
+"I'm glad you were sensible enough to take my advice, though I suppose
+that didn't make any difference.  But--from the way you spoke, I should
+have thought nothing could have kept you away."
+
+"To tell you the truth," said Bob, "I'd promised to visit a fellow named
+Broke in my class, who lives in New York.  And I couldn't get out of it.
+His sister, by the way, is in Miss Sadler's.  I suppose you know her.
+But if I'd thought you'd see me, I should have gone to Brampton, anyway.
+You were so down on me in Washington."
+
+"It was very good of you to take the trouble to come to see me here.
+There must be a great many girls in Boston you have to visit."
+
+He caught the little note of coolness in her voice.  Cynthia was asking
+herself whether, if Mr. Browne had not seen fit to give a good report of
+her, he would have come at all.  He would have come, certainly.  It is to
+be hoped that Bob Worthington's attitude up to this time toward Cynthia
+has been sufficiently defined by his conversation and actions.  There had
+been nothing serious about it.  But there can be no question that Mr.
+Browne's openly expressed admiration had enhanced her value in his eyes.
+
+"There's no girl in Boston that I care a rap for," he said.
+
+"I'm relieved to hear it," said Cynthia, with feeling.
+
+"Are you really?"
+
+"Didn't you expect me to be, when you said it?"
+
+He laughed uncomfortably.
+
+"You've learned more than one thing since you've been in the city," he
+remarked, "I suppose there are a good many fellows who come here all the
+time."
+
+"Yes, there are," she said demurely.
+
+"Well," he remarked, "you've changed a lot in three months.  I always
+thought that, if you had a chance, there'd be no telling where you'd end
+up."
+
+"That doesn't sound very complimentary," said Cynthia.  She had, indeed,
+changed.  "In what terrible place do you think I'll end up?"
+
+"I suppose you'll marry one of these Boston men."
+
+"Oh," she laughed, "that wouldn't be so terrible, would it?"
+
+"I believe you're engaged to one of 'em now," he remarked, looking very
+hard at her.
+
+"If you believed that, I don't think you would say it," she answered.
+
+"I can't make you out.  You used to be so frank with me, and now you're
+not at all so.  Are you going to Coniston for the holidays?"
+
+Her face fell at the question.
+
+"Oh, Bob," she cried, surprising him utterly by a glimpse of the real
+Cynthia, "I wish I were--I wish I were!  But I don't dare to."
+
+"Don't dare to?"
+
+"If I went, I should' never come back--never.  I should stay with Uncle
+Jethro.  He's so lonesome up there, and I'm so lonesome down here,
+without him.  And I promised him faithfully I'd stay a whole winter at
+school in Boston."
+
+"Cynthia," said Bob, in a strange voice as he leaned toward her, "do you-
+-do you care for him as much as all that?"
+
+"Care for him?" she repeated.
+
+"Care for--for Uncle Jethro?"
+
+"Of course I care for him," she cried, her eyes flashing at the thought.
+"I love him better than anybody in the world.  Certainly no one ever had
+better reason to care for a person.  My father failed when he came to
+Coniston--he was not meant for business, and Uncle Jethro took care of
+him all his life, and paid his debts.  And he has taken care of me and
+given me everything that a girl could wish.  Very few people know what a
+fine character Uncle Jethro has," continued Cynthia, carried away as she
+was by the pent-up flood of feeling within her.  "I know what he has done
+for others, and I should love him for that even if he never had done
+anything for me."
+
+Bob was silent.  He was, in the first place, utterly amazed at this
+outburst, revealing as it did a depth of passionate feeling in the girl
+which he had never suspected, and which thrilled him.  It was unlike her,
+for she was usually so self-repressed; and, being unlike her, accentuated
+both sides of her character the more.
+
+But what was he to say of the defence of Jethro Bass?  Bob was not a
+young man who had pondered much over the problems of life, because these
+problems had hitherto never touched him.  But now he began to perceive,
+dimly, things that might become the elements of a tragedy, even as Mr.
+Merrill had perceived them some months before.  Could a union endure
+between so delicate a creature as the girl before him and Jethro Bass?
+Could Cynthia ever go back to him again, and live with him happily,
+without seeing many things which before were hidden by reason of her
+youth and innocence?
+
+Bob had not been nearly four years at college without learning something
+of the world; and it had not needed the lecture from his father, which he
+got upon leaving Washington, to inform him of Jethro's political
+practices.  He had argued soundly with his father on that occasion,
+having the courage to ask Mr. Worthington in effect whether he did not
+sanction his underlings to use the same tools as Jethro used.  Mr.
+Worthington was righteously angry, and declared that Jethro had
+inaugurated those practices in the state, and had to be fought with his
+own weapons.  But Mr. Worthington had had the sense at that time not to
+mention Cynthia's name.  He hoped and believed that that affair was not
+serious, and merely a boyish fancy--as indeed it was.
+
+It remains to be said, however, that the lecture had not been without its
+effect upon Bob.  Jethro Bass, after all, was--Jethro Bass.  All his life
+Bob had heard him familiarly and jokingly spoken of as the boss of the
+state, and had listened to the tales, current in all the country towns,
+of how Jethro had outwitted this man or that.  Some of them were not
+refined tales.  Jethro Bass as the boss of the state--with the tolerance
+with which the public in general regard politics--was one thing.  Bob was
+willing to call him "Uncle Jethro," admire his great strength and
+shrewdness, and declare that the men he had outwitted had richly deserved
+it.  But Jethro Bass as the ward of Cynthia Wetherell was quite another
+thing.
+
+It was not only that Cynthia had suddenly and inevitably become a lady.
+That would not have mattered, for such as she would have borne Coniston
+and the life of Coniston cheerfully.  But Bob reflected, as he walked
+back to his rooms in the dark through the snow-laden streets, that
+Cynthia, young though she might be, possessed principles from which no
+love would sway her a hair's breadth.  How, indeed, was she to live with
+Jethro once her eyes were opened?
+
+The thought made him angry, but returned to him persistently during the
+days that followed,--in the lecture room, in the gymnasium, in his own
+study, where he spent more time than formerly.  By these tokens it will
+be perceived that Bob, too, had changed a little.  And the sight of
+Cynthia in Mrs. Merrill's parlor had set him to thinking in a very
+different manner than the sight of her in Washington had affected him.
+Bob had managed to shift the subject from Jethro, not without an effort,
+though he had done it in that merry, careless manner which was so
+characteristic of him.  He had talked of many things,--his college life,
+his friends,--and laughed at her questions about his freshman escapades.
+But when at length, at twilight, he had risen to go, he had taken both
+her hands and looked down into her face with a very different expression
+than she had seen him wear before--a much more serious expression, which
+puzzled her.  It was not the look of a lover, nor yet that of a man who
+imagines himself in love.  With either of these her instinct would have
+told her how to deal.  It was more the look of a friend, with much of the
+masculine spirit of protection in it.
+
+"May I come to see you again?" he asked.
+
+Gently she released her hands, and she did not answer at once.  She went
+to the window, and stared across the sloping street at the grilled
+railing before the big house opposite, thinking.  Her reason told her
+that he should not come, but her spirit rebelled against that reason.  It
+was a pleasure to see him, so she freely admitted to herself.  Why should
+she not have that pleasure?  If the truth be told, she had argued it all
+out before, when she had wondered whether he would come.  Mrs. Merrill,
+she thought, would not object to his coming.  But--there was the question
+she had meant to ask him.
+
+"Bob," she said, turning to him, "Bob, would your father want you to
+come?"
+
+It was growing dark, and she could scarcely see his face.  He hesitated,
+but he did not attempt to evade the question.
+
+"No, he would not," he answered.  And added, with a good deal of force
+and dignity: "I am of age, and can choose my own friends.  I am my own
+master.  If he knew you as I knew you, he would look at the matter in a
+different light."
+
+Cynthia felt that this was not quite true.  She smiled a little sadly.
+
+"I am afraid you don't know me very well, Bob."  He was about to protest,
+but she went on, bravely, "Is it because he has quarrelled with Uncle
+Jethro?"
+
+"Yes," said Bob.  She was making it terribly hard for him, sparing indeed
+neither herself nor him.
+
+"If you come here to see me, it will cause a quarrel between you and your
+father.  I--I cannot do that."
+
+"There is nothing wrong in my seeing you," said Bob, stoutly; "if he
+cares to quarrel with me for that, I cannot help it.  If the people I
+choose for my friends are good people, he has no right to an objection,
+even though he is my father."
+
+Cynthia had never come so near real admiration for him as at that moment.
+
+"No, Bob, you must not come," she said.  "I will not have you quarrel
+with him on my account."
+
+"Then I will quarrel with him on my own account," he had answered.
+"Good-by. You may expect me this day week."
+
+He went into the hall to put on his overcoat.  Cynthia stood still on the
+spot of the carpet where he had left her.  He put his head in at the
+door.
+
+"This day week," he said.
+
+"Bob, you must not come," she answered.  But the street door closed after
+him as he spoke.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+"You must not come."  Had Cynthia made the prohibition strong enough?
+Ought she not to have said, "If you do come, I will not see you?"  Her
+knowledge of the motives of the men and women in the greater world was
+largely confined to that which she had gathered from novels--not trashy
+novels, but those by standard authors of English life.  And many another
+girl of nineteen has taken a novel for a guide when she has been suddenly
+confronted with the first great problem outside of her experience.
+Somebody has declared that there are only seven plots in the world.
+There are many parallels in English literature to Cynthia's position,--so
+far as she was able to define that position,--the wealthy young peer, the
+parson's or physician's daughter, and the worldly, inexorable parents who
+had other plans.
+
+Cynthia was, of course, foolish.  She would not look ahead, yet there was
+the mirage in the sky when she allowed herself to dream.  It can
+truthfully be said that she was not in love with Bob Worthington.  She
+felt, rather than knew, that if love came to her the feeling she had for
+Jethro Bass--strong though that was--would be as nothing to it.  The girl
+felt the intensity of her nature, and shrank from it when her thoughts
+ran that way, for it frightened her.
+
+"Mrs. Merrill" she said, a few days later, when she found herself alone
+with that lady, "you once told me you would have no objection if a friend
+came to see me here."
+
+"None whatever, my dear," answered Mrs. Merrill.  "I have asked you to
+have your friends here."
+
+Mrs. Merrill knew that a young man had called on Cynthia.  The girls had
+discussed the event excitedly, had teased Cynthia about it; they had
+discovered, moreover, that the young man had not been a tiller of the
+soil or a clerk in a country store.  Ellen, with the enthusiasm of her
+race, had painted him in glowing colors--but she had neglected to read
+the name on his card.
+
+"Bob Worthington came to see me last week, and he wants to come again.
+He lives in Brampton," Cynthia explained, "and is at Harvard College."
+
+Mrs. Merrill was decidedly surprised.  She went on with her sewing,
+however, and did not betray the fact.  She knew of Dudley Worthington as
+one of the richest and most important men in his state; she had heard her
+husband speak of him often; but she had never meddled with politics and
+railroad affairs.
+
+"By all means let him come, Cynthia," she replied.
+
+When Mr. Merrill got home that evening she spoke of the matter to him.
+
+"Cynthia is a strange character," she said.  "Sometimes I can't
+understand her--she seems so much older than our girls, Stephen.  Think
+of her keeping this to herself for four days!
+
+Mr. Merrill laughed, but he went off to a little writing room he had and
+sat for a long time looking into the glowing coals.  Then he laughed
+again.  Mr. Merrill was a philosopher.  After all, he could not forbid
+Dudley Worthington's son coming to his house, nor did he wish to.
+
+That same evening Cynthia wrote a letter and posted it.  She found it a
+very difficult letter to write, and almost as difficult to drop into the
+mail-box.  She reflected that the holidays were close at hand, and then
+he would go to Brampton and forget, even as he had forgotten before.  And
+she determined when Wednesday afternoon came around that she would take a
+long walk in the direction of Brookline.  Cynthia loved these walks, for
+she sadly missed the country air,--and they had kept the color in her
+cheeks and the courage in her heart that winter.  She had amazed the
+Merrill girls by the distances she covered, and on more than one occasion
+she had trudged many miles to a spot from which there was a view of Blue
+Hills.  They reminded her faintly of Coniston.
+
+Who can speak or write with any certainty of the feminine character, or
+declare what unexpected twists perversity and curiosity may give to it?
+Wednesday afternoon came, and Cynthia did not go to Brookline.  She put
+on her coat, and took it off again.  Would he dare to come in the face of
+the mandate he had received?  If he did come, she wouldn't see him.
+Ellen had received her orders.
+
+At four o'clock the doorbell rang, and shortly thereafter Ellen appeared,
+simpering and apologetic enough, with a card.  She had taken the trouble
+to read it this time.  Cynthia was angry, or thought she was, and her
+cheeks were very red.
+
+"I told you to excuse me, Ellen.  Why did you let him in?"
+
+"Miss Cynthia, darlin'," said Ellen, "if it was made of flint I was,
+wouldn't he bring the tears out of me with his wheedlin' an' coaxin'?
+An' him such a fine young gintleman!  And whin he took to commandin'
+like, sure I couldn't say no to him at all at all.  'Take the card to
+her, Ellen,' he says--didn't he know me name! -'an' if she says she won't
+see me, thin I won't trouble her more.'  Thim were his words, Miss."
+
+There he was before the fire, his feet slightly apart and his hands in
+his pockets, waiting for her.  She got a glimpse of him standing thus, as
+she came down the stairs.  It was not the attitude of a culprit.  Nor did
+he bear the faintest resemblance to a culprit as he came up to her in the
+doorway.  The chief recollection she carried away of that moment was that
+his teeth were very white and even when he smiled.  He had the impudence
+to smile.  He had the impudence to seize one of her hands in his, and to
+hold aloft a sheet of paper in the other.
+
+"What does this mean?" said he.
+
+"What do you thick it means?" retorted Cynthia, with dignity.
+
+"A summons to stay away," said Bob, thereby more or less accurately
+describing it.  "What would you have thought of me if I had not come?"
+
+Cynthia was not prepared for any such question as this.  She had meant to
+ask the questions herself.  But she never lacked for words to protect
+herself.
+
+"I'll tell you what I think of you for coming, Bob, for insisting upon
+seeing me as you did," she said, remembering with shame Ellen's account
+of that proceeding.  "It was very unkind and very thoughtless of you."
+
+"Unkind?"  Thus she succeeded in putting him on the defensive.
+
+"Yes, unkind, because I know it is best for you not to come to see me,
+and you know it, and yet you will not help me when I try to do what is
+right.  I shall be blamed for these visits," she said.  The young ladies
+in the novels always were.  But it was a serious matter for poor Cynthia,
+and her voice trembled a little.  Her troubles seemed very real.
+
+"Who will blame you?" asked Bob, though he knew well enough.  Then he
+added, seeing that she did not answer: "I don't at all agree with you
+that it is best for me not to see you.  I know of nobody in the world it
+does me more good to see than yourself.  Let's sit down and talk it all
+over," he said, for she still remained standing uncompromisingly by the
+door.
+
+The suspicion of a smile came over Cynthia's face.  She remembered how
+Ellen had been wheedled.  Her instinct told her that now was the time to
+make a stand or never.
+
+"It wouldn't do any good, Bob," she replied, shaking her head; "we talked
+it all over last week."
+
+"Not at all," said he, "we only touched upon a few points last week.  We
+ought to thrash it out.  Various aspects of the matter have occurred to
+me which I ought to call to your attention."
+
+He could not avoid this bantering tone, but she saw that he was very much
+in earnest too.  He realized the necessity of winning; likewise, and he
+had got in and meant to stay.
+
+"I don't want to argue," said Cynthia.  "I've thought it all out."
+
+"So have I," said Bob.  "I haven't thought of anything else, to speak of.
+And by the way," he declared, shaking the envelope, "I never got a colder
+and more formal letter in my life.  You must have taken it from one of
+Miss Sadler's copy books."
+
+"I'm sorry I haven't been able to equal the warmth of your other
+correspondents," said Cynthia, smiling at the mention of Miss Sadler.
+
+"You've got a good many degrees yet to go," he replied.
+
+"I have no idea of doing so," said Cynthia.
+
+If Cynthia had lured him there, and had carefully thought out a plan of
+fanning his admiration into a flame, she could not have done better than
+to stand obstinately by the door.  Nothing appeals to a man like
+resistance--resistance for a principle appealed to Bob, although he did
+not care a fig about that particular principle.  In his former dealings
+with young women--and they had not been few--the son of Dudley
+Worthington had encountered no resistance worth the mentioning.  He
+looked at the girl before him, and his blood leaped at the thought of a
+conquest over her.  She was often demure, but behind that demureness was
+firmness: she was mistress of herself, and yet possessed a marvellous
+vitality.
+
+"And now," said Cynthia, "don't you think you had better go?"
+
+Go!  He laughed outright.  Never!  He would sit down under that fortress,
+and some day he meant to scale the walls.  Like John Paul Jones, he had
+not yet begun to fight.  But he did not sit down just yet, because
+Cynthia remained standing.
+
+"I'm here now," he said, "what's the good of going away?  I might as well
+stay the rest of the afternoon."
+
+"You will find a photograph album on the table," said Cynthia, "with
+pictures of all the Merrill family and their friends and relations."
+
+In spite of the threat this remark conveyed, he could not help laughing
+at it.  Mrs. Merrill in her sitting room heard the laugh, and felt that
+she would like Bob Worthington.
+
+"It's a heavy album, Cynthia," he said; "perhaps you would hold up one
+side of it."
+
+It was Cynthia's turn to laugh.  She could not decide whether he were a
+man or a boy.  Sometimes, she had to admit, he was very much of a man.
+
+"Where are you going?" he cried.
+
+"Upstairs, of course," she answered.
+
+This was really alarming.  But fate thrust a final weapon into his hands.
+
+"All right," said he, "I'll look at the album.  What time does Mr.
+Merrill get home?"
+
+"About six," answered Cynthia.  "Why?"
+
+"When he comes," said Bob, "I shall put on my most disconsolate
+expression.  He'll ask me what I'm doing, and I'll tell him you went
+upstairs at half-past four and haven't come down.  He'll sympathize, I'll
+bet anything."
+
+Whether Bob were really capable of doing this, Cynthia could not tell. She
+believed he was.  Perhaps she really did not intend to go upstairs
+just then.  To his intense relief she seated herself on a straight-backed
+chair near the door, although she had the air of being about to get up
+again at any minute.  It was not a surrender, not at all--but a parley,
+at least.
+
+"I really want to talk to you seriously, Bob," she said, and her voice
+was serious.  "I like you very much--I always have--and I want you to
+listen seriously.  All of us have friends.  Some people--you, for
+instance--have a great many.  We have but one father."  Her voice failed
+a little at the word.  "No friend can ever be the same to you as your
+father, and no friendship can make up what his displeasure will cost you.
+I do not mean to say that I shan't always be your friend, for I shall
+be."
+
+Young men seldom arrive at maturity by gradual steps--something sets them
+thinking, a week passes, and suddenly the world has a different aspect.
+Bob had thought much of his father during that week, and had considered
+their relationship very carefully.  He had a few precious memories of his
+mother before she had been laid to rest under that hideous and
+pretentious monument in the Brampton hill cemetery.  How unlike her was
+that monument!  Even as a young boy, when on occasions he had wandered
+into the cemetery, he used to stand before it with a lump in his throat
+and bitter resentment in his heart, and once he had shaken his fist at
+it.  He had grown up out of sympathy with his father, but he had never
+until now began to analyze the reasons for it.  His father had given him
+everything except that communion of which Cynthia spoke so feelingly.
+Mr. Worthington had acted according to his lights: of all the people in
+the world he thought first of his son.  But his thoughts and care had
+been alone of what the son would be to the world: how that son would
+carry on the wealth and greatness of Isaac D. Worthington.
+
+Bob had known this before, but it had had no such significance for him
+then as now.  He was by no means lacking in shrewdness, and as he had
+grown older he had perceived clearly enough Mr. Worthington's reasons for
+throwing him socially with the Duncans.  Mr. Worthington had never been a
+plain-spoken man, but he had as much as told his son that it was decreed
+that he should marry the heiress of the state.  There were other plans
+connected with this.  Mr. Worthington meant that his son should
+eventually own the state itself, for he saw that the man who controlled
+the highways of a state could snap his fingers at governor and council
+and legislature and judiciary: could, indeed, do more--could own them
+even more completely than Jethro Bass now owned them, and without effort.
+The dividends would do the work: would canvass the counties and persuade
+this man and that with sufficient eloquence.  By such tokens it will be
+seen that Isaac D. Worthington is destined to become great, though the
+greatness will be akin to that possessed by those gentlemen who in past
+ages had built castles across the highway between Venice and the
+North Sea.  All this was in store for Bob Worthington, if he could only
+be brought to see it.  These things would be given him, if he would but
+confine his worship to the god of wealth.
+
+We are running ahead, however, of Bob's reflections in Mr. Merrill's
+parlor in Mount Vernon Street, and the ceremony of showing him the cities
+of his world from Brampton hill was yet to be gone through.  Bob knew his
+father's plans only in a general way, but in the past week he had come to
+know his father with a fair amount of thoroughness.  If Isaac D.
+Worthington had but chosen a worldly wife, he might have had a more
+worldly son.  As it was, Bob's thoughts were a little bitter when Cynthia
+spoke of his father, and he tried to think instead what his mother would
+have him do.  He could not, indeed, speak of Mr. Worthington's
+shortcomings as he understood them, but he answered Cynthia vigorously
+enough--even if his words were not as serious as she desired.
+
+"I tell you I am old enough to judge for myself, Cynthia," said he, "and
+I intend to judge for myself.  I don't pretend to be a paragon of virtue,
+but I have a kind of a conscience which tells me when I am doing wrong,
+if I listen to it.  I have not always listened to it.  It tells me I'm
+doing right now, and I mean to listen to it."
+
+Cynthia could not but think there was very little self-denial attached to
+this.  Men are not given largely to self-denial.
+
+"It is easy enough to listen to your conscience when you think it impels
+you to do that which you want to do, Bob," she answered, laughing at his
+argument in spite of herself.
+
+"Are you wicked?" he demanded abruptly.
+
+"Why, no, I don't think I am," said Cynthia, taken aback.  But she
+corrected herself swiftly, perceiving his bent.  "I should be doing wrong
+to let you come here."
+
+He ignored the qualification.
+
+"Are you vain and frivolous?"
+
+She remembered that she had looked in the glass before she had come down
+to him, and bit her lip.
+
+"Are you given over to idle pursuits, to leading young men from their
+occupations and duties?"
+
+"If you've come here to recite the Blue Laws," said she, laughing again,
+"I have something better to do than to listen to them."
+
+"Cynthia," he cried, "I'll tell you what you are.  I'll draw your
+character for you, and then, if you can give me one good reason why I
+should not associate with you, I'll go away and never come back."
+
+"That's all very well," said Cynthia, "but suppose I don't admit your
+qualifications for drawing my character.  And I don't admit them, not for
+a minute."
+
+"I will draw it," said he, standing up in front of her.  "Oh, confound
+it!"
+
+This exclamation, astonishing and out of place as it was, was caused by a
+ring at the doorbell.  The ring was followed by a whispering and giggling
+in the hall, and then by the entrance of the Misses Merrill into the
+parlor.  Curiosity had been too strong for them.  Susan was human, and
+here was the opportunity for a little revenge.  In justice to her, she
+meant the revenge to be very slight.
+
+"Well, Cynthia, you should have come to the concert," she said; "it was
+fine, wasn't it, Jane?  Is this Mr. Worthington?  How do you do.  I'm
+Miss Susan Merrill, and this is Miss Jane Merrill."  Susan only intended
+to stay a minute, but how was Bob to know that?  She was tempted into
+staying longer.  Bob lighted the gas, and she inspected him and approved.
+Her approval increased when he began to talk to her in his bantering way,
+as if he had known her always.  Then, when she was fully intending to go,
+he rose to take his leave.
+
+"I'm awfully glad to have met you at last," he said to Susan, "I've heard
+so much about you."  His leave-taking of Jane was less effusive, and then
+he turned to Cynthia and took her hand.  "I'm going to Brampton on
+Friday," he said, "for the holidays.  I wish you were going."
+
+"We couldn't think of letting her go, Mr. Worthington," cried Susan, for
+the thought of the hills had made Cynthia incapable of answering.  "We're
+only to have her for one short winter, you know."
+
+"Yes, I know," said Mr. Worthington, gravely.  "I'll see old Ephraim, and
+tell him you're well, and what a marvel of learning, you've become.
+And--and I'll go to Coniston if that will please you."
+
+"Oh, no, Bob, you mustn't do anything of the kind," answered Cynthia,
+trying to keep back the tears.  "I--I write to Uncle Jethro very often.
+Good-by.  I hope you will enjoy your holidays."
+
+"I'm coming to see you the minute I get back and tell you all about
+everybody," said he.
+
+How was she to forbid him to come before Susan and Jane!  She could only
+be silent.
+
+"Do come, Mr. Worthington," said Susan, warmly, wondering at Cynthia's
+coldness and, indeed, misinterpreting it.  "I am sure she will be glad to
+see you.  And we shall always make you welcome, at any rate."
+
+As soon as he was out of the door, Susan became very repentant, and
+slipped her hand about Cynthia's waist.
+
+"We shouldn't have come in at all if we had known he would go so soon,
+indeed we shouldn't, Cynthia."  And seeing that Cynthia was still silent,
+she added: "I wouldn't do such a mean thing, Cynthia, I really wouldn't.
+Won't you believe me and forgive me?"
+
+Cynthia scarcely heard her at first.  She was thinking of Coniston
+mountain, and how the sun had just set behind it.  The mountain would be
+ultramarine against the white fields, and the snow on the hill pastures
+to the east stained red as with wine.  What would she not have given to
+be going back to-morrow--yes, with Bob.  She confessed--though startled
+by the very boldness of the thought--that she would like to be going
+there with Bob.  Susan's appeal brought her back to Boston and the gas-
+lit parlor.
+
+"Forgive you, Susan!  There's nothing to forgive.  I wanted him to go."
+
+"You wanted him to go?" repeated Susan, amazed.  She may be pardoned if
+she did not believe this, but a glance at Cynthia's face scarcely left a
+room for doubt.  "Cynthia Wetherell, you're the strangest girl I've ever
+known in all my life.  If I had a--a friend" (Susan had another word on
+her tongue) "if I had such a friend as Mr. Worthington, I shouldn't be in
+a hurry to let him leave me.  Of course," she added, "I shouldn't let him
+know it."
+
+Cynthia's heart was very heavy during the next few days, heavier by far
+than her friends in Mount Vernon Street imagined.  They had grown to love
+her almost as one of themselves, and because of the sympathy which comes
+of such love they guessed that her thoughts would be turning homeward at
+Christmastide.  At school she had listened, perforce, to the festival
+plans of thirty girls of her own age; to accounts of the probable
+presents they were to receive, the cost of some of which would support a
+family in Coniston for several months; to arrangements for visits, during
+which there were to be theatre-parties and dances and other gaieties.
+Cynthia could not help wondering, as she listened in silence to this
+talk, whether Uncle Jethro had done wisely in sending her to Miss Sadler's;
+whether she would not have been far happier if she had never known about
+such things.
+
+Then came the last day of school, which began with leave-takings and
+embraces.  There were not many who embraced Cynthia, though, had she
+known it, this was largely her own fault.  Poor Cynthia!  how was she to
+know it?  Many more of them than she imagined would have liked to embrace
+her had they believed that the embrace would be returned.  Secretly they
+had grown to admire this strange, dark girl, who was too proud to bend
+for the good opinion of any one--even of Miss Sally Broke.  Once during
+the term Cynthia had held some of them--in the hollow of her hand, and
+had incurred the severe displeasure of Miss Sadler by refusing to tell
+what she knew of certain mischief-makers.
+
+Now, Miss Sadler was going about among them in the school parlor saying
+good-by, sending particular remembrance to such of the fathers and
+mothers as she thought worthy of that honor; kissing some, shaking, hands
+with all.  It was then that a dramatic incident occurred--dramatic for a
+girls' school, at least.  Cynthia deliberately turned her back on Miss
+Sadler and looked out of the window.  The chatter in the room was hushed,
+and for a moment a dangerous wrath flamed in Miss Sadler's eyes.  Then
+she passed on with a smile, to send most particular messages to the
+mother of Miss Isabel Burrage.
+
+Some few moments afterward Cynthia felt a touch on her arm, and turned to
+find herself confronted by Miss Sally Broke.  Unfortunately there is not
+much room for Miss Broke in this story, although she may appear in
+another one yet to be written.  She was extremely good-looking, with real
+golden hair and mischievous blue eyes.  She was, in brief, the leader of
+Miss Sadler's school.
+
+"Cynthia," she said, "I was rude to you when you first came here, and I'm
+sorry for it.  I want to beg your pardon."  And she held out her hand.
+
+There was a moment's suspense for those watching to see if Cynthia would
+take it.  She did take it.
+
+"I'm sorry, too," said Cynthia, simply, "I couldn't see what I'd done to
+offend you.  Perhaps you'll explain now."
+
+Miss Broke blushed violently, and for an instant looked decidedly
+uncomfortable.  Then she burst into laughter,--merry, irresistible
+laughter that carried all before it.
+
+"I was a snob, that's all," said she, "just a plain, low down snob.  You
+don't understand what that means, because you're not one."  (Cynthia did
+understand, ) "But I like you, and I want you to be my friend.  Perhaps
+when I get to know you better, you will come home with me sometime for a
+visit."
+
+Go home with her for a visit to that house in Washington Square with the
+picture gallery!
+
+"I want to say that I'd give my head to have been able to turn my back on
+Miss Sadler as you did," continued Miss Broke; "if you ever want a
+friend, remember Sally Broke."
+
+Some of Cynthia's trouble, at least, was mitigated by this episode; and
+Miss Broke having led the way, Miss Broke's followers came shyly, one by
+one, with proffers of friendship.  To the good-hearted Merrill girls the
+walk home that day was a kind of a triumphal march, a victory over Miss
+Sadler and a vindication of their friend.  Mrs. Merrill, when she heard
+of it, could not find it in her heart to reprove Cynthia.  Miss Sadler
+had got her just deserts.  But Miss Sadler was not a person who was
+likely to forget such an incident.  Indeed, Mrs. Merrill half expected to
+receive a note before the holidays ended that Cynthia's presence was no
+longer desired at the school.  No such note came, however.
+
+If one had to be away from home on Christmas, there could surely be no
+better place to spend that day than in the Merrill household.  Cynthia
+remembers still, when that blessed season comes around, how each member
+of the family vied with the others to make her happy; how they showered
+presents on her, and how they strove to include her in the laughter and
+jokes at the big family dinner.  Mr. Merrill's brother was there with his
+wife, and Mrs.  Merrill's aunt and her husband, and two broods of
+cousins.  It may be well to mention that the Merrill relations, like
+Sally Broke, had overcome their dislike for Cynthia.
+
+There were eatables from Coniston on that board.  A turkey sent by Jethro
+for which, Mr. Merrill declared, the table would have to be strengthened;
+a saddle of venison--Lem Hallowell having shot a deer on the mountain two
+Sundays before; and mince-meat made by Amanda Hatch herself.  Other
+presents had come to Cynthia from the hills: a gorgeous copy of Mr.
+Longfellow's poems from Cousin Ephraim, and a gold locket from Uncle
+Jethro.  This locket was the precise counterpart (had she but known it)
+of a silver one bought at Mr. Judson's shop many years before, though the
+inscription "Cynthy, from Uncle Jethro," was within.  Into the other side
+exactly fitted that daguerreotype of her mother which her father had
+given her when he died.  The locket had a gold chain with a clasp, and
+Cynthia wore it hidden beneath her gown-too intimate a possession to be
+shown.
+
+There was still another and very mysterious present, this being a huge
+box of roses, addressed to Miss Cynthia Wetherell, which was delivered on
+Christmas morning.  If there had been a card, Susan Merrill would
+certainly have found it.  There was no card.  There was much pretended
+speculation on the part of the Merrill girls as to the sender, sly
+reference to Cynthia's heightened color, and several attempts to pin on
+her dress a bunch of the flowers, and Susan declared that one of them
+would look stunning in her hair.  They were put on the dining-room table
+in the centre of the wreath of holly, and under the mistletoe which hung
+from the chandelier.  Whether Cynthia surreptitiously stole one has never
+been discovered.
+
+So Christmas came and went: not altogether unhappily, deferring for a day
+at least the knotty problems of life.  Although Cynthia accepted the
+present of the roses with such magnificent unconcern, and would not make
+so much as a guess as to who sent them, Mr. Robert Worthington was
+frequently in her thoughts.  He had declared his intention of coming to
+Mount Vernon Street as soon as the holidays ended, and had been cordially
+invited by Susan to do so.  Cynthia took the trouble to procure a Harvard
+catalogue from the library, and discovered that he had many holidays yet
+to spend.  She determined to write another letter, which he would find in
+his rooms when he returned.  Just what terrible prohibitory terms she was
+to employ in that letter Cynthia could not decide in a moment, nor yet in
+a day, or a week.  She went so far as to make several drafts, some of
+which she destroyed for the fault of leniency, and others for that of
+severity.  What was she to say to him?  She had expended her arguments to
+no avail.  She could wound him, indeed, and at length made up her mind
+that this was the only resource left her, although she would thereby
+wound herself more deeply.  When she had arrived at this decision, there
+remained still more than a week in which to compose the letter.
+
+On the morning after New Year's, when the family were assembled around
+the breakfast table, Mrs. Merrill remarked that her husband was
+neglecting a custom which had been his for many years.
+
+"Didn't the newspaper come, Stephen?" she asked.
+
+Mr. Merrill had read it.
+
+"Read it!" repeated his wife, in surprise, "you haven't been down long
+enough to read a column."
+
+"It was full of trash," said Mr. Merrill, lightly, and began on his usual
+jokes with the girls.  But Mrs. Merrill was troubled.  She thought his
+jokes not as hearty as they were wont to be, and disquieting surmises of
+business worries filled her mind.  The fact that he beckoned her into his
+writing room as soon as breakfast was over did not tend to allay her
+suspicions.  He closed and locked the door after her, and taking the
+paper from a drawer in his desk bade her read a certain article in it.
+
+The article was an arraignment of Jethro Bass--and a terrible arraignment
+indeed.  Step by step it traced his career from the beginning, showing
+first of all how he had debauched his own town of Coniston; how,
+enlarging on the same methods, he had gradually extended his grip over
+the county and finally over the state; how he had bought and sold men for
+his own power and profit, deceived those who had trusted in him,
+corrupted governors and legislators, congressmen and senators, and even
+justices of the courts: how he had trafficked ruthlessly in the
+enterprises of the people.  Instance upon instance was given, and men of
+high prominence from whom he had received bribes were named, not the
+least important of these being the Honorable Alva Hopkins of Gosport.
+
+Mrs. Merrill looked up from the paper in dismay.
+
+"It's copied from the Newcastle Guardian," she said, for lack of
+immediate power to comment.  "Isn't the Guardian the chief paper in that
+state?"
+
+"Yes, Worthington's bought it, and he instigated the article, of course.
+I've been afraid of this for a long time, Carry," said Mr. Merrill,
+pacing up and down.  "There's a bigger fight than they've ever had coming
+on up there, and this is the first gun.  Worthington, with Duncan behind
+him, is trying to get possession of and consolidate all the railroads in
+the western part of that state.  If he succeeds, it will mean the end of
+Jethro's power.  But he won't succeed."
+
+"Stephen," said his wife, "do you mean to say that Jethro Bass will try
+to defeat this consolidation simply to keep his power?"
+
+"Well, my dear," answered Mr. Merrill, still pacing, "two wrongs don't
+make a right, I admit.  I've known these things a long time, and I've
+thought about them a good deal.  But I've had to run along with the tide,
+or give place to another man who would; and--and starve."
+
+Mrs. Merrill's eyes slowly filled with tears.
+
+"Stephen," she began, "do you mean to say--?"  There she stopped, utterly
+unable to speak.  He ceased his pacing and sat down beside her and took
+her hand.
+
+"Yes, my dear, I mean to say I've submitted to these things.  God knows
+whether I've been right or wrong, but I have.  I've often thought I'd be
+happier if I resigned my office as president of my road and became a
+clerk in a store.  I don't attempt to excuse myself, Carry, but my sin
+has been in holding on to my post.  As long as I remain president I have
+to cope with things as I find them."
+
+Mr. Merrill spoke thickly, for the sight of his wife's tears wrung his
+heart.
+
+"Stephen," she said, "when we were first married and you were a district
+superintendent, you used to tell me everything."
+
+Stephen Merrill was a man, and a good man, as men go.  How was he to tell
+her the degrees by which he had been led into his present situation?  How
+was he to explain that these degrees had been so gradual that his
+conscience had had but a passing wrench here and there?  Politics being
+what they were, progress and protection had to be obtained in accordance
+with them, and there was a duty to the holders of bonds and stocks.
+
+His wife had a question on her lips, a question for which she had to
+summon all her courage.  She chose that form for it which would hurt him
+least.
+
+"Mr. Worthington is going to try to change these things?"
+
+Mr. Merrill roused himself at the words, and his eyes flashed.  He became
+a different man.
+
+"Change them!" he cried bitterly, "change them for the worse, if he can.
+He will try to wrest the power from Jethro Bass.  I don't defend him.  I
+don't defend myself.  But I like Jethro Bass.  I won't deny it.  He's
+human, and I like him, and whatever they say about him I know that he's
+been a true friend to me.  And I tell you as I hope for happiness here
+and hereafter, that if Worthington succeeds in what he is trying to do,
+if the railroads win in this fight, there will be no mercy for the people
+of that state.  I'm a railroad man myself, though I have no interest in
+this affair.  My turn may come later.  Will come later, I suppose.  Isaac
+D. Worthington has a very little heart or soul or mercy himself; but the
+corporation which he means to set up will have none at all.  It will
+grind the people and debase them and clog their progress a hundred times
+more than Jethro Bass has done.  Mark my words, Carry.  I'm running ahead
+of the times a little, but I can see it all as clearly as if it existed
+now."
+
+Mrs. Merrill went about her duties that morning with a heavy heart, and
+more than once she paused to wipe away a tear that would have fallen on
+the linen she vas sorting.  At eleven o'clock the doorbell rang, and
+Ellen appeared at the entrance to the linen closet with a card in her
+hand.  Mrs. Merrill looked at it with a, flurry of surprise.  It read:--
+
+                     MISS LUCRETIA PENNIMAN
+
+                        The Woman's Hour
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+It was certainly affinity that led Miss Lucretia to choose the rosewood
+sofa of a bygone age, which was covered with horsehair.  Miss Lucretia's
+features seemed to be constructed on a larger and more generous principle
+than those of women are nowadays.  Her face was longer.  With her curls
+and her bonnet and her bombazine,--which she wore in all seasons,--she
+was in complete harmony with the sofa.  She had thrown aside the storm
+cloak which had become so familiar to pedestrians in certain parts of
+Boston.
+
+"My dear Miss Penniman," said Mrs. Merrill, "I am delighted and honored.
+I scarcely hoped for such a pleasure.  I have so long admired you and
+your work, and I have heard Cynthia speak of you so kindly."
+
+"It is very good of you to say so, Mrs. Merrill" answered Miss Lucretia,
+in her full, deep voice.  It was by no means an unpleasant voice.  She
+settled herself, though she sat quite upright, in the geometrical centre
+of the horsehair sofa, and cleared her throat.  "To be quite honest with
+you, Mrs. Merrill," she continued, "I came upon particular errand, though
+I believe it would not be a perversion of the truth if I were to add that
+I have had for a month past every intention of paying you a friendly
+call."
+
+Good Mrs. Merrill's breath was a little taken away by this extremely
+scrupulous speech.  She also began to feel a misgiving about the cause
+of the visit, but she managed to say something polite in reply.
+
+"I have come about Cynthia," announced Miss Lucretia, without further
+preliminaries.
+
+"About Cynthia?" faltered Mrs. Merrill.
+
+Miss Lucretia opened a reticule at her waist and drew forth a newspaper
+clipping, which she unfolded and handed to Mrs. Merrill.
+
+"Have you seen this?" she demanded.
+
+Mrs. Merrill took it, although she guessed very well what it was, glanced
+at it with a shudder, and handed it back.
+
+"Yes, I have read it," she said.
+
+"I have come to ask you, Mrs. Merrill" said Miss Lucretia, "if it is
+true."
+
+Here was a question, indeed, for the poor lady to answer!  But Mrs.
+Merrill was no coward.
+
+"It is partly true, I believe."
+
+"Partly?" said Miss Lucretia, sharply.
+
+"Yes, partly," said Mrs. Merrill, rousing herself for the trial; "I have
+never yet seen a newspaper article which was wholly true."
+
+"That is because newspapers are not edited by women," observed Miss
+Lucretia.  "What I wish you to tell me, Mrs. Merrill, is this: how much
+of that article is true, and how much of it is false?"
+
+"Really, Miss Penniman," replied Mrs. Merrill, with spirit, "I don't see
+why you should expect me to know."
+
+"A woman should take an intelligent interest in her husband's affairs,
+Mrs. Merrill.  I have long advocated it as an entering wedge."
+
+"An entering wedge!" exclaimed Mrs. Merrill, who had never read a page of
+the Woman's Hour.
+
+"Yes.  Your husband is the president of a railroad, I believe, which is
+largely in that state.  I should like to ask him whether these statements
+are true in the main.  Whether this Jethro Bass is the kind of man they
+declare him to be."
+
+Mrs. Merrill was in a worse quandary than ever.  Her own spirits were
+none too good, and Miss Lucretia's eye, in its search for truth, seemed
+to pierce into her very soul.  There was no evading that eye.  But Mrs.
+Merrill did what few people would have had the courage or good sense to
+do.
+
+"That is a political article, Miss Penniman," she said, "inspired by a
+bitter enemy of Jethro Bass, Mr, Worthington, who has bought the
+newspaper from which it was copied.  For that reason, I was right in
+saying that it is partly true.  You nor I, Miss Penniman, must not be the
+judges of any man or woman, for we know nothing of their problems or
+temptations.  God will judge them.  We can only say that they have acted
+rightly or wrongly according to the light that is in us.  You will find
+it difficult to get a judgment of Jethro Bass that is not a partisan
+judgment, and yet I believe that that article is in the main a history of
+the life of Jethro Bass.  A partisan history, but still a history.  He
+has unquestionably committed many of the acts of which he is accused."
+
+Here was talk to make the author of the "Hymn to Coniston" sit up, if she
+hadn't been sitting up already.
+
+"And don't you condemn him for those acts?" she gasped.
+
+"Ah," said Mrs. Merrill, thinking of her own husband.  Yesterday she
+would certainly have condemned. Jethro Bass.  But now!  "I do not condemn
+anybody, Miss Penniman."
+
+Miss Lucretia thought this extraordinary, to say the least.
+
+"I will put the question in another way, Mrs. Merrill," said she.  "Do
+you think this Jethro Bass a proper guardian for Cynthia Wetherell?"
+
+To her amazement Mrs. Merrill did not give her an instantaneous answer to
+this question.  Mrs. Merrill was thinking of Jethro's love for the girl,
+manifold evidences of which she had seen, and her heart was filled with a
+melting pity.  It was such a love, Mrs. Merrill knew, as is not given to
+many here below.  And there was Cynthia's love for him.  Mrs. Merrill had
+suffered that morning thinking of this tragedy also.
+
+"I do not think he is a proper guardian for her, Miss Penniman."
+
+It was then that the tears came to Mrs. Merrill's eyes for there is a
+limit to all human endurance.  The sight of these caused a remarkable
+change in Miss Lucretia, and she leaned forward and seized Mrs. Merrill's
+arm.
+
+"My dear," she cried, "my dear, what are we to do?  Cynthia can't go back
+to that man.  She loves him, I know, she loves him as few girls are
+capable of loving.  But when she, finds out what he is!  When she finds
+out how he got the money to support her father!"  Miss Lucretia fumbled
+in her reticule and drew forth a handkerchief and brushed her own eyes--
+eyes which a moment ago were so piercing.  "I have seen many young
+women," she continued; "but I have known very few who were made of as
+fine a fibre and who have such principles as Cynthia Wetherell."
+
+"That is very true," assented Mrs. Merrill too much cast down to be
+amazed by this revelation of Miss Lucretia's weakness.
+
+"But what are we to do?" insisted that lady; "who is to tell her what he
+is?  How is it to be kept from her, indeed?"
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Merrill, "there will be more, articles.  Mr. Merrill
+says so.  It seems there is to be a great political struggle in that
+state."
+
+"Precisely," said Miss Lucretia, sadly.  "And whoever tells the girl will
+forfeit her friendship.  I--I am very fond of her," and here she applied
+again to the reticule.
+
+"Whom would she believe?" asked Mrs. Merrill, whose estimation of Miss
+Lucretia was increasing by leaps and bounds.
+
+"Precisely," agreed Miss Lucretia.  "But she must hear about it
+sometime."
+
+"Wouldn't it be better to let her hear?" suggested Mrs. Merrill; "we
+cannot very well soften that shock: I talked the matter over a little
+with Mr. Merrill, and he thinks that we must take time over it, Miss
+Penniman.  Whatever we do, we must not act hastily."
+
+"Well," said Miss Lucretia, "as I said, I am very fond of the girl, and I
+am willing to do my duty, whatever it may be.  And I also wished to say,
+Mrs. Merrill, that I have thought about another matter very carefully.  I
+am willing to provide for the girl.  I am getting too old to live alone.
+I am getting too old, indeed, to do my work properly, as I used to do it.
+I should like to have her to live with me."
+
+"She has become as one of my own daughters," said Mrs. Merrill.  Yet she
+knew that this offer of Miss Lucretia's was not one to be lightly set
+aside, and that it might eventually be the best solution of the problem.
+After some further earnest discussion it was agreed between them that the
+matter was, if possible, to be kept from Cynthia for the present, and
+when Miss Lucretia departed Mrs. Merrill promised her an early return of
+her call.
+
+Mrs. Merrill had another talk with her husband, which lasted far into the
+night.  This talk was about Cynthia alone, and the sorrow which
+threatened her.  These good people knew that it would be no light thing
+to break the faith of such as she, and they made her troubles their own.
+
+Cynthia little guessed as she exchanged raillery with Mr. Merrill the
+next morning that he had risen fifteen minutes earlier than usual to
+search his newspaper through.  He would read no more at breakfast, so he
+declared in answer to his daughters' comments; it was a bad habit which
+did not agree with his digestion.  It was something new for Mr. Merrill
+to have trouble with his digestion.
+
+There was another and scarcely less serious phase of the situation which
+Mr. and Mrs. Merrill had yet to discuss between them--a phase of which
+Miss Lucretia Penniman knew nothing.
+
+The day before Miss Sadler's school was to reopen nearly a week before
+the Harvard term was to commence--a raging, wet snowstorm came charging
+in from the Atlantic.  Snow had no terrors for a Coniston person, and
+Cynthia had been for her walk.  Returning about five o'clock, she was
+surprised to have the door opened for her by Susan herself.
+
+"What a picture you are in those furs!" she cried, with an intention
+which for the moment was lost upon Cynthia.  "I thought you would never
+come.  You must have walked to Dedham this time.  Who do you think is
+here?  Mr. Worthington."
+
+"Mr. Worthington!"
+
+"I have been trying to entertain him, but I am afraid I have been a very
+poor substitute.  However, I have persuaded him to stay for supper."
+
+"It needed but little persuasion," said Bob, appearing in the doorway.
+All the snowstorms of the wide Atlantic could not have brought such color
+to her cheeks.  Cynthia, for all her confusion at the meeting, had not
+lost her faculty of observation.  He seemed to have changed again, even
+during the brief time he had been absent.  His tone was grave.
+
+"He needs to be cheered up, Cynthia," Susan went on, as though reading
+her thoughts.  "I have done my best, without success.  He won't confess
+to me that he has come back to make up some of his courses.  I don't mind
+owning that I've got to finish a theme to be handed in tomorrow."
+
+With these words Susan departed, and left them standing in the hall
+together.  Bob took hold of Cynthia's jacket and helped her off with it.
+He could read neither pleasure nor displeasure in her face, though he
+searched it anxiously enough.  It was she who led the way into the parlor
+and seated herself, as before, on one of the uncompromising, straight-
+backed chairs.  Whatever inward tremors the surprise of this visit had
+given her, she looked at him clearly and steadily, completely mistress
+of herself, as ever.
+
+"I thought your holidays did not end until next week," she said.
+
+"They do not."
+
+"Then why are you here?"
+
+"Because I could not stay away, Cynthia," he answered.  It was not the
+manner in which he would have said it a month ago.  There was a note of
+intense earnestness in his voice--now, and to it she could make no light
+reply.  Confronted again with an unexpected situation, she could not
+decide at once upon a line of action.
+
+"When did you leave Brampton?" she asked, to gain time.  But with the
+words her thoughts flew to the hill country.
+
+"This morning," he said, "on the early train.  They have three feet of
+snow up there."  He, too, seemed glad of a respite from something.
+"They're having a great fuss in Brampton about a new teacher for the
+village school.  Miss Goddard has got married.  Did you know Miss
+Goddard, the lanky one with the glasses?"
+
+"Yes," said Cynthia, beginning to be amused at the turn the conversation
+was taking.
+
+"Well, they can't find anybody smart enough to replace Miss Goddard.  Old
+Ezra Graves, who's on the prudential committee, told Ephraim they ought
+to get you.  I was in the post-office when they were talking about it.
+Just see what a reputation for learning you have in Brampton!"
+
+Cynthia was plainly pleased by the compliment.
+
+"How is Cousin Eph?" she asked.
+
+"Happy as a lark," said Bob, "the greatest living authority in New
+England on the Civil War.  He's made the post-office the most popular
+social club I ever saw.  If anybody's missing in Brampton, you can nearly
+always find them in the post-office.  But I smiled at the notion of your
+being a school ma'am."
+
+"I don't see anything so funny about it," replied Cynthia, smiling too.
+"Why shouldn't I be?  I should like it."
+
+"You were made for something different," he answered quietly.
+
+It was a subject she did not choose to discuss with him, and dropped her
+lashes before the plainly spoken admiration in his eyes.  So a silence
+fell between them, broken only by the ticking of the agate clock on the
+mantel and the music of sleigh-bells in a distant street.  Presently the
+sleigh-bells died away, and it seemed to Cynthia that the sound of her
+own heartbeats must be louder than the ticking of the clock.  Her tact
+had suddenly deserted her; without reason, and she did not dare to glance
+again at Bob as he sat under the lamp.  That minute--for it was a full
+minute--was charged with a presage which she could not grasp.  Cynthia's
+instincts were very keen.  She understood, of course, that he had cut
+short his holiday to come to see her, and she might have dealt with him
+had that been all.  But--through that sixth sense with which some women
+are endowed--she knew that something troubled him.  He, too, had never
+yet been at a loss for words.
+
+The silence forced him to speak first, and he tried to restore the light
+tone to the conversation.
+
+"Cousin Ephraim gave me a piece of news," he said.  "Ezra Graves got it,
+too.  He told us you were down in Boston at a fashionable school.  Cousin
+Ephraim knows a thing or two.  He says he always callated you were cut
+out for a fine lady."
+
+"Bob," said Cynthia, nerving herself for the ordeal, "did you tell Cousin
+Ephraim you had seen me?"
+
+"I told him and Ezra that I had been a constant and welcome visitor at
+this house."
+
+"Did, you tell your father that you had seen me?"
+
+This was too serious a question to avoid.
+
+"No, I did not.  There was no reason why I should have."
+
+"There was every reason," said Cynthia, "and you know it.  Did you tell
+him why you came to Boston to-day?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Why does he think you came?"
+
+"He doesn't think anything about it," said Bob.  "He went off to Chicago
+yesterday to attend a meeting of the board of directors of a western
+railroad."
+
+"And so," she said reproachfully, "you slipped off as soon as his back
+was turned.  I would not have believed that of you, Bob.  Do you think
+that was fair to him or me?"
+
+Bob Worthington sprang to his feet and stood over her.  She had spoken to
+a boy, but she had aroused a man, and she felt an amazing thrill at the
+result.  The muscles in his face tightened, and deepened the lines about
+his mouth, and a fire was lighted about his eyes.
+
+"Cynthia," he said slowly, "even you shall not speak to me like that.  If
+I had believed it were right, if I had believed that it would have done
+any good to you or me, I should have told my father the moment I got to
+Brampton.  In affairs of this kind--in a matter of so much importance in
+my life," he continued, choosing his words carefully, "I am likely to
+know whether I am doing right or wrong.  If my mother were alive, I am
+sure that she would approve of this--this friendship."
+
+Having got so far, he paused.  Cynthia felt that she was trembling, as
+though the force and feeling that was in him had charged her also.
+
+"I did not intend to come so soon," he went on, "but--I had a reason for
+coming.  I knew that you did not want me."
+
+"You know that that is not true, Bob," she faltered.  His next words
+brought her to her feet.
+
+"Cynthia," he said, in a voice shaken by the intensity of his passion,
+"I came because I love you better than all the world--because I always
+will love you so.  I came to protect you, and care for you whatever
+happens. I did not mean to tell you so, now.  But it cannot matter,
+Cynthia!"
+
+He seized her, roughly indeed, in his arms, but his very roughness was a
+proof of the intensity of his love.  For an instant she lay palpitating
+against him, and as long as he lives he will remember the first exquisite
+touch of her firm but supple figure and the marvellous communion of her
+lips.  A current from the great store that was in her, pent up and all
+unknown, ran through him, and then she had struggled out of his arms and
+fled, leaving him standing alone in the parlor.
+
+It is true that such things happen, and no man or woman may foretell the
+day or the hour thereof.  Cynthia fled up the stairs, miraculously
+arriving unnoticed at her own room, and locked the door and flung herself
+on the bed.
+
+Tears came--tears of shame, of joy, of sorrow, of rejoicing, of regret;
+tears that burned, and yet relieved her, tears that pained while they
+comforted.  Had she sinned beyond the pardon of heaven, or had she
+committed a supreme act of right?  One moment she gloried in it, and the
+next upbraided herself bitterly.  Her heart beat with tumult, and again
+seemed to stop.  Such, though the words but faintly describe them, were
+her feelings, for thoughts were still to emerge out of chaos.  Love comes
+like a flame to few women, but so it came to Cynthia Wetherell, and
+burned out for a while all reason.
+
+Only for a while.  Generations which had practised self-restraint were
+strong in her--generations accustomed, too, to thinking out, so far as in
+them lay, the logical consequences of their acts; generations ashamed of
+these very instants when nature has chosen to take command.  After a time
+had passed, during which the world might have shuffled from its course,
+Cynthia sat up in the darkness.  How was she ever to face the light
+again?  Reason had returned.
+
+So she sat for another space, and thought of what she had done--thought
+with a surprising calmness now which astonished her.  Then she thought
+of what she would do, for there was an ordeal still to be gone through.
+Although she shrank from it, she no longer lacked the courage to endure
+it.  Certain facts began to stand out clearly from the confusion.  The
+least important and most immediate of these was that she would have to
+face him, and incidentally face the world in the shape of the Merrill
+family, at supper.  She rose mechanically and lighted the gas and bathed
+her face and changed her gown.  Then she heard Susan's voice at the door.
+
+"Cynthia, what in the world are you doing?"
+
+Cynthia opened the door and the sisters entered.  Was it possible that
+they did not read her terrible secret in her face? Apparently not.  Susan
+was busy commenting on the qualities and peculiarities of Mr. Robert
+Worthington, and showering upon Cynthia a hundred questions which she
+answered she knew not how; but neither Susan nor Jane, wonderful as it
+may seem, betrayed any suspicion.  Did he send the flowers?  Cynthia had
+not asked him.  Did he want to know whether she read the newspapers?  He
+had asked Susan that, before Cynthia came.  Susan was ready to repeat the
+whole of her conversation with him.  Why did he seem so particular about
+newspapers?  Had he notions that girls ought not to read them?
+
+The significance of Bob's remarks about newspapers was lost upon Cynthia
+then.  Not till afterward did she think of them, or connect them with his
+unexpected visit.  Then the supper bell rang, and they went downstairs.
+
+The reader will be spared Mr. Worthington's feelings after Cynthia left
+him, although they were intense enough, and absorbing and far-reaching
+enough.  He sat down on a chair and buried his head in his hands.  His
+impulse had been to leave the house and return again on the morrow, but
+he remembered that he had been asked to stay for supper, and that such a
+proceeding would cause comment.  At length he got up and stood before the
+fire, his thoughts still above the clouds, and it was thus that Mr.
+Merrill found him when he entered.
+
+"Good evening," said that gentleman, genially, not knowing in the least
+who Bob was, but prepossessed in his favor by the way he came forward and
+shook his hand and looked him clearly in the eye.
+
+"I'm Robert Worthington, Mr. Merrill" said he.
+
+"Eh!" Mr. Merrill gasped, "eh!  Oh, certainly, how do you do, Mr.
+Worthington?"  Mr. Merrill would have been polite to a tax collector or a
+sheriff.  He separated the office from the man, which ought not always to
+be done.  "I'm glad to see you, Mr. Worthington.  Well, well, bad storm,
+isn't it?  I had an idea the college didn't open until next week."
+
+"Mr. Worthington's going to stay for supper, Papa," said Susan, entering.
+
+"Good!" cried Mr. Merrill.  "Capital!  You won't miss the old folks after
+supper, will you, girls?  Your mother wants me to go to a whist party."
+
+"It can't be helped, Carry," said Mr. Merrill to his wife, as they walked
+up the hill to a neighbor's that evening.
+
+"He's in love with Cynthia," said Mrs. Merrill, somewhat sadly; "it's as
+plain as the nose on your face, Stephen."
+
+"That isn't very plain.  Suppose he is!  You can dam a mountain stream,
+but you can't prevent it reaching the sea, as we used to say when I was a
+boy in Edmundton.  I like Bob," said Mr. Merrill, with his usual weakness
+for Christian names, "and he isn't any more like Dudley Worthington than
+I am.  If you were to ask me, I'd say he couldn't do a better thing than
+marry Cynthia."
+
+"Stephen!" exclaimed Mrs. Merrill.  But in her heart she thought so, too.
+"What will Mr. Worthington say when he hears the young man has been
+coming to our house to see her?"
+
+Mr. Merrill had been thinking of that very thing, but with more amusement
+than concern.
+
+To return to Mr. Merrill's house, the three girls and the one young man
+were seated around the fire, and their talk, Merrill as it had begun, was
+becoming minute by minute more stilted.  This was largely the fault of
+Susan, who would not be happy until she had taken Jane upstairs and left
+Mr. Worthington and Cynthia together.  This matter had been arranged
+between the sisters before supper.  Susan found her opening at last, and
+upbraided Jane for her unfinished theme; Jane, having learned her lesson
+well, accused Susan.  But Cynthia, who saw through the ruse, declared
+that both themes were finished.  Susan, naturally indignant at such
+ingratitude, denied this.  The manoeuvre, in short, was executed very
+clumsily and very obviously, but executed nevertheless--the sisters
+marching out of the room under a fire of protests.  The reader, too, will
+no doubt think it a very obvious manoeuvre, but some things are managed
+badly in life as well as in books.
+
+Cynthia and Bob were left alone: left, moreover, in mortal terror of each
+other.  It is comparatively easy to open the door of a room and rush into
+a lady's arms if the lady be willing and alone.  But to be abandoned, as
+Susan had abandoned them, and with such obvious intent, creates quite a
+different atmosphere.  Bob had dared to hope for such an opportunity: had
+made up his mind during supper, while striving to be agreeable, just what
+he would do if the opportunity came.  Instead, all he could do was to sit
+foolishly in his chair and look at the coals, not so much as venturing to
+turn his head until the sound of footsteps had died away on the upper
+floors.  It was Cynthia who broke the silence and took command--a very
+different Cynthia from the girl who had thrown herself on the bed not
+three hours before.  She did not look at him, but stared with
+determination into the fire.
+
+"Bob, you must go," she said.
+
+"Go!" he cried.  Her voice loosed the fetters of his passion, and he
+dared to seize the band that lay on the arm of her chair.  She did not
+resist this.
+
+"Yes, you must go.  You should not have stayed for supper."
+
+"Cynthia," he said, "how can I leave you?  I will not leave you."
+
+"But you can and must," she replied.
+
+"Why?" he asked, looking at her in dismay.
+
+"You know the reason," she answered.
+
+"Know it?" he cried.  "I know why I should stay.  I know that I love you
+with my whole heart and soul.  I know that I love you as few men have
+ever loved--and that you are the one woman among millions who can inspire
+such a love."
+
+"No, Bob, no," she said, striving hard to keep her head, withdrawing her
+hand that it might not betray the treason of her lips.  Aware, strange as
+it may seem, of the absurdity of the source of what she was to say, for a
+trace of a smile was about her mouth as she gazed at the coals.  "You
+will get over this.  You are not yet out of college, and many such
+fancies happen there."
+
+For the moment he was incapable of speaking, incapable of finding an
+answer sufficiently emphatic.  How was he to tell her of the rocks upon
+which his love was built?
+
+How was he to declare that the very perils which threatened her had made
+a man of him, with all of a man's yearning to share these perils and
+shield her from them?  How was he to speak at all of those perils?  He
+did not declaim, yet when he spoke, an enduring sincerity which she could
+not deny was in his voice.
+
+"You know in your heart that what you say is not true, Cynthia.  Whatever
+happens, I shall always love you."
+
+Whatever happens: She shuddered at the words, reminding her as they did
+of all her vague misgivings and fears.
+
+"Whatever happens!" she found herself repeating them involuntarily.
+
+"Yes, whatever happens I will love you truly and faithfully.  I will
+never desert you, never deny you, as long as I live.  And you love me,
+Cynthia," he cried, "you love me, I know it."
+
+"No, no," she answered, her breath coming fast.  He was on his feet now,
+dangerously near her, and she rose swiftly to avoid him.
+
+She turned her head, that he might not read the denial in her eyes; and
+yet had to look at him again, for he was coming toward her quickly. "Don't
+touch me," she said, "don't touch me."
+
+He stopped, and looked at her so pitifully that she could scarce keep
+back her tears.
+
+"You do love me," he repeated.
+
+So they stood for a moment, while Cynthia made a supreme effort to speak
+calmly.
+
+"Listen, Bob," she said at last, "if you ever wish to see me again, you
+must do as I say.  You must write to your father, and tell him what you
+have done and--and what you wish to do.  You may come to me and tell me
+his answer, but you must not come to me before."  She would have said
+more, but her strength was almost gone.  Yes, and more would have implied
+a promise or a concession.  She would not bind herself even by a hint.
+But of this she was sure: that she would not be the means of wrecking his
+opportunities.  "And now--you must go."
+
+He stayed where he was, though his blood leaped within him, his
+admiration and respect for the girl outran his passion.  Robert
+Worthington was a gentleman.
+
+"I will do as you say, Cynthia," he answered, "but I am doing it for you.
+Whatever my father's reply may be will not change my love or my
+intentions.  For I am determined that you shall be my wife."
+
+With these words, and one long, lingering look, he turned and left her. He had
+lacked the courage to speak of his father's bitterness and
+animosity.  Who will blame him?  Cynthia thought none the less of him for
+not telling her.  There was, indeed, no need now to describe Dudley
+Worthington's feelings.
+
+When the door had closed she stoke to the window, and listened to his
+footfalls in the snow until she heard them no more.
+
+
+
+
+End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Coniston, V3
+by Winston Churchill
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+The Project Gutenberg Etext of Coniston, by Winston Churchill, v3
+#16 in our series by this Winston Churchill
+
+This author is a cousin of Sir Winston Churchill the Prime Minister
+
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+Title: Coniston by Winston Churchill, v3
+
+Author: Winston Churchill (a cousin of Sir Winston Churchill)
+
+Official Release Date: February, 2003  [Etext #3764]
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+[The actual date this file first posted = 08/14/01]
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+The Project Gutenberg Etext of Coniston by Winston Churchill, v3
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+
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+
+
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+[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the
+file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an
+entire meal of them.  D.W.]
+
+
+[NOTE: This author is a cousin of Sir Winston Churchill the Prime Minister
+of England during World War II.]
+
+
+
+
+
+CONISTON
+
+
+
+BOOK III
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+One day, in the November following William Wetherell's death, Jethro Bass
+astonished Coniston by moving to the little cottage in the village which
+stood beside the disused tannery, and which had been his father's.  It
+was known as the tannery house.  His reasons for this step, when at
+length discovered, were generally commended: they were, in fact, a
+disinclination to leave a girl of Cynthia's tender age alone on Thousand
+Acre Hill while he journeyed on his affairs about the country.  The Rev.
+Mr. Satterlee, gaunt, red-faced, but the six feet of him a man and a
+Christian, from his square-toed boots to the bleaching yellow hair around
+his temples, offered to become her teacher.  For by this time Cynthia had
+exhausted the resources of the little school among the birches.
+
+The four years of her life in the tannery house which are now briefly to
+be chronicled were, for her, full of happiness and peace.  Though the
+young may sorrow, they do not often mourn.  Cynthia missed her father; at
+times, when the winds kept her wakeful at night, she wept for him.  But
+she loved Jethro Bass and served him with a devotion that filled his
+heart with strange ecstasies--yes, and forebodings.  In all his existence
+he had never known a love like this.  He may have imagined it once, back
+in the bright days of his youth; but the dreams of its fulfilment had
+fallen far short of the exquisite touch of the reality in which he now
+spent his days at home.  In summer, when she sat, in the face of all the
+conventions of the village, reading under the butternut tree before the
+house, she would feel his eyes upon her, and the mysterious yearning in
+them would startle her.  Often during her lessons with Mr. Satterlee in
+the parlor of the parsonage she would hear a noise outside and perceive
+Jethro leaning against the pillar.  Both Cynthia and Mr. Satterlee knew
+that he was there, and both, by a kind of tacit agreement, ignored the
+circumstance.
+
+Cynthia, in this period, undertook Jethro's education, too.  She could
+have induced him to study the making of Latin verse by the mere asking.
+During those days which he spent at home, and which he had grown to value
+beyond price, he might have been seen seated on the ground with his back
+to the butternut tree while Cynthia read aloud from the well-worn books
+which had been her father's treasures, books that took on marvels of
+meaning from her lips.  Cynthia's powers of selection were not remarkable
+at this period, and perhaps it was as well that she never knew the effect
+of the various works upon the hitherto untamed soul of her listener.
+Milton and Tennyson and Longfellow awoke in him by their very music
+troubled and half-formed regrets; Carlyle's "Frederick the Great" set up
+tumultuous imaginings; but the "Life of Jackson" (as did the story of
+Napoleon long ago) stirred all that was masterful in his blood. Unlettered
+as he was, Jethro had a power which often marks the American of action--
+a singular grasp of the application of any sentence or paragraph to his
+own life; and often, about this time, he took away the breath of a judge
+or a senator by flinging at them a chunk of Carlyle or Parton.
+
+It was perhaps as well that Cynthia was not a woman at this time, and
+that she had grown up with him, as it were.  His love, indeed, was that
+of a father for a daughter; but it held within it as a core the revived
+love of his youth for Cynthia, her mother.  Tender as were the
+manifestations of this love, Cynthia never guessed the fires within, for
+there was in truth something primeval in the fierceness of his passion.
+She was his now--his alone, to cherish and sweeten the declining years
+of his life, and when by a chance Jethro looked upon her and thought of
+the suitor who was to come in the fulness of her years, he burned with a
+hatred which it is given few men to feel.  It was well for Jethro that
+these thoughts came not often.
+
+Sometimes, in the summer afternoons, they took long drives through the
+town behind Jethro's white horse on business.  "Jethro's gal," as Cynthia
+came to be affectionately called, held the reins while Jethro went in to
+talk to the men folk.  One August evening found Cynthia thus beside a
+poplar in front of Amos Cuthbert's farmhouse, a poplar that shimmered
+green-gold in the late afternoon, and from the buggy-seat Cynthia looked
+down upon a thousand purple hilltops and mountain peaks of another state.
+The view aroused in the girl visions of the many wonders which life was
+to hold, and she did not hear the sharp voice beside her until the woman
+had spoken twice.  Jethro came out in the middle of the conversation,
+nodded to Mrs. Cuthbert, and drove off.
+
+"Uncle Jethro," asked Cynthia, presently, "what is a mortgage?"
+
+Jethro struck the horse with the whip, an uncommon action with him, and
+the buggy was jerked forward sharply over the boulders.
+
+"Er--who's b'en talkin' about mortgages, Cynthy?" he demanded.
+
+"Mrs. Cuthbert said that when folks had mortgage held over them they had
+to take orders whether they liked them or not.  She said that Amos had to
+do what you told him because there was a mortgage.  That isn't so is it?"
+
+Jethro did not speak.  Presently Cynthia laid her hand over his.
+
+"Mrs. Cuthbert is a spiteful woman," she said.  "I know the reason why
+people obey you--it's because you're so great.  And Daddy used to tell me
+so."
+
+A tremor shook Jethro's frame and the hand on which hers rested, and all
+the way down the mountain valleys to Coniston village he did not speak
+again.  But Cynthia was used to his silences, and respected them.
+
+To Ephraim Prescott, who, as the days went on, found it more and more
+difficult to sew harness on account of his rheumatism, Jethro was not
+only a great man but a hero.  For Cynthia was vaguely troubled at having
+found one discontent.  She was wont to entertain Ephraim on the days when
+his hands failed him, when he sat sunning himself before his door; and
+she knew that he was honest.
+
+"Who's b'en talkin' to you, Cynthia?" he cried.  "Why, Jethro's the
+biggest man I know, and the best.  I don't like to think where some of us
+would have b'en if he hadn't given us a lift."
+
+"But he has enemies, Cousin Eph," said Cynthia, still troubled.
+"What great man hain't?" exclaimed the soldier.  "Jethro's enemies hain't
+worth thinkin' about."
+
+The thought that Jethro had enemies was very painful to Cynthia, and she
+wanted to know who they were that she might show them a proper contempt
+if she met them.  Lem Hallowell brushed aside the subject with his usual
+bluff humor, and pinched her cheek and told her not to trouble her head;
+Amanda Hatch dwelt upon the inherent weakness in the human race, and the
+Rev. Mr. Satterlee faced the question once, during a history lesson.  The
+nation's heroes came into inevitable comparison with Jethro Bass.  Was
+Washington so good a man? and would not Jethro have been as great as the
+Father of his Country if he had had the opportunities?
+
+The answers sorely tried Mr. Satterlee's conscience, albeit he was not a
+man of the world.  It set him thinking.  He liked Jethro, this man of
+rugged power whose word had become law in the state.  He knew best that
+side of him which Cynthia saw; and--if the truth be told--as a native of
+Coniston Mr. Satterlee felt in the bottom of his heart a certain pride in
+Jethro.  The minister's opinions well represented the attitude of his
+time.  He had not given thought to the subject--for such matters had came
+to be taken for granted.  A politician now was a politician, his ways and
+standards set apart from those of other citizens, and not to be judged by
+men without the pale of public life.  Mr. Satterlee in his limited vision
+did not then trace the matter to its source, did not reflect that Jethro
+Bass himself was almost wholly responsible in that state for the
+condition of politics and politicians.  Coniston was proud of Jethro,
+prouder of him than ever since his last great victory in the Legislature,
+which brought the Truro Railroad through to Harwich and settled their
+townsman more firmly than ever before in the seat of power.  Every
+statesman who drove into their little mountain village and stopped at
+the tannery house made their blood beat faster.  Senators came, and
+representatives, and judges, and governors, "to git their orders," as
+Rias Richardson briefly put it, and Jethro could make or unmake them at
+a word.  Each was scanned from the store where Rias now reigned supreme,
+and from the harness shop across the road.  Some drove away striving to
+bite from their lips the tell-tale smile which arose in spite of them;
+others tried to look happy, despite the sentence of doom to which they
+had listened.
+
+Jethro Bass was indeed a great man to make such as these tremble or
+rejoice.  When he went abroad with Cynthia awheel or afoot, some took off
+their hats--an unheard-of thing in Coniston.  If he stopped at the store,
+they scanned his face for the mood he was in before venturing their
+remarks; if he lingered for a moment in front of the house of Amanda
+Hatch, the whole village was advised of the circumstance before
+nightfall.
+
+Two personages worthy of mention here visited the tannery house during
+the years that Cynthia lived with Jethro.  The Honorable Heth Sutton
+drove over from Clovelly attended by his prime minister, Mr. Bijah Bixby.
+The Honorable Heth did not attempt to conceal the smile with which he
+went away, and he stopped at the store long enough to enable Rias to
+produce certain refreshments from depths unknown to the United States
+Internal Revenue authorities.  Mr. Sutton shook hands with everybody,
+including Jake Wheeler.  Well he might.  He came to Coniston a private
+citizen, and drove away to all intents and purposes a congressman: the
+darling wish of his life realized after heaven knows how many caucuses
+and conventions of disappointment, when Jethro had judged it expedient
+for one reason or another that a north countryman should go.  By the time
+the pair reached Brampton, Chamberlain Bixby was introducing his chief as
+Congressman Sutton, and by this title he was known for many years to
+come.
+
+Another day, when the snow lay in great billows on the ground and filled
+the mountain valleys, when the pines were rusty from the long winter, two
+other visitors drove to Coniston in a two-horse sleigh.  The sun was
+shining brightly, the wind held its breath, and the noon-day warmth was
+almost like that of spring.  Those who know the mountain country will
+remember the joy of many such days.  Cynthia, standing in the sun on the
+porch, breathing deep of the pure air, recognized, as the sleigh drew
+near, the somewhat portly gentleman driving, and the young woman beside
+him regally clad in furs who looked patronizingly at the tannery house as
+she took the reins.  The young woman was Miss Cassandra Hopkins, and the
+portly gentleman, the Honorable Alva himself, patron of the drama, who
+had entered upon his governorship and now wished to be senator.
+
+"Jethro Bass home?" he called out.
+
+"Mr. Bass is home," answered Cynthia.  The girl in the sleigh murmured
+something, laughing a little, and Cynthia flushed.  Mr. Hopkins gave a
+somewhat peremptory knock at the door and was admitted by Millicent
+Skinner, but Cynthia stood staring at Cassandra in the sleigh, some
+instinct warning her of a coming skirmish.
+
+"Do you live here all the year round?"
+
+"Of course," said Cynthia.
+
+Miss Cassandra shrugged as though that were beyond her comprehension.
+
+"I'd die in a place like this," she said.  "No balls, or theatres.
+Doesn't your father take you around the state?"
+
+"My father's dead," said Cynthia.
+
+"Oh!  Your name's Cynthia Wetherell, isn't it?  You know Bob Worthington,
+don't you?  He's gone to Harvard now, but he was a great friend of mine
+at Andover."
+
+Cynthia didn't answer.  It would not be fair to say that she felt a pang,
+though it might add to the romance of this narrative.  But her dislike
+for the girl in the sleigh decidedly increased.  How was she, in her
+inexperience, to know that the radiant beauty in furs was what the boys
+at Phillips Andover called an "old stager."
+
+"So you live with Jethro Bass," was Miss Cassandra's next remark. "He's
+rich enough to take you round the state and give you everything you
+want."
+
+"I have everything I want," replied Cynthia.
+
+"I shouldn't call living here having everything I wanted," declared Miss
+Hopkins, with a contemptuous glance at the tannery house.
+
+"I suppose you wouldn't," said Cynthia.
+
+Miss Hopkins was nettled.  She was out of humor that day, besides she
+shared some of her father's political ambition.  If he went to
+Washington, she went too.
+
+"Didn't you know Jethro Bass was rich?" she demanded, imprudently.  "Why,
+my father gave twenty thousand dollars to be governor, and Jethro Bass
+must have got half of it."
+
+Cynthia's eyes were of that peculiar gray which, lighted by love or
+anger, once seen, are never forgotten.  One hand was on the dashboard of
+the cutter, the other had seized the seat.  Her voice was steady, and the
+three words she spoke struck Miss Hopkins with startling effect.
+
+Miss Hopkins's breath was literally taken away, and for once she found no
+retort.  Let it be said for her that this was a new experience with a new
+creature.  A demure country girl turn into a wildcat before her very
+eyes!  Perhaps it was as well for both that the door of the house opened
+and the Honorable Alva interrupted their talk, and without so much as a
+glance at Cynthia he got hurriedly into the sleigh and drove off.  When
+Cynthia turned, the points of color still high in her cheeks and the
+light still ablaze in her eyes, she surprised Jethro gazing at her from
+the porch, and some sorrow she felt rather than beheld stopped the
+confession on her lips.  It would be unworthy of her even to repeat such
+slander, and the color surged again into her face for very shame of her
+anger.  Cassandra Hopkins had not been worthy of it.
+
+Jethro did not speak, but slipped his hand into hers, and thus they stood
+for a long time gazing at the snow fields between the pines on the
+heights of Coniston.
+
+The next summer, was the first which the painter--pioneer of summer
+visitors there--spent at Coniston.  He was an unsuccessful painter, who
+became, by a process which he himself does not to-day completely
+understand, a successful writer of novels.  As a character, however, he
+himself confesses his inadequacy, and the chief interest in him for the
+readers of this narrative is that he fell deeply in love with Cynthia
+Wetherell at nineteen.  It is fair to mention in passing that other young
+men were in love with Cynthia at this time, notably Eben Hatch--history
+repeating itself.  Once, in a moment of madness, Eben confessed his love,
+the painter never did: and he has to this day a delicious memory which
+has made Cynthia the heroine of many of his stories.  He boarded with
+Chester Perkins, and he was humored by the village as a harmless but
+amiable lunatic.
+
+The painter had never conceived that a New England conscience and a
+temper of no mean proportions could dwell together in the body of a wood
+nymph.  When he had first seen Cynthia among the willows by Coniston
+Water, he had thought her a wood nymph.  But she scolded him for his
+impropriety with so unerring a choice of words that he fell in love with
+her intellect, too.  He spent much of his time to the neglect of his
+canvases under the butternut tree in front of Jethro's house trying to
+persuade Cynthia to sit for her portrait; and if Jethro himself had not
+overheard one of these arguments, the portrait never would have been
+painted.  Jethro focussed a look upon the painter.
+
+"Er--painter-man, be you?  Paint Cynthy's picture?"
+
+"But I don't want to be painted, Uncle Jethro.  I won't be painted!"
+
+"H-how much for a good picture?  Er--only want the best--only want the
+best."
+
+The painter said a few things, with pardonable heat, to the effect--well,
+never mind the effect.  His remarks made no impression whatever upon
+Jethro.
+
+"Er---paint the picture--paint the picture, and then we'll talk about the
+price.  Er--wait a minute."
+
+He went into the house, and they heard him lumbering up the stairs.
+Cynthia sat with her back to the artist, pretending to read, but
+presently she turned to him.
+
+"I'll never forgive you--never, as long as I live," she cried, "and I
+won't be painted!"
+
+"N-not to please me, Cynthy?"  It was Jethro's voice.
+
+Her look softened.  She laid down the book and went up to him on the
+porch and put her hand on his shoulder.
+
+"Do you really want it so much as all that, Uncle Jethro?" she said.
+
+"Callate I do, Cynthy," he answered.  He held a bundle covered with
+newspaper in his hand, he looked down at Cynthia.
+
+He seated himself on the edge of the porch and for the moment seemed lost
+in revery.  Then he began slowly to unwrap the newspaper from the bundle:
+there were five layers of it, but at length he disclosed a bolt of
+cardinal cloth.
+
+"Call this to mind, Cynthy?"
+
+"Yes," she answered with a smile.
+
+"H-how's this for the dress, Mr. Painter-man?" said Jethro, with a pride
+that was ill-concealed.
+
+The painter started up from his seat and took the material in his hands
+and looked at Cynthia.  He belonged to a city club where he was popular
+for his knack of devising costumes, and a vision of Cynthia as the
+daughter of a Doge of Venice arose before his eyes.  Wonder of wonders,
+the daughter of a Doge discovered in a New England hill village!  The
+painter seized his pad and pencil and with a few strokes, guided by
+inspiration, sketched the costume then and there and held it up to
+Jethro, who blinked at it in astonishment.  But Jethro was suspicious of
+his own sensations.
+
+"Er--well--Godfrey--g-guess that'll do."  Then came the involuntary: "W-
+wouldn't a-thought you had it in you.  How about it, Cynthy?" and he held
+it up for her inspection.
+
+"If you are pleased, it's all I care about, Uncle Jethro," she answered,
+and then, her face suddenly flushing, "You must promise me on your honor
+that nobody in Coniston shall know about it, 'Mr. Painter-man'."
+
+After this she always called him "Mr. Painter-man,"--when she was pleased
+with him.
+
+So the cardinal cloth was come to its usefulness at last.  It was
+inevitable that Sukey Kittredge, the village seamstress, should be taken
+into confidence.  It was no small thing to take Sukey into confidence,
+for she was the legitimate successor in more ways than one of Speedy
+Bates, and much of Cynthia and the artist's ingenuity was spent upon
+devising a form of oath which would hold Sukey silent.  Sukey, however,
+got no small consolation from the sense of the greatness of the trust
+confided in her, and of the uproar she could make in Coniston if she
+chose.  The painter, to do him justice, was the real dressmaker, and did
+everything except cut the cloth and sew it together.  He sent to friends
+of his in the city for certain paste jewels and ornaments, and one day
+Cynthia stood in the old tannery shed--hastily transformed into a studio-
+-before a variously moved audience.  Sukey, having adjusted the last pin,
+became hysterical over her handiwork, Millicent Skinner stared
+openmouthed, words having failed her for once, and Jethro thrust his
+hands in his pockets in a quiet ecstasy of approbation.
+
+"A-always had a notion that cloth'd set you off, Cynthy," said he, "er--
+next time I go to the state capital you come along--g-guess it'll
+surprise 'em some."
+
+"I guess it would, Uncle Jethro," said Cynthia, laughing.
+
+Jethro postponed two political trips of no small importance to be present
+at the painting of that picture, and he would sit silently by the hour in
+a corner of the shed watching every stroke of the brush.  Never stood
+Doge's daughter in her jewels and seed pearls amidst stranger
+surroundings,--the beam, and the centre post around which the old white
+horse had toiled in times gone by, and all the piled-up, disused
+machinery of forgotten days.  And never was Venetian lady more
+unconscious of her environment than Cynthia.
+
+The portrait was of the head and shoulders alone, and when he had given
+it the last touch, the painter knew that, for once in his life, he had
+done a good thing.  Never before; perhaps, had the fire of such
+inspiration been given him.  Jethro, who expressed himself in terms (for
+him) of great enthusiasm, was for going to Boston immediately to purchase
+a frame commensurate with the importance of such a work of art, but the
+artist had his own views on that subject and sent to New York for this
+also.
+
+The day after the completion of the picture a rugged figure in rawhide
+boots and coonskin cap approached Chester Perkins's house, knocked at the
+door, and inquired for the "Painter-man."  It was Jethro.  The "Painter-
+man" forthwith went out into the rain behind the shed, where a somewhat
+curious colloquy took place.
+
+"G-guess I'm willin' to pay you full as much as it's worth," said Jethro,
+producing a cowhide wallet.  "Er--what figure do you allow it comes to
+with the frame?"
+
+The artist was past taking offence, since Jethro had long ago become for
+him an engrossing study.
+
+"I will send you the bill for the frame, Mr. Bass," he said, "the picture
+belongs to Cynthia."
+
+"Earn your livin' by paintin', don't you--earn your livin'?"
+
+The painter smiled a little bitterly.
+
+"No," he said, "if I did, I shouldn't be--alive.  Mr. Bass, have you ever
+done anything the pleasure of doing which was pay enough, and to spare?"
+
+Jethro looked at him, and something very like admiration came into the
+face that was normally expressionless.
+
+He put up his wallet a little awkwardly, and held out his hand more
+awkwardly.
+
+"You be more of a feller than I thought for," he said, and strode off
+through the drizzle toward Coniston.  The painter walked slowly to the
+kitchen, where Chester Perkins and his wife were sitting down to supper.
+
+"Jethro got a mortgage on you, too?" asked Chester.
+
+The artist had his reward, for when the picture was hung at length in the
+little parlor of the tannery house it became a source of pride to
+Coniston second only to Jethro himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+Time passes, and the engines of the Truro Railroad are now puffing in and
+out of the yards of Worthington's mills in Brampton, and a fine layer of
+dust covers the old green stage which has worn the road for so many years
+over Truro Gap.  If you are ever in Brampton, you can still see the
+stage, if you care to go into the back of what was once Jim Sanborn's
+livery stable, now owned by Mr. Sherman of the Brampton House.
+
+Conventions and elections had come and gone, and the Honorable Heth
+Sutton had departed triumphantly to Washington, cheered by his neighbors
+in Clovelly.  Chamberlain Bixby was left in charge there, supreme.  Who
+could be more desirable as a member of Congress than Mr. Sutton, who had
+so ably served his party (and Jethro) by holding the House against the
+insurgents in the matter of the Truro Bill?  Mr. Sutton was, moreover, a
+gentleman, an owner of cattle and land, a man of substance whom lesser
+men were proud to mention as a friend--a very hill-Rajah with stock in
+railroads and other enterprises, who owed allegiance and paid tribute
+alone to the Great Man of Coniston.
+
+Mr. Sutton was one who would make himself felt even in the capital of the
+United States--felt and heard.  And he had not been long in the Halls of
+Congress before he made a speech which rang under the very dome of the
+Capitol.  So said the Brampton and Harwich papers, at least, though
+rivals and detractors of Mr. Sutton declared that they could find no
+matter in it which related to the subject of a bill, but that is neither
+here nor there.  The oration began with a lengthy tribute to the
+resources and history of his state, and ended by a declaration that the
+speaker was in Congress at no man's bidding, but as the servant of the
+common people of his district.
+
+Under the lamp of the little parlor in the tannery house, Cynthia (who
+has now arrived at the very serious age of nineteen) was reading the
+papers to Jethro and came upon Mr. Sutton's speech.  There were four
+columns of it, but Jethro seemed to take delight in every word; and
+portions of the noblest parts of it, indeed, he had Cynthia read over
+again.  Sometimes, in the privacy of his home, Jethro was known to
+chuckle, and to Cynthia's surprise he chuckled more than usual that
+evening.
+
+"Uncle Jethro," she said at length, when she had laid the paper down, "I
+thought that you sent Mr. Sutton to Congress."
+
+Jethro leaned forward.
+
+"What put that into your head, Cynthy?" he asked.
+
+"Oh," answered the girl, "everybody says so,--Moses Hatch, Rias, and
+Cousin Eph.  Didn't you?"
+
+Jethro looked at her, as she thought, strangely.
+
+"You're too young to know anything about such things, Cynthy,"  he said,
+"too young."
+
+"But you make all the judges and senators and congressmen in the state, I
+know you do.  Why," exclaimed Cynthia, indignantly, "why does Mr. Sutton
+say the people elected him when he owes everything to you?"
+
+Jethro, arose abruptly and flung a piece of wood into the stove, and then
+he stood with his back to her.  Her instinct told her that he was
+suffering, though she could not fathom the cause, and she rose swiftly
+and drew him down into the chair beside her.
+
+"What is it?" she said anxiously.  "Have you got rheumatism, too, like
+Cousin Eph?  All old men seem to have rheumatism."
+
+"No, Cynthy, it hain't rheumatism," he managed to answer; "wimmen folks
+hadn't ought to mix up in politics.  They--they don't understand 'em,
+Cynthy."
+
+"But I shall understand them some day, because I am your daughter--now
+that--now that I have only you, I am your daughter, am I not?"
+
+"Yes, yes," he answered huskily, with his hand on her hair.
+
+"And I know more than most women now," continued Cynthia, triumphantly.
+"I'm going to be such a help to you soon--very soon.  I've read a lot of
+history, and I know some of the Constitution by heart.  I know why old
+Timothy Prescott fought in the Revolution--it was to get rid of kings,
+wasn't it, and to let the people have a chance?  The people can always be
+trusted to do what is right, can't they, Uncle Jethro?"
+
+Jethro was silent, but Cynthia did not seem to notice that.  After a
+space she spoke again:--
+ "I've been thinking it all out about you, Uncle Jethro."
+
+"A-about me?"
+
+"Yes, I know why you are able to send men to Congresa and make judges of
+them.  It's because the people have chosen you to do all that for them--
+you are so great and good."
+
+Jethro did not answer.
+
+Although the month was March, it was one of those wonderful still nights
+that sometimes come in the mountain-country when the wind is silent in
+the notches and the stars seem to burn nearer to the earth.  Cynthia
+awoke and lay staring for an instant at the red planet which hung over
+the black and ragged ridge, and then she arose quickly and knocked at the
+door across the passage.
+
+"Are you ill, Uncle Jethro?"
+
+"No," he answered, "no, Cynthy.  Go to bed.  Er--I was just thinkin'--
+thinkin', that's all, Cynthy."
+
+Though all his life he had eaten sparingly, Cynthia noticed that he
+scarcely touched his breakfast the next morning, and two hours later he
+went unexpectedly to the state capital.  That day, too, Coniston was
+clothed in clouds, and by afternoon a wild March snowstorm was sweeping
+down the face of the mountain, piling against doorways and blocking the
+roads.  Through the storm Cynthia fought her way to the harness shop, for
+Ephraim Prescott had taken to his bed, bound hand and foot by rheumatism.
+
+Much of that spring Ephraim was all but helpless, and Cynthia spent many
+days nursing him and reading to him.  Meanwhile the harness industry
+languished.  Cynthia and Ephraim knew, and Coniston guessed, that Jethro
+was taking care of Ephraim, and strong as was his affection for Jethro
+the old soldier found dependence hard to bear.  He never spoke of it to
+Cynthia, but he used to lie and dream through the spring days of what he
+might have done if the war had not crippled him.  For Ephraim Prescott,
+like his grandfather, was a man of action--a keen, intelligent American
+whose energy, under other circumstances, might have gone toward the
+making of the West.  Ephraim, furthermore, had certain principles which
+some in Coniston called cranks; for instance, he would never apply for a
+pension, though he could easily have obtained one.  Through all his
+troubles, he held grimly to the ideal which meant more to him than ease
+and comfort,--that he had served his country for the love of it.
+
+With the warm weather he was able to be about again, and occasionally to
+mend a harness, but Doctor Rowell shook his head when Jethro stopped his
+buggy in the road one day to inquire about Ephraim.  Whereupon Jethro
+went on to the harness shop.  The inspiration, by the way, had come from
+Cynthia.
+
+"Er--Ephraim, how'd you like to, be postmaster?  H-haven't any objections
+to that kind of a job, hev you?"
+
+"Why no," said Ephraim.  "We hain't agoin' to hev a post-office at
+Coniston--air we?"
+
+"H-how'd you like to be postmaster at Brampton?" demanded Jethro,
+abruptly.
+
+Ephraim dropped the trace he was shaving.
+
+"Postmaster at Brampton!" he exclaimed.
+
+"H-how'd you like it?" said Jethro again.
+
+"Well," said Ephraim, "I hain't got any objections."
+
+Jethro started out of the shop, but paused again at the door.
+
+"W-won't say nothin' about it, will you, Eph?" he inquired.
+
+"Not till I git it," answered Ephraim.  The sorrows of three years were
+suddenly lifted from his shoulders, and for an instant Ephraim wanted to
+dance until he remembered the rheumatism and the Wilderness leg. Suddenly a
+thought struck him, and he hobbled to the door and called out
+after Jethro's retreating figure.  Jethro returned.
+
+"Well?" he said, "well?"
+
+"What's the pay?" said Ephraim, in a whisper.
+
+Jethro named the sum instantly, also in a whisper.
+
+"You don't tell me!" said Ephraim, and sank stupefied into the chair in
+front of the shop, where lately he had spent so much of his time.
+
+Jethro chuckled twice on his way home: he chuckled twice again to
+Cynthia's delight at supper, and after supper he sent Millicent Skinner
+to find Jake Wheeler.  Jake as usual, was kicking his heels in front of
+the store, talking to Rias and others about the coming Fourth of July
+celebration at Brampton.  Brampton, as we know, was famous for its Fourth
+of July celebrations.  Not neglecting to let it be known that Jethro had
+sent for him, Jake hurried off through the summer twilight to the tannery
+house, bowed ceremoniously to Cynthia under the butternut tree, and
+discovered Jethro behind the shed.  It was usually Jethro's custom to
+allow the other man to begin the conversation, no matter how trivial the
+subject--a method which had commended itself to Mr. Bixby and other minor
+politicians who copied him.  And usually the other man played directly
+into Jethro's hands.  Jake Wheeler always did, and now, to cover the
+awkwardness of the silence, he began on the Brampton celebration.
+
+"They tell me Heth Sutton's a-goin' to make the address--seems prouder
+than ever sence he went to Congress.  I guess you'll tell him what to say
+when the time comes, Jethro."
+
+"Er--goin' to Clovelly after wool this week, Jake?"
+
+"I kin go to-morrow," said Jake, scenting an affair.
+
+"Er--goin' to Clovelly after wool this week, Jake?"
+
+Jake reflected.  He saw it was expedient that this errand should not
+smell of haste.
+
+"I was goin' to see Cutter on Friday," he answered.
+
+"Er--if you should happen to meet Heth--"
+
+"Yes," interrupted Jake.
+
+"If by chance you should happen to meet Heth, or Bije" (Jethro knew that
+Jake never went to Clovelly without a conference with one or the other of
+these personages, if only to be able to talk about it afterward at the
+store), "er--what would you say to 'em?"
+
+"Why," said Jake, scratching his head for the answer, "I'd tell him you
+was at Coniston."
+
+"Think we'll have rain, Jake?" inquired Jethro, blandly.
+
+Jake wended his way back to the store, filled with renewed admiration for
+the great man.  Jethro had given him no instructions whatever, could deny
+before a jury if need be that he had sent him (Jake) to Clovelly to tell
+Heth Sutton to come to Coniston for instructions on the occasion of his
+Brampton speech.  And Jake was filled with a mysterious importance when
+he took his seat once more in the conclave.
+
+Jake Wheeler, although in many respects a fool, was one of the most
+efficient pack of political hounds that the state has ever known.
+By six o'clook on Friday morning he was descending a brook valley on the
+Clovelly side of the mountain, and by seven was driving between the
+forest and river meadows of the Rajah's domain, and had come in sight of
+the big white house with its somewhat pretentious bay-windows and Gothic
+doorway; it might be dubbed the palace of these parts.  The wide river
+flowed below it, and the pastures so wondrously green in the morning sun
+were dotted with fat cattle and sheep.  Jake was content to borrow a cut
+of tobacco from the superintendent and wonder aimlessly around the farm
+until Mr. Sutton's family prayers and breakfast were accomplished.  We
+shall not concern ourselves with the message or the somewhat lengthy
+manner in which it was delivered.  Jake had merely dropped in by
+accident, but the Rajah listened coldly while he picked his teeth, said
+he didn't know whether he was going to Brampton or not--hadn't decided;
+didn't know whether he could get to Coniston or not--his affairs were
+multitudinous now.  In short, he set Jake to thinking deeply as his horse
+walked up the western heights of Coniston on the return journey.  He had,
+let it be repeated, a sure instinct once his nose was fairly on the
+scent, and he was convinced that a war of great magnitude was in the air,
+and he; Jake Wheeler, was probably the first in all the elate to discover
+it!  His blood leaped at the thought.
+
+The hill-Rajah's defiance, boiled down, could only mean one thing,--that
+somebody with sufficient power and money was about to lock horns with
+Jethro Bass.  Not for a moment did Jake believe that, for all his pomp
+and circumstance, the Honorable Heth Sutton was a big enough man to do
+this.  Jake paid to the Honorable Heth all the outward respect that his
+high position demanded, but he knew the man through and through.  He
+thought of the Honorable Heth's reform speech in Congress, and laughed
+loudly in the echoing woods.  No, Mr. Sutton was not the man to lead a
+fight.  But to whom had he promised his allegiance?  This question
+puzzled Mr. Wheeler all the way home, and may it be said finally for many
+days thereafter.  He slid into Coniston in the dusk, big with impending
+events, which he could not fathom.  As to giving Jethro the careless
+answer of the hill-Rajah, that was  another matter.
+
+The Fourth of July came at last, nor was any contradiction made in the
+Brampton papers that the speech of the Honorable Heth Sutton had been
+cancelled.  Instead, advertisemeuts appeared in the 'Brampton Clarion'
+announcing the fact in large letters.  When Cynthia read this
+advertisement to Jethro, he chuckled again.  They were under the
+butternut tree, for the evenings were long now.
+
+"Will you take me to Brampton, Uncle Jethro?" said she, letting fall the
+paper on her lap.
+
+"W-who's to get in the hay?" said Jethro.
+
+"Hay on the Fourth of July!" exclaimed Cynthia, "why, that's--sacrilege!
+You'd much better come and hear Mr. Sutton's speech--it will do you good."
+
+Cynthia could see that Jethro was intensely amused, for his eyes had a
+way of snapping on such occasions when he was alone with her.  She was
+puzzled and slightly offended, because, to tell the truth, Jethro had
+spoiled her.
+
+"Very well, then," she said, "I'll go with the Painter-man."
+
+Jethro came and stood over her, his expression the least bit wistful.
+
+"Er--Cynthy," he said presently, "hain't fond of that Painter-man, be
+you?"
+
+"Why, yes," said Cynthia, "aren't you?"
+
+"He's fond of you," said Jethro, "sh-shouldn't be surprised if he was in
+love with you."
+
+Cynthia looked up at him, the corners of her mouth twitching, and then
+she laughed.  The Rev. Mr. Satterlee, writing his Sunday sermon in his
+study, heard her and laid down his pen to listen.
+
+"Uncle Jethro," said Cynthia, "sometimes I forget that you're a great,
+wise man, and I think that you are just a silly old goose."
+
+Jethro wiped his face with his blue cotton handkerchief.
+
+"Then you hain't a-goin' to marry the Painter-man?" he said.
+
+"I'm not going to marry anybody," cried Cynthia, contritely; "I'm going
+to live with you and take care of you all my life."
+
+On the morning of the Fourth, Cynthia drove to Brampton with the Painter-
+man, and when he perceived that she was dreaming, he ceased to worry her
+with his talk.  He liked her dreaming, and stole many glances at her face
+of which she knew nothing at all.  Through the cool and fragrant woods,
+past the mill-pond stained blue and white by the sky, and scented clover
+fields and wayside flowers nodding in the morning air--Cynthia saw these
+things in the memory of another journey to Brampton.  On that Fourth her
+father had been with her, and Jethro and Ephraim and Moses and Amanda
+Hatch and the children.  And how well she recalled, too, standing amidst
+the curious crowd before the great house which Mr. Worthington had just
+built.
+
+There are weeks and months, perhaps, when we do not think of people, when
+our lives are full and vigorous, and then perchance a memory will bring
+them vividly before us--so vividly that we yearn for them.  There rose
+before Cynthia now the vision of a boy as he stood on the Gothic porch of
+the house, and how he had come down to the wondering country people with
+his smile and his merry greeting, and how he had cajoled her into
+lingering in front of the meeting-house.  Had he forgotten her?  With
+just a suspicion of a twinge, Cynthia remembered that Janet Duncan she
+had seen at the capital, whom she had been told was the heiress of the
+state.  When he had graduated from Harvard, Bob would, of course, marry
+her.  That was in the nature of things.
+
+To some the great event of that day in Brampton was to be the speech of
+the Honorable Heth Sutton in the meeting-house at eleven; others (and
+this party was quite as numerous) had looked forward to the base-ball
+game between Brampton and Harwich in the afternoon.  The painter would
+have preferred to walk up meeting-house hill with Cynthia, and from the
+cool heights look down upon the amphitheatre in which the town was built.
+But Cynthia was interested in history, and they went to the meeting-house
+accordingly, where she listened for an hour and a half to the patriotic
+eloquence of the representative.  The painter was glad to see and hear so
+great a man in the hour of his glory, though so much as a fragment of the
+oration does not now remain in his memory.  In size, in figure, in
+expression, in the sonorous tones of his voice, Mr. Sutton was everything
+that a congressman should be.  "The people," said Isaac D. Worthington in
+presenting him, "should indeed be proud of such an able and high-minded
+representative."  We shall have cause to recall that word high-minded.
+
+Many persons greeted Cynthia outside the meetinghouse, for the girl
+seemed genuinely loved by all who knew her--too much loved, her companion
+thought, by certain spick-and-span young men of Brampton.  But they ate
+the lunch Cynthia had brought, far from the crowd, under the trees by
+Coniston Water.  It was she who proposed going to the base-ball game, and
+the painter stifled a sigh and acquiesced.  Their way brought them down
+Brampton Street, past a house with great iron dogs on the lawn, so
+imposing and cityfied that he hung back and asked who lived there.
+
+"Mr. Worthington," answered Cynthia, making to move on impatiently.
+
+Her escort did not think much of the house, but it interested him as the
+type which Mr. Worthington had built.  On that same Gothic porch,
+sublimely unconscious of the covert stares and subdued comments of the
+passers-by, the first citizen himself and the Honorable Heth Sutton might
+be seen.  Mr. Worthington, whose hawklike look had become more
+pronounced, sat upright, while the Honorable Heth, his legs crossed,
+filled every nook and cranny of an arm-chair, and an occasional fragrant
+whiff from his cigar floated out to those on the tar sidewalk.  Although
+the pedestrians were but twenty feet away, what Mr. Worthington said
+never reached them; but the Honorable Heth on public days carried his
+voice of the Forum around with him.
+
+"Come on," said Cynthia, in one of those startling little tempers she was
+subject to; "don't stand there like an idiot."
+
+Then the voice of Mr. Sutton boomed toward them.
+
+"As I understand, Worthington," they heard him say, "you want me to
+appoint young Wheelock for the Brampton post-office."  He stuck his thumb
+into his vest pocket and recrossed his legs "I guess it can be arranged."
+
+When the painter at last overtook Cynthia the jewel paints he had so
+often longed to catch upon a canvas were in her eyes.  He fell back,
+wondering how he could so greatly have offended, when she put her hand on
+his sleeve.
+
+"Did you hear what he said about the Brampton postoffice?" she cried.
+
+"The Brampton post-office?" he repeated; dazed.
+
+"Yes," said Cynthia; "Uncle Jethro has promised it to Cousin Ephraim, who
+will starve without it.  Did you hear this man say he would give it to
+Mr. Wheelock?"
+
+Here was a new Cynthia, aflame with emotions on a question of politics of
+which he knew nothing.  He did, understand, however, her concern for
+Ephraim Prescott, for he knew that she loved the soldier.  She turned
+from the painter now with a gesture which he took to mean that his
+profession debarred him from such vital subjects, and she led the way to
+the fair-grounds.  There he meekly bought tickets, and they found
+themselves hurried along in the eager crowd toward the stand.
+
+The girl was still unaccountably angry over that mysterious affair of the
+post-office, and sat with flushed cheeks staring out on the green field,
+past the line of buggies and carryalls on the farther side to the
+southern shoulder of Coniston towering, above them all.  The painter,
+already, beginning to love his New England folk, listened to the homely
+chatter about him, until suddenly a cheer starting in one corner ran like
+a flash of gunpowder around the field, and eighteen young men trotted
+across the turf.  Although he was not a devotee of sport, he noticed that
+nine of these, as they took their places on the bench, wore  blue,--the
+Harwich Champions.  Seven only of those scattering over the field wore
+white; two young gentlemen, one at second base and the other behind the
+batter, wore gray uniforms with crimson stockings, and crimson piping on
+the caps, and a crimson H embroidered on the breast--a sight that made
+the painter's heart beat a little faster, the honored livery of his own
+college.
+
+"What are those two Harvard men doing here?" he asked.
+
+Cynthia, who was leaning forward, started, and turned to him a face which
+showed him that his question had been meaningless.  He repeated it.
+
+"Oh," said she, "the tall one, burned brick-red like an Indian, is Bob
+Worthington."
+
+"He's a good type," the artist remarked.
+
+"You're right, Mister, there hain't a finer young feller anywhere,"
+chimed in Mr. Dodd, a portly person with a tuft of yellow beard on his
+chin.  Mr. Dodd kept the hardware store in Brampton.
+
+"And who," asked the painter, "is the bullet-headed little fellow, with
+freckles and short red hair, behind the bat?"
+
+"I don't know," said Cynthia, indifferently.
+
+"Why," exclaimed Mr. Dodd, with just a trace of awe in his voice, "that's
+Somers Duncan, son of Millionnaire Duncan down to the capital.  I guess,"
+he added, "I guess them two will be the richest men in the state some
+day.  Duncan come up from Harvard with Bob."
+
+In a few minutes the game was in full swing, Brampton against Harwich,
+the old rivalry in another form.  Every advantage on either side awoke
+thundering cheers from the partisans; beribboned young women sprang to
+their feet and waved the Harwich blue at a home run, and were on the
+verge of tears when the Brampton pitcher struck out their best batsman.
+But beyond the facts that the tide was turning in Brampton's favor; that
+young Mr. Worthington stopped a ball flying at a phenomenal speed and
+batted another at a still more phenomenal speed which was not stopped;
+that his name and Duncan's were mingled generously in the cheering, the
+painter remembered little of the game.  The exhibition of human passions
+which the sight of it drew from an undemonstrative race: the shouting,
+the comments wrung from hardy spirits off their guard, the joy and the
+sorrow,--such things interested him more.  High above the turmoil
+Coniston, as through the ages, looked down upon the scene impassive.
+
+He was aroused from these reflections by an incident.  Some one had
+leaped over the railing which separated the stand from the field and
+stood before Cynthia,--a tanned and smiling young man in gray and
+crimson.  His honest eyes were alight with an admiration that was
+unmistakable to the painter--perhaps to Cynthia also, for a glow that
+might have been of annoyance or anger, and yet was like the color of the
+mountain sunrise, answered in her cheek.  Mr. Worthington reached out a
+large brown hand and seized the girl's as it lay on her lap.
+
+"Hello, Cynthia," he cried, "I've been looking for you all day.  I
+thought you might be here.  Where were you?"
+
+"Where did you look?" answered Cynthia, composedly, withdrawing her hand.
+
+"Everywhere," said Bob, "up and down the street, all through the hotel.
+I asked Lem Hallowell, and he didn't know where you were.  I only got
+here last night myself."
+
+"I was in the meeting-house," said Cynthia.
+
+"The meeting-house!" he echoed.  "You don't mean to tell me that you
+listened to that silly speech of Sutton's?"
+
+This remark, delivered in all earnestness, was the signal for uproarious
+laughter from Mr. Dodd and others sitting near by, attending earnestly to
+the conversation.
+
+Cynthia bit her lip.
+
+"Yes, I did," she said; "but I'm sorry now."
+
+"I should think you would be," said Bob; "Sutton's a silly, pompous old
+fool.  I had to sit through dinner with him.  I believe I could represent
+the district better myself."
+
+"By gosh!" exploded Mr. Dodd, "I believe you could!"
+
+But Bob paid no attention to him.  He was looking at Cynthia.
+
+"Cynthia, you've grown up since I saw you," he said.  "How's Uncle
+Jethro.
+
+"He's well--thanks," said Cynthia, and now she was striving to put down a
+smile.
+
+"Still running the state?" said Bob.  "You tell him I think he ought to
+muzzle Sutton.  What did he send him down to Washington for?"
+
+"I don't know," said Cynthia.
+
+"What are you going to do after the game?" Bob demanded.
+
+"I'm going home of course," said Cynthia.
+
+His face fell.
+
+"Can't you come to the house for supper and stay for the fireworks?" he
+begged pleadingly.  "We'd be mighty glad to have your friend, too."
+
+Cynthia introduced her escort.
+
+"It's very good of you, Bob," she said, with that New England demureness
+which at times became her so well, "but we couldn't possibly do it.  And
+then I don't like Mr. Sutton."
+
+"Oh, hang him!" exclaimed Bob.  He took a step nearer to her.  "Won't you
+stay this once?  I have to go West in the morning."
+
+"I think you are very lucky," said Cynthia.
+
+Bob scanned her face searchingly, and his own fell.
+
+"Lucky!" he cried, "I think it's the worst thing that ever happened to
+me.  My father's so hard-headed when he gets his mind set--he's making me
+do it.  He wants me to see the railroads and the country, so I've got to
+go with the Duncans.  I wanted to stay--" He checked himself, "I think
+it's a blamed nuisance."
+
+"So do I," said a voice behind him.
+
+It was not the first time that Mr. Somers Duncan had spoken, but Bob
+either had not heard him or pretended not to.  Mr. Duncan's freckled face
+smiled at them from the top of the railing, his eyes were on Cynthia's
+face, and he had been listening eagerly.  Mr. Duncan's chief
+characteristic, beyond his freckles, was his eagerness--a quality
+probably amounting to keenness.
+
+"Hello," said Bob, turning impatiently, "I might have known you couldn't
+keep away.  You're the cause of all my troubles--you and your father's
+private car."
+
+Somers became apologetic.
+
+"It isn't my fault," he said; "I'm sure I hate going as much as you do.
+It's spoiled my summer, too."
+
+Then he coughed and looked at Cynthia.
+
+"Well," said Bob, "I suppose I'll have to introduce you.  This," he
+added, dragging his friend over the railing, "is Mr. Somers Duncan."
+
+"I'm awfully glad to meet you, Miss. Wetherell," said Somers, fervently;
+"to tell you the truth, I thought he was just making up yarns."
+
+"Yarns?" repeated Cynthia, with a look that set Mr. Duncan floundering.
+
+"Why, yes," he stammered.  "Worthy said that you were up here, but I
+thought he was crazy the way he talked--I didn't think--"
+
+"Think what?" inquired Cynthia, but she flushed a little.
+
+"Oh, rot, Somers!" said Bob, blushing furiously under his tan; "you ought
+never to go near a woman--you're the darndest fool with 'em I ever saw."
+
+This time even the painter laughed outright, and yet he was a little
+sorrowful, too, because he could not be even as these youths.  But
+Cynthia sat serene, the eternal feminine of all the ages, and it is no
+wonder that Bob Worthington was baffled as he looked at her.  He lapsed
+into an awkwardness quite as bad as that of his friend.
+
+"I hope you enjoyed the game," he said at last, with a formality that was
+not at all characteristic.
+
+Cynthia did not seem to think it worth while to answer this, so the
+painter tried to help him out.
+
+"That was a fine stop you made, Mr. Worthington," he said; "wasn't it,
+Cynthia?"
+
+"Everybody seemed to think so," answered Cynthia, cruelly; "but if I were
+a man and had hands like that" (Bob thrust them in his pockets), "I
+believe I could stop a ball, too."
+
+Somers laughed uproariously.
+
+"Good-by," said Bob, with uneasy abruptness, "I've got to go into the
+field now.  When can I see you?"
+
+"When you get back from the West--perhaps," said Cynthia.
+
+"Oh," cried Bob (they were calling him), "I must see you to-night!"  He
+vaulted over the railing and turned.  "I'll come back here right after
+the game," he said; "there's only one more inning."
+
+"We'll come back right after the game," repeated Mr. Duncan.
+
+Bob shot one look at him,--of which Mr. Duncan seemed blissfully
+unconscious,--and stalked off abruptly to second base.
+
+The artist sat pensive for a few moments, wondering at the ways of women,
+his sympathies unaccountably enlisted in behalf of Mr. Worthington.
+
+"Weren't you a little hard on him?" he said.
+
+For answer Cynthia got to her feet.
+
+"I think we ought to be going home," she said.
+
+"Going home!" he ejaculated in amazement.
+
+"I promised Uncle Jethro I'd be there for supper," and she led the way
+out of the grand stand.
+
+So they drove back to Coniston through the level evening light, and when
+they came to Ephraim Prescott's harness shop the old soldier waved at
+them cheerily from under the big flag which he had hung out in honor of
+the day.  The flag was silk, and incidentally Ephraim's most valued
+possession.  Then they drew up before the tannery house, and Cynthia
+leaped out of the buggy and held out her hand to the painter with a
+smile.
+
+"It was very good of you to take me," she said.
+
+Jethro Bass, rugged, uncouth, in rawhide boots and swallowtail and
+coonskin cap, came down from the porch to welcome her, and she ran toward
+him with an eagerness that started the painter to wondering afresh over
+the contrasts of life.  What, he asked himself, had Fate in store for
+Cynthia Wetherell?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+"H-have a good time, Cynthy?" said Jethro, looking down into her face.
+Love had wrought changes in Jethro; mightier changes than he suspected,
+and the girl did not know how zealous were the sentries of that love, how
+watchful they were, and how they told him often and again whether her
+heart, too, was smiling.
+
+"It was very gay," said Cynthia.
+
+"P-painter-man gay?" inquired Jethro.
+
+Cynthia's eyes were on the orange line of the sunset over Coniston, but
+she laughed a little, indulgently.
+
+"Cynthy?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Er--that Painter-man hain't such a bad fellow--w-why didn't you ask him
+in to supper?"
+
+"I'll give you three guesses," said Cynthia, but she did not wait for
+them.  "It was because I wanted to be alone with you.  Milly's gone out,
+hasn't she?"
+
+"G-gone a-courtin'," said Jethro.
+
+She smiled, and went into the house to see whether Milly had done her
+duty before she left.  It was characteristic of Cynthia not to have
+mentioned the subject which was agitating her mind until they were seated
+on opposite sides of the basswood table.
+
+"Uncle Jethro," she said, "I thought you told Mr. Sutton to give Cousin
+Eph the Brampton post-office?  Do you trust Mr. Sutton?"  she demanded
+abruptly.
+
+"Er--why?" said Jethro.  "Why?"
+
+"Because I don't," she answered with conviction; "I think he's a big
+fraud.  He must have deceived you, Uncle Jethro.  I can't see why you
+ever sent him to Congress."
+
+Although Jethro was in no mood for mirth, he laughed in spite of himself,
+for he was an American.  His lifelong habit would have made him defend
+Heth to any one but Cynthia.
+
+"'D you see Heth, Cynthy?" he asked.
+  "Yes," replied the girl, disgustedly, "I should say I did, but not to
+speak to him.  He was sitting on Mr. Worthington's porch, and I heard him
+tell Mr. Worthington he would give the Brampton post-office to Dave
+Wheelock.  I don't want you to think that I was eavesdropping," she added
+quickly; "I couldn't help hearing it."
+
+Jethro did not answer.
+
+"You'll make him give the post-office to Cousin Eph, won't you, Uncle
+Jethro?"
+
+"Yes;" said Jethro, very simply, "I will."  He meditated awhile, and then
+said suddenly, "W-won't speak about it--will you, Cynthy?"
+
+"You know I won't," she answered.
+
+Let it not be thought by any chance that Coniston was given over to
+revelry and late hours, even on the Fourth of July.  By ten o'clock the
+lights were out in the tannery house, but Cynthia was not asleep.  She
+sat at her window watching the shy moon peeping over Coniston ridge, and
+she was thinking, to be exact, of how much could happen in one short day
+and how little in a long month.  She was aroused by the sound of wheels
+and the soft beat of a horse's hoofs on the dirt road: then came stifled
+laughter, and suddenly she sprang up alert and tingling.  Her own name
+came floating to her through the darkness.
+
+The next thing that happened will be long remembered in Coniston.  A
+tentative chord or two from a guitar, and then the startled village was
+listening with all its might to the voices of two young men singing "When
+I first went up to Harvard"--probably meant to disclose the identity of
+the serenaders, as if that were necessary!  Coniston, never having
+listened to grand opera, was entertained and thrilled, and thought the
+rendering of the song better on the whole than the church choir could
+have done it, or even the quartette that sung at the Brampton
+celebrations behind the flowers.  Cynthia had her own views on the
+subject.
+
+There were five other songs--Cynthia remembers all of them, although she
+would not confess such a thing.  "Naughty, naughty Clara," was another
+one; the other three were almost wholly about love, some treating it
+flippantly, others seriously--this applied to the last one, which had
+many farewells in it.  Then they went away, and the crickets and frogs on
+Coniston Water took up the refrain.
+
+Although the occurrence was unusual,--it might almost be said epoch-
+making,--Jethro did not speak of it until they had reached the sparkling
+heights of Thousand Acre Hill the next morning.  Even then he did not
+look at Cynthia.
+
+"Know who that was last night, Cynthy?" he inquired, as though the matter
+were a casual one.
+
+"I believe," said Cynthia heroically, "I believe it was a boy named
+Somers Duncan-and Bob Worthington."
+
+"Er--Bob Worthington," repeated Jethro, but said nothing more.
+
+Of course Coniston, and presently Brampton, knew that Bob Worthington had
+serenaded Cynthia--and Coniston and Brampton talked.  It is noteworthy
+that (with the jocular exceptions of Ephraim and Lem Hallowell) they did
+not talk to the girl herself.  The painter had long ago discovered that
+Cynthia was an individual.  She had good blood in her: as a mere child
+she had shouldered the responsibility of her father; she had a natural
+aptitude for books--a quality reverenced in the community; she visited,
+as a matter of habit; the sick and the unfortunate; and lastly (perhaps
+the crowning achievement) she had bound Jethro Bass, of all men, with the
+fetters of love.  Of course I have ended up by making her a paragon,
+although I am merely stating what people thought of her.  Coniston
+decided at once that she was to marry the heir to the Brampton Mills.
+
+But the heir had gone West, and as the summer wore on, the gossip died
+down.  Other and more absorbing gossip took its place: never distinctly
+formulated, but whispered; always wishing for more definite news that
+never came.  The statesmen drove out from Brampton to the door of the
+tannery house, as usual, only it was remarked by astute observers and
+Jake Wheeler that certain statesmen did not come who had been in the
+habit of coming formerly.  In short, those who made it a custom to
+observe such matters felt vaguely a disturbance of some kind.  The organs
+of the people felt it, and became more guarded in their statements.  What
+no one knew, except Jake and a few in high places, was that a war of no
+mean magnitude was impending.
+
+There were three men in the State--and perhaps only three--who realized
+from the first that all former political combats would pale in comparison
+to this one to come.  Similar wars had already started in other states,
+and when at length they were fought out another twist had been given to
+the tail of a long-suffering Constitution; political history in the
+United States had to be written from an entirely new and unforeseen
+standpoint, and the unsuspecting people had changed masters.
+
+This was to be a war of extermination of one side or the other.  No
+quarter would be given or asked, and every weapon hitherto known to
+politics would be used.  Of the three men who realized this, and all that
+would happen if one side or the other were victorious, one was Alexander
+Duncan, another Isaac D.  Worthington, and the third was Jethro Bass.
+
+Jethro would never have been capable of being master of the state had he
+not foreseen the time when the railroads, tired of paying tribute, would
+turn and try to exterminate the boss.  The really astonishing thing about
+Jethro's foresight (known to few only) was that he perceived clearly that
+the time would come when the railroads and other aggregations of capital
+would exterminate the boss, or at least subserviate him.  This alone, the
+writer thinks, gives him some right to greatness.  And Jethro Bass made
+up his mind that the victory of the railroads, in his state at least,
+should not come in his day.  He would hold and keep what he had fought
+all his life to gain.
+
+Jethro knew, when Jake Wheeler failed to bring him a message back from
+Clovelly, that the war had begun, and that Isaac D.  Worthington,
+commander of the railroad forces in the field, had captured his pawn,
+the hill-Rajah.  By getting through to Harwich, the Truro had made a sad
+muddle in railroad affairs.  It was now a connecting link; and its
+president, the first citizen of Brampton, a man of no small importance
+in the state.  This fact was not lost upon Jethro, who perceived clearly
+enough the fight for consolidation that was coming in the next
+Legislature.
+
+Seated on an old haystack on Thousand Acre Hill, that sits in turn on the
+lap of Coniston, Jethro smiled as he reflected that the first trial of
+strength in this mighty struggle was to be over (what the unsuspecting
+world would deem a trivial matter) the postmastership of Brampton.  And
+Worthington's first move in the game would be to attempt to capture for
+his faction the support of the Administration itself.
+
+Jethro thought the view from Thousand Acre Hill, especially in September,
+to be one of the sublimest efforts of the Creator.  It was September,
+first of the purple months in Coniston, not the red-purple of the Maine
+coast, but the blue-purple of the mountain, the color of the bloom on the
+Concord grape.  His eyes, sweeping the mountain from the notch to the
+granite ramp of the northern buttress, fell on the weather-beaten little
+farmhouse in which he had lived for many years, and rested lovingly on
+the orchard, where the golden early apples shone among the leaves.  But
+Jethro was not looking at the apples.
+
+"Cynthy," he called out abruptly, "h-how'd you like to go to Washington?"
+
+"Washington!" exclaimed Cynthia.  "When?"
+
+"N-now--to-morrow."  Then he added uneasily, "C-can't you get ready?"
+
+Cynthia laughed.
+
+"Why, I'll go to-night, Uncle Jethro," she answered.
+
+"Well," he said admiringly, "you hain't one of them clutterin' females.
+We can get some finery for you in New York, Cynthy.  D-don't want any of
+them town ladies to put you to shame.  Er--not that they would," he added
+hastily--"not that they would."
+
+Cynthia climbed up beside him on the haystack.
+
+"Uncle Jethro," she said solemnly, "when you make a senator or a judge,
+I don't interfere, do I?"
+
+He looked at her uneasily, for there were moments when he could not for
+the life of him make out her drift.
+
+"N-no," he assented, "of course not, Cynthy."
+
+"Why is it that I don't interfere?"
+
+"I callate," answered Jethro, still more uneasily, "I callate it's
+because you're a woman."
+
+"And don't you think," asked Cynthia, "that a woman ought to know what
+becomes her best?"
+
+Jethro reflected, and then his glance fell on her approvingly.
+
+"G-guess you're right, Cynthy," he said.  "I always had some success in
+dressin' up Listy, and that kind of set me up."
+
+On such occasions he spoke of his wife quite simply.  He had been
+genuinely fond of her, although she was no more than an episode in his
+life.  Cynthia smiled to herself as they walked through the orchard to
+the place where the horse was tied, but she was a little remorseful. This
+feeling, on the drive homeward, was swept away by sheer elation at
+the prospect of the trip before her.  She had often dreamed of the great
+world beyond Coniston, and no one, not even Jethro, had guessed the
+longings to see it which had at times beset her.  Often she had dropped
+her book to summon up a picture of what a great city was like, to
+reconstruct the Boston of her early childhood.  She remembered the Mall,
+where she used to walk with her father, and the row of houses where the
+rich dwelt, which had seemed like palaces.  Indeed, when she read of
+palaces, these houses always came to her mind.  And now she was to behold
+a palace even greater than these,--and the house where the President
+himself dwelt.  But why was Jethro going to Washington?
+
+As if in answer to the question, he drove directly to the harness shop
+instead of to the tannery house.  Ephraim greeted them from within with a
+cheery hail, and hobbled out and stood between the wheels of the buggy.
+
+"That bridle bust again?" he inquired.
+
+"Er--Ephraim," said Jethro, "how long since you b'en away from Coniston--
+how long?"
+
+Ephraim reflected.
+
+"I went to Harwich with Moses before that bad spell I had in March," he
+answered.
+
+Cynthia smiled from pure happiness, for she began to see the drift of
+things now.
+
+"H-how long since you've b'en in foreign parts?" said Jethro.
+
+"'Sixty-five," answered Ephraim, with astonishing promptness.
+
+"Er--like to go to Washington with us to-morrow like to go to
+Washington?"
+
+Ephraim gasped, even as Cynthia had.
+
+"Washin'ton!" he ejaculated.
+
+"Cynthy and I was thinkin' of takin' a little trip," said Jethro, almost
+apologetically, "and we kind of thought we'd like to have you with us.
+Didn't we, Cynthy?  Er--we might see General Grant," he added meaningly.
+
+Ephraim was a New Englander, and not an adept in expressing his emotions.
+Both Cynthia and Jethro felt that he would have liked to have said
+something appropriate if he had known how.  What he actually said was:--
+"What time to-morrow?"
+
+"C-callate to take the nine o'clock from Brampton," said Jethro.
+
+"I'll report for duty at seven," said Ephraim, and it was then he
+squeezed the hand that he found in his.  He watched them calmly enough
+until they had disappeared in the barn behind the tannery.  house, and
+then his thoughts became riotous.  Rumors had been rife that summer,
+prophecies of changes to come, and the resignation of the old man who had
+so long been postmaster at Brampton was freely discussed--or rather the
+matter of his successor.  As the months passed, Ephraim had heard David
+Wheelock mentioned with more and more assurance for the place.  He had
+had many nights when sleep failed him, but it was characteristic of the
+old soldier that he had never once broached the subject since Jethro had
+spoken to him two months before.  Ephraim had even looked up the law to
+see if he was eligible, and found that he was, since Coniston had no
+post-office, and was within the limits of delivery of the Brampton
+office.
+
+The next morning Coniston was treated to a genuine surprise.  After
+loading up at the store, Lem Hallowell, instead of heading for Brampton,
+drove to the tannery house, left his horses standing as he ran in, and
+presently emerged with a little cowhide trunk that bore the letter W.
+Following the trunk came a radiant Cynthia, following Cynthia, Jethro
+Bass in a stove-pipe hat, with a carpetbag, and hobbling after Jethro,
+Ephraim Prescott, with another carpet-bag.  It was remarked in the buzz
+of query that followed the stage's departure that Ephraim wore the blue
+suit and the army hat with a cord around it which he kept for occasions.
+Coniston longed to follow them, in spirit at least, but even Milly
+Skinner did not know their destination.
+
+Fortunately we can follow them.  At Brampton station they got into the
+little train that had just come over Truro Pass, and steamed, with many
+stops, down the valley of Coniston Water until it stretched out into a
+wide range of shimmering green meadows guarded by blue hills veiled in
+the morning haze.  Then, bustling Harwich, and a wait of half an hour
+until the express from the north country came thundering through the Gap;
+then a five-hours' journey down the broad river that runs southward
+between the hills, dinner in a huge station amidst a pleasant buzz of
+excitement and the ringing of many bells.  Then into another train,
+through valleys and factory towns and cities until they came, at
+nightfall, to the metropolis itself.
+
+Cynthia will always remember the awe with which that first view of New
+York inspired her, and Ephraim confessed that he, too, had felt it, when
+he had first seen the myriad lights of the city after the long, dusty
+ride from the hills with his regiment.  For all the flags and bunting it
+had held in '61, Ephraim thought that city crueller than war itself.  And
+Cynthia thought so too, as she clung to Jethro's arm between the
+carriages and the clanging street-cars, and looked upon the riches and
+poverty around her.  There entered her soul that night a sense of that
+which is the worst cruelty of all--the cruelty of selfishness.  Every man
+going his own pace, seeking to gratify his own aims and desires,
+unconscious and heedless of the want with which he rubs elbows.  Her
+natural imagination enhanced by her life among the hills, the girl
+peopled the place in the street lights with all kinds of strange evil-
+doers of whose sins she knew nothing, adventurers, charlatans, alert
+cormorants, who preyed upon the unwary.  She shrank closer to Ephraim
+from a perfumed lady who sat next to her in the car, and was thankful
+when at last they found themselves in the corridor of the Astor House
+standing before the desk.
+
+Hotel clerks, especially city ones, are supernatural persons.  This one
+knew Jethro, greeted him deferentially as Judge Bass, and dipped the pen
+in the ink and handed it to him that he might register.  By half-past
+nine Cynthia was dreaming of Lem Hallowell and Coniston, and Lem was
+driving a yellow street-car full of queer people down the road to
+Brampton.
+
+There were few guests in the great dining room when they breakfasted at
+seven the next morning.  New York, in the sunlight, had taken on a more
+kindly expression, and those who were near by smiled at them and seemed
+full of good-will.  Persons smiled at them that day as they walked the
+streets or stood spellbound before the shop windows, and some who saw
+them felt a lump rise in their throats at the memories they aroused of
+forgotten days: the three seemed to bring the very air of the hills with
+them into that teeming place, and many who, had come to the city with
+high hopes, now in the shackles of drudgery; looked after them.  They
+were a curious party, indeed: the straight, dark girl with the light in
+her eyes and the color in her cheeks; the quaint, rugged figure of the
+elderly man in his swallow-tail and brass buttons and square-toed,
+country boots; and the old soldier hobbling along with the aid of his
+green umbrella, clad in the blue he had loved and suffered for.  Had they
+remained until Sunday, they might have read an amusing account of their
+visit,--of Jethro's suppers of crackers and milk at the Astor House,
+of their progress along Broadway.  The story was not lacking in pathos,
+either, and in real human feeling, for the young reporter who wrote it
+had come, not many years before, from the hills himself.  But by that
+time they had accomplished another marvellous span in their journey,
+and were come to Washington itself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+Cynthia was deprived, too, of that thrilling first view of the capital
+from the train which she had pictured, for night had fallen when they
+reached Washington likewise.  As the train slowed down, she leaned a
+little out of the window and looked at the shabby houses and shabby
+streets revealed by the flickering lights in the lamp-posts.  Finally
+they came to a shabby station, were seized upon by a grinning darky
+hackman, who would not take no for an answer, and were rattled away to
+the hotel.  Although he had been to Washington but once in his life
+before, as a Lincoln elector, Jethro was greeted as an old acquaintance
+by this clerk also.
+
+"Glad to see you, Judge," said he, genially.  "Train late?  You've come
+purty nigh, missin' supper."
+
+A familiar of great men, the clerk was not offended when he got no
+response to his welcome.  Cynthia and Ephraim, intent on getting rid of
+some of the dust of their journey, followed the colored hallboy up the
+stairs.  Jethro stood poring over the register, when a distinguished-
+looking elderly gentleman with a heavy gray beard and eyes full of
+shrewdness and humor paused at the desk to ask a question.
+
+"Er--Senator?"
+
+The senator (for such he was, although he did not represent Jethro's
+state) turned and stared, and then held out his hand with unmistakable
+warmth.
+
+"Jethro Bass," he exclaimed, "upon my word!  What are you doing in
+Washington?"
+
+Jethro took the hand, but he did not answer the question.
+
+"Er--Senator--when can I see the President?"
+
+"Why," answered the senator, somewhat taken aback, "why, to-night, if you
+like.  I'm going to the White House in a few minutes and I think I can
+arrange it."
+
+"T-to-morrow afternoon--t-to-morrow afternoon?"
+
+The senator cast his eye over the swallow-tail coat and stove-pipe hat
+tilted back, and laughed.
+
+"Thunder!" he exclaimed, "you haven't changed a bit.  I'm beginning to
+look like an old man; but that milk-and-crackers diet seems to keep you
+young, Jethro.  I'll fix it for to-morrow afternoon."
+
+"W-what time--two?"
+
+"Well, I'll fix it for two to-morrow afternoon.  I never could understand
+you, Jethro; you don't do things like other men.  Do I smell gunpowder?
+What's up now--what do you want to see Grant about?"
+
+Jethro cast his eye around the corridor, where a few men were taking
+their ease after supper, and looked at the senator mysteriously.
+
+"Any place where we can talk?" he demanded.
+
+"We can go into the writing room and shut the door," answered the
+senator, more amused than ever.
+
+When Cynthia came downstairs, Jethro was standing with the gentleman in
+the corridor leading to the dining room, and she heard the gentleman say
+as he took his departure:--
+ "I haven't forgotten what you did for us in '70, Jethro.  I'll go right
+along and see to it now."
+
+Cynthia liked the gentleman's looks, and rightly surmised that he was one
+of the big men of the nation.  She was about to ask Jethro his name when
+Ephraim came limping along and put the matter out of her mind, and the
+three went into the almost empty dining room.  There they were served
+with elaborate attention.  by a darky waiter who had, in some mysterious
+way, learned Jethro's name and title.  Cynthia reflected with pride that
+Jethro, too, was one of the nation's great men, who could get anything he
+wanted simply by coming to the capital and asking for it.
+
+Ephraim was very much excited on finding himself in Washington, the sight
+of the place reviving in his mind a score of forgotten incidents of the
+war.  After supper they found seats in a corner of the corridor, where a
+number of people were scattered about, smoking and talking.  It did not
+occur to Jethro or Cynthia, or even to Ephraim, that these people were
+all of the male sex, and on the other hand the guests of the hotel were
+apparently used once in a while to see a lady from the country seated
+there.  At any rate, Cynthia was but a young girl, and her two
+companions, however unusual their appearance, were clearly most
+respectable.  Jethro, his hands in his pockets and his hat tilted, sat on
+the small of his back rapt in meditation; Cpnthia, her head awhirl,
+looked around her with sparkling eyes; while Ephraim was smoking a cigar
+he had saved for just such a festal occasion.  He did not see the stout
+man with the button and corded hat until he was almost on top of him.
+
+"Eph Prescott, I believe!" exclaimed the stout one.  "How be you,
+Comrade?"
+
+Heedless of his rheumatism, Ephraim sprang to his feet and  dropped the
+cigar, which the stout one picked up with much difficulty.
+
+"Well," said Ephraim, in a voice that shook with unwonted emotion, "you
+kin skin me if it ain't Amasy Beard!"  His eye travelled around Amasa's
+figure.  "Wouldn't a-knowed you, I swan, I wouldn't.  Why, when I seen
+you last, Amasy, your stomach was havin' all it could do to git hold of
+your backbone."
+
+Cynthia laughed outright, and even Jethro sat up and smiled.
+
+"When was it?" said Amasa, still clinging on to Ephraim's hand and
+incidentally to the cigar, which Ephraim had forgotten; "Beaver Creek,
+wahn't it?"
+
+"July 10, 1863," said Ephraim, instantly.
+
+Gradually they reached a sitting position, the cigar was restored to its
+rightful owner, and Mr. Beard was introduced, with some ceremony, to
+Cynthia and Jethro.  From Beaver Creek they began to fight the war over
+again, backward and forward, much to Cynthia's edification, when her
+attention was distracted by the entrance of a street band of wind
+instruments.  As the musicians made their way to another corner and began
+tuning up, she glanced mischievously at Jethro, for she knew his
+peculiarities by heart.  One of these was a most violent detestation of
+any but the best music.  He had often given her this excuse, laughingly,
+for not going to meeting in Coniston.  How he had come by his love for
+good music, Cynthia never knew--he certainly had not heard much of it.
+
+Suddenly a great volume of sound filled the corridor, and the band burst
+forth into what many supposed to be "The Watch on the Rhine."  Some
+people were plainly delighted; the veterans, once recovered from their
+surprise, shouted their reminiscences above the music, undismayed; Jethro
+held on to himself until the refrain, when he began to squirm, and as
+soon as the tune was done and the scattering applause had died down, he
+reached over and grabbed Mr. Amasa Beard by the knee.  Mr. Beard did not
+immediately respond, being at that moment behind logworks facing a rebel
+charge; he felt vaguely that some one was trying to distract his
+attention, and in some lobe of his brain was registered the fact that
+that particular knee had gout in it.  Jethro increased the pressure, and
+then Mr. Beard abandoned his logworks and swung around with a snort of
+pain.
+
+"H-how much do they git for that noise--h-how much do they git?"
+
+Mr. Beard tenderly lifted the hand from his knee and stared at Jethro
+with his mouth open, like a man aroused from a bad dream.
+
+"Who?  What noise?" he demanded.
+
+"The Dutchmen," said Jethro.  "H-how much do they git for that noise?"
+
+"Oh!"  Mr. Beard glanced at the band and began to laugh.  He thought
+Jethro a queer customer, no doubt, but he was a friend of Comrade
+Prescott's.  "By gum!" said Mr. Beard, "I thought for a minute a rebel
+chain-shot had took my leg off.  Well, sir, I guess that band gets about
+two dollars.  They've come in here every evening since I've been at the
+hotel."
+
+"T-two dollars?  Is that the price?  Er--you say two dollars is their
+price?"
+
+"Thereabouts," answered Mr. Beard, uneasily.  Veteran as he was,
+Jethro's appearance and earnestness were a little alarming.
+
+"You say two dollars is their price?"
+
+"Thereabouts," shouted Mr. Beard, seating himself on the edge of his
+chair.
+
+But Jethro paid no attention to him.  He rose, unfolding by degrees his
+six feet two, and strode diagonally across the corridor toward the band
+leader.  Conversation was hushed at the sight of his figure, a titter ran
+around the walls, but Jethro was oblivious to these things.  He drew a
+great calfskin wallet from an inside pocket of his coat, and the band
+leader, a florid Geranan, laid down his instrument and made an elaborate
+bow.  Jethro waited until the man had become upright and then held out a
+two-dollar bill.
+
+"Is that about right for the performance?" he said "is that about right?"
+
+"Ja, mein Herr," said the man, nodding vociferously.
+
+"I want to pay what's right--I want to pay what's right," said Jethro.
+
+"I thank you very much, sir," said the leader, finding his English, "you
+haf pay for all."
+
+"P-paid for everything--everything to-night?" demanded Jethro.
+
+The leader spread out his hands.
+
+"You haf pay for one whole evening," said he, and bowed again.
+
+"Then take it, take it," said Jethro, pushing the bill into the man's
+palm; "but don't you come back to-night--don't you come back to-night."
+
+The amazed leader stared at Jethro--and words failed him.  There was
+something about this man that compelled him to obey, and he gathered up
+his followers and led the way silently out of the hotel.  Roars of
+laughter and applause arose on all sides; but Jethro was as one who heard
+them not as he made his way back to his seat again.
+
+"You did a good job, my friend," said Mr. Beard, approvingly.  "I'm going
+to take Eph Prescott down the street to see some of the boys.  Won't you
+come, too?"
+
+Mr. Beard doubtless accepted it as one of the man's eccentricities that
+Jethro did not respond to him, for without more ado he departed arm in
+arm with Ephraim.  Jethro was looking at Cynthia, who was staring toward
+the desk at the other end of the corridor, her face flushed, and her
+fingers closed over the arms of her chair.  It never occurred to Jethro
+that she might have been embarrassed.
+
+"W-what's the matter, Cynthy?" he asked, sinking into the chair beside
+her.
+
+Her breath caught sharply, but she tried to smile at him.  He did not
+discover what was the matter until long afterward, when he recalled that
+evening to mind.  Jethro was a man used to hotel corridors, used to
+sitting in an attitude that led the unsuspecting to believe he was half
+asleep; but no person of note could come or go whom he did not remember.
+He had seen the distinguished party arrive at the desk, preceded by a
+host of bell-boys with shawls and luggage.  On the other hand, some of
+the distinguished party had watched the proceeding of paying off the band
+with no little amusement.  Miss Janet Duncan had giggled audibly, her
+mother had smiled, while her father and Mr. Worthington had pretended to
+be deeply occupied with the hotel register.  Somers was not there.  Bob
+Worthington laughed heartily with the rest until his eye, travelling down
+the line of Jethro's progress, fell on Cynthia, and now he was striding
+across the floor toward them.  And even in the horrible confusion of that
+moment Cynthia had a vagrant thought that his clothes had an enviable cut
+and became him remarkably.
+
+"Well, of all things, to find you here!" he cried; "this is the best luck
+that ever happened.  I am glad to see you.  I was going to steal away to
+Brampton for a couple of days before the term opened, and I meant to look
+you up there.  And Mr. Bass," said Bob, turning to Jethro, "I'm glad to
+see you too."
+
+Jethro looked at the young man and smiled and held out his hand.  It was
+evident that Bob was blissfully unaware that hostilities between powers
+of no mean magnitude were about to begin; that the generals themselves
+were on the ground, and that he was holding treasonable parley with the
+enemy.  The situation appealed to Jethro, especially as he glanced at the
+backs of the two gentlemen facing the desk.  These backs seemed to him
+full of expression.  "Th-thank you, Bob, th-thank you," he answered.
+
+"I like the way you fixed that band," said Bob; "I haven't laughed as
+much for a year.  You hate music, don't you?  I hope you'll forgive that
+awful noise we made outside of your house last July, Mr. Bass."
+
+"You--you make that noise, Bob, you--you make that?"
+
+"Well," said Bob, "I'm afraid I did most of it.  There was another fellow
+that helped some and played the guitar.  It was pretty bad," he added,
+with a side glance at Cynthia, "but it was meant for a compliment."
+
+"Oh," said she, "it was meant for a compliment, was it?"
+
+"Of course," he answered, glad of the opportunity to turn his attention
+entirely to her.  "I was for slipping away right after supper, but my
+father headed us off."
+
+"Slipping away?" repeated Cynthia.
+
+"You see, he had a kind of a reception and fireworks afterward.  We
+didn't get away till after nine, and then I thought I'd have a lecture
+when I got home."
+
+"Did you?"  asked Cynthia.
+
+"No," said Bob, "he didn't know where I'd been."
+
+Cynthia felt the blood rush to her temples, but by habit and instinct she
+knew when to restrain herself.
+
+"Would it have made any difference to him where you had been?" she asked
+calmly enough.
+
+Bob had a presentiment that he was on dangerous ground.  This new and
+self-possessed Cynthia was an enigma to him--certainly a fascinating
+enigma.
+
+"My father world have thought I was a fool to go off serenading," he
+answered, flushing.  Bob did not like a lie; he knew that his father
+would have been angry if he had heard he had gone to Coniston; he felt,
+in the small of his back, that his father was angry mow, and guessed the
+reason.
+
+She regarded him gravely as he spoke, and then her eyes left his face and
+became fixed upon an object at the far end of the corridor.  Bob turned
+in time to see Janet Duncan swing on her heel and follow her mother up
+the stairs.  He struggled to find words to tide over what he felt was an
+awkward moment.
+
+"We've had a fine trip;" he said, "though I should much rather have
+stayed at home.  The West is a wonderful country, with its canons and
+mountains and great stretches of plain.  My father met us in Chicago, and
+we came here.  I don't know why, because Washington's dead at this time
+of the year.  I suppose it must be on account of politics."  Looking at
+Jethro with a sudden inspiration, "I hadn't thought of that."
+
+Jethro had betrayed no interest in the conversation.  He was seated, as
+usual, on the small of his back.  But he saw a young man of short
+stature, with a freckled face and close-cropped, curly red hair, come
+into the corridor by another entrance; he saw Isaac D. Worthington draw
+him aside and speak to him, and he saw the young man coming towards them.
+
+"How do you do, Miss Wetherell?" cried the young man joyously, while
+still ten feet away, "I'm awfully glad to see you, upon my word; I am.
+How long are you going to be in Washington?"
+
+"I don't know, Mr. Duncan," answered Cynthia.
+
+"Did Worthy know you were here?" demanded Mr. Duncan, suspiciously.
+
+"He did when he saw me," said Cynthia, smiling.
+
+"Not till then?" asked Mr. Duncan.  "Say, Worthy; your father wants to
+see you right away.  I'm going to be in Washington a day or two--will you
+go walking with me to-morrow morning, Miss Wetherell?"
+
+"She's going walking with me," said Bob, not in the best of tempers.
+
+"Then I'll go along," said Mr. Duncan, promptly.
+
+By this time Cynthia got up and was holding out her hand to Bob
+Worthington.  "I'm not going walking with either of you," she said "I
+have another engagement.  And I think I'll have to say good night,
+because I'm very tired."
+
+"When can I see you?"  Both the young men asked the question at once.
+
+"Oh, you'll have plenty of chances," she answered, and was gone.
+
+The young men looked at each other somewhat blankly; and then down at
+Jethro, who did not seem to know that they were there, and then they made
+their way toward the desk.  But Isaac D.  Worthington and his friends had
+disappeared.
+
+A few minutes later the distinguished-looking senator with whom Jethro
+had been in conversation before supper entered the hotel.  He seemed
+preoccupied, and heedless of the salutations he received; but when he
+caught sight of Jethro he crossed the corridor rapidly and sat down
+beside him.  Jethro did not move.  The corridor was deserted now, save
+for the two.
+
+"Bass," began the senator, "what's the row up in your state?"
+
+"H-haven't heard of any row," said Jethro.
+
+"What did you come to Washington for?" demanded the senator, somewhat
+sharply.
+
+"Er--vacation," said Jethro, "vacation--to show my gal, Cynthy, the
+capital."
+
+"Now see here, Bass," said the senator, "I don't forget what happened in
+'70.  I don't object to wading through a swarm of bees to get a little
+honey for a friend, but I think I'm entitled to know why he wants it."
+
+"G-got the honey?" asked Jethro.
+
+The senator took off his hat and wiped his brow, and then he stole a look
+at Jethro, with apparently barren results.
+
+"Jethro," he said, "people say you run that state of yours right up to
+the handle.  What's all this trouble about a two-for-a-cent
+postmastership?"
+
+"H-haven't heard of any trouble," said Jethro.
+
+"Well, there is trouble," said the senator, losing patience at last.
+When I told Grant you were here and mentioned that little Brampton matter
+to him,--it didn't seem much to me,--the bees began to fly pretty thick,
+I can tell you.  I saw right away that somebody had been stirring 'em up.
+It looks to me, Jethro," said the senator gravely, "it looks to me as if
+you had something of a rebellion on your hands."
+
+"W-what'd Grant say?" Jethro inquired.
+
+"Well, he didn't say a great deal--he isn't much of a talker, you know,
+but what he did say was to the point.  It seems that your man, Prescott,
+doesn't come from Brampton, in the first place, and Grant says that while
+he likes soldiers, he hasn't any use for the kind that want to lie down
+and make the government support 'em.  I'll tell you what I found out.
+Worthington and Duncan wired the President this morning, and they've gone
+up to the White House now.  They've got a lot of railroad interests back
+of them, and they've taken your friend Sutton into camp; but I managed to
+get the President to promise not to do anything until he saw you tomorrow
+afternoon at two."
+
+Jethro sat silent so long that the senator began to think he wasn't going
+to answer him at all.  In his opinion, he had told Jethro some very grave
+facts.
+
+"W-when are you going to see the President again?" said Jethro, at last.
+
+"To-morrow morning," answered the senator; "he wants me to walk over with
+him to see the postmaster-general, who is sick in bed."
+
+"What time do you leave the White House?--"
+
+"At eleven," said the senator, very much puzzled.
+
+"Er--Grant ever pay any attention to an old soldier on the street?"
+
+The senator glanced at Jethro, and a twinkle came into his eye.
+
+"Sometimes he has been known to," he answered.
+
+"You--you ever pay any attention to an old soldier on the street?"
+
+Then the senator's eyes began to snap.
+
+"Sometimes I have been known to."
+
+"Er--suppose an old soldier was in front of the White House at eleven
+o'clock--an old soldier with a gal suppose?"
+
+The senator saw the point, and took no pains to restrain his admiration.
+
+"Jethro," he said, slapping him on the shoulder, "I'm willing to bet a
+few thousand dollars you'll run your state for a while yet."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+"Heard you say you was goin' for a walk this morning, Cynthy," Jethro
+remarked, as they sat at breakfast the next morning.
+
+"Why, of course," answered Cynthia, "Cousin Eph and I are going out to
+see Washington, and he is to show me the places that he remembers."  She
+looked at Jethro appealingly.  "Aren't you coming with us?" she asked.
+
+"M-meet you at eleven, Cynthy," he said.
+
+"Eleven!" exclaimed Cynthia in dismay, "that's almost dinner-time."
+
+"M-meet you in front of the White House at eleven," said Jethro, "plumb
+in front of it, under a tree."
+
+By half-past seven, Cynthia and Ephraim with his green umbrella were in
+the street, but it would be useless to burden these pages with a
+description of all the sights they saw, and with the things that Ephraim
+said about them, and incidentally about the war.  After New York, much of
+Washington would then have seemed small and ragged to any one who lacked
+ideals and a national sense, but Washington was to Cynthia as Athens to a
+Greek.  To her the marble Capitol shining on its hill was a sacred
+temple, and the great shaft that struck upward through the sunlight,
+though yet unfinished, a fitting memorial to him who had led the barefoot
+soldiers of the colonies through ridicule to victory.  They looked up
+many institutions and monument, they even had time to go to the Navy
+Yard, and they saved the contemplation of the White House till the last.
+The White House, which Cynthia thought the finest and most graceful
+mansion in all the world, in its simplicity and dignity, a fitting
+dwelling for the chosen of the nation.  Under the little tree which
+Jethro had mentioned, Ephraim stood bareheaded before the walls which
+had sheltered Lincoln, which were now the home of the greatest of his
+captains, Grant: and wondrous emotions played upon the girl's spirit,
+too, as she gazed.  They forgot the present in the past and the future,
+and they did not see the two gentlemen who had left the portico some
+minutes before and were now coming toward them along the sidewalk.
+
+The two gentlemen, however, slowed their steps involuntarily at a sight
+which was uncommon, even in Washington.  The girl's arm was in the
+soldier's, and her face, which even in repose had a true nobility, now
+was alight with an inspiration that is seen but seldom in a lifetime.
+In marble, could it have been wrought by a great sculptor, men would
+have dreamed before it of high things.
+
+The two, indeed, might have stood for a group, the girl as the spirit,
+the man as the body which had risked and suffered all for it, and still
+held it fast.  For the honest face of the soldier reflected that spirit
+as truly as a mirror.
+
+Ephraim was aroused from his thoughts by Cynthia nudging his arm.  He
+started, put on his hat, and stared very hard at a man smoking a cigar
+who was standing before him.  Then he stiffened and raised his hand in an
+involuntary salute.  The man smiled.  He was not very tall, he had a
+closely trimmed light beard that was growing a little gray, he wore a
+soft hat something like Ephraim's, a black tie on a white pleated shirt,
+and his eyeglasses were pinned to his vest.  His eyes were all kindness.
+
+"How do you do, Comrade?" he said, holding out his hand.
+
+"General," said Ephraim, "Mr. President," he added, correcting himself,
+"how be you?"  He shifted the green umbrella, and shook the hand timidly
+but warmly.
+
+"General will do," said the President, with a smiling glance at the tall
+senator beside him, "I like to be called General."
+
+"You've growed some older, General," said Ephraim, scanning his face with
+a simple reverence and affection, "but you hain't changed so much as I'd
+a thought since I saw you whittlin' under a tree beside the Lacy house in
+the Wilderness."
+
+"My duty has changed some," answered the President, quite as simply.  He
+added with a touch of sadness, "I liked those days best, Comrade."
+
+"Well, I guess!" exclaimed Ephraim, "you're general over everything now,
+but you're not a mite bigger man to me than you was."
+
+The President took the compliment as it was meant.
+
+"I found it easier to run an army than I do to run a country," he said.
+
+Ephraim's blue eyes flamed with indignation.
+
+"I don't take no stock in the bull-dogs and the gold harness at Long
+Branch and--and all them lies the dratted newspapers print about you,"--
+Ephraim hammered his umbrella on the pavement as an expression of his
+feelings,--"and what's more, the people don't."
+
+The President glanced at the senator again, and laughed a little,
+quietly.
+
+"Thank you; Comrade," he said.
+
+"You're a plain, common man," continued Ephraim, paying the highest
+compliment known to rural New England; "the people think a sight of you,
+or they wouldn't hev chose you twice, General."
+
+"So you were in the Wilderness?" said the President, adroitly changing
+the subject.
+
+"Yes, General.  I was pressed into orderly duty the first day--that's
+when I saw you whittlin' under the tree, and you didn't seem to have no
+more consarn than if it had been a company drill.  Had a cigar then, too.
+But the second day; May the 6th, I was with the regiment.  I'll never
+forget that day," said Ephraim, warming to the subject, "when we was
+fightin' Ewell up and down the Orange Plank Road, playin' hide-and-seek
+with the Johnnies in the woods.  You remember them woods, General?"
+
+The President nodded, his cigar between his teeth.  He looked as though
+the scene were coming back to him.
+
+"Never seen such woods," said Ephraim, "scrub oak and pine and cedars and
+young stuff springin' up until you couldn't see the length of a company,
+and the Rebs jumpin' and hollerin' around and shoutin' every which way.
+After a while a lot of them saplings was mowed off clean by the bullets,
+and then the woods caught afire, and that was hell."
+
+"Were you wounded?" asked the President, quickly.
+
+"I was hurt some, in the hip," answered Ephraim.
+
+"Some!" exclaimed Cynthia, "why, you have walked lame ever since."  She
+knew the story by heart, but the recital of it never failed to stir her
+blood! They carried him out just as he was going to be burned up, in a
+blanket hung from rifles, and he was in the hospital nine months, and had
+to come home for a while."
+
+"Cynthy," said Ephraim in gentle reproof, "I callate the General don't
+want to hear that."
+
+Cynthia flushed, but the President looked at her with an added interest.
+
+"My dear young lady," he said, "that seems to me the vital part of the
+story.  If I remember rightly," he added, turning again to Ephraim, the
+Fifth Corps was on the Orange turnpike.  What brigade were you in?"
+
+"The third brigade of the First Division," answered Ephraim.
+
+"Griffin's," said the President.  "There were several splendid New
+England regiments in that brigade.  I sent them with Griffin to help
+Sheridan at Five Forks."
+
+"I was thar too," cried Ephraim.
+
+"What!" said the President, "with the lame hip?"
+
+"Well, General, I went back, I couldn't help it.  I couldn't stay away
+from the boys--just couldn't.  I didn't limp as bad then as I do now.  I
+wahn't much use anywhere else, and I had l'arned to fight.  Five Forks!"
+exclaimed Ephraim.  "I call that day to mind as if it was yesterday.  I
+remember how the boys yelled when they told us we was goin' to Sheridan.
+We got started about daylight, and it took us till four o'clock in the
+afternoon to git into position.  The woods was just comin' a little
+green, and the white dogwoods was bloomin' around.  Sheridan, he galloped
+up to the line with that black horse of his'n and hollered out, 'Come on,
+boys, go in at a clean, jump or You won't ketch one of 'em.' You know how
+men, even veterans like that Fifth Corps, sometimes hev to be pushed into
+a fight.  There was a man from a Maine regiment got shot in the head fust
+thing.  'I'm killed,' said he.  'Oh, no, you're not,' says Sheridan,
+'pickup your gun and go for 'em.' But he was killed.  Well, we went for
+'em through all the swamps and briers and everything, and Sheridan, thar
+in front, had got the battle-flag and was rushin' round with it swearin'
+and prayin' and shoutin', and the first thing we knowed he'd jumped his
+horse clean over their logworks and landed right on top of the
+Johnnie's."
+
+"Yes," said the President, "that was Sheridan, sure enough."
+
+"Mr. President," said the senator, who stood by wonderingly while General
+Grant had lost himself in this conversation, "do you realize what time it
+is?"
+
+"Yes, yes," said the President, "we must go on.  What was your rank,
+Comrade?"
+
+"Sergeant, General."
+
+"I hope you have got a good pension for that hip," said the President,
+kindly.  It may be well to add that he was not always so incautious, but
+this soldier bore the unmistakable stamp of simplicity and sincerity on
+his face.
+
+Ephraim hesitated.
+
+"He never would ask for a pension, General," said Cynthia.
+
+"What!" exclaimed the President in real astonishment, "are you so rich as
+all that?" and he glanced at the green umbrella.
+
+"Well, General," said Ephraim, uncomfortably, "I never liked the notion
+of gittin' paid for it.  You see, I was what they call a war-Democrat."
+
+"Good Lord!" said the President, but more to himself.  "What do you do
+now?"
+
+"I callate to make harness," answered Ephraim.
+
+"Only he can't make it any more on account of his rheumatism, Mr.
+President," Cynthia put in.
+
+"I think you might call me General, too," he said, with the grace that
+many simple people found inherent in him.  "And may I ask your name,
+young lady?"
+
+"Cynthia Wetherell--General," she said smiling.
+
+"That sounds more natural," said the President, and then to Ephraim,
+"Your daughter?"
+
+"I couldn't think more of her if she was," answered Ephraim; "Cynthy's
+pulled me through some tight spells.  Her mother was my cousin, General.
+My name's Prescott--Ephraim Prescott."
+
+"Ephraim Prescott!" ejaculated the President, sharply, taking his cigar
+from his mouth, "Ephraim Prescott!"
+
+"Prescott--that's right--Prescott, General," repeated Ephraim, sorely
+puzzled by these manifestations of amazement.
+
+"What did you come to Washington for?" asked the President.
+
+"Well, General, I kind of hate to tell you--I didn't intend to mention
+that.  I guess I won't say nothin' about it," he added, "we've had such a
+sociable time.  I've always b'en a little mite ashamed of it, General,
+ever since 'twas first mentioned."
+
+"Good Lord!" said the President again, and then he looked at Cynthia.
+"What is it, Miss Cynthia?" he asked.
+
+It was now Cynthia's turn to be a little confused.
+
+"Uncle Jethro--that is, Mr. Bass" (the President nodded), "went to Cousin
+Eph when he couldn't make harness any more and said he'd give him the
+Brampton post-office."
+
+The President's eyes met the senator's, and both gentlemen laughed.
+Cynthia bit her lip, not seeing any cause for mirth in her remark, while
+Ephraim looked uncomfortable and mopped the perspiration from his brow.
+
+"He said he'd give it to him, did he?" said the President.  "Is Mr. Bass
+your uncle?"
+
+"Oh, no, General," replied Cynthia, "he's really no relation.  He's done
+everything for me, and I live with him since my father died.  He was
+going to meet us here," she continued, looking around hurriedly, "I'm
+sure I can't think what's kept him."
+
+"Mr. President, we are half an hour late already," said the senator,
+hurriedly.
+
+"Well, well," said the President, "I suppose I must go.  Good-by, Miss
+Cynthia," said he, taking the girl's hand warmly.  "Good-by, Comrade.
+If ever you want to see General Grant, just send in your name.  Good-by."
+
+The President lifted his hat politely to Cynthia and passed.  He said
+something to the senator which they did not hear, and the senator laughed
+heartily.  Ephraim and Cynthia watched them until they were out of sight.
+
+"Godfrey!" exclaimed Ephraim, "they told me he was hard to talk to.  Why,
+Cynthy, he's as simple as a child."
+
+"I've always thought that all great men must be simple," said Cynthia;
+"Uncle Jethro is."
+
+"To think that the President of the United States stood talkin' to us on
+the sidewalk for half an hour," said Ephraim, clutching Cynthia's arm.
+"Cynthy, I'm glad we didn't press that post-office matter it was worth
+more to me than all the post-offices in the Union to have that talk with
+General Grant."
+
+They waited some time longer under the tree, happy in the afterglow of
+this wonderful experience.  Presently a clock struck twelve.
+
+"Why, it's dinner-time, Cynthy," said Ephraim.  "I guess Jethro haint'
+a-comin'--must hev b'en delayed by some of them politicians."
+
+"It's the first time I ever knew him to miss an appointment," said
+Cynthia, as they walked back to the hotel.
+
+Jethro was not in the corridor, so they passed on to the dining room and
+looked eagerly from group to group.  Jethro was not there, either, but
+Cynthia heard some one laughing above the chatter of the guests, and drew
+back into the corridor.  She had spied the Duncans and the Worthingtons
+making merry by themselves at a corner table, and it was Somers's laugh
+that she heard.  Bob, too, sitting next to Miss Duncan, was much amused
+about something.  Suddenly Cynthia's exaltation over the incident of the
+morning seemed to leave her, and Bob Worthington's words which she had
+pondered over in the night came back to her with renewed force.  He did
+not find it necessary to steal away to see Miss Duncan.  Why should he
+have "stolen away" to see her?  Was it because she was a country girl,
+and poor?  That was true; but on the other hand, did she not live in the
+sunlight, as it were, of Uncle Jethro's greatness, and was it not an
+honor to come to his house and see any one?  And why had Mr. Worthington
+turned hid back on Jethro, and sent for Bob when he was talking to them?
+Cynthia could not understand these things, and her pride was sorely
+wounded by them.
+
+"Perhaps Jethro's in his room," suggested Ephraim.
+
+And indeed they found him there seated on the bed, poring over some
+newspapers, and both in a breath demanded where he had been.  Ephraim did
+not wait for an answer.
+
+"We seen General Grant, Jethro," he cried; "while we was waitin' for you
+under the tree he come up and stood talkin' to us half an hour.  Full
+half an hour, wahn't it, Cynthy?"
+
+"Oh, yes," answered Cynthia, forgetting her own grievance at the
+recollection; "only it didn't seem nearly that long."
+
+"W-want to know!" exclaimed Jethro, in astonishment, putting down his
+paper.  "H-how did it happen?"
+
+"Come right up and spoke to us," said Ephraim, in a tone he might have
+used to describe a miracle, "jest as if he was common folk.  Never had a
+more sociable talk with anybody.  Why, there was times when I clean
+forgot he was President of the United States.  The boys won't believe it
+when we git back at Coniston."
+
+And Ephraim, full of his subject, began to recount from the beginning the
+marvellous affair, occasionally appealing to Cynthia for confirmation.
+How he had lived over again the Wilderness and Five Forks; how the
+General had changed since he had seen him whittling under a tree;
+how the General had asked about his pension.
+
+"D-didn't mention the post-office, did you, Ephraim?"
+
+"Why, no," replied Ephraim, "I didn't like to exactly.  You see, we was
+havin' such a good time I didn't want to spoil it, but Cynthy--"
+
+"I told the President about it, Uncle Jethro; I told him how sick Cousin
+Eph had been, and that you were going to give him the postmastership
+because he couldn't work any more with his hands."
+
+The training of a lifetime had schooled Jethro not to betray surprise.
+
+"K-kind of mixin' up in politics, hain't you, Cynthy?  P-President say he'd
+give you the postmastership, Eph?" he asked.
+
+"He didn't say nothin' about it, Jethro," answered Ephraim slowly;
+"I callate he has other views for the place, and he was too kind to come
+right out with 'em and spoil our mornin'.  You see, Jethro, I wahn't only
+a sergeant, and Brampton's gittin' to be a big town."
+
+"But, surely," cried Cynthia, who could scarcely wait for him to finish,
+"surely you're going to give Cousin Eph the post-office, aren't you,
+Uncle Jethro?  All you have to do is to tell the President that you want
+it for him.  Why, I had an idea that we came down for that."
+
+"Now, Cynthy," Ephraim put in, deprecatingly.
+
+"Who else would get the post-office?" asked Cynthia.  "Surely you're not
+going to let Mr. Sutton have it for Dave Wheelock!"
+
+"Er--Cynthy," said Jethro, slyly, "w-what'd you say to me once about
+interferin' with women's fixin's?"
+
+Cynthia saw the point.  She perceived also that the mazes of politics
+were not to be understood by a young woman, of even by an old soldier.
+She laughed and seized Jethro's hands and pulled him from the bed.
+
+"We won't get any dinner unless we hurry," she said.
+
+When they reached the dining room she was relieved to discover that the
+party in the corner had gone.
+
+In the afternoon there were many more sights to be viewed, but they were
+back in the hotel again by half-past four, because Ephraim's Wilderness
+leg had its limits of endurance.  Jethro (though he had not mentioned the
+fact to them) had gone to the White House.
+
+It was during the slack hours that our friend the senator, whose interest
+in the matter of the Brampton post office out-weighed for the present
+certain grave problems of the Administration in which he was involved,
+hurried into the Willard Hotel, looking for Jethro Bass.  He found him
+without much trouble in his usual attitude, occupying one of the chairs
+in the corridor.
+
+"Well," exclaimed the senator, with a touch of eagerness he did not often
+betray, "did you see Grant?  How about your old soldier?  He's one of the
+most delightful characters I ever met--simple as a child," and he laughed
+at the recollection.  "That was a masterstroke of yours, Bass, putting
+him under that tree with that pretty girl.  I doubt if you ever did
+anything better in your life.  Did they tell you about it?"
+
+"Yes," said Jethro, "they told me about it."
+
+"And how about Grant?  What did he say to you?"
+
+"W-well, I went up there and sent in my card.  D-didn't have to wait a
+great while, as I was pretty early, and soon he came in, smokin' a black
+cigar, head bent forward a little.  D-didn't ask me to sit down, and what
+talkin' we did we did standin'.  D-didn't ask me what he could do for me,
+what I wanted, or anything else, but just stood there, and I stood there.
+F-fust time in my life I didn't know how to commerce or what to say;
+looked--looked at me--didn't take his eye off me.  After a while I got
+started, somehow; told him I was there to ask him to appoint Ephraim
+Prescott to the Brampton postoffice--t-told him all about Ephraim from
+the time he was locked in the cradle--never was so hard put that I could
+remember.  T-told him how Ephraim shook butternuts off my fathers tree--
+for all I know.  T-told him all about Ephraim's war record--leastways
+all I could call to mind--and, by Godfrey! before I got through, I wished
+I'd listened to more of it.  T-told him about Ephraim's Wilderness bullets
+--t-told him about Ephraim's rheumatism,--how it bothered him when he went
+to bed and when he got up again."
+
+If Jethro had glanced at his companion, he would have seen the senator
+was shaking with silent and convulsive laughter.
+
+"All the time I talked to him I didn't see a muscle move in his face,"
+Jethro continued, "so I started in again, and he looked--looked--looked
+right at me.  W-wouldn't wink--don't think he winked once while I was in
+that room.  I watched him as close as I could, and I watched to see if a
+muscle moved or if I was makin' any impression.  All he would do was to
+stand there and look--look--look.  K-kept me there ten minutes and never
+opened his mouth at all.  Hardest man to talk to I ever met--never see a
+man before but what I could get him to say somethin', if it was only a
+cuss word.  I got tired of it after a while, made up my mind that I had
+found one man I couldn't move.  Then what bothered me was to get out of
+that room.  If I'd a had a Bible I believe I'd a read it to him.  I
+didn't know what to say, but I did say this after a while:--
+ "'W-well, Mr. President, I guess I've kept you long enough--g-guess
+you're a pretty busy man.  H-hope you'll give Mr. Prescott that
+postmastership.  Er--er good-by.'
+
+"'Wait, sir,' he said.
+
+"'Yes,' I said, 'I-I'll wait.'
+
+"Thought you was goin' to give him that postmastership, Mr. Bass,' he
+said."
+
+At this point the senator could not control his mirth, and the empty
+corridor echoed his laughter.
+
+"By thunder! what did you say to that?"
+
+"Er--I said, 'Mr. President, I thought I was until a while ago.'
+
+"'And when did you change your mind?' says he."
+
+Then he laughed a little--not much--but he laughed a little.
+
+"'I understand that your old soldier lives within the limits of the
+delivery of the Brampton office,' said he."
+
+"'That's correct, Mr. President,' said I."
+
+"'Well,' said he, 'I will app'int him postmaster at Brampton, Mr. Bass.'"
+
+"'When?' said I."
+
+Then he laughed a little more.
+
+"I'll have the app'intment sent to your hotel this afternoon,' said he."
+
+"'Then I said to him, 'This has come out full better than I expected, Mr.
+President.  I'm much obliged to you.'  He didn't say nothin' more, so I
+come out."
+
+"Grant didn't say anything about Worthington or Duncan, did he?" asked
+the senator, curiously, as he rose to go.
+
+"G-guess I've told you all he said," answered Jethro; "'twahn't a great
+deal."
+
+The senator held out his hand.
+
+"Bass," he said, laughing, "I believe you came pretty near meeting your
+match.  But if Grant's the hardest man in the Union to get anything out
+of, I've a notion who's the second."  And with this parting shot the
+senator took his departure, chuckling to himself as he went.
+
+As has been said, there were but few visitors in Washington at this time,
+and the hotel corridor was all but empty.  Presently a substantial-
+looking gentleman came briskly in from the street, nodding affably to the
+colored porters and bell-boys, who greeted him by name.  He wore a
+flowing Prince Albert coat, which served to dignify a growing portliness,
+and his coal-black whiskers glistened in the light.  A voice, which
+appeared to come from nowhere in particular, brought the gentleman up
+standing.
+
+"How be you, Heth?"
+
+It may not be that Mr. Sutton's hand trembled, but the ashes of his cigar
+fell to the floor.  He was not used to visitations, and for the instant,
+if the truth be told, he was not equal to looking around.
+
+"Like Washington, Heth--like Washington?"
+
+Then Mr. Sutton turned.  His presence of mind, and that other presence of
+which he was so proud, seemed for the moment to have deserted him.
+
+"S-stick pretty close to business, Heth, comin' down here out of session
+time.  S-stick pretty close to business, don't you, since the people sent
+you to Congress?"
+
+Mr. Sutton might have offered another man a cigar or a drink, but (as is
+well known) Jethro was proof against tobacco or stimulants.
+
+"Well," said the Honorable Heth, catching his breath and making a dive,
+"I am surprised to see you, Jethro," which was probably true.
+
+"Th-thought you might be," said Jethro.  "Er--glad to see me, Heth--glad
+to see me?"
+
+As has been recorded, it is peculiarly difficult to lie to people who are
+not to be deceived.
+
+"Why, certainly I am," answered the Honorable Heth, swallowing hard,
+"certainly I am, Jethro.  I meant to have got to Coniston this summer,
+but I was so busy--"
+
+"Peoples' business, I understand.  Er--hear you've gone in for high-
+minded politics, Heth--r-read a highminded speech of yours--two high-
+minded speeches.  Always thought you was a high-minded man, Heth."
+
+"How did you like those speeches, Jethro?" asked Mr. Sutton, striving as
+best he might to make some show of dignity.
+
+"Th-thought they was high-minded," said Jethro.
+
+Then there was a silence, for Mr. Sutton could think of nothing more to
+say.  And he yearned to depart with a great yearning, but something held
+him there.
+
+"Heth," said Jethafter a while, "you was always very friendly and
+obliging.  You've done a great many favors for me in your life."
+
+"I've always tried to be neighborly, Jethro," said Mr. Sutton, but his
+voice sounded a little husky even to himself.
+
+"And I may have done one or two little things for you, Heth," Jethro
+continued, "but I can't remember exactly.  Er--can you remember, Heth."
+
+Mr. Sutton was trying with becoming nonchalance to light the stump of his
+cigar.  He did not succeed this time.  He pulled himself together with a
+supreme effort.
+
+"I think we've both been mutually helpful, Jethro," he said, "mutually
+helpful."
+
+"Well," said Jethro, reflectively, "I don't know as I could have put it
+as well as that--there's somethin' in being an orator."
+
+There was another silence, a much longer one.  The Honorable Heth threw
+his butt away, and lighted another cigar.  Suddenly, as if by magic, his
+aplomb returned, and in a flash of understanding he perceived the
+situation.  He saw himself once more as the successful congressman, the
+trusted friend of the railroad interests, and he saw Jethro as a
+discredited boss.  He did not stop to reflect that Jethro did not act
+like a discredited boss, as a keener man might have done.  But if the
+Honorable Heth had been a keener man, he would not have been at that time
+a congressman.  Mr. Sutton accused himself of having been stupid in not
+grasping at once that the tables were turned, and that now he was the one
+to dispense the gifts.
+
+"K-kind of fortunate you stopped to speak to me, Heth.  N-now I come to
+think of it, I hev a little favor to ask of you."
+
+"Ah!" exclaimed Mr. Sutton, blowing out the smoke; "of course anything I
+can do, Jethro--anything in reason."
+
+"W-wouldn't ask a high-minded man to do anything he hadn't ought to,"
+said Jethro; "the fact is, I'd like to git Eph Prescott appointed at the
+Brampton post-office.  You can fix that, Heth--can't you--you can fix
+that?"
+
+Mr. Sutton stuck his thumb into his vest pocket and cleared his throat.
+
+"I can't tell you how sorry I am not to oblige you, Jethro, but I've
+arranged to give that post-office to Dave Wheelock."
+
+"A-arranged it, hev You--a-arranged it?"
+
+"Why, yes," said Mr. Sutton, scarcely believing his own ears.  Could it
+be possible that he was using this patronizingly kind tone to Jethro
+Bass?
+
+"Well, that's too bad," said Jethro; "g-got it all fixed, hev you?"
+
+"Practically," answered Mr. Sutton, grandly; "indeed, I may go as far as
+to say that it is as certain as if I had the appointment here in my
+pocket.  I'm sorry not to oblige you, Jethro; but these are matters which
+a member of Congress must look after pretty closely."  He held out his
+hand, but Jethro did not appear to see it,--he had his in his pockets.
+"I've an important engagement," said the Honorable Heth, consulting a
+large gold watch.  "Are you going to be in Washington long?"
+
+"G-guess I've about got through, Heth--g-guess I've about got through,"
+said Jethro.
+
+"Well, if you have time and there's any other little thing, I'm in Room
+29," said Mr. Sutton, as he put his foot on the stairway.
+
+"T-told Worthington you got that app'intment for Wheelock--t-told
+Worthington?"  Jethro called out after him.
+
+Mr. Sutton turned and waved his cigar and smiled in acknowledgment of
+this parting bit of satire.  He felt that he could afford to smile.  A
+few minutes later he was ensconced on the sofa of a private sitting room
+reviewing the incident, with much gusto, for the benefit of Mr. Isaac D.
+Worthington and Mr. Alexander Duncan.  Both of these gentlemen laughed
+heartily, for the Honorable Heth Sutton knew the art of telling a story
+well, at least, and was often to be seen with a group around him in the
+lobbies of Congress.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+About five o'clock that afternoon Ephraim was sitting in his shirt-
+sleeves by the window of his room, and Cynthia was reading aloud to him
+an article (about the war, of course) from a Washington paper, which his
+friend, Mr. Beard, had sent him.  There was a knock at the door, and
+Cynthia opened it to discover a colored hall-boy with a roll in his hand.
+
+"Mistah Ephum Prescott?" he said.
+
+"Yes," answered Ephraim, "that's me."
+
+Cynthia shut the door and gave him the roll, but Ephraim took it as
+though he were afraid of its contents.
+
+"Guess it's some of them war records from Amasy," he said.
+
+"Oh, Cousin Eph," exclaimed Cynthia, excitedly, "why don't you open it?
+If you don't I will."
+
+"Guess you'd better, Cynthy," and he held it out to her with a trembling
+hand.
+
+Cynthia did open it, and drew out a large document with seals and
+printing and signatures.
+
+"Cousin Eph," she cried, holding it under his nose, "Cousin Eph, you're
+postmaster of Brampton!"
+
+Ephraim looked at the paper, but his eyes swam, and he could only make
+out a dancidg, bronze seal.
+
+"I want to know!" he exclaimed.  "Fetch Jethro."
+
+But Cynthia had already flown on that errand.  Curiously enough, she ran
+into Jethro in the hall immediately outside of Ephraim's door.  Ephraim
+got to his feet; it was very difficult for him to realize that his
+troubles were ended, that he was to earn his living at last.  He looked
+at Jethro, and his eyes filled with tears. "I guess I can't thank you as
+I'd ought to, Jethro," he said, "leastways, not now."
+
+"I'll thank him for you, Cousin Eph," said Cynthia.  And she did.
+
+"D-don't thank me," said Jethro, "I didn't have much to do with it,
+Eph. Thank the President."
+
+Ephraim did thank the President, in one of the most remarkable letters,
+from a literary point of view, ever received at the White House.  For the
+art of literature largely consists in belief in what one is writing, and
+Ephraim's letter had this quality of sincerity, and no lack of vividness
+as well.  He spent most of the evening in composing it.
+
+Cynthia, too, had received a letter that day--a letter which she had read
+several times, now with a smile, and again with a pucker of the forehead
+which was meant for a frown.  "Dear Cynthia," it said.  "Where do you
+keep yourself?  I am sure you would not be so cruel if you knew that I
+was aching to see you."  Aching!  Cynthia repeated the word, and
+remembered the glimpse she had had of him in the dining room with Miss
+Janet Duncan.  "Whenever I have been free" (Cynthia repeated this also,
+somewhat ironically, although she conceded it the merit of frankness),
+"Whenever I have been free, I have haunted the corridors for a sight of
+you.  Think of me as haunting the hotel desk for an answer to this,
+telling me when I can see you--and where.  P.S.  I shall be around all
+evening."  And it was signed, "Your friend and playmate, R. Worthington."
+
+It is a fact--not generally known--that Cynthia did answer the letter--
+twice.  But she sent neither answer.  Even at that age she was given to
+reflection, and much as she may have approved of the spirit of the
+letter, she liked the tone of it less.  Cynthia did not know a great deal
+of the world, it is true, but the felt instinctively that something was
+wrong when Bob resorted to such means of communication.  And she was
+positively relieved, or  thought that she was, when she went down to
+supper and discovered that the table in the corner was empty.
+
+After supper Ephraim had his letter to write, and Jethro wished to sit in
+the corridor.  But Cynthia had learned that the corridor was not the
+place for a girl, so she explained--to Jethro that he would find her in
+the parlor if be wanted her, and that she was going there to read.  That
+parlor Cynthia thought a handsome room, with its high windows and lace
+curtains, its long mirrors and marble-topped tables.  She established
+herself under a light, on a sofa in one corner, and sat, with the book on
+her lap watching the people who came and went.  She had that delicious
+sensation which comes to the young when they first travel--the sensation
+of being a part of the great world; and she wished that she knew these
+people, and which were the great, and which the little ones.  Some of
+them looked at her intently, she thought too intently, and at such times
+she pretended to read.  She was aroused by hearing some one saying:--
+ "Isn't this Miss Wetherell?"
+
+Cynthia looked up and caught her breath, for the young lady who had
+spoken was none other than Miss Janet Duncan herself.  Seen thus
+startlingly at close range, Miss Duncan was not at all like what Cynthia
+had expected--but then most people are not.  Janet Duncan was, in fact,
+one of those strange persons who do not realize the picture which their
+names summon up.  She was undoubtedly good-looking; her hair, of a more
+golden red than her brother's, was really wonderful; her neck was
+slender; and she had a strange, dreamy face that fascinated Cynthia, who
+had never seen anything like it.
+
+She put down her book on the sofa and got up, not without a little tremor
+at this unexpected encounter.
+
+"Yes, I'm Cynthia Wetherell," she replied.
+
+To add to her embarrassment, Miss Duncan seized both her hands
+impulsively and gazed into her face.
+
+"You're really very beautiful," she said.  "Do you know it?"
+
+Cynthia's only answer to this was a blush.  She wondered if all city
+girls were like Miss Duncan.
+
+"I was determined to come up and speak to you the first chance I had,"
+Janet continued.  "I've been making up stories about you."
+
+"Stories!" exclaimed Cynthia, drawing away her hands.
+
+"Romances," said Miss Duncan--"real romances.  Sometimes I think I'm
+going to be a novelist, because I'm always weaving stories about people
+that I see people who interest me, I mean.  And you look as if you might
+be the heroine of a wonderful romance."
+
+Cynthia's breath was now quite taken away.
+
+"Oh," she said, "I--had never thought that I looked like that."
+
+"But you do," said Miss Duncan; "you've got all sorts of possibilities in
+your face--you look as if you might have lived for ages."
+
+"As old as that?" exclaimed Cynthia, really startled.
+
+"Perhaps I don't express myself very well" said the other, hastily; "I
+wish you could see what I've written about you already.  I can do it so
+much better with pen and ink.  I've started quite a romance already."
+
+"What is it?" asked Cynthia, not without interest.
+
+"Sit down on the sofa and I'll tell you," said Miss Duncan; "I've done it
+all from your face, too.  I've made you a very poor girl brought up by
+peasants, only you are really of a great family, although nobody knows
+it.  A rich duke sees you one day when he is hunting and falls in love
+with you, and you have to stand a lot of suffering and persecution
+because of it, and say nothing.  I believe you could do that," added
+Janet, looking critically at Cynthia's face.
+
+"I suppose I could if I had to," said Cynthia, "but I shouldn't like it."
+
+"Oh, it would do you good," said Janet; "it would ennoble your character.
+Not that it needs it," she added hastily.  "And I could write another
+story about that quaint old man who paid the musicians to go away, and
+who made us all laugh so much."
+
+Cynthia's eye kindled.
+
+"Mr. Bass isn't a quaint old man," she said; "he's the greatest man in
+the state."
+
+Miss Duncan's patronage had been of an unconscious kind.  She knew that
+she had offended, but did not quite realize how.
+
+"I'm so sorry," she cried, "I didn't mean to hurt you.  You live with
+him, don't you--Coniston?"
+
+"Yes," replied Cynthia, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.
+
+"I've heard about Coniston.  It must be quite a romance in itself to live
+all the year round in such a beautiful place and to make your own
+clothes.  Yours become you very well," said Miss Duncan, "although I
+don't know why.  They're not at all in style, and yet they give you quite
+an air of distinction.  I wish I could live in Coniston for a year,
+anyway, and write a book about you.  My brother and Bob Worthington went
+out there one night and serenaded you, didn't they?"
+
+"Yes," said Cynthia, that peculiar flash coming into her eyes again, "and
+I think it was very foolish of them."
+
+"Do you?" exclaimed Miss Duncan, in surprise; "I wish somebody would
+serenade me.  I think it was the most romantic thing Bob ever did.  He's
+wild about you, and so is Somers they have both told me so in
+confidence."
+
+Cynthia's face was naturally burning now.
+
+"If it were true," she said, "they wouldn't have told you about it."
+
+"I suppose that's so," said Miss Duncan, thoughtfully, "only you're very
+clever to have seen it.  Now that I know you, I think you a more
+remarkable person than ever.  You don't seem at all like a country girl,
+and you don't talk like one."
+
+Cynthia laughed outright.  She could not help liking Janet Duncan, mere
+flesh and blood not being proof against such compliments.
+
+"I suppose it's because my father was an educated man," she said; "he
+taught me to read and speak when I was young."
+
+"Why, you are just like a person out of a novel!  Who was your father?"
+
+"He kept the store at Coniston," answered Cynthia, smiling a little
+sadly.  She would have liked to have added that William Wetherell would
+have been a great man if he had had health, but she found it difficult to
+give out confidences, especially when they were in the nature of
+surmises.
+
+"Well," said Janet, stoutly, "I think that is more like a story than
+ever.  Do you know," she continued, "I saw you once at the state capital
+outside of our grounds the day Bob ran after you.  That was when I was in
+love with him.  We had just come back from Europe then, and I thought he
+was the most wonderful person I had ever seen."
+
+If Cynthia had felt any emotion from this disclosure, she did not betray
+it.  Janet, moreover, was not looking for it.
+
+"What made you change your mind?" asked Cynthia, biting her lip.
+
+"Oh, Bob hasn't the temperament," said Janet, making use of a word that
+she had just discovered; "he's too practical--he never does or says the
+things you want him to.  He's just been out West with us on a trip, and
+he was always looking at locomotives and brakes and grades and bridges
+and all such tiresome things.  I should like to marry a poet," said Miss
+Duncan, dreamily; "I know they want me to marry Bob, and Mr. Worthington
+wants it.  I'm sure, of that.  But he wouldn't at all suit me."
+
+If Cynthia had been able to exercise an equal freedom of speech, she
+might have been impelled to inquire what young Mr. Worthington's views
+were in the matter.  As it was, she could think of nothing appropriate to
+say, and just then four people entered the room and came towards them.
+Two of these were Janet's mother and father, and the other two were Mr.
+Worthington, the elder, and the Honorable Heth Sutton.  Mrs. Duncan, whom
+Janet did not at all resemble was a person who naturally commanded
+attention.  She had strong features, and a very decided, though not
+disagreeable, manner.
+
+"I couldn't imagine what had become of you, Janet," she said, coming
+forward and throwing off her lace shawl.  "Whom have you found--a school
+friend?"
+
+"No, Mamma," said Janet, "this is Cynthia Wetherell."  "Oh," said Mrs.
+Duncan, looking very hard at Cynthia in a near-sighted way, and, not
+knowing in the least who she was; "you haven't seen Senator and Mrs.
+Meade, have you, Janet?  They were to be here at eight o'clock."
+
+"No," said Janet, turning again to Cynthia and scarcely hearing the
+question.
+
+"Janet hasn't seen them, Dudley," said Mrs. Duncan, going up to Mr.
+Worthington, who was pulling his chop whiskers by the door.  "Janet has
+discovered such a beautiful creature," she went on, in a voice which she
+did not take the trouble to lower.  "Do look at her, Alexander.  And you,
+Mr. Sutton--who are such a bureau of useful information, do tell me who
+she is.  Perhaps she comes from your part of the country--her name's
+Wetherell."
+
+"Wetherell?  Why, of course I know her," said Mr. Sutton, who was greatly
+pleased because Mrs. Duncan had likened him to an almanac: greatly
+pleased this evening in every respect, and even the diamond in his bosom
+seemed to glow with a brighter fire.  He could afford to be generous to-
+night, and he turned to Mr. Worthington and laughed knowingly.  "She's
+the ward of our friend Jethro," he explained.
+
+"What is she?" demanded Mrs. Duncan, who knew and cared nothing about
+politics, a country girl, I suppose."
+
+"Yes," replied Mr. Sutton, "a country girl from a little village not far
+from Clovelly.  A good girl, I believe, in spite of the atmosphere in
+which she has been raised."
+
+"It's really wonderful, Mr. Sutton, how you seem to know every one in
+your district, including the women and children," said the lady; "but I
+suppose you wouldn't be where you are if you didn't."
+
+The Honorable Heth cleared his throat.
+
+"Wetherell," Mr. Duncan was saying, staring at Cynthia through his
+spectacles, "where have I heard that name?"
+
+He must suddenly have remembered, and recalled also that he and his ally
+Worthington had been on opposite sides in the Woodchuck Session, for he
+sat down abruptly beside the door, and remained there for a while.  For
+Mr. Duncan had never believed Mr. Merrill's explanation concerning poor
+William Wetherell' s conduct.
+
+"Pretty, ain't she?" said Mr. Sutton to Mr. Worthington.  "Guess she's
+more dangerous than Jethro, now that we've clipped his wings a little."
+The congressman had heard of Bob's infatuation.
+
+Isaac D. Worthington, however, was in a good humor this evening and was
+moved by a certain curiosity to inspect the girl.  Though what he had
+seen and heard of his son's conduct with her had annoyed him, he did not
+regard it seriously.
+
+"Aren't you going to speak to your constituent, Mr. Sutton?"  said Mrs.
+Duncan, who was bored because her friends had not arrived; "a congressman
+ought to keep on the right side of the pretty girls, you know."
+
+It hadn't occurred to the Honorable Heth to speak to his constituent.
+The ways of Mrs. Duncan sometimes puzzled him, and he could not see why
+that lady and her daughter seemed to take more than a passing interest in
+the girl.  But if they could afford to notice her, certainly he could; so
+he went forward graciously and held out his hand to Cynthia; interrupting
+Miss Duncan in the middle of a discourse upon her diary.
+
+"How do you do, Cynthia?" said Mr. Sutton.  Had he been in Coniston, he
+would have said, "How be you?"
+
+Cynthia took the hand, but did not rise, somewhat to Mr. Sutton's
+annoyance.  A certain respect was due to a member of Congress and the
+Rajah of Clovelly.
+
+"How do you do, Mr. Sutton?" said Cynthia, very coolly.
+
+"I like her," remarked Mrs. Duncan to Mr. Worthington.
+
+"This is a splendid trip for you, eh, Cynthia?"  Mr. Sutton persisted,
+with a praiseworthy determination to be pleasant.
+
+"It has turned out to be so, Mr. Sutton," replied Cynthia.  This was not
+precisely the answer Mr. Sutton expected, and to tell the truth, he
+didn't know quite what to make of it.
+
+"A great treat to see Washington and New York, isn't it?" said Mr.
+Sutton, kindly, "a great treat for a Coniston girl.  I suppose you came
+through New York and saw the sights?"
+
+"Is there another way to get to Washington?" asked Cynthia.
+
+Mrs. Duncan nudged Mr. Worthington and drew a little nearer, while Mr.
+Sutton began to wish he had not been lured into the conversation.
+Cynthia had been very polite, but there was something in the quiet manner
+in which the girl's eyes were fixed upon him that made him vaguely
+uneasy.  He could not back out with dignity, and he felt himself on the
+verge of becoming voluble.  Mr. Sutton prided himself on never being
+voluble.
+
+"Why, no," he answered, "we have to go to New York to get anywhere in
+these days."  There was a slight pause.  "Uncle Jethro taking you and Mr.
+Prescott on a little pleasure trip?"  He had not meant to mention
+Jethro's name, but he found himself, to his surprise, a little at a loss
+for a subject.
+
+"Well, partly a pleasure trip.  It's always a pleasure for Uncle Jethro
+to do things for others," said Cynthia, quietly, "although people do not
+always appreciate what he does for them."
+
+The Honorable Heth coughed.  He was now very uncomfortable, indeed.  How
+much did this astounding young person know, whom he had thought so
+innocent?
+
+"I didn't discover he was in town until I ran across him in the corridor
+this evening.  Should have liked to have introduced him to some of the
+Washington folks--some of the big men, although not many of 'em are
+here," Mr. Sutton ran on, not caring to notice the little points of light
+in Cynthia's eyes.  (The idea of Mr. Sutton introducing Uncle Jethro to
+anybody!) "I haven't seen Ephraim Prescott.  It must be a great treat for
+him, too, to get away on a little trip and see his army friends.  How is
+he?"
+
+"He's very happy," said Cynthia.
+
+"Happy!" exclaimed Mr. Sutton.  "Oh, yes, of course, Ephraim's always
+happy, in spite of his troubles and his rheumatism.  I always liked
+Ephraim Prescott."
+
+Cynthia did not answer this remark at all, and Mr. Sutton suspected
+strongly that she did not believe it, therefore he repeated it.
+
+"I always liked Ephraim.  I want you to tell Jethro that I'm downright
+sorry I couldn't get him that Brampton postmastership."
+
+"I'll tell him that you are sorry, Mr. Sutton," replied Cynthia, gravely,
+"but I don't think it'll do any good."
+
+Not do any good!--What did the girl mean?  Mr. Sutton came to the
+conclusion that he had been condescending enough, that somehow he was
+gaining no merit in Mrs. Duncan's eyes by this kindness to a constituent.
+He buttoned up his coat rather grandly.
+
+"I hope you won't misunderstand me, Cynthia," he said.  "I regret
+extremely that my sense of justice demanded that I should make David
+Wheelock postmaster at Brampton, and I have made him so."
+
+It was now Cynthia's turn to be amazed.
+
+"But," she exclaimed, "but Cousin Ephraim is postmaster of Brampton."
+
+Mr. Sutton started violently, and that part of his face not hidden by his
+whiskers seemed to pale, and Mr: Worthington, usually self-possessed,
+took a step forward and seized him by the arm.
+
+"What does this mean, Sutton?" he said.
+
+Mr. Sutton pulled himself together, and glared at Cynthia.
+
+"I think you are mistaken," said he, "the congressman of the district
+usually arranges these matters, and the appointment will be sent to Mr.
+Wheelock to-morrow."
+
+"But Cousin Ephraim already has the appointment," said Cynthia; "it was
+sent to him this afternoon, and he is up in his room now writing to thank
+the President for it."
+
+"What in the world's the matter?" cried Mrs. Duncan, in astonishment.
+
+Cynthia's simple announcement had indeed caused something of a panic
+among the gentlemen present.  Mr. Duncan had jumped up from his seat
+beside the door, and Mr. Worthington, his face anything but impassive,
+tightened his hold on the congressman's arm.
+
+"Good God, Sutton!" he exclaimed, "can this be true?"
+
+As for Cynthia, she was no less astonished than Mrs. Duncan.  by the fact
+that these rich and powerful gentlemen were so excited over a little
+thing like the postmastership of Brampton.  But Mr. Sutton laughed; it
+was not hearty, but still it might have passed muster for a laugh.
+
+"Nonsense," he exclaimed, making a fair attempt to regain his composure,
+"the girl's got it mixed up with something else--she doesn't know what
+she's talking about."
+
+Mrs. Duncan thought the girl did look uncommonly as if she knew what she
+was talking about, and Mr. Duncan and Mr. Worthington had some such
+impression, too, as they stared at her.  Cynthia's eyes flashed, but her
+voice was no louder than before.
+
+"I am used to being believed, Mr. Sutton," she said, "but here's Uncle
+Jethro himself.  You might ask him."
+
+They all turned in amazement, and one, at least, in trepidation, to
+perceive Jethro Bass standing behind them with his hands in his pockets,
+as unconcerned as though he were under the butternut tree in Coniston.
+
+"How be you, Heth?" he said.  "Er--still got that appointment
+p-practically in your pocket?"
+
+"Uncle Jethro," said Cynthia, "Mr. Sutton does not believe me when I tell
+him that Cousin Ephraim has been made postmaster of Brampton.  He would
+like to have you tell him whether it is so or not."
+
+But this, as it happened, was exactly what the Honorable Heth did not
+want to have Jethro tell him.  How he got out of the parlor of the
+Willard House he has not to this day a very clear idea.  As a matter of
+fact, he followed Mr. Worthington and Mr. Duncan, and they made their
+exit by the farther door.  Jethro did not appear to take any notice of
+their departure.
+
+"Janet," said Mrs. Duncan, "I think Senator and Mrs. Meade must have gone
+to our sitting room."  Then, to Cynthia's surprise, the lady took her by
+the hand.  "I can't imagine what you've done, my dear," she said
+pleasantly, "but I believe that you are capable of taking care of
+yourself, and I like you."
+
+Thus it will be seen that Mrs. Duncan was an independent person. Sometimes
+heiresses are apt to be.
+
+"And I like you, too," said Janet, taking both of Cynthia's hands, "and I
+hope to see you very, very often."
+
+Jethro looked after them.
+
+"Er--the women folks seem to have some sense," he said.  Then he turned
+to Cynthia.  "B-be'n havin' some fun with Heth, Cynthy?" he inquired.
+
+"I haven't any respect for Mr. Sutton," said Cynthia, indignantly; "it
+serves him right for presuming to think that he could give a post-office
+to any one."
+
+Jethro made no remark concerning this presumption on the part of the
+congressman of the district.  Cynthia's indignation against Mr. Sutton
+was very real, and it was some time before she could compose herself
+sufficiently to tell Jethro what had happened.  His enjoyment as he
+listened may be imagined but presently he forgot this, and became aware
+that something really troubled her.
+
+"Uncle Jethro," she asked suddenly, "why do they treat me as they do?"
+
+He did not answer at once.  This was because of a pain around his heart--
+had she known it.  He had felt that pain before.
+
+"H-how do they treat you, Cynthy?"
+
+She hesitated.  She had not yet learned to use the word patronize in the
+social sense, and she was at a loss to describe the attitude of Mrs.
+Duncan and her daughter, though her instinct had registered it.  She was
+at a loss to account for Mr. Worthington's attitude, too.  Mr. Sutton's
+she bitterly resented.
+
+"Are they your enemies?" she demanded.
+
+Jethro was in real distress.
+
+"If they are," she continued, "I won't speak to them again.  If they
+can't treat me as--as your daughter ought to be treated, I'll turn my
+back on them.  I am--I am just like your daughter--am I not, Uncle
+Jethro?"
+
+He put out his hand and seized hers roughly, and his voice was thick with
+suffering.
+
+"Yes, Cynthy," he said, "you--you're all I've got in the world."
+
+She squeezed his hand in return.
+
+"I know it, Uncle Jethro," she cried contritely, "I oughtn't to have
+troubled you by asking.  You--you have done everything for me, much more
+than I deserve.  And I shan't be hurt after this when people are too
+small to appreciate how good you are, and how great."
+
+The pain tightened about Jethro's heart--tightened so sharply that he
+could not speak, and scarcely breathe because of it.  Cynthia picked up
+her novel, and set the bookmark.
+
+"Now that Cousin Eph is provided for, let's go back to Coniston, Uncle
+Jethro."  A sudden longing was upon her for the peaceful life in the
+shelter of the great ridge, and she thought of the village maples all red
+and gold with the magic touch of the frosts.  "Not that I haven't enjoyed
+my trip," she added; "but we are so happy there."
+
+He did not look at her, because he was afraid to.
+
+"C-Cynthy," he said, after a little pause, "th-thought we'd go to
+Boston."
+
+"Boston, Uncle Jethro!"
+
+"Er--to-morrow--at one--to-morrow--like to go to Boston?"
+
+"Yes," she said thoughtfully, "I remember parts of it.  The Common, where
+I used to walk with Daddy, and the funny old streets that went uphill.
+It will be nice to go back to Coniston that way--over Truro Pass in the
+train."
+
+That night a piece of news flashed over the wires to New England, and the
+next morning a small item appeared in the Newcastle Guardian to the
+effect that one Ephraim Prescott had bean appointed postmaster at
+Brampton.  Copied in the local papers of the state, it caused some
+surprise in Brampton, to be sure, and excitement in Coniston.  Perhaps
+there were but a dozen men, however, who saw its real significance,
+who knew through this item that Jethro Bass was still supreme--
+that the railroads had failed to carry this first position in their
+war against him.
+
+It was with a light heart the next morning that Cynthia, packed the
+little leather trunk which had been her father's.  Ephraim was in the
+corridor regaling his friend, Mr. Beard, with that wonderful encounter
+with General Grant which sounded so much like a Fifth Reader anecdote of
+a chance meeting with royalty. Jethro's room was full of visiting
+politicians.  So Cynthia, when she had finished her packing, went out to
+walk about the streets alone, scanning the people who passed her, looking
+at the big houses, and wondering who lived in them.  Presently she found
+herself, in the middle of the morning, seated on a bench in a little
+park, surrounded by colored mammies and children playing in the paths.
+It seemed a long time since she had left the hills, and this glimpse of
+cities had given her many things to think and dream about.  Would she
+always live in Coniston?  Or was her future to be cast among those who
+moved in the world and helped to sway it?  Cynthia felt that she was to
+be of these, though she could not reason why, and she told herself that
+the feeling was foolish.  Perhaps it was that she knew in the bottom of
+her heart that she had been given a spirit and intelligence to cope with
+a larger life than that of Coniston.  With a sense that such imaginings
+were vain, she tried to think what the would do if she were to become a
+great lady like Mrs. Duncan.
+
+She was aroused from these reflections by a distant glimpse, through the
+trees, of Mr. Robert Worthington.  He was standing quite alone on the
+edge of the park, his hands in his pockets, staring at the White House.
+Cynthia half rose, and then sat down and looked at him again.  He wore a
+light gray, loose-fitting suit and a straw hat, and she could not but
+acknowledge that there was something stalwart and clean and altogether
+appealing in him.  She wondered, indeed, why he now failed to appeal to
+Miss Duncan, and she began to doubt the sincerity of that young lady's
+statements.  Bob certainly was not romantic, but he was a man--or would
+be very soon.
+
+Cynthia sat still, although her impulse was to go away.  She scarcely
+analyzed her feeling of wishing to avoid him.  It may not be well,
+indeed, to analyze them on paper too closely.  She had an instinct that
+only pain could come from frequent meetings, and she knew now what but a
+week ago was a surmise, that he belonged to the world of which she had
+been dreaming--Mrs. Duncan's world.  Again, there was that mysterious
+barrier between them of which she had seen so many evidences.  And yet
+she sat still on her bench and looked at him.
+
+Presently he turned, slowly, as if her eyes had compelled his.  She sat
+still--it was too late, then.  In less than a minute he was standing
+beside her, looking down at her with a smile that had in it a touch of
+reproach.
+
+"How do you do, Mr. Worthington?" said Cynthia, quietly.
+
+"Mr. Worthington!" he cried, "you haven't called me that before."
+We are not children any more," she said.
+
+"What difference does that make?"
+
+"A great deal," said Cynthia, not caring to define it.
+
+"Cynthia," said Mr. Worthington, sitting down on the beach and facing
+her, "do you think you've treated me just right?"
+
+"Of course I do," she said, "or I should have treated you differently."
+
+Bob ignored such quibbling.
+
+"Why did you run away from that baseball game in Brampton?  And why
+couldn't you have answered my letter yesterday, if it were only a line?
+And why have you avoided me here in Washington?"
+
+It is very difficult to answer for another questions which one cannot
+answer for one's self.
+
+"I haven't avoided you," said Cynthia.
+
+"I've been looking for you all over town this morning," said Bob, with
+pardonable exaggeration, "and I believe that idiot Somers has, too."
+
+"Then why should you call him an idiot?" Cynthia flashed.
+
+Bob laughed.
+
+"How you do catch a fellow up!" said he; admiringly.  "We both found out
+you'd gone out for a walk alone."
+
+"How did you find it out?"
+
+"Well," said Bob, hesitating, "we asked the colored doorkeeper."
+
+"Mr. Worthington," said Cynthia, with an indignation that made him quail,
+"do you think it right to ask a doorkeeper to spy on my movements?"
+
+"I'm sorry, Cynthia," he gasped, "I--I didn't think of it that way--and
+he won't tell.  Desperate cases require desperate remedies, you know."
+
+But Cynthia was not appeased.
+
+"If you wanted to see me," she said, "why didn't you send your card to my
+room, and I would have come to the parlor."
+
+"But I did send a note, and waited around all day."
+
+How was she to tell him that it was to the tone of the note she objected
+--to the hint of a clandestine meeting?  She turned the light of her eyes
+full upon him.
+
+"Would you have been content to see me in the parlor?" she asked.  "Did
+you mean to see me there?"
+
+"Why, yes," said he; "I would have given my head to see you anywhere,
+only--"
+
+"Only what?"
+
+"Duncan might have came in and spoiled it."
+
+"Spoiled what?"
+
+Bob fidgeted.
+
+"Look here, Cynthia," he said, "you're not stupid--far from it.  Of
+course you know a fellow would rather talk to you alone."
+
+"I should have been very glad to have seen Mr. Duncan, too."
+
+"You would, would you!" he exclaimed.  "I shouldn't have thought that."
+
+"Isn't he your friend?" asked Cynthia.
+
+"Oh, yes," said Bob, "and one of the best in the world.  Only--I
+shouldn't have thought you'd care to talk to him."  And he looked around"
+for fear the vigilant Mr. Duncan was already in the park and had
+discovered them.  Cynthia smiled, and immediately became grave again.
+
+"So it was only on Mr. Duncan's account that you didn't ask me to come
+down to the parlor?" she said.
+
+Bob was in a quandary.  He was a truthful person, and he had learned
+something of the world through his three years at Cambridge.  He had seen
+many young women, and many kinds of them.  But the girl beside him was
+such a mixture of innocence and astuteness that he was wholly at a loss
+how to deal with her--how to parry her searching questions.
+
+"Naturally--I wanted to have you all to myself," he said; "you ought to
+know that."
+
+Cynthia did not commit herself on this point.  She wished to go
+mercilessly to the root of the matter, but the notion of what this would
+imply prevented her.  Bob took advantage of her silence.
+
+"Everybody who sees you falls a victim, Cynthia," he went on; "Mrs.
+Duncan and Janet lost their hearts.  You ought to have heard them
+praising you at breakfast."  He paused abruptly, thinking of the rest of
+that conversation, and laughed.  Bob seemed fated to commit himself that
+day.  "I heard the way you handled Heth Sutton," he said, plunging in.
+"I'll bet he felt as if he'd been dropped out of the third-story window,"
+and Bob laughed again.  "I'd have given a thousand dollars to have been
+there.  Somers and I went out to supper with a classmate who lives in
+Washington, in that house over there," and he pointed casually to one of
+the imposing mansions fronting on the park.  "Mrs. Duncan said she'd never
+heard anybody lay it on the way you did.  I
+don't believe you half know what happened, Cynthia.  You made a ten-
+strike."
+
+"A ten-strike?" she repeated.
+
+"Well," he said, "you not only laid out Heth, but my father and Mr.
+Duncan, too.  Mrs. Duncan laughed at 'em--she isn't afraid of anything.
+But they didn't say a word all through breakfast.  I've never seen my
+father so mad.  He ought to have known better than to run up against
+Uncle Jethro."
+
+"How did they run up against Uncle Jethro?" asked Cynthia, now keenly
+interested.
+
+"Don't you know?" exclaimed Bob, in astonishment.
+
+"No," said Cynthia, "or I shouldn't have asked."
+
+"Didn't Uncle Jethro tell you about it?"
+
+"He never tells me anything about his affairs," she answered.
+
+Bob's astonishment did not wear off at once.  Here was a new phase, and
+he was very hard put.  He had heard, casually, a good deal of abuse of
+Jethro and his methods in the last two days.
+
+"Well," he said, "I don't know anything about politics.  I don't know
+myself why father and Mr. Duncan were so eager for this post-mastership.
+But they were.  And I heard them say something about the President going
+back on them when they had telegraphed from Chicago and come to see him
+here.  And maybe they didn't let Heth in for it.  It seems Uncle Jethro
+only had to walk up to the White House.  They ought to have sense enough
+to know that he runs the state.  But what's the use of wasting time over
+this business?" said Bob.  "I told you I was going to Brampton before the
+term begins just to see you, didn't I?"
+
+"Yes, but I didn't believe you," said Cynthia.
+
+"Why not?" he demanded.
+
+"Because it's my nature, I suppose," she replied.
+
+This was too much for Bob, exasperated though he was, and he burst into
+laughter.
+
+"You're the queerest girl I've ever known," he said.
+
+Not a very original remark.
+
+"That must be saying a great deal," she answered.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"You must have known many."
+
+"I have," he admitted, "and none of 'em, no matter how much they'd
+knocked about, were able to look out for themselves any better than you."
+
+"Not even Cassandra Hopkins?" Cynthia could not resist saying.  She saw
+that she had scored; his expressions registered his sensations so
+accurately.
+
+"What do you know about her?" he said.
+
+"Oh," said Cynthia, mysteriously, "I heard that you were very fond of her
+at Andover."
+
+Bob could not help pluming himself a little.  He thought the fact that
+she had mentioned the matter a flaw in Cynthia's armor, as indeed it was.
+And yet he was not proud of the Cassandra Hopkins episode in his career.
+
+"Cassandra is one of the institutions at Andover," said he; "most fellows
+have to take a course in Cassandra to complete their education."
+
+"Yours seems to be very complete," Cynthia retorted.
+
+"Great Scott!" he exclaimed, looking at her, "no wonder you made mince-
+meat of the Honorable Heth.  Where did you learn it all, Cynthia?"
+
+Cynthia did not know.  She merely wondered where she would be if she
+hadn't learned it.  Something told her that if it were not for this
+anchor she would be drifting out to sea: might, indeed, soon be drifting
+out to sea in spite of it.  It was one thing for Mr. Robert Worthington,
+with his numerous resources, to amuse himself with a girl in her
+position; it would be quite another thing for the girl.  She got to her
+feet and held out her hand to him.
+
+"Good-by," she said.
+
+"Good-by?"
+
+"We are leaving Washington at one o'clock, and Uncle Jethro will be
+worried if I am not in time for dinner."
+
+"Leaving at one!  That's the worst luck I've had yet.  But I'm going back
+to the hotel myself."
+
+Cynthia didn't see how she was to prevent him walking with her.  She
+would not have admitted to herself that she had enjoyed this encounter,
+since she was trying so hard not to enjoy it.  So they started together
+out of the park.  Bob, for a wonder, was silent awhile, glancing now and
+then at her profile.  He knew that he had a great deal to say, but he
+couldn't decide exactly what it was to be.  This is often the case with
+young men in his state of mind: in fact, to be paradoxical again, he
+might hardly be said at this time to have had a state of mind.  He lacked
+both an attitude and a policy.
+
+"If you see Duncan before I do, let me know," he remarked finally.
+
+Cynthia bit her lip.  "Why should I?" she asked.
+
+"Because we've only got five minutes more alone together, at best.  If we
+see him in time, we can go down a side street."
+
+"I think it would be hard to get away from Mr. Duncan if we met him--even
+if we wanted to," she said, laughing outright.
+
+"You don't know how true that is," he replied, with feeling.
+
+"That sounds as though you'd tried it before."
+
+He paid no attention to this thrust.
+
+"I shan't see you again till I get to Brampton," he said; "that will be a
+whole week.  And then," he ventured to look at her, "I shan't see you
+until the Christmas holidays.  You might be a little kind, Cynthia.  You
+know I've--I've always thought the world of you.  I don't know how I'm
+going to get through the three months without seeing you."
+
+"You managed to get through a good many years," said Cynthia, looking at
+the pavement.
+
+"I know," he said; "I was sent away to school and college, and our lives
+separated."
+
+"Yes, our lives separated," she assented.
+
+"And I didn't know you were going to be like--like this," he went on,
+vaguely enough, but with feeling.
+
+"Like what?"
+
+"Like--well, I'd rather be with you and talk to you than any girl I ever
+saw.  I don't care who she is," Bob declared, "or how much she may have
+traveled."  He was running into deep water.  "Why are you so cold,
+Cynthia?"  "Why can't you be as you used to be?  You used to like me
+well enough."
+
+"And I like you now," answered Cynthia.  They were very near the hotel by
+this time.
+
+"You talk as if you were ten years older than I," he said, smiling
+plaintively.
+
+She stopped and turned to him, smiling.  They had reached the steps.
+
+"I believe I am, Bob," she replied.  "I haven't seen much of the world,
+but I've seen something of its troubles.  Don't be foolish.  If you're
+coming to Brampton just to see me, don't come.  Good-by."  And she gave
+him her hand frankly.
+
+"But I will come to Brampton," he cried, taking her hand and squeezing
+it.  "I'd like to know why I shouldn't come."
+
+As Cynthia drew her hand away a gentleman came out of the hotel, paused
+for a brief moment by the door and stared at them, and then passed on
+without a word or a nod of recognition.  It was Mr. Worthington.  Bob
+looked after his father, and then glanced at Cynthia.  There was a trifle
+more color in her cheeks, and her head was raised a little, and her eyes
+were fixed upon him gravely.
+
+"You should know why not," she said, and before he could answer her she
+was gone into the hotel.  He did not attempt to follow her, but stood
+where she had left him in the sunlight.
+
+He was aroused by the voice of the genial colored doorkeeper.
+
+"Wal, suh, you found the lady, Mistah Wo'thington.  Thought you would,
+suh.  T'other young gentleman come in while ago--looked as if he was
+feelin' powerful bad, Mistah Wo'thington."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+When they reached Boston, Cynthia felt almost as if she were home again,
+and Ephraim declared that he had had the same feeling when he returned
+from the war.  Though it be the prosperous capital of New England, it is
+a city of homes, and the dwellers of it have held stanchly to the belief
+of their forefathers that the home is the very foundation-rock of the
+nation.  Held stanchly to other beliefs, too: that wealth carries with it
+some little measure of responsibility.  The stranger within the gates of
+that city feels that if he falls, a heedless world will not go charging
+over his body: that a helping hand will be stretched out,--a helping and
+a wise hand that will inquire into the circumstances of his fall--but
+still a human hand.
+
+They were sitting in the parlor of the Tremont House that morning with
+the sun streaming in the windows, waiting for Ephraim.
+
+"Uncle Jethro," Cynthia asked, abruptly, "did you ever know my mother?"
+
+Jethro started, and looked at her quickly.
+
+"W-why, Cynthy?" he asked.
+
+"Because she grew up in Coniston," answered Cynthia.  "I never thought of
+it before, but of course you must have known her."
+
+"Yes, I knew her," he said.
+
+"Did you know her well?" she persisted.
+
+Jethro got up and went over to the window, where he stood with his back
+toward her.
+
+"Yes, Cynthy," he answered at length.
+
+"Why haven't you ever told me about her?" asked Cynthia.  How was she to
+know that her innocent questions tortured him cruelly; that the spirit of
+the Cynthia who had come to him in the tannery house had haunted him all
+his life, and that she herself, a new Cynthia, was still that spirit? The
+bygone Cynthia had been much in his thoughts since they came to
+Boston.
+
+"What was she like?"
+
+"She--she was like you, Cynthy," he said, but he did not turn round.
+"She was a clever woman, and a good woman, and--a lady, Cynthy."
+
+The girl said nothing for a while, but she tingled with pleasure because
+Jethro had compared her to her mother.  She determined to try to be like
+that, if he thought her so.
+
+"Uncle Jethro," she said presently, "I'd like to go to see the house
+where she lived."
+
+"Er--Ephraim knows it," said Jethro.
+
+So when Ephraim came the three went over the hill; past the State House
+which Bulfinch set as a crown on the crest of it looking over the sweep
+of the Common, and on into the maze of quaint, old-world streets on the
+slope beyond: streets with white porticos, and violet panes in the
+windows.  They came to an old square hidden away on a terrace of the
+hill, and after that the streets grew narrower and dingier.  Ephraim,
+whose memory never betrayed him, hobbled up to a shabby house in the
+middle of one of these blocks and rang the bell.
+
+"Here's where I found Will when I come back from the war," he said, and
+explained the matter in full to the slatternly landlady who came to the
+door.  She was a good-natured woman, who thought her boarder would not
+mind, and led the way up the steep stairs to the chamber over the roofs
+where Wetherell and Cynthia had lived and hoped and worked together;
+where he had written those pages by which, with the aid of her loving
+criticism, he had thought to become famous.  The room was as bare now as
+it had been then, and Ephraim, poking his stick through a hole in the
+carpet, ventured the assertion that even that had not been changed. Jethro,
+staring out over the chimney tops, passed his hand across his
+eyes.  Cynthia Ware had come to this!
+
+"I found him right here in that bed," Ephraim was saying, and he poked
+the bottom boards, too.  "The same bed.  Had a shack when I saw him.
+Callate he wouldn't have lived two months if the war hadn't bust up
+and I hadn't come along."
+
+"Oh, Cousin Eph!" exclaimed Cynthia.
+
+The old soldier turned and saw that there were tears in her eyes.  But,
+stranger than that, Cynthia saw that there were tears in his own.  He
+took her gently by the arm and led her down the stairs again, she
+supporting him, and Jethro following.
+
+That same morning, Jethro, whose memory was quite as good as Ephraim's,
+found a little shop tucked away in Cornhill which had been miraculously
+spared in the advance of prosperity.  Mr. Judson's name, however, was no
+longer in quaint lettering over the door.  Standing before it, Jethro
+told the story in his droll way, of a city clerk and a country bumpkin,
+and Cynthia and Ephraim both laughed so heartily that the people who were
+passing turned round to look at them and laughed too.  For the three were
+an unusual group, even in Boston.  It was not until they were seated at
+dinner in the hotel, Ephraim with his napkin tucked under his chin, that
+Jethro gave them the key to the characters in this story.
+
+"And who was the locket for, Uncle Jethro?" demanded Cynthia.
+
+Jethro, however, shook his head, and would not be induced to tell.
+
+They were still so seated when Cynthia perceived coming toward them
+through the crowded dining roam a merry, middle-aged gentleman with a
+bald head.  He seemed to know everybody in the room, for he was kept busy
+nodding right and left at the tables until he came to theirs.  He was Mr.
+Merrill who had come to see her father in Coniston, and who had spoken so
+kindly to her on that occasion.
+
+"Well, well, well," he said; "Jethro, you'll be the death of me yet.
+'Don't write-send,' eh?  Well, as long as you sent word you were here, I
+don't complain.  So you licked 'em again, eh--down in Washington?  Never
+had a doubt but what you would.  Is this the new postmaster?  How are
+you, Mr. Prescott--and Cynthia--a young lady!  Bless my soul," said Mr.
+Merrill, looking her over as he shook her hand.  "What have you done to
+her, Jethro?  What kind of beauty powder do they use in Coniston?"
+
+Mr. Merrill took the seat next to her and continued to talk, scattering
+his pleasantries equally among the three, patting her arm when her own
+turn came.  She liked Mr. Merrill very much; he seemed to her (as,
+indeed, he was) honest and kind-hearted.  Cynthia was not lacking in a
+proper appreciation of herself--that may have been discovered.  But she
+was puzzled to know why this gentleman should make it a point to pay such
+particular attention to a young country girl.  Other railroad presidents
+whom she could name had not done so.  She was thinking of these things,
+rather than listening to Mr. Merrill's conversation, when the sound of
+Mr. Worthington's name startled her.
+
+"Well, Jethro," Mr. Merrill was saying, "you certainly nipped this little
+game of Worthington's in the bud.  Thought he'd take you in the rear by
+going to Washington, did he?  Ha, ha!  I'd like to know how you did it.
+I'll get you to tell me to-night--see if I don't.  You're all coming in
+to supper to-night, you know, at seven o'clock."
+
+Ephraim laid down his knife and fork for the first time.  Were the
+wonders of this journey never to cease?  And Jethro, once in his life,
+looked nervous.
+
+"Er--er--Cyn'thy'll go, Steve--Cynthy'll go."
+
+"Yes, Cynthy'll go," laughed Mr. Merrill, "and you'll go, and Ephraim'll
+go."  Although he by no means liked everybody, as would appear at first
+glance, Mr. Merrill had a way of calling people by their first names when
+he did fancy them.
+
+"Er--Steve," said Jethro, "what would your wife say if I was to drink
+coffee out of my saucer?"
+
+"Let's see," said Mr. Merrill grave for once.  "What's the punishment for
+that in my house?  I know what she'd do if you didn't drink it.  What do
+you think she'd do, Cynthy?"
+
+"Ask him what was the matter with it," said Cynthia, promptly.
+
+"Well, Cynthy," said he, "I know why these old fellows take you round
+with 'em.  To take care of 'em, eh?  They're not fit to travel alone."
+
+And so it was settled, after much further argument, that they were all to
+sup at Mr. Merrill's house, Cynthia stoutly maintaining that she would
+not desert them.  And then Mr. Merrill, having several times repeated the
+street and number, went, back to his office.  There was much mysterious
+whispering between Ephraim and Jethro in the hotel parlor after dinner,
+while Cynthia was turning over the leaves of a magazine, and then Ephraim
+proposed going out to see the sights.
+
+"Where's Uncle Jethro going?" she asked.
+
+"He'll meet us," said Ephraim, promptly, but his voice was not quite
+steady.
+
+"Oh, Uncle Jethro!" cried Cynthia, "you're trying to get out of it.  You
+remember you promised to meet us in Washington."
+
+"Guess he'll keep this app'intment," said Ephraim, who seemed to be full
+of a strange mirth that bubbled over, for he actually winked at Jethro.
+  Cynthia's mind flew to Bunker Bill and the old North Church, but they
+went first to Faneuil Hall.  Presently they found themselves among the
+crowd in Washington Street, where Ephraim confessed the trepidation which
+he felt over the coming supper party: a trepidation greater, so he
+declared many times, than he had ever experienced before any of his
+battles in the war.  He stopped once or twice in the eddy of the crowd to
+glance up at the numbers; and finally came to a halt before the windows
+of a large dry-goods store.
+
+"I guess I ought to buy a new shirt for this occasion, Cynthy," he said,
+staring hard at the articles of apparel displayed there: "Let's go in."
+
+Cynthia laughed outright, since Ephraim could not by any chance have worn
+any of the articles in question.
+
+"Why, Cousin Ephraim," she exclaimed, "you can't buy gentlemen's things
+here."
+
+"Oh, I guess you can," said Ephraim, and hobbled confidently in  at the
+doorway.  There we will leave him for a while conversing in an undertone
+with a floor-walker, and follow Jethro.  He, curiously enough, had some
+fifteen minutes before gone in at the same doorway, questioned the same
+floor-walker, and he found himself in due time walking amongst a
+bewildering lot of models on the third floor, followed by a giggling
+saleswoman.
+
+"What kind of a dress do you want, sir?" asked the saleslady,--for we are
+impelled to call her so.
+
+"S-silk cloth," said Jethro.
+
+"What shades of silk would you like, sir?"
+
+"Shades? shades?  What do you mean by shades?"
+
+"Why, colors," said the saleslady, giggling openly.
+
+"Green," said Jethro, with considerable emphasis.
+
+The saleslady clapped her hand over her mouth and led the way to another
+model.
+
+"You don't call that green--do you?  That's not green enough."
+
+They inspected another dress, and then another and another,--not all of
+them were green,--Jethro expressing very decided if not expert views on
+each of them.  At last he paused before two models at the far end of the
+room, passing his hand repeatedly over each as he had done so often with
+the cattle of Coniston.
+
+"These two pieces same kind of goods?" he demanded.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Er-this one is a little shinier than that one?"
+
+"Perhaps the finish is a little higher," ventured the saleslady.
+
+"Sh-shinier," said Jethro.
+
+"Yes, shinier, if you please to call it so."
+
+"W-what would you call it?"
+
+By this time the saleslady had become quite hysterical, and altogether
+incapable of performing her duties.  Jethro looked at her for a moment in
+disgust, and in his predicament cast around for another to wait on him.
+There was no lack of these, at a safe distance, but they all seemed to be
+affected by the same mania.  Jethro's eye alighted upon the back of
+another customer.  She was, apparently, a respectable-looking lady of
+uncertain age, and her own attention was so firmly fixed in the
+contemplation of a model that she had not remarked the merriment about
+her, nor its cause.  She did not see Jethro, either, as he strode across
+to her.  Indeed, her first intimation of his presence was a dig in her
+arm.  The lady turned, gave a gasp of amazement at the figure confronting
+her, and proceeded to annihilate it with an eye that few women possess.
+
+"H-how do, Ma'am," he said.  Had he known anything about the appearance
+of women in general, he might have realized that he had struck a tartar.
+This lady was at least sixty-five, and probably unmarried.  Her face,
+though not at all unpleasant, was a study in character-development: she
+wore ringlets, a peculiar bonnet of a bygone age, and her clothes had
+certain eccentricities which, for, lack of knowledge, must be omitted.
+In short, the lady was no fool, and not being one she glanced at the
+giggling group of saleswomen and--wonderful to relate--they stopped
+giggling.  Then she looked again at Jethro and gave him a smile.
+One of superiority, no doubt, but still a smile.
+
+"How do you do, sir?"
+
+"T-trying to buy a silk cloth gown for a woman.  There's two over here I
+fancied a little.  Er--thought perhaps you'd help me."
+
+"Where are the dresses?" she demanded abruptly.
+
+Jethro led the way in silence until they came to the models.  She planted
+herself in front of them and looked them over swiftly but critically.
+
+"What is the age of the lady?"
+
+"W-what difference does that make?" said Jethro, whose instinct was
+against committing himself to strangers.
+
+"Difference!" she exclaimed sharply, "it makes a considerable difference.
+Perhaps not to you, but to the lady.  What coloring is she?"
+
+"C-coloring?  She's white."
+
+His companion turned her back on him.
+
+"What size is she?"
+
+"A-about that size," said Jethro, pointing to a model.
+
+"About! about!" she ejaculated, and then she faced him.  "Now look here,
+my friend," she said vigorously, "there's something very mysterious about
+all this.  You look like a good man, but you may be a very wicked one for
+all I know.  I've lived long enough to discover that appearances,
+especially where your sex is concerned, are deceitful.  Unless you are
+willing to tell me who this lady is for whom you are buying silk dresses,
+and what your relationship is to her, I shall leave you.  And mind, no
+evasions.  I can detect the truth pretty well when I hear it."
+
+Unexpected as it was, Jethro gave back a step or two before this
+onslaught of feminine virtue, and the movement did not tend to raise him
+in the lady's esteem.  He felt that he would rather face General Grant a
+thousand times than this person.  She was, indeed, preparing to sweep
+away when there came a familiar tap-tap behind them on the bare floor,
+and he turned to behold Ephraim hobbling toward them with the aid of his
+green umbrella, Cynthia by his side.
+
+"Why, it's Uncle Jethro," cried Cynthia, looking at him and the lady in
+astonishment, and then with equal astonishment at the models.  "What in
+the world are you doing here?"  Then a light seemed to dawn on her.
+
+"You frauds!  So this is what you were whispering about!  This is the way
+Cousin Ephraim buys his shirts!"
+
+"C-Cynthy," said Jethro, apologetically, "d-don't you think you ought to
+have a nice city dress for that supper party?"
+
+"So you're ashamed of my country clothes, are you?" she asked gayly.
+
+"W-want you to have the best, Cynthy," he replied.  "I-I-meant to have it
+all chose and bought when you come, but I got into a kind of argument
+with this lady."
+
+"Argument!" exclaimed the lady.  But she did not seem displeased.  She
+had been staring very fixedly at Cynthia.  "My dear," she continued
+kindly, "you look like some one I used to know a long, long time ago, and
+I'll be glad to help you.  Your uncle may be sensible enough in other
+matters, but I tell him frankly he is out of place here.  Let him go away
+and sit down somewhere with the other gentleman, and we'll get the dress
+between us, if he'll tell us how much to pay."
+
+"P-pay anything, so's you get it," said Jethro.
+
+"Uncle Jethro, do you really want it so much?"
+
+It must not be thought that Cynthia did not wish for a dress, too.  But
+the sense of dependence on Jethro and the fear of straining his purse
+never quite wore off.  So Jethro and Ephraim took to a bench at some
+distance, and at last a dress was chosen--not one of the gorgeous models
+Jethro had picked out, but a pretty, simple, girlish gown which Cynthia
+herself had liked and of which the lady highly approved.  Not content
+with helping to choose it, the lady must satisfy herself that it fit,
+which it did perfectly.  And so Cynthia was transformed into a city
+person, though her skin glowed with a health with which few city people
+are blessed.
+
+"My dear," said the lady, still staring at her, "you look very well.  I
+should scarcely have supposed it."  Cynthia took the remark in good part,
+for she thought the lady a character, which she was.  "I hope you will
+remember that we women were created for a higher purpose than mere
+beauty.  The Lord gave us brains, and meant that we should use them.  If
+you have a good mind, as I believe you have, learn to employ it for the
+betterment of your sex, for the time of our emancipation is at hand."
+Having delivered this little lecture, the lady continued to stare at her
+with keen eyes.  "You look very much like someone I used to love when I
+was younger.  What is your name."
+
+"Cynthia Wetherell."
+
+"Cynthia Wetherell?  Was your mother Cynthia Ware, from Coniston?"
+
+"Yes," said Cynthia, amazed.
+
+In an instant the strange lady had risen and had taken Cynthia in her
+embrace, new dress and all.
+
+"My dear," she said, "I thought your face had a familiar look.  It was
+your mother I knew and loved.  I'm Miss Lucretia Penniman."
+
+Miss Lucretia Penniman!  Could this be, indeed, the authoress of the
+"Hymn to Coniston," of whom Brampton was so proud?  The Miss Lucretia
+Penniman who sounded the first clarion note for the independence of
+American women, the friend of Bryant and Hawthorne and Longfellow?
+Cynthia had indeed heard of her.  Did not all Brampton point to the
+house which had held the Social Library as to a shrine?
+
+"Cynthia," said Miss Lucretia, "I have a meeting now of a girls' charity
+to which I must go, but you will come to me at the offices of the Woman's
+Hour to-morrow morning at ten.  I wish to talk to you about your mother
+and yourself."
+
+Cynthia promised, provided they did not leave for Coniston earlier, and
+in that event agreed to write.  Whereupon Miss Lucretia kissed her again
+and hurried off to her meeting.  On the way back to the Tremont House
+Cynthia related excitedly the whole circumstance to Jethro and Ephraim.
+Ephraim had heard of Miss Lucretia, of course.  Who had not?  But he did
+not read the Woman's Hour.  Jethro was silent.  Perhaps he was thinking
+of that fresh summer morning, so long ago, when a girl in a gig had
+overtaken him in the canon made by the Brampton road through the woods.
+The girl had worn a poke bonnet, and was returning a book to this same
+Miss Lucretia Penniman's Social Library.  And the book was the "Life of
+Napoleon Bonaparte."
+
+"Uncle Jethro, shall we still be in Boston to-morrow morning?"  Cynthia
+asked.
+
+He roused himself. "Yes," he said, "yes." "When are you going home?"
+
+He did not answer this simple question, but countered.  "Hain't you
+enjoyin' yourself, Cynthy?"
+
+"Of course I am," she declared.  But she thought it strange that he would
+not tell her when they would be in Coniston.
+
+Ephraim did buy a new shirt, and also (in view of the postmastership in
+his packet) a new necktie, his old one being slightly frayed.
+
+The grandeur of the approaching supper party and the fear of Mrs. Merrill
+hung very heavy over him; nor was Jethro's mind completely at rest.
+Ephraim even went so far as to discuss the question as to whether
+Mr. Merrill had not surpassed his authority in inviting him, and full
+expected to be met at the door by that gentleman uttering profuse
+apologies, which Ephraim was quite prepared and willing to take in good
+faith.
+
+Nothing of the kind happened, however.  Mr. Merrill's railroad being a
+modest one, his house was modest likewise.  But Ephraim thought it grand
+enough, and yet acknowledged a homelike quality in its grandeur.  He
+began by sitting on the edge of the sofa and staring at the cut-glass
+chandelier, but in five minutes he discovered with a shock of surprise
+that he was actually leaning back, describing in detail how his regiment
+had been cheered as they marched through Boston.  And incredible as it
+may seem, the person whom he was entertaining in this manner was Mrs.
+Stephen Merrill herself.  Mrs. Merrill was as tall as Mr. Merrill was
+short.  She wore a black satin dress with a big cameo brooch pinned at
+her throat, her hair was gray, and her face almost masculine until it
+lighted up with a wonderfully sweet smile.  That smile made Ephraim and
+Jethro feel at home; and Cynthia, too, who liked Mrs. Merrill the moment
+she laid eyes on her.
+
+Then there were the daughters, Jane and Susan, who welcomed her with a
+hospitality truly amazing for city people.  Jane was big-boned like her
+mother, but Susan was short and plump and merry like her father.  Susan
+talked and laughed, and Jane sat and listened and smiled, and Cynthia
+could not decide which she liked the best.  And presently they all went
+into the dining room to supper, where there was another chandelier over
+the table.  There was also real silver, which shone brilliantly on the
+white cloth--but there was nothing to eat.
+
+"Do tell us another story, Mr. Prescott," said Susan, who had listened to
+his last one.
+
+The sight of the table, however, had for the moment upset Ephraim, "Get
+Jethro to tell you how he took dinner with Jedge Binney," he said.
+
+This suggestion, under the circumstances, might not have been a happy
+one, but its lack of appropriateness did not strike Jethro either.  He
+yielded to the demand.
+
+"Well," he said, "I supposed I was goin' to set down same as I would at
+home, where we put the vittles on the table.  W-wondered what I was goin'
+to eat--wahn't nothin' but a piece of bread on the table.  S-sat there
+and watched 'em--nobody ate anything.  Presently I found out that
+Binney's wife ran her house same as they run hotels.  Pretty soon a
+couple of girls come in and put down some food and took it away again
+before you had a chance.  A-after a while we had coffee, and when I set
+my cup on the table, I noticed Mis' Binney looked kind of cross and began
+whisperin' to the girls.  One of 'em fetched a small plate and took my
+cup and set it on the plate.  That was all right.  I used the plate.
+
+"Well, along about next summer Binney had to come to Coniston to see me
+on a little matter and fetched his wife.  Listy, my wife, was alive then.
+I'd made up my mind that if I could ever get Mis' Binney to eat at my
+place I would, so I asked 'em to stay to dinner.  When we set down, I
+said: 'Now, Mis' Binney, you and the Judge take right hold, and anything
+you can't reach, speak out and we'll wait on you.' And Mis' Binney?'
+
+"Yes," she said.  She was a little mite scared, I guess.  B-begun to
+suspect somethin'."
+
+"Mis' Binney," said I, "y-you can set your cup and sarcer where you've a
+mind to.' O-ought to have heard the Judge laugh.  Says he to his wife:
+'Fanny, I told you Jethro'd get even with you some time for that sarcer
+business.'"
+
+This story, strange as it may seem, had a great success at Mr. Merrill's
+table.  Mr. Merrill and his daughter Susan shrieked with laughter when it
+was finished, while Mrs. Merrill and Jane enjoyed themselves quite as
+much in their quiet way.  Even the two neat Irish maids, who were serving
+the supper very much as poor Mis' Binney's had been served, were fain to
+leave the dining room abruptly, and one of them disgraced herself at
+sight of Jethro when she came in again, and had to go out once mare. Mrs.
+Merrill insisted that Jethro should pour out his coffee in what she
+was pleased to call the old-fashioned way.  All of which goes to prove
+that table-silver and cut glass chandeliers do not invariably make their
+owners heartless and inhospitable.  And Ephraim, whose plan of campaign
+had been to eat nothing to speak of and have a meal when he got back to
+the hotel, found that he wasn't hungry when he arose from the table.
+
+There was much bantering of Jethro by Mr. Merrill, which the ladies did
+not understand--talk of a mighty coalition of the big railroads which was
+to swallow up the little railroads.  Fortunately, said Mr. Merrill,
+humorously, fortunately they did not want his railroad.  Or
+unfortunately, which was it?  Jethro didn't know.  He never laughed at
+anybody's jokes.  But Cynthia, who was listening with one ear while Susan
+talked into the other, gathered that Jethro had been struggling with the
+railroads, and was sooner or later to engage in a mightier struggle with
+them.  How, she asked herself in her innocence, was any one, even Uncle
+Jethro, to struggle with a railroad?  Many other people in these latter
+days have asked themselves that very question.
+
+All together the evening at Mr. Merrill's passed off so quickly and so
+happily that Ephraim was dismayed when he discovered that it was ten
+o'clock, and he began to make elaborate apologies to the ladies.  But
+Jethro and Mr. Merrill were still closeted together in the dining room:
+once Mrs. Merrill had been called to that conference, and had returned
+after a while to take her place quietly again among the circle of
+Ephraim's listeners.  Now Mr. Merrill came out of the dining room alone.
+
+"Cynthia," he said, and his tone was a little more grave than usual,
+"your Uncle Jethro wants to speak to you."
+
+Cynthia rose, with a sense of something in the air which concerned her,
+and went into the dining room.  Was it the light falling from above that
+brought out the lines of his face so strongly?  Cynthia did not know, but
+she crossed the room swiftly and sat down beside him.
+
+"What is it, Uncle Jethro?"
+
+"C-Cynthy," he said, putting his hand over hers on the table, "I want you
+to do something for me er--for me," he repeated, emphasizing the last
+word.
+
+"I'll do anything in the world for you, Uncle Jethro," she answered; "you
+know that.  What--what is it?"
+
+"L-like Mr. Merrill, don't you?" "Yes, indeed."
+
+"L-like Mrs. Merrill--like the gals--don't you?" "Very much," said Cynthia,
+perplexedly.
+
+"Like 'em enough to--to live with 'em a winter?"
+
+"Live with them a winter!"
+
+"C-Cynthy, I want you should stay in Boston this winter and go to a young
+ladies' school."
+
+It was out.  He had said it, though he never quite knew where he had
+found the courage.
+
+"Uncle Jethro!" she cried.  She could only look at him in dismay, but the
+tears came into her eyes and sparkled.
+
+"You--you'll be happy here, Cynthy.  It'll be a change for you. And I
+shan't be so lonesome as you'd think.  I'll--I'll be busy this winter,
+Cynthy."
+
+"You know that I wouldn't leave you, Uncle Jethro," she said
+reproachfully.  "I should be lonesome, if you wouldn't.  You would be
+lonesome--you know you would be."
+
+"You'll do this for me, Cynthy.  S-said you would, didn't you--said you
+would?"
+
+"Why do you want me to do this?"
+
+"W-want you to go to school for a winter, Cynthy.  Shouldn't think I'd
+done right by you if I didn't."
+
+"But I have been to school.  Daddy taught me a lot, and Mr. Satterlee has
+taught me a great deal more.  I know as much as most girls of my age, and
+I will study so hard in Coniston this winter, if that is what you want.
+I've never neglected my lessons, Uncle Jethro."
+
+"Tain't book-larnin'--'tain't what you'd get in book larnin' in Boston,
+Cynthy."
+
+"What, then?" she asked.
+
+"Well," said Jethro, "they'd teach you to be a lady, Cynthy."
+
+"A lady!"
+
+"Your father come of good people, and--and your mother was a lady.  I'm
+only a rough old man, Cynthy, and I don't know much about the ways of
+fine folks.  But you've got it in ye, and I want you should be equal to
+the best of 'em: You can.  And I shouldn't die content unless I'd felt
+that you'd had the chance.  Er--Cynthy--will you do it for me?"
+
+She was silent a long while before she turned to him, and then the tears
+were running very swiftly down her cheeks.
+
+"Yes, I will do it for you," she answered.  "Uncle Jethro, I believe you
+are the best man, in the world."
+
+"D-don't say that, Cynthy--d-don't say that," he exclaimed, and a sharp
+agony was in his voice.  He got to his feet and went to the folding doors
+and opened them.  "Steve!" he called, "Steve!"
+
+"S-says she'll stay, Steve."
+
+Mr. Merrill had come in, followed by his wife.  Cynthia saw them but
+dimly through her tears.  And while she tried to wipe the tears away she
+felt Mrs. Merrill's arm about her, and heard that lady say:--
+ "We'll try to make you very happy, my dear, and send you back safely in
+the spring."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+An attempt will be made in these pages to set down such incidents which
+alone may be vital to this chronicle, now so swiftly running on.  The
+reasons why Mr. Merrill was willing to take Cynthia into his house must
+certainly be clear to the reader.  In the first place, he was under very
+heavy obligations to Jethro Bass for many favors; in the second place,
+Mr. Merrill had a real affection for Jethro, which, strange as it may
+seem to some, was quite possible; and in the third place, Mr. Merrill had
+taken a fancy to Cynthia, and he had never forgotten the unintentional
+wrong he had done William Wetherell.  Mr. Merrill was a man of impulses,
+and generally of good impulses.  Had he not himself urged upon Jethro the
+arrangement, it would never have come about.  Lastly, he had invited
+Cynthia to his house that his wife might inspect her, and Mrs. Merrill's
+verdict had been instant and favorable--a verdict not given in words.  A
+single glance was sufficient, for these good people so understood each
+other that Mrs. Merrill had only to raise her eyes to her husband's, and
+this she did shortly after the supper party began; while she was pouring
+the coffee, to be exact.  Thus the compact that Cynthia was to spend the
+winter in their house was ratified.
+
+There was, first of all, the parting with Jethro and the messages with
+which he and Ephraim were laden for the whole village and town of
+Coniston.  It was very hard, that parting, and need not be dwelt upon.
+Ephraim waved his blue handkerchief as the train pulled out, but Jethro
+stood on the platform, silent and motionless: more eloquent in his
+sorrow--so Mr. Merrill thought--than any human being he had ever known.
+Mr. Merrill wondered if Jethro's sorrow were caused by this parting
+alone; he believed it was not, and suddenly guessed at the true note of
+it.  Having come by chance upon the answer to the riddle, Mr. Merrill
+stood still with his hand on the carriage door and marvelled that he had
+not seen it all sooner.  He was a man to take to heart the troubles of
+his friends.  A subtle change had indeed come over Jethro, and he was not
+the same man Mr. Merrill had known for many years.  Would others, the men
+with whom Jethro contended and the men he commanded, mark this change?
+And what effect would it have on the conflict for the mastery of a state
+which was to be waged from now on?
+
+"Father," said his daughter Susan, "if you don't get in and close the
+door, we'll drive off and leave you standing on the sidewalk."
+
+Thus Cynthia went to her new friends in their own carriage.  Mrs. Merrill
+was goodness itself, and loved the girl for what she was.  How, indeed,
+was she to help loving her?  Cynthia was scrupulous in her efforts to
+give no trouble, and yet she never had the air of a dependent or a
+beneficiary; but held her head high, and when called upon gave an opinion
+as though she had a right to it.  The very first morning Susan, who was
+prone to be late to breakfast, came down in a great state of excitement
+and laughter.
+
+"What do you think Cynthia's done, Mother?" she cried.  "I went into her
+room a while ago, and it was all swept and aired, and she was making up
+the bed."
+
+"That's an excellent plan," said Mrs. Merrill, "tomorrow morning you
+three girls will have a race to see who makes up her room first."
+
+It is needless to say that the race at bed-making never came off, Susan
+and Jane having pushed Cynthia into a corner as soon as breakfast was
+over, and made certain forcible representations which she felt bound to
+respect, and a treaty was drawn up and faithfully carried out, between
+the three, that she was to do her own room if necessary to her happiness.
+The chief gainer by the arrangement was the chambermaid.
+
+Odd as it may seem, the Misses Merrill lived amicably enough with
+Cynthia.  It is a difficult matter to force an account of the
+relationship of five people living in one house into a few pages, but the
+fact that the Merrills had large hearts makes this simpler.  There are
+few families who can accept with ease the introduction of a stranger into
+their midst, even for a time, and there are fewer strangers who can with
+impunity be introduced.  The sisters quarrelled among themselves as all
+sisters will, and sometimes quarrelled with Cynthia.  But oftener they
+made her the arbiter of their disputes, and asked her advice on certain
+matters.  Especially was this true of Susan, whom certain young gentlemen
+from Harvard College called upon more or less frequently, and Cynthia had
+all of Susan's love affairs--including the current one--by heart in a
+very short time.
+
+As for Cynthia, there were many subjects on which she had to take the
+advice of the sisters.  They did not criticise the joint creations of
+herself and Miss Sukey Kittredge as frankly as Janet Duncan had done; but
+Jethro had left in Mrs. Merrill's hands a certain sufficient sum for new
+dresses for Cynthia, and in due time the dresses were got and worn.  To
+do them justice, the sisters were really sincere in their rejoicings over
+the very wonderful transformation which they had been chiefly
+instrumental in effecting.
+
+It is not a difficult task to praise a heroine, and one that should be
+indulged in but charily.  But let some little indulgence be accorded this
+particular heroine by reason of the life she had led, and the situation
+in which she now found herself: a poor Coniston girl, dependent on one
+who was not her father, though she loved him as a father; beholden to
+these good people who dwelt in a world into which she had no reasonable
+expectations of entering, and which, to tell the truth, she now feared.
+
+It was inevitable that Cynthia should be brought into contact with many
+friends and relations of the family.  Some of these noticed and admired
+her; others did neither; others gossiped about Mrs. Merrill behind her
+back at her own dinners and sewing circles and wondered what folly could
+have induced her to bring the girl into her house.  But Mrs. Merrill,
+like many generous people who do not stop to calculate a kindness, was
+always severely criticised.
+
+And then there were Jane's and Susan's friends, in and out of Miss
+Sadler's school.  For Mrs. Merrill's influence had been sufficient to
+induce Miss Sadler to take Cynthia as a day scholar with her own
+daughters.  This, be it known, was a great concession on the part of Miss
+Sadler, who regarded Cynthia's credentials as dubious enough; and her
+young ladies were inclined to regard them so, likewise.  Some of these
+young ladies came from other cities,--New York and Philadelphia and
+elsewhere,--and their fathers and mothers were usually people to be
+mentioned as a matter of course--were, indeed, frequently so mentioned by
+Miss Sadler, especially when a visitor called at the school.
+
+"Isabel, I saw that your mother sailed for Europe yesterday," or, "Sally,
+your father tells me he is building a gallery for his collection."  Then
+to the visitor, "You know the Broke house in Washington Square, of
+course."
+
+Of course the visitor did.  But Sally or Isabel would often imitate Miss
+Sadler behind her back, showing how well they understood her
+snobbishness.
+
+Miss Sadler was by no means the type which we have come to recognize in
+the cartoons as the Boston school ma'am.  She was a little, round person
+with thin lips and a sharp nose all out of character with her roundness,
+and bright eyes like a bird's.  To do her justice, so far as instruction
+went, her scholars were equally well cared for, whether they hailed from
+Washington Square or Washington Court House.  There were, indeed, none
+from such rural sorts of places--except Cynthia.  But Miss Sadler did not
+take her hand on the opening day--or afterward--and ask her about Uncle
+Jethro.  Oh, no.  Miss Sadler had no interest for great men who did not
+sail for Europe or add picture galleries on to their houses.  Cynthia
+laughed, a little bitterly, perhaps, at the thought of a picture gallery
+being added to the tannery house.  And she told herself stoutly that
+Uncle Jethro was a greater man than any of the others, even if Miss
+Sadler did not see fit to mention him.  So she had her first taste of a
+kind of wormwood that is very common in the world though it did not grow
+in Coniston.
+
+For a while after Cynthia's introduction to the school she was calmly
+ignored by many of the young ladies there, and once openly--snubbed, to
+use the word in its most disagreeable sense.  Not that she gave any of
+them any real cause to snub her.  She did not intrude her own affairs
+upon them, but she was used to conversing kindly with the people about
+her as equals, and for this offence; on the third day, Miss Sally Broke
+snubbed her.  It is hard not to make a heroine of Cynthia, not to be able
+to relate that she instantly put Miss Sally's nose out of joint.  Susan
+Merrill tried to do that, and failed signally, for Miss Sally's nose was
+not easily dislodged.  Susan fought more than one of Cynthia's battles.
+As a matter of fact, Cynthia did not know that she had been affronted
+until that evening.  She did not tell her friends how she spent the night
+yearning fiercely for Coniston and Uncle Jethro, at times weeping for
+them, if the truth be told; how she had risen before the dawn to write a
+letter, and to lay some things in the rawhide trunk.  The letter was
+never sent, and the packing never finished.  Uncle Jethro wished her to
+stay and to learn to be a lady, and stay she would, in spite of Miss
+Broke and the rest of them.  She went to school the next day, and for
+many days and weeks thereafter, and held communion with the few alone who
+chose to treat her pleasantly.  Unquestionably this is making a heroine
+of Cynthia.
+
+If young men are cruel in their schools, what shall be written of young
+women?  It would be better to say that both are thoughtless.  Miss Sally
+Broke, strange as it may seem, had a heart, and many of the other young
+ladies whose fathers sailed for Europe and owned picture galleries; but
+these young ladies were absorbed, especially after vacation, in affairs
+of which a girl from Coniston had no part.  Their friends were not her
+friends, their amusements not her amusements, and their talk not her
+talk.  But Cynthia watched them, as was her duty, and gradually absorbed
+many things which are useful if not essential--outward observances of
+which the world takes cognizance, and which she had been sent there by
+Uncle Jethro to learn.  Young people of Cynthia's type and nationality
+are the most adaptable in the world.
+
+Before the December snows set in Cynthia had made one firm friend, at
+least, in Boston; outside of the Merrill family.  That friend was Miss
+Lucretia Penniman, editress of the Woman's Hour.  Miss Lucretia lived in
+the queerest and quaintest of the little houses tucked away under the
+hill, with the back door a story higher than the fronts an arrangement
+which in summer enabled the mistress to walk out of her sitting-room
+windows into a little walled garden.  In winter that sitting room was the
+sunniest, cosiest room in the city, and Cynthia spent many hours there,
+reading or listening to the wisdom that fell from the lips of Miss
+Lucretia or her guests.  The sitting room had uneven, yellow-white
+panelling that fairly shone with enamel, mahogany bookcases filled with
+authors who had chosen to comply with Miss Lucretia's somewhat rigorous
+censorship; there was a table laden with such magazines as had to do with
+the uplifting of a sex, a delightful wavy floor covered with a rose
+carpet; and, needless to add, not a pin or a pair of scissors out of
+place in the whole apartment.
+
+There is no intention of enriching these pages with Miss Lucretia's
+homilies.  Their subject-matter may be found in the files of the Woman's
+Hour.  She did not always preach, although many people will not believe
+this statement.  Miss Lucretia, too, had a heart, though she kept it
+hidden away, only to be brought out on occasions when she was sure of its
+appreciation, and she grew strangely interested in this self-contained
+girl from Coniston whose mother she had known.  Miss Lucretia understood
+Cynthia, who also was the kind who kept her heart hidden, the kind who
+conceal their troubles and sufferings because they find it difficult to
+give them out.  So Miss Lucretia had Cynthia to take supper with her at
+least once in the week, and watched her quietly, and let her speak of as
+much of her life as she chose--which was not much, at first.  But Miss
+Lucretia was content to wait, and guessed at many things which Cynthia
+did not tell her, and made some personal effort, unknown to Cynthia, to
+find out other things.  It will be said that she had designs on the girl.
+If so, they were generous designs; and perhaps it was inevitable that
+Miss Lucretia should recognize in every young woman of spirit and brains
+a possible recruit for the cause.
+
+It has now been shown in some manner and as briefly as possible how
+Cynthia's life had changed, and what it had become.  We have got her
+partly through the winter, and find her still dreaming of the sparkling
+snow on Coniston and of the wind whirling it on clear, cold days like
+smoke among the spruces; of Uncle Jethro sitting by his stove through the
+long evenings all alone; of Rias in his store and Moses Hatch and Lem
+Hallowell, and Cousin Ephraim in his new post-office.  Uncle Jethro wrote
+for the first time in his life--letters: short letters, but in his own
+handwriting, and deserving of being read for curiosity's sake if there
+were time.  The wording was queer enough and guarded enough, but they
+were charged with a great affection which clung to them like lavender.
+
+And Cynthia kept them every one, and read them over on such occasions
+when she felt that she could not live another minute out of sight of her
+mountain.
+
+Such was the state of affairs one gray afternoon in December when
+Cynthia, who was sitting in Mrs. Merrill's parlor, suddenly looked up
+from her book to discover that two young men were in the room.  The young
+men were apparently quite as much surprised as she, and the parlor maid
+stood grinning behind them.
+
+"Tell Miss Susan and Miss Jane, Ellen," said Cynthia, preparing to
+depart.  One of the young men she recognized from a photograph on Susan's
+bureau.  He was, for the time being, Susan's.  His name, although it does
+not matter much, was Morton Browne, and he would have been considerably
+astonished if he had guessed how much of his history Cynthia knew.  It
+was Mr. Browne's habit to take Susan for a walk as often as propriety
+permitted, and on such occasions he generally brought along a good-
+natured classmate to take care of Jane.  This, apparently, was one of the
+occasions.  Mr. Browne was tall and dark and generally good-looking,
+while his friends were usually distinguished for their good nature.
+
+Mr. Browne stood between her and the door and looked at her rather fixedly.
+Then he said:--"Excuse me."
+
+A great many friendships, and even love affairs, have been inaugurated by
+just such an opening.
+
+"Certainly," said Cynthia, and tried to pass out.  But Mr. Browne had no
+intention of allowing her to do so if he could help it.
+
+"I hope I am not intruding," he said politely.
+
+"Oh, no," answered Cynthia, wondering how she could get by him.
+
+"Were you waiting for Miss Merrill?"
+
+"Oh, no," said Cynthia again.
+
+The other young man turned his back and became absorbed in the picture of
+a lion getting ready to tear a lady to pieces.  But Mr. Browne was of
+that mettle which is not easily baffled in such matters.  He introduced
+himself, and desired to know whom he had the honor of addressing. Cynthia
+could not but enlighten him.  Mr. Browne was greatly astonished,
+and showed it.
+
+"So you are the mysterious young lady who has been staying here in the
+house this winter," he exclaimed, as though it were a marvellous thing.
+"I have heard Miss Merrill speak of you.  She admires you very much.
+Is it true that you come from--Coniston?"
+
+"Yes," she said.
+
+"Let me see--where is Coniston?" inquired Mr. Browne.
+
+"Do you know where Brampton is?" asked Cynthia.  "Coniston is near
+Brampton."
+
+"Brampton!" exclaimed Mr. Browne, "I have a classmate who comes from
+Brampton--Bob Worthington--You must know Bob, then."
+
+Yes, Cynthia knew Mr. Worthington.
+
+"His father's got a mint of money, they say.  I've been told that old
+Worthington was the whole show up in those parts.  Is that true?"
+
+"Not quite," said Cynthia.
+
+Not quite!  Mr. Morton Browne eyed her in surprise, and from that moment
+she began to have decided possibilities.  Just then Jane and Susan
+entered arrayed for the walk, but Mr. Browne showed himself in no hurry
+to depart: began to speak, indeed, in a deprecating way about the
+weather, appealed to his friend, Mr. King, if it didn't look remarkably
+like rain, or hail, or snow.  Susan sat down, Jane sat down, Mr. Browne
+and his friend prepared to sit down when Cynthia moved toward the door.
+
+"You're not going, Cynthia!" cried Susan, in a voice that may have had a
+little too much eagerness in it.  "You must stay and help us entertain
+Mr. Browne."  (Mr. King, apparently, was not to be entertained.) "We've
+tried so hard to make her come down when people called, Mr. Browne, but
+she never would."
+
+Cynthia was not skilled in the art of making excuses.  She hesitated for
+one, and was lost.  So she sat down, as far from Mr. Browne as possible,
+next to Jane.  In a few minutes Mr. Browne was seated beside her, and how
+he accomplished this manoeuvre Cynthia could not have said, so skilfully
+and gradually was it done.  For lack of a better subject he chose Mr.
+Robert Worthington.  Related, for Cynthia's delectation, several of Bob's
+escapades in his freshman year: silly escapades enough, but very bold and
+daring and original they sounded to Cynthia, who listened (if Mr. Browne
+could have known it) with almost breathless interest, and forgot all
+about poor Susan talking to Mr. King.  Did Mr. Worthington still while
+away his evenings stealing barber poles and being chased around Cambridge
+by irate policemen?  Mr. Browne laughed at the notion.  O dear, no!
+seniors never descended to that.  Had not Miss Wetherell heard the song
+wherein seniors were designated as grave and reverend?  Yes, Miss
+Wetherell had heard the song.  She did not say where, or how.  Mr.
+Worthington, said his classmate, had become very serious-minded this
+year.  Was captain of the base-ball team and already looking toward the
+study of law.
+
+"Study law!" exclaimed Cynthia, "I thought he would go into his father's
+mills."
+
+"Do you know Bob very well?" asked Mr. Browne.
+
+She admitted that she did not.
+
+"He's been away from Brampton a good deal, of course," said Mr. Browne,
+who seemed pleased by her admission.  To do him justice, he would not
+undermine a classmate, although he had other rules of conduct which might
+eventually require a little straightening out.  "Worthy's a first-rate
+fellow, a little quick-tempered, perhaps, and inclined to go his own way.
+He's got a good mind, and he's taken to using it lately.  He has come
+pretty near being suspended once or twice."
+
+Cynthia wanted to ask what "suspended" was.  It sounded rather painful.
+But at this instant there was the rattle of a latch key at the door,
+and Mr. Merrill walked in.
+
+"Well, well," he said, spying Cynthia, "so you have got Cynthia to come
+down and entertain the young men at last."
+
+"Yes," said Susan, "we have got Cynthia to come down at last."
+
+Susan did not go to Cynthia's room that night to chat, as usual, and Mr.
+Morton Browne's photograph was mysteriously removed from the prominent
+position it had occupied.  If Susan had carried out a plan which she
+conceived in a moment of folly of placing that photograph on Cynthia's
+bureau, there would undoubtedly have been a quarrel.  Cynthia's own
+feelings--seeing that Mr. Browne had not dazzled her--were not--enviable.
+
+But she held her peace, which indeed was all she could do, and the next
+time Mr. Browne called, though he took care to mention her name
+particularly at the door, she would not go down to entertain him: though
+Susan implored and Jane appealed, she would not go down.  Mr. Browne
+called several times again, with the same result.  Cynthia was
+inexorable--she would have none of him.  Then Susan forgave her.  There
+was no quarrel, indeed, but there was a reconciliation, which is the best
+part of a quarrel.  There were tears, of Susan's shedding; there was a
+character-sketch of Mr. Browne, of Susan's drawing, and that gentleman
+flitted lightly out of Susan's life.
+
+Some ten days subsequent to this reconciliation Ellen, the parlor maid,
+brought up a card to Cynthia's room.  The card bore the name of Mr.
+Robert Worthington.  Cynthia stared at it, and bent it in her fingers,
+while Ellen explained how the gentleman had begged that she might see
+him.  To tell the truth, Cynthia had wondered more than once why he had
+not come before, and smiled when she thought of all the assurances of
+undying devotion she had heard in Washington.  After all, she reflected,
+why should she not see him--once?  He might give her news of Brampton and
+Coniston.  Thus willingly deceiving herself, she told Ellen that she
+would go down: much to the girl's delight, for Cynthia was a favorite in
+the house.
+
+As she entered the parlor Mr. Worthington was standing in the window.
+When he turned and saw her he started to come forward in his old
+impetuous way, and stopped and looked at her in surprise.  She herself
+did not grasp the reason for this.
+
+"Can it be possible," he said, "can it be possible that this is my friend
+from the country?"  And he took her hand with the greatest formality,
+pressed it the least little bit, and released it.  "How do you do, Miss
+Wetherell?  Do you remember me?"
+
+"How do you do--Bob," she answered, laughing in spite of herself at his
+banter.  "You haven't changed, anyway."
+
+"It was Mr. Worthington in Washington," said he.  "Now it is 'Bob' and
+'Miss Wetherell.'  Rank patronage!  How did you do it, Cynthia?"
+
+"You are like all men," said Cynthia, "you look at the clothes, and not
+the woman.  They are not very fine clothes; but if they were much finer,
+they wouldn't change me."
+
+"Then it must be Miss Sadler."
+
+"Miss Sadler would willingly change me--if she could," said Cynthia, a
+little bitterly.  "How did you find out I was at Miss Sadler's?"
+
+"Morton Browne told me yesterday," said Bob. "I felt like punching his
+head."
+
+"What did he tell you?" she asked with some concern.
+
+"He said that you were here, visiting the Merrills, among other things,
+and said that you knew me."
+
+The "other things" Mr. Browne had said were interesting, but flippant.
+He had seen Bob at a college club and declared that he had met a witch of
+a country girl at the Merrills.  He couldn't make her out, because she
+had refused to see him every time he called again.  He had also repeated
+Cynthia's remark about Bob's father not being quite the biggest man in
+his part of the country, and ventured the surmise that she was the
+daughter of a rival mill owner.
+
+"Why didn't you let me know you were in Boston?" said Bob, reproachfully.
+
+"Why should I?" asked Cynthia, and she could not resist adding, "Didn't
+you find it out when you went to Brampton--to see me?"
+
+"Well," said he, getting fiery red, "the fact is--I didn't go to
+Brampton."
+
+"I'm glad you were sensible enough to take my advice, though I suppose
+that didn't make any difference.  But--from the way you spoke, I should
+have thought nothing could have kept you away."
+
+"To tell you the truth," said Bob, "I'd promised to visit a fellow named
+Broke in my class, who lives in New York.  And I couldn't get out of it.
+His sister, by the way, is in Miss Sadler's.  I suppose you know her.
+But if I'd thought you'd see me, I should have gone to Brampton, anyway.
+You were so down on me in Washington."
+
+"It was very good of you to take the trouble to come to see me here.
+There must be a great many girls in Boston you have to visit."
+
+He caught the little note of coolness in her voice.  Cynthia was asking
+herself whether, if Mr. Browne had not seen fit to give a good report of
+her, he would have come at all.  He would have come, certainly.  It is to
+be hoped that Bob Worthington's attitude up to this time toward Cynthia
+has been sufficiently defined by his conversation and actions.  There had
+been nothing serious about it.  But there can be no question that Mr.
+Browne's openly expressed admiration had enhanced her value in his eyes.
+
+"There's no girl in Boston that I care a rap for," he said.
+
+"I'm relieved to hear it," said Cynthia, with feeling.
+
+"Are you really?"
+
+"Didn't you expect me to be, when you said it?"
+
+He laughed uncomfortably.
+
+"You've learned more than one thing since you've been in the city," he
+remarked, "I suppose there are a good many fellows who come here all the
+time."
+
+"Yes, there are," she said demurely.
+
+"Well," he remarked, "you've changed a lot in three months.  I always
+thought that, if you had a chance, there'd be no telling where you'd end
+up."
+
+"That doesn't sound very complimentary," said Cynthia.  She had, indeed,
+changed.  "In what terrible place do you think I'll end up?"
+
+"I suppose you'll marry one of these Boston men."
+
+"Oh," she laughed, "that wouldn't be so terrible, would it?"
+
+"I believe you're engaged to one of 'em now," he remarked, looking very
+hard at her.
+
+"If you believed that, I don't think you would say it," she answered.
+
+"I can't make you out.  You used to be so frank with me, and now you're
+not at all so.  Are you going to Coniston for the holidays?"
+
+Her face fell at the question.
+
+"Oh, Bob," she cried, surprising him utterly by a glimpse of the real
+Cynthia, "I wish I were--I wish I were!  But I don't dare to."
+
+"Don't dare to?"
+
+"If I went, I should' never come back--never.  I should stay with Uncle
+Jethro.  He's so lonesome up there, and I'm so lonesome down here,
+without him.  And I promised him faithfully I'd stay a whole winter at
+school in Boston."
+
+"Cynthia," said Bob, in a strange voice as he leaned toward her, "do you-
+-do you care for him as much as all that?"
+
+"Care for him?" she repeated.
+
+"Care for--for Uncle Jethro?"
+
+"Of course I care for him," she cried, her eyes flashing at the thought.
+"I love him better than anybody in the world.  Certainly no one ever had
+better reason to care for a person.  My father failed when he came to
+Coniston--he was not meant for business, and Uncle Jethro took care of
+him all his life, and paid his debts.  And he has taken care of me and
+given me everything that a girl could wish.  Very few people know what a
+fine character Uncle Jethro has," continued Cynthia, carried away as she
+was by the pent-up flood of feeling within her.  "I know what he has done
+for others, and I should love him for that even if he never had done
+anything for me."
+
+Bob was silent.  He was, in the first place, utterly amazed at this
+outburst, revealing as it did a depth of passionate feeling in the girl
+which he had never suspected, and which thrilled him.  It was unlike her,
+for she was usually so self-repressed; and, being unlike her, accentuated
+both sides of her character the more.
+
+But what was he to say of the defence of Jethro Bass?  Bob was not a
+young man who had pondered much over the problems of life, because these
+problems had hitherto never touched him.  But now he began to perceive,
+dimly, things that might become the elements of a tragedy, even as Mr.
+Merrill had perceived them some months before.  Could a union endure
+between so delicate a creature as the girl before him and Jethro Bass?
+Could Cynthia ever go back to him again, and live with him happily,
+without seeing many things which before were hidden by reason of her
+youth and innocence?
+
+Bob had not been nearly four years at college without learning something
+of the world; and it had not needed the lecture from his father, which he
+got upon leaving Washington, to inform him of Jethro's political
+practices.  He had argued soundly with his father on that occasion,
+having the courage to ask Mr. Worthington in effect whether he did not
+sanction his underlings to use the same tools as Jethro used.  Mr.
+Worthington was righteously angry, and declared that Jethro had
+inaugurated those practices in the state, and had to be fought with his
+own weapons.  But Mr. Worthington had had the sense at that time not to
+mention Cynthia's name.  He hoped and believed that that affair was not
+serious, and merely a boyish fancy--as indeed it was.
+
+It remains to be said, however, that the lecture had not been without its
+effect upon Bob.  Jethro Bass, after all, was--Jethro Bass.  All his life
+Bob had heard him familiarly and jokingly spoken of as the boss of the
+state, and had listened to the tales, current in all the country towns,
+of how Jethro had outwitted this man or that.  Some of them were not
+refined tales.  Jethro Bass as the boss of the state--with the tolerance
+with which the public in general regard politics--was one thing.  Bob was
+willing to call him "Uncle Jethro," admire his great strength and
+shrewdness, and declare that the men he had outwitted had richly deserved
+it.  But Jethro Bass as the ward of Cynthia Wetherell was quite another
+thing.
+
+It was not only that Cynthia had suddenly and inevitably become a lady.
+That would not have mattered, for such as she would have borne Coniston
+and the life of Coniston cheerfully.  But Bob reflected, as he walked
+back to his rooms in the dark through the snow-laden streets, that
+Cynthia, young though she might be, possessed principles from which no
+love would sway her a hair's breadth.  How, indeed, was she to live with
+Jethro once her eyes were opened?
+
+The thought made him angry, but returned to him persistently during the
+days that followed,--in the lecture room, in the gymnasium, in his own
+study, where he spent more time than formerly.  By these tokens it will
+be perceived that Bob, too, had changed a little.  And the sight of
+Cynthia in Mrs. Merrill's parlor had set him to thinking in a very
+different manner than the sight of her in Washington had affected him.
+Bob had managed to shift the subject from Jethro, not without an effort,
+though he had done it in that merry, careless manner which was so
+characteristic of him.  He had talked of many things,--his college life,
+his friends,--and laughed at her questions about his freshman escapades.
+But when at length, at twilight, he had risen to go, he had taken both
+her hands and looked down into her face with a very different expression
+than she had seen him wear before--a much more serious expression, which
+puzzled her.  It was not the look of a lover, nor yet that of a man who
+imagines himself in love.  With either of these her instinct would have
+told her how to deal.  It was more the look of a friend, with much of the
+masculine spirit of protection in it.
+
+"May I come to see you again?" he asked.
+
+Gently she released her hands, and she did not answer at once.  She went
+to the window, and stared across the sloping street at the grilled
+railing before the big house opposite, thinking.  Her reason told her
+that he should not come, but her spirit rebelled against that reason.  It
+was a pleasure to see him, so she freely admitted to herself.  Why should
+she not have that pleasure?  If the truth be told, she had argued it all
+out before, when she had wondered whether he would come.  Mrs. Merrill,
+she thought, would not object to his coming.  But--there was the question
+she had meant to ask him.
+
+"Bob," she said, turning to him, "Bob, would your father want you to
+come?"
+
+It was growing dark, and she could scarcely see his face.  He hesitated,
+but he did not attempt to evade the question.
+
+"No, he would not," he answered.  And added, with a good deal of force
+and dignity: "I am of age, and can choose my own friends.  I am my own
+master.  If he knew you as I knew you, he would look at the matter in a
+different light."
+
+Cynthia felt that this was not quite true.  She smiled a little sadly.
+
+"I am afraid you don't know me very well, Bob."  He was about to protest,
+but she went on, bravely, "Is it because he has quarrelled with Uncle
+Jethro?"
+
+"Yes," said Bob.  She was making it terribly hard for him, sparing indeed
+neither herself nor him.
+
+"If you come here to see me, it will cause a quarrel between you and your
+father.  I--I cannot do that."
+
+"There is nothing wrong in my seeing you," said Bob, stoutly; "if he
+cares to quarrel with me for that, I cannot help it.  If the people I
+choose for my friends are good people, he has no right to an objection,
+even though he is my father."
+
+Cynthia had never come so near real admiration for him as at that moment.
+
+"No, Bob, you must not come," she said.  "I will not have you quarrel
+with him on my account."
+
+"Then I will quarrel with him on my own account," he had answered.
+"Good-by. You may expect me this day week."
+
+He went into the hall to put on his overcoat.  Cynthia stood still on the
+spot of the carpet where he had left her.  He put his head in at the
+door.
+
+"This day week," he said.
+
+"Bob, you must not come," she answered.  But the street door closed after
+him as he spoke.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+"You must not come."  Had Cynthia made the prohibition strong enough?
+Ought she not to have said, "If you do come, I will not see you?"  Her
+knowledge of the motives of the men and women in the greater world was
+largely confined to that which she had gathered from novels--not trashy
+novels, but those by standard authors of English life.  And many another
+girl of nineteen has taken a novel for a guide when she has been suddenly
+confronted with the first great problem outside of her experience.
+Somebody has declared that there are only seven plots in the world.
+There are many parallels in English literature to Cynthia's position,--so
+far as she was able to define that position,--the wealthy young peer, the
+parson's or physician's daughter, and the worldly, inexorable parents who
+had other plans.
+
+Cynthia was, of course, foolish.  She would not look ahead, yet there was
+the mirage in the sky when she allowed herself to dream.  It can
+truthfully be said that she was not in love with Bob Worthington.  She
+felt, rather than knew, that if love came to her the feeling she had for
+Jethro Bass--strong though that was--would be as nothing to it.  The girl
+felt the intensity of her nature, and shrank from it when her thoughts
+ran that way, for it frightened her.
+
+"Mrs. Merrill" she said, a few days later, when she found herself alone
+with that lady, "you once told me you would have no objection if a friend
+came to see me here."
+
+"None whatever, my dear," answered Mrs. Merrill.  "I have asked you to
+have your friends here."
+
+Mrs. Merrill knew that a young man had called on Cynthia.  The girls had
+discussed the event excitedly, had teased Cynthia about it; they had
+discovered, moreover, that the young man had not been a tiller of the
+soil or a clerk in a country store.  Ellen, with the enthusiasm of her
+race, had painted him in glowing colors--but she had neglected to read
+the name on his card.
+
+"Bob Worthington came to see me last week, and he wants to come again.
+He lives in Brampton," Cynthia explained, "and is at Harvard College."
+
+Mrs. Merrill was decidedly surprised.  She went on with her sewing,
+however, and did not betray the fact.  She knew of Dudley Worthington as
+one of the richest and most important men in his state; she had heard her
+husband speak of him often; but she had never meddled with politics and
+railroad affairs.
+
+"By all means let him come, Cynthia," she replied.
+
+When Mr. Merrill got home that evening she spoke of the matter to him.
+
+"Cynthia is a strange character," she said.  "Sometimes I can't
+understand her--she seems so much older than our girls, Stephen.  Think
+of her keeping this to herself for four days!"
+
+Mr. Merrill laughed, but he went off to a little writing room he had and
+sat for a long time looking into the glowing coals.  Then he laughed
+again.  Mr. Merrill was a philosopher.  After all, he could not forbid
+Dudley Worthington's son coming to his house, nor did he wish to.
+
+That same evening Cynthia wrote a letter and posted it.  She found it a
+very difficult letter to write, and almost as difficult to drop into the
+mail-box.  She reflected that the holidays were close at hand, and then
+he would go to Brampton and forget, even as he had forgotten before.  And
+she determined when Wednesday afternoon came around that she would take a
+long walk in the direction of Brookline.  Cynthia loved these walks, for
+she sadly missed the country air,--and they had kept the color in her
+cheeks and the courage in her heart that winter.  She had amazed the
+Merrill girls by the distances she covered, and on more than one occasion
+she had trudged many miles to a spot from which there was a view of Blue
+Hills.  They reminded her faintly of Coniston.
+
+Who can speak or write with any certainty of the feminine character, or
+declare what unexpected twists perversity and curiosity may give to it?
+Wednesday afternoon came, and Cynthia did not go to Brookline.  She put
+on her coat, and took it off again.  Would he dare to come in the face of
+the mandate he had received?  If he did come, she wouldn't see him.
+Ellen had received her orders.
+
+At four o'clock the doorbell rang, and shortly thereafter Ellen appeared,
+simpering and apologetic enough, with a card.  She had taken the trouble
+to read it this time.  Cynthia was angry, or thought she was, and her
+cheeks were very red.
+
+"I told you to excuse me, Ellen.  Why did you let him in?"
+
+"Miss Cynthia, darlin'," said Ellen, "if it was made of flint I was,
+wouldn't he bring the tears out of me with his wheedlin' an' coaxin'?
+An' him such a fine young gintleman!  And whin he took to commandin'
+like, sure I couldn't say no to him at all at all.  'Take the card to
+her, Ellen,' he says--didn't he know me name!--'an' if she says she won't
+see me, thin I won't trouble her more.'  Thim were his words, Miss."
+
+There he was before the fire, his feet slightly apart and his hands in
+his pockets, waiting for her.  She got a glimpse of him standing thus, as
+she came down the stairs.  It was not the attitude of a culprit.  Nor did
+he bear the faintest resemblance to a culprit as he came up to her in the
+doorway.  The chief recollection she carried away of that moment was that
+his teeth were very white and even when he smiled.  He had the impudence
+to smile.  He had the impudence to seize one of her hands in his, and to
+hold aloft a sheet of paper in the other.
+
+"What does this mean?" said he.
+
+"What do you thick it means?" retorted Cynthia, with dignity.
+
+"A summons to stay away," said Bob, thereby more or less accurately
+describing it.  "What would you have thought of me if I had not come?"
+
+Cynthia was not prepared for any such question as this.  She had meant to
+ask the questions herself.  But she never lacked for words to protect
+herself.
+
+"I'll tell you what I think of you for coming, Bob, for insisting upon
+seeing me as you did," she said, remembering with shame Ellen's account
+of that proceeding.  "It was very unkind and very thoughtless of you."
+
+"Unkind?"  Thus she succeeded in putting him on the defensive.
+
+"Yes, unkind, because I know it is best for you not to come to see me,
+and you know it, and yet you will not help me when I try to do what is
+right.  I shall be blamed for these visits," she said.  The young ladies
+in the novels always were.  But it was a serious matter for poor Cynthia,
+and her voice trembled a little.  Her troubles seemed very real.
+
+"Who will blame you?" asked Bob, though he knew well enough.  Then he
+added, seeing that she did not answer: "I don't at all agree with you
+that it is best for me not to see you.  I know of nobody in the world it
+does me more good to see than yourself.  Let's sit down and talk it all
+over," he said, for she still remained standing uncompromisingly by the
+door.
+
+The suspicion of a smile came over Cynthia's face.  She remembered how
+Ellen had been wheedled.  Her instinct told her that now was the time to
+make a stand or never.
+
+"It wouldn't do any good, Bob," she replied, shaking her head; "we talked
+it all over last week."
+
+"Not at all," said he, "we only touched upon a few points last week.  We
+ought to thrash it out.  Various aspects of the matter have occurred to
+me which I ought to call to your attention."
+
+He could not avoid this bantering tone, but she saw that he was very much
+in earnest too.  He realized the necessity of winning; likewise, and he
+had got in and meant to stay.
+
+"I don't want to argue," said Cynthia.  "I've thought it all out."
+
+"So have I," said Bob.  "I haven't thought of anything else, to speak of.
+And by the way," he declared, shaking the envelope, "I never got a colder
+and more formal letter in my life.  You must have taken it from one of
+Miss Sadler's copy books."
+
+"I'm sorry I haven't been able to equal the warmth of your other
+correspondents," said Cynthia, smiling at the mention of Miss Sadler.
+
+"You've got a good many degrees yet to go," he replied.
+
+"I have no idea of doing so," said Cynthia.
+
+If Cynthia had lured him there, and had carefully thought out a plan of
+fanning his admiration into a flame, she could not have done better than
+to stand obstinately by the door.  Nothing appeals to a man like
+resistance--resistance for a principle appealed to Bob, although he did
+not care a fig about that particular principle.  In his former dealings
+with young women--and they had not been few--the son of Dudley
+Worthington had encountered no resistance worth the mentioning.  He
+looked at the girl before him, and his blood leaped at the thought of a
+conquest over her.  She was often demure, but behind that demureness was
+firmness: she was mistress of herself, and yet possessed a marvellous
+vitality.
+
+"And now," said Cynthia, "don't you think you had better go?"
+
+Go!  He laughed outright.  Never!  He would sit down under that fortress,
+and some day he meant to scale the walls.  Like John Paul Jones, he had
+not yet begun to fight.  But he did not sit down just yet, because
+Cynthia remained standing.
+
+"I'm here now," he said, "what's the good of going away?  I might as well
+stay the rest of the afternoon."
+
+"You will find a photograph album on the table," said Cynthia, "with
+pictures of all the Merrill family and their friends and relations."
+
+In spite of the threat this remark conveyed, he could not help laughing
+at it.  Mrs. Merrill in her sitting room heard the laugh, and felt that
+she would like Bob Worthington.
+
+"It's a heavy album, Cynthia," he said; "perhaps you would hold up one
+side of it."
+
+It was Cynthia's turn to laugh.  She could not decide whether he were a
+man or a boy.  Sometimes, she had to admit, he was very much of a man.
+
+"Where are you going?" he cried.
+
+"Upstairs, of course," she answered.
+
+This was really alarming.  But fate thrust a final weapon into his hands.
+
+"All right," said he, "I'll look at the album.  What time does Mr.
+Merrill get home?"
+
+"About six," answered Cynthia.  "Why?"
+
+"When he comes," said Bob, "I shall put on my most disconsolate
+expression.  He'll ask me what I'm doing, and I'll tell him you went
+upstairs at half-past four and haven't come down.  He'll sympathize, I'll
+bet anything."
+
+Whether Bob were really capable of doing this, Cynthia could not tell. She
+believed he was.  Perhaps she really did not intend to go upstairs
+just then.  To his intense relief she seated herself on a straight-backed
+chair near the door, although she had the air of being about to get up
+again at any minute.  It was not a surrender, not at all--but a parley,
+at least.
+
+"I really want to talk to you seriously, Bob," she said, and her voice
+was serious.  "I like you very much--I always have--and I want you to
+listen seriously.  All of us have friends.  Some people--you, for
+instance--have a great many.  We have but one father."  Her voice failed
+a little at the word.  "No friend can ever be the same to you as your
+father, and no friendship can make up what his displeasure will cost you.
+I do not mean to say that I shan't always be your friend, for I shall
+be."
+
+Young men seldom arrive at maturity by gradual steps--something sets them
+thinking, a week passes, and suddenly the world has a different aspect.
+Bob had thought much of his father during that week, and had considered
+their relationship very carefully.  He had a few precious memories of his
+mother before she had been laid to rest under that hideous and
+pretentious monument in the Brampton hill cemetery.  How unlike her was
+that monument!  Even as a young boy, when on occasions he had wandered
+into the cemetery, he used to stand before it with a lump in his throat
+and bitter resentment in his heart, and once he had shaken his fist at
+it.  He had grown up out of sympathy with his father, but he had never
+until now began to analyze the reasons for it.  His father had given him
+everything except that communion of which Cynthia spoke so feelingly.
+Mr. Worthington had acted according to his lights: of all the people in
+the world he thought first of his son.  But his thoughts and care had
+been alone of what the son would be to the world: how that son would
+carry on the wealth and greatness of Isaac D. Worthington.
+
+Bob had known this before, but it had had no such significance for him
+then as now.  He was by no means lacking in shrewdness, and as he had
+grown older he had perceived clearly enough Mr. Worthington's reasons for
+throwing him socially with the Duncans.  Mr. Worthington had never been a
+plain-spoken man, but he had as much as told his son that it was decreed
+that he should marry the heiress of the state.  There were other plans
+connected with this.  Mr. Worthington meant that his son should
+eventually own the state itself, for he saw that the man who controlled
+the highways of a state could snap his fingers at governor and council
+and legislature and judiciary: could, indeed, do more--could own them
+even more completely than Jethro Bass now owned them, and without effort.
+The dividends would do the work: would canvass the counties and persuade
+this man and that with sufficient eloquence.  By such tokens it will be
+seen that Isaac D. Worthington is destined to become great, though the
+greatness will be akin to that possessed by those gentlemen who in past
+ages had built castles across the highway between Venice and the
+North Sea.  All this was in store for Bob Worthington, if he could only
+be brought to see it.  These things would be given him, if he would but
+confine his worship to the god of wealth.
+
+We are running ahead, however, of Bob's reflections in Mr. Merrill's
+parlor in Mount Vernon Street, and the ceremony of showing him the cities
+of his world from Brampton hill was yet to be gone through.  Bob knew his
+father's plans only in a general way, but in the past week he had come to
+know his father with a fair amount of thoroughness.  If Isaac D.
+Worthington had but chosen a worldly wife, he might have had a more
+worldly son.  As it was, Bob's thoughts were a little bitter when Cynthia
+spoke of his father, and he tried to think instead what his mother would
+have him do.  He could not, indeed, speak of Mr. Worthington's
+shortcomings as he understood them, but he answered Cynthia vigorously
+enough--even if his words were not as serious as she desired.
+
+"I tell you I am old enough to judge for myself, Cynthia," said he, "and
+I intend to judge for myself.  I don't pretend to be a paragon of virtue,
+but I have a kind of a conscience which tells me when I am doing wrong,
+if I listen to it.  I have not always listened to it.  It tells me I'm
+doing right now, and I mean to listen to it."
+
+Cynthia could not but think there was very little self-denial attached to
+this.  Men are not given largely to self-denial.
+
+"It is easy enough to listen to your conscience when you think it impels
+you to do that which you want to do, Bob," she answered, laughing at his
+argument in spite of herself.
+
+"Are you wicked?" he demanded abruptly.
+
+"Why, no, I don't think I am," said Cynthia, taken aback.  But she
+corrected herself swiftly, perceiving his bent.  "I should be doing wrong
+to let you come here."
+
+He ignored the qualification.
+
+"Are you vain and frivolous?"
+
+She remembered that she had looked in the glass before she had come down
+to him, and bit her lip.
+
+"Are you given over to idle pursuits, to leading young men from their
+occupations and duties?"
+
+"If you've come here to recite the Blue Laws," said she, laughing again,
+"I have something better to do than to listen to them."
+
+"Cynthia," he cried, "I'll tell you what you are.  I'll draw your
+character for you, and then, if you can give me one good reason why I
+should not associate with you, I'll go away and never come back."
+
+"That's all very well," said Cynthia, "but suppose I don't admit your
+qualifications for drawing my character.  And I don't admit them, not for
+a minute."
+
+"I will draw it," said he, standing up in front of her.  "Oh, confound
+it!"
+
+This exclamation, astonishing and out of place as it was, was caused by a
+ring at the doorbell.  The ring was followed by a whispering and giggling
+in the hall, and then by the entrance of the Misses Merrill into the
+parlor.  Curiosity had been too strong for them.  Susan was human, and
+here was the opportunity for a little revenge.  In justice to her, she
+meant the revenge to be very slight.
+
+"Well, Cynthia, you should have come to the concert," she said; "it was
+fine, wasn't it, Jane?  Is this Mr. Worthington?  How do you do.  I'm
+Miss Susan Merrill, and this is Miss Jane Merrill."  Susan only intended
+to stay a minute, but how was Bob to know that?  She was tempted into
+staying longer.  Bob lighted the gas, and she inspected him and approved.
+Her approval increased when he began to talk to her in his bantering way,
+as if he had known her always.  Then, when she was fully intending to go,
+he rose to take his leave.
+
+"I'm awfully glad to have met you at last," he said to Susan, "I've heard
+so much about you."  His leave-taking of Jane was less effusive, and then
+he turned to Cynthia and took her hand.  "I'm going to Brampton on
+Friday," he said, "for the holidays.  I wish you were going."
+
+"We couldn't think of letting her go, Mr. Worthington," cried Susan, for
+the thought of the hills had made Cynthia incapable of answering.  "We're
+only to have her for one short winter, you know."
+
+"Yes, I know," said Mr. Worthington, gravely.  "I'll see old Ephraim, and
+tell him you're well, and what a marvel of learning, you've become.
+And--and I'll go to Coniston if that will please you."
+
+"Oh, no, Bob, you mustn't do anything of the kind," answered Cynthia,
+trying to keep back the tears.  "I--I write to Uncle Jethro very often.
+Good-by.  I hope you will enjoy your holidays."
+
+"I'm coming to see you the minute I get back and tell you all about
+everybody," said he.
+
+How was she to forbid him to come before Susan and Jane!  She could only
+be silent.
+
+"Do come, Mr. Worthington," said Susan, warmly, wondering at Cynthia's
+coldness and, indeed, misinterpreting it.  "I am sure she will be glad to
+see you.  And we shall always make you welcome, at any rate."
+
+As soon as he was out of the door, Susan became very repentant, and
+slipped her hand about Cynthia's waist.
+
+"We shouldn't have come in at all if we had known he would go so soon,
+indeed we shouldn't, Cynthia."  And seeing that Cynthia was still silent,
+she added: "I wouldn't do such a mean thing, Cynthia, I really wouldn't.
+Won't you believe me and forgive me?"
+
+Cynthia scarcely heard her at first.  She was thinking of Coniston
+mountain, and how the sun had just set behind it.  The mountain would be
+ultramarine against the white fields, and the snow on the hill pastures
+to the east stained red as with wine.  What would she not have given to
+be going back to-morrow--yes, with Bob.  She confessed--though startled
+by the very boldness of the thought--that she would like to be going
+there with Bob.  Susan's appeal brought her back to Boston and the gas-
+lit parlor.
+
+"Forgive you, Susan!  There's nothing to forgive.  I wanted him to go."
+
+"You wanted him to go?" repeated Susan, amazed.  She may be pardoned if
+she did not believe this, but a glance at Cynthia's face scarcely left a
+room for doubt.  "Cynthia Wetherell, you're the strangest girl I've ever
+known in all my life.  If I had a--a friend" (Susan had another word on
+her tongue) "if I had such a friend as Mr. Worthington, I shouldn't be in
+a hurry to let him leave me.  Of course," she added, "I shouldn't let him
+know it."
+
+Cynthia's heart was very heavy during the next few days, heavier by far
+than her friends in Mount Vernon Street imagined.  They had grown to love
+her almost as one of themselves, and because of the sympathy which comes
+of such love they guessed that her thoughts would be turning homeward at
+Christmastide.  At school she had listened, perforce, to the festival
+plans of thirty girls of her own age; to accounts of the probable
+presents they were to receive, the cost of some of which would support a
+family in Coniston for several months; to arrangements for visits, during
+which there were to be theatre-parties and dances and other gaieties.
+Cynthia could not help wondering, as she listened in silence to this
+talk, whether Uncle Jethro had done wisely in sending her to Miss Sadler's;
+whether she would not have been far happier if she had never known about
+such things.
+
+Then came the last day of school, which began with leave-takings and
+embraces.  There were not many who embraced Cynthia, though, had she
+known it, this was largely her own fault.  Poor Cynthia!  how was she to
+know it?  Many more of them than she imagined would have liked to embrace
+her had they believed that the embrace would be returned.  Secretly they
+had grown to admire this strange, dark girl, who was too proud to bend
+for the good opinion of any one--even of Miss Sally Broke.  Once during
+the term Cynthia had held some of them--in the hollow of her hand, and
+had incurred the severe displeasure of Miss Sadler by refusing to tell
+what she knew of certain mischief-makers.
+
+Now, Miss Sadler was going about among them in the school parlor saying
+good-by, sending particular remembrance to such of the fathers and
+mothers as she thought worthy of that honor; kissing some, shaking, hands
+with all.  It was then that a dramatic incident occurred--dramatic for a
+girls' school, at least.  Cynthia deliberately turned her back on Miss
+Sadler and looked out of the window.  The chatter in the room was hushed,
+and for a moment a dangerous wrath flamed in Miss Sadler's eyes.  Then
+she passed on with a smile, to send most particular messages to the
+mother of Miss Isabel Burrage.
+
+Some few moments afterward Cynthia felt a touch on her arm, and turned to
+find herself confronted by Miss Sally Broke.  Unfortunately there is not
+much room for Miss Broke in this story, although she may appear in
+another one yet to be written.  She was extremely good-looking, with real
+golden hair and mischievous blue eyes.  She was, in brief, the leader of
+Miss Sadler's school.
+
+"Cynthia," she said, "I was rude to you when you first came here, and I'm
+sorry for it.  I want to beg your pardon."  And she held out her hand.
+
+There was a moment's suspense for those watching to see if Cynthia would
+take it.  She did take it.
+
+"I'm sorry, too," said Cynthia, simply, "I couldn't see what I'd done to
+offend you.  Perhaps you'll explain now."
+
+Miss Broke blushed violently, and for an instant looked decidedly
+uncomfortable.  Then she burst into laughter,--merry, irresistible
+laughter that carried all before it.
+
+"I was a snob, that's all," said she, "just a plain, low down snob.  You
+don't understand what that means, because you're not one."  (Cynthia did
+understand, ) "But I like you, and I want you to be my friend.  Perhaps
+when I get to know you better, you will come home with me sometime for a
+visit."
+
+Go home with her for a visit to that house in Washington Square with the
+picture gallery!
+
+"I want to say that I'd give my head to have been able to turn my back on
+Miss Sadler as you did," continued Miss Broke; "if you ever want a
+friend, remember Sally Broke."
+
+Some of Cynthia's trouble, at least, was mitigated by this episode; and
+Miss Broke having led the way, Miss Broke's followers came shyly, one by
+one, with proffers of friendship.  To the good-hearted Merrill girls the
+walk home that day was a kind of a triumphal march, a victory over Miss
+Sadler and a vindication of their friend.  Mrs. Merrill, when she heard
+of it, could not find it in her heart to reprove Cynthia.  Miss Sadler
+had got her just deserts.  But Miss Sadler was not a person who was
+likely to forget such an incident.  Indeed, Mrs. Merrill half expected to
+receive a note before the holidays ended that Cynthia's presence was no
+longer desired at the school.  No such note came, however.
+
+If one had to be away from home on Christmas, there could surely be no
+better place to spend that day than in the Merrill household.  Cynthia
+remembers still, when that blessed season comes around, how each member
+of the family vied with the others to make her happy; how they showered
+presents on her, and how they strove to include her in the laughter and
+jokes at the big family dinner.  Mr. Merrill's brother was there with his
+wife, and Mrs.  Merrill's aunt and her husband, and two broods of
+cousins.  It may be well to mention that the Merrill relations, like
+Sally Broke, had overcome their dislike for Cynthia.
+
+There were eatables from Coniston on that board.  A turkey sent by Jethro
+for which, Mr. Merrill declared, the table would have to be strengthened;
+a saddle of venison--Lem Hallowell having shot a deer on the mountain two
+Sundays before; and mince-meat made by Amanda Hatch herself.  Other
+presents had come to Cynthia from the hills: a gorgeous copy of Mr.
+Longfellow's poems from Cousin Ephraim, and a gold locket from Uncle
+Jethro.  This locket was the precise counterpart (had she but known it)
+of a silver one bought at Mr. Judson's shop many years before, though the
+inscription "Cynthy, from Uncle Jethro," was within.  Into the other side
+exactly fitted that daguerreotype of her mother which her father had
+given her when he died.  The locket had a gold chain with a clasp, and
+Cynthia wore it hidden beneath her gown-too intimate a possession to be
+shown.
+
+There was still another and very mysterious present, this being a huge
+box of roses, addressed to Miss Cynthia Wetherell, which was delivered on
+Christmas morning.  If there had been a card, Susan Merrill would
+certainly have found it.  There was no card.  There was much pretended
+speculation on the part of the Merrill girls as to the sender, sly
+reference to Cynthia's heightened color, and several attempts to pin on
+her dress a bunch of the flowers, and Susan declared that one of them
+would look stunning in her hair.  They were put on the dining-room table
+in the centre of the wreath of holly, and under the mistletoe which hung
+from the chandelier.  Whether Cynthia surreptitiously stole one has never
+been discovered.
+
+So Christmas came and went: not altogether unhappily, deferring for a day
+at least the knotty problems of life.  Although Cynthia accepted the
+present of the roses with such magnificent unconcern, and would not make
+so much as a guess as to who sent them, Mr. Robert Worthington was
+frequently in her thoughts.  He had declared his intention of coming to
+Mount Vernon Street as soon as the holidays ended, and had been cordially
+invited by Susan to do so.  Cynthia took the trouble to procure a Harvard
+catalogue from the library, and discovered that he had many holidays yet
+to spend.  She determined to write another letter, which he would find in
+his rooms when he returned.  Just what terrible prohibitory terms she was
+to employ in that letter Cynthia could not decide in a moment, nor yet in
+a day, or a week.  She went so far as to make several drafts, some of
+which she destroyed for the fault of leniency, and others for that of
+severity.  What was she to say to him?  She had expended her arguments to
+no avail.  She could wound him, indeed, and at length made up her mind
+that this was the only resource left her, although she would thereby
+wound herself more deeply.  When she had arrived at this decision, there
+remained still more than a week in which to compose the letter.
+
+On the morning after New Year's, when the family were assembled around
+the breakfast table, Mrs. Merrill remarked that her husband was
+neglecting a custom which had been his for many years.
+
+"Didn't the newspaper come, Stephen?" she asked.
+
+Mr. Merrill had read it.
+
+"Read it!" repeated his wife, in surprise, "you haven't been down long
+enough to read a column."
+
+"It was full of trash," said Mr. Merrill, lightly, and began on his usual
+jokes with the girls.  But Mrs. Merrill was troubled.  She thought his
+jokes not as hearty as they were wont to be, and disquieting surmises of
+business worries filled her mind.  The fact that he beckoned her into his
+writing room as soon as breakfast was over did not tend to allay her
+suspicions.  He closed and locked the door after her, and taking the
+paper from a drawer in his desk bade her read a certain article in it.
+
+The article was an arraignment of Jethro Bass--and a terrible arraignment
+indeed.  Step by step it traced his career from the beginning, showing
+first of all how he had debauched his own town of Coniston; how,
+enlarging on the same methods, he had gradually extended his grip over
+the county and finally over the state; how he had bought and sold men for
+his own power and profit, deceived those who had trusted in him,
+corrupted governors and legislators, congressmen and senators, and even
+justices of the courts: how he had trafficked ruthlessly in the
+enterprises of the people.  Instance upon instance was given, and men of
+high prominence from whom he had received bribes were named, not the
+least important of these being the Honorable Alva Hopkins of Gosport.
+
+Mrs. Merrill looked up from the paper in dismay.
+
+"It's copied from the Newcastle Guardian," she said, for lack of
+immediate power to comment.  "Isn't the Guardian the chief paper in that
+state?"
+
+"Yes, Worthington's bought it, and he instigated the article, of course.
+I've been afraid of this for a long time, Carry," said Mr. Merrill,
+pacing up and down.  "There's a bigger fight than they've ever had coming
+on up there, and this is the first gun.  Worthington, with Duncan behind
+him, is trying to get possession of and consolidate all the railroads in
+the western part of that state.  If he succeeds, it will mean the end of
+Jethro's power.  But he won't succeed."
+
+"Stephen," said his wife, "do you mean to say that Jethro Bass will try
+to defeat this consolidation simply to keep his power?"
+
+"Well, my dear," answered Mr. Merrill, still pacing, "two wrongs don't
+make a right, I admit.  I've known these things a long time, and I've
+thought about them a good deal.  But I've had to run along with the tide,
+or give place to another man who would; and--and starve."
+
+Mrs. Merrill's eyes slowly filled with tears.
+
+"Stephen," she began, "do you mean to say--?"  There she stopped, utterly
+unable to speak.  He ceased his pacing and sat down beside her and took
+her hand.
+
+"Yes, my dear, I mean to say I've submitted to these things.  God knows
+whether I've been right or wrong, but I have.  I've often thought I'd be
+happier if I resigned my office as president of my road and became a
+clerk in a store.  I don't attempt to excuse myself, Carry, but my sin
+has been in holding on to my post.  As long as I remain president I have
+to cope with things as I find them."
+
+Mr. Merrill spoke thickly, for the sight of his wife's tears wrung his
+heart.
+
+"Stephen," she said, "when we were first married and you were a district
+superintendent, you used to tell me everything."
+
+Stephen Merrill was a man, and a good man, as men go.  How was he to tell
+her the degrees by which he had been led into his present situation?  How
+was he to explain that these degrees had been so gradual that his
+conscience had had but a passing wrench here and there?  Politics being
+what they were, progress and protection had to be obtained in accordance
+with them, and there was a duty to the holders of bonds and stocks.
+
+His wife had a question on her lips, a question for which she had to
+summon all her courage.  She chose that form for it which would hurt him
+least.
+
+"Mr. Worthington is going to try to change these things?"
+
+Mr. Merrill roused himself at the words, and his eyes flashed.  He became
+a different man.
+
+"Change them!" he cried bitterly, "change them for the worse, if he can.
+He will try to wrest the power from Jethro Bass.  I don't defend him.  I
+don't defend myself.  But I like Jethro Bass.  I won't deny it.  He's
+human, and I like him, and whatever they say about him I know that he's
+been a true friend to me.  And I tell you as I hope for happiness here
+and hereafter, that if Worthington succeeds in what he is trying to do,
+if the railroads win in this fight, there will be no mercy for the people
+of that state.  I'm a railroad man myself, though I have no interest in
+this affair.  My turn may come later.  Will come later, I suppose.  Isaac
+D. Worthington has a very little heart or soul or mercy himself; but the
+corporation which he means to set up will have none at all.  It will
+grind the people and debase them and clog their progress a hundred times
+more than Jethro Bass has done.  Mark my words, Carry.  I'm running ahead
+of the times a little, but I can see it all as clearly as if it existed
+now."
+
+Mrs. Merrill went about her duties that morning with a heavy heart, and
+more than once she paused to wipe away a tear that would have fallen on
+the linen she vas sorting.  At eleven o'clock the doorbell rang, and
+Ellen appeared at the entrance to the linen closet with a card in her
+hand.  Mrs. Merrill looked at it with a, flurry of surprise.  It read:--
+
+                     MISS LUCRETIA PENNIMAN
+
+                        The Woman's Hour
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+It was certainly affinity that led Miss Lucretia to choose the rosewood
+sofa of a bygone age, which was covered with horsehair.  Miss Lucretia's
+features seemed to be constructed on a larger and more generous principle
+than those of women are nowadays.  Her face was longer.  With her curls
+and her bonnet and her bombazine,--which she wore in all seasons,--she
+was in complete harmony with the sofa.  She had thrown aside the storm
+cloak which had become so familiar to pedestrians in certain parts of
+Boston.
+
+"My dear Miss Penniman," said Mrs. Merrill, "I am delighted and honored.
+I scarcely hoped for such a pleasure.  I have so long admired you and
+your work, and I have heard Cynthia speak of you so kindly."
+
+"It is very good of you to say so, Mrs. Merrill" answered Miss Lucretia,
+in her full, deep voice.  It was by no means an unpleasant voice.  She
+settled herself, though she sat quite upright, in the geometrical centre
+of the horsehair sofa, and cleared her throat.  "To be quite honest with
+you, Mrs. Merrill," she continued, "I came upon particular errand, though
+I believe it would not be a perversion of the truth if I were to add that
+I have had for a month past every intention of paying you a friendly
+call."
+
+Good Mrs. Merrill's breath was a little taken away by this extremely
+scrupulous speech.  She also began to feel a misgiving about the cause
+of the visit, but she managed to say something polite in reply.
+
+"I have come about Cynthia," announced Miss Lucretia, without further
+preliminaries.
+
+"About Cynthia?" faltered Mrs. Merrill.
+
+Miss Lucretia opened a reticule at her waist and drew forth a newspaper
+clipping, which she unfolded and handed to Mrs. Merrill.
+
+"Have you seen this?" she demanded.
+
+Mrs. Merrill took it, although she guessed very well what it was, glanced
+at it with a shudder, and handed it back.
+
+"Yes, I have read it," she said.
+
+"I have come to ask you, Mrs. Merrill" said Miss Lucretia, "if it is
+true."
+
+Here was a question, indeed, for the poor lady to answer!  But Mrs.
+Merrill was no coward.
+
+"It is partly true, I believe."
+
+"Partly?" said Miss Lucretia, sharply.
+
+"Yes, partly," said Mrs. Merrill, rousing herself for the trial; "I have
+never yet seen a newspaper article which was wholly true."
+
+"That is because newspapers are not edited by women," observed Miss
+Lucretia.  "What I wish you to tell me, Mrs. Merrill, is this: how much
+of that article is true, and how much of it is false?"
+
+"Really, Miss Penniman," replied Mrs. Merrill, with spirit, "I don't see
+why you should expect me to know."
+
+"A woman should take an intelligent interest in her husband's affairs,
+Mrs. Merrill.  I have long advocated it as an entering wedge."
+
+"An entering wedge!" exclaimed Mrs. Merrill, who had never read a page of
+the Woman's Hour.
+
+"Yes.  Your husband is the president of a railroad, I believe, which is
+largely in that state.  I should like to ask him whether these statements
+are true in the main.  Whether this Jethro Bass is the kind of man they
+declare him to be."
+
+Mrs. Merrill was in a worse quandary than ever.  Her own spirits were
+none too good, and Miss Lucretia's eye, in its search for truth, seemed
+to pierce into her very soul.  There was no evading that eye.  But Mrs.
+Merrill did what few people would have had the courage or good sense to
+do.
+
+"That is a political article, Miss Penniman," she said, "inspired by a
+bitter enemy of Jethro Bass, Mr, Worthington, who has bought the
+newspaper from which it was copied.  For that reason, I was right in
+saying that it is partly true.  You nor I, Miss Penniman, must not be the
+judges of any man or woman, for we know nothing of their problems or
+temptations.  God will judge them.  We can only say that they have acted
+rightly or wrongly according to the light that is in us.  You will find
+it difficult to get a judgment of Jethro Bass that is not a partisan
+judgment, and yet I believe that that article is in the main a history of
+the life of Jethro Bass.  A partisan history, but still a history.  He
+has unquestionably committed many of the acts of which he is accused."
+
+Here was talk to make the author of the "Hymn to Coniston" sit up, if she
+hadn't been sitting up already.
+
+"And don't you condemn him for those acts?" she gasped.
+
+"Ah," said Mrs. Merrill, thinking of her own husband.  Yesterday she
+would certainly have condemned. Jethro Bass.  But now!  "I do not condemn
+anybody, Miss Penniman."
+
+Miss Lucretia thought this extraordinary, to say the least.
+
+"I will put the question in another way, Mrs. Merrill," said she.  "Do
+you think this Jethro Bass a proper guardian for Cynthia Wetherell?"
+
+To her amazement Mrs. Merrill did not give her an instantaneous answer to
+this question.  Mrs. Merrill was thinking of Jethro's love for the girl,
+manifold evidences of which she had seen, and her heart was filled with a
+melting pity.  It was such a love, Mrs. Merrill knew, as is not given to
+many here below.  And there was Cynthia's love for him.  Mrs. Merrill had
+suffered that morning thinking of this tragedy also.
+
+"I do not think he is a proper guardian for her, Miss Penniman."
+
+It was then that the tears came to Mrs. Merrill's eyes for there is a
+limit to all human endurance.  The sight of these caused a remarkable
+change in Miss Lucretia, and she leaned forward and seized Mrs. Merrill's
+arm.
+
+"My dear," she cried, "my dear, what are we to do?  Cynthia can't go back
+to that man.  She loves him, I know, she loves him as few girls are
+capable of loving.  But when she, finds out what he is!  When she finds
+out how he got the money to support her father!"  Miss Lucretia fumbled
+in her reticule and drew forth a handkerchief and brushed her own eyes--
+eyes which a moment ago were so piercing.  "I have seen many young
+women," she continued; "but I have known very few who were made of as
+fine a fibre and who have such principles as Cynthia Wetherell."
+
+"That is very true," assented Mrs. Merrill too much cast down to be
+amazed by this revelation of Miss Lucretia's weakness.
+
+"But what are we to do?" insisted that lady; "who is to tell her what he
+is?  How is it to be kept from her, indeed?"
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Merrill, "there will be more, articles.  Mr. Merrill
+says so.  It seems there is to be a great political struggle in that
+state."
+
+"Precisely," said Miss Lucretia, sadly.  "And whoever tells the girl will
+forfeit her friendship.  I--I am very fond of her," and here she applied
+again to the reticule.
+
+"Whom would she believe?" asked Mrs. Merrill, whose estimation of Miss
+Lucretia was increasing by leaps and bounds.
+
+"Precisely," agreed Miss Lucretia.  "But she must hear about it
+sometime."
+
+"Wouldn't it be better to let her hear?" suggested Mrs. Merrill; "we
+cannot very well soften that shock: I talked the matter over a little
+with Mr. Merrill, and he thinks that we must take time over it, Miss
+Penniman.  Whatever we do, we must not act hastily."
+
+"Well," said Miss Lucretia, "as I said, I am very fond of the girl, and I
+am willing to do my duty, whatever it may be.  And I also wished to say,
+Mrs. Merrill, that I have thought about another matter very carefully.  I
+am willing to provide for the girl.  I am getting too old to live alone.
+I am getting too old, indeed, to do my work properly, as I used to do it.
+I should like to have her to live with me."
+
+"She has become as one of my own daughters," said Mrs. Merrill.  Yet she
+knew that this offer of Miss Lucretia's was not one to be lightly set
+aside, and that it might eventually be the best solution of the problem.
+After some further earnest discussion it was agreed between them that the
+matter was, if possible, to be kept from Cynthia for the present, and
+when Miss Lucretia departed Mrs. Merrill promised her an early return of
+her call.
+
+Mrs. Merrill had another talk with her husband, which lasted far into the
+night.  This talk was about Cynthia alone, and the sorrow which
+threatened her.  These good people knew that it would be no light thing
+to break the faith of such as she, and they made her troubles their own.
+
+Cynthia little guessed as she exchanged raillery with Mr. Merrill the
+next morning that he had risen fifteen minutes earlier than usual to
+search his newspaper through.  He would read no more at breakfast, so he
+declared in answer to his daughters' comments; it was a bad habit which
+did not agree with his digestion.  It was something new for Mr. Merrill
+to have trouble with his digestion.
+
+There was another and scarcely less serious phase of the situation which
+Mr. and Mrs. Merrill had yet to discuss between them--a phase of which
+Miss Lucretia Penniman knew nothing.
+
+The day before Miss Sadler's school was to reopen nearly a week before
+the Harvard term was to commence--a raging, wet snowstorm came charging
+in from the Atlantic.  Snow had no terrors for a Coniston person, and
+Cynthia had been for her walk.  Returning about five o'clock, she was
+surprised to have the door opened for her by Susan herself.
+
+"What a picture you are in those furs!" she cried, with an intention
+which for the moment was lost upon Cynthia.  "I thought you would never
+come.  You must have walked to Dedham this time.  Who do you think is
+here?  Mr. Worthington."
+
+"Mr. Worthington!"
+
+"I have been trying to entertain him, but I am afraid I have been a very
+poor substitute.  However, I have persuaded him to stay for supper."
+
+"It needed but little persuasion," said Bob, appearing in the doorway.
+All the snowstorms of the wide Atlantic could not have brought such color
+to her cheeks.  Cynthia, for all her confusion at the meeting, had not
+lost her faculty of observation.  He seemed to have changed again, even
+during the brief time he had been absent.  His tone was grave.
+
+"He needs to be cheered up, Cynthia," Susan went on, as though reading
+her thoughts.  "I have done my best, without success.  He won't confess
+to me that he has come back to make up some of his courses.  I don't mind
+owning that I've got to finish a theme to be handed in tomorrow."
+
+With these words Susan departed, and left them standing in the hall
+together.  Bob took hold of Cynthia's jacket and helped her off with it.
+He could read neither pleasure nor displeasure in her face, though he
+searched it anxiously enough.  It was she who led the way into the parlor
+and seated herself, as before, on one of the uncompromising, straight-
+backed chairs.  Whatever inward tremors the surprise of this visit had
+given her, she looked at him clearly and steadily, completely mistress
+of herself, as ever.
+
+"I thought your holidays did not end until next week," she said.
+
+"They do not."
+
+"Then why are you here?"
+
+"Because I could not stay away, Cynthia," he answered.  It was not the
+manner in which he would have said it a month ago.  There was a note of
+intense earnestness in his voice--now, and to it she could make no light
+reply.  Confronted again with an unexpected situation, she could not
+decide at once upon a line of action.
+
+"When did you leave Brampton?" she asked, to gain time.  But with the
+words her thoughts flew to the hill country.
+
+"This morning," he said, "on the early train.  They have three feet of
+snow up there."  He, too, seemed glad of a respite from something.
+"They're having a great fuss in Brampton about a new teacher for the
+village school.  Miss Goddard has got married.  Did you know Miss
+Goddard, the lanky one with the glasses?"
+
+"Yes," said Cynthia, beginning to be amused at the turn the conversation
+was taking.
+
+"Well, they can't find anybody smart enough to replace Miss Goddard.  Old
+Ezra Graves, who's on the prudential committee, told Ephraim they ought
+to get you.  I was in the post-office when they were talking about it.
+Just see what a reputation for learning you have in Brampton!"
+
+Cynthia was plainly pleased by the compliment.
+
+"How is Cousin Eph?" she asked.
+
+"Happy as a lark," said Bob, "the greatest living authority in New
+England on the Civil War.  He's made the post-office the most popular
+social club I ever saw.  If anybody's missing in Brampton, you can nearly
+always find them in the post-office.  But I smiled at the notion of your
+being a school ma'am."
+
+"I don't see anything so funny about it," replied Cynthia, smiling too.
+"Why shouldn't I be?  I should like it."
+
+"You were made for something different," he answered quietly.
+
+It was a subject she did not choose to discuss with him, and dropped her
+lashes before the plainly spoken admiration in his eyes.  So a silence
+fell between them, broken only by the ticking of the agate clock on the
+mantel and the music of sleigh-bells in a distant street.  Presently the
+sleigh-bells died away, and it seemed to Cynthia that the sound of her
+own heartbeats must be louder than the ticking of the clock.  Her tact
+had suddenly deserted her; without reason, and she did not dare to glance
+again at Bob as he sat under the lamp.  That minute--for it was a full
+minute--was charged with a presage which she could not grasp.  Cynthia's
+instincts were very keen.  She understood, of course, that he had cut
+short his holiday to come to see her, and she might have dealt with him
+had that been all.  But--through that sixth sense with which some women
+are endowed--she knew that something troubled him.  He, too, had never
+yet been at a loss for words.
+
+The silence forced him to speak first, and he tried to restore the light
+tone to the conversation.
+
+"Cousin Ephraim gave me a piece of news," he said.  "Ezra Graves got it,
+too.  He told us you were down in Boston at a fashionable school.  Cousin
+Ephraim knows a thing or two.  He says he always callated you were cut
+out for a fine lady."
+
+"Bob," said Cynthia, nerving herself for the ordeal, "did you tell Cousin
+Ephraim you had seen me?"
+
+"I told him and Ezra that I had been a constant and welcome visitor at
+this house."
+
+"Did, you tell your father that you had seen me?"
+
+This was too serious a question to avoid.
+
+"No, I did not.  There was no reason why I should have."
+
+"There was every reason," said Cynthia, "and you know it.  Did you tell
+him why you came to Boston to-day?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Why does he think you came?"
+
+"He doesn't think anything about it," said Bob.  "He went off to Chicago
+yesterday to attend a meeting of the board of directors of a western
+railroad."
+
+"And so," she said reproachfully, "you slipped off as soon as his back
+was turned.  I would not have believed that of you, Bob.  Do you think
+that was fair to him or me?"
+
+Bob Worthington sprang to his feet and stood over her.  She had spoken to
+a boy, but she had aroused a man, and she felt an amazing thrill at the
+result.  The muscles in his face tightened, and deepened the lines about
+his mouth, and a fire was lighted about his eyes.
+
+"Cynthia," he said slowly, "even you shall not speak to me like that.  If
+I had believed it were right, if I had believed that it would have done
+any good to you or me, I should have told my father the moment I got to
+Brampton.  In affairs of this kind--in a matter of so much importance in
+my life," he continued, choosing his words carefully, "I am likely to
+know whether I am doing right or wrong.  If my mother were alive, I am
+sure that she would approve of this--this friendship."
+
+Having got so far, he paused.  Cynthia felt that she was trembling, as
+though the force and feeling that was in him had charged her also.
+
+"I did not intend to come so soon," he went on, "but--I had a reason for
+coming.  I knew that you did not want me."
+
+"You know that that is not true, Bob," she faltered.  His next words
+brought her to her feet.
+
+"Cynthia," he said, in a voice shaken by the intensity of his passion,
+"I came because I love you better than all the world--because I always
+will love you so.  I came to protect you, and care for you whatever
+happens. I did not mean to tell you so, now.  But it cannot matter,
+Cynthia!"
+
+He seized her, roughly indeed, in his arms, but his very roughness was a
+proof of the intensity of his love.  For an instant she lay palpitating
+against him, and as long as he lives he will remember the first exquisite
+touch of her firm but supple figure and the marvellous communion of her
+lips.  A current from the great store that was in her, pent up and all
+unknown, ran through him, and then she had struggled out of his arms and
+fled, leaving him standing alone in the parlor.
+
+It is true that such things happen, and no man or woman may foretell the
+day or the hour thereof.  Cynthia fled up the stairs, miraculously
+arriving unnoticed at her own room, and locked the door and flung herself
+on the bed.
+
+Tears came--tears of shame, of joy, of sorrow, of rejoicing, of regret;
+tears that burned, and yet relieved her, tears that pained while they
+comforted.  Had she sinned beyond the pardon of heaven, or had she
+committed a supreme act of right?  One moment she gloried in it, and the
+next upbraided herself bitterly.  Her heart beat with tumult, and again
+seemed to stop.  Such, though the words but faintly describe them, were
+her feelings, for thoughts were still to emerge out of chaos.  Love comes
+like a flame to few women, but so it came to Cynthia Wetherell, and
+burned out for a while all reason.
+
+Only for a while.  Generations which had practised self-restraint were
+strong in her--generations accustomed, too, to thinking out, so far as in
+them lay, the logical consequences of their acts; generations ashamed of
+these very instants when nature has chosen to take command.  After a time
+had passed, during which the world might have shuffled from its course,
+Cynthia sat up in the darkness.  How was she ever to face the light
+again?  Reason had returned.
+
+So she sat for another space, and thought of what she had done--thought
+with a surprising calmness now which astonished her.  Then she thought
+of what she would do, for there was an ordeal still to be gone through.
+Although she shrank from it, she no longer lacked the courage to endure
+it.  Certain facts began to stand out clearly from the confusion.  The
+least important and most immediate of these was that she would have to
+face him, and incidentally face the world in the shape of the Merrill
+family, at supper.  She rose mechanically and lighted the gas and bathed
+her face and changed her gown.  Then she heard Susan's voice at the door.
+
+"Cynthia, what in the world are you doing?"
+
+Cynthia opened the door and the sisters entered.  Was it possible that
+they did not read her terrible secret in her face? Apparently not.  Susan
+was busy commenting on the qualities and peculiarities of Mr. Robert
+Worthington, and showering upon Cynthia a hundred questions which she
+answered she knew not how; but neither Susan nor Jane, wonderful as it
+may seem, betrayed any suspicion.  Did he send the flowers?  Cynthia had
+not asked him.  Did he want to know whether she read the newspapers?  He
+had asked Susan that, before Cynthia came.  Susan was ready to repeat the
+whole of her conversation with him.  Why did he seem so particular about
+newspapers?  Had he notions that girls ought not to read them?
+
+The significance of Bob's remarks about newspapers was lost upon Cynthia
+then.  Not till afterward did she think of them, or connect them with his
+unexpected visit.  Then the supper bell rang, and they went downstairs.
+
+The reader will be spared Mr. Worthington's feelings after Cynthia left
+him, although they were intense enough, and absorbing and far-reaching
+enough.  He sat down on a chair and buried his head in his hands.  His
+impulse had been to leave the house and return again on the morrow, but
+he remembered that he had been asked to stay for supper, and that such a
+proceeding would cause comment.  At length he got up and stood before the
+fire, his thoughts still above the clouds, and it was thus that Mr.
+Merrill found him when he entered.
+
+"Good evening," said that gentleman, genially, not knowing in the least
+who Bob was, but prepossessed in his favor by the way he came forward and
+shook his hand and looked him clearly in the eye.
+
+"I'm Robert Worthington, Mr. Merrill" said he.
+
+"Eh!" Mr. Merrill gasped, "eh!  Oh, certainly, how do you do, Mr.
+Worthington?"  Mr. Merrill would have been polite to a tax collector or a
+sheriff.  He separated the office from the man, which ought not always to
+be done.  "I'm glad to see you, Mr. Worthington.  Well, well, bad storm,
+isn't it?  I had an idea the college didn't open until next week."
+
+"Mr. Worthington's going to stay for supper, Papa," said Susan, entering.
+
+"Good!" cried Mr. Merrill.  "Capital!  You won't miss the old folks after
+supper, will you, girls?  Your mother wants me to go to a whist party."
+
+"It can't be helped, Carry," said Mr. Merrill to his wife, as they walked
+up the hill to a neighbor's that evening.
+
+"He's in love with Cynthia," said Mrs. Merrill, somewhat sadly; "it's as
+plain as the nose on your face, Stephen."
+
+"That isn't very plain.  Suppose he is!  You can dam a mountain stream,
+but you can't prevent it reaching the sea, as we used to say when I was a
+boy in Edmundton.  I like Bob," said Mr. Merrill, with his usual weakness
+for Christian names, "and he isn't any more like Dudley Worthington than
+I am.  If you were to ask me, I'd say he couldn't do a better thing than
+marry Cynthia."
+
+"Stephen!" exclaimed Mrs. Merrill.  But in her heart she thought so, too.
+"What will Mr. Worthington say when he hears the young man has been
+coming to our house to see her?"
+
+Mr. Merrill had been thinking of that very thing, but with more amusement
+than concern.
+
+To return to Mr. Merrill's house, the three girls and the one young man
+were seated around the fire, and their talk, Merrill as it had begun, was
+becoming minute by minute more stilted.  This was largely the fault of
+Susan, who would not be happy until she had taken Jane upstairs and left
+Mr. Worthington and Cynthia together.  This matter had been arranged
+between the sisters before supper.  Susan found her opening at last, and
+upbraided Jane for her unfinished theme; Jane, having learned her lesson
+well, accused Susan.  But Cynthia, who saw through the ruse, declared
+that both themes were finished.  Susan, naturally indignant at such
+ingratitude, denied this.  The manoeuvre, in short, was executed very
+clumsily and very obviously, but executed nevertheless--the sisters
+marching out of the room under a fire of protests.  The reader, too, will
+no doubt think it a very obvious manoeuvre, but some things are managed
+badly in life as well as in books.
+
+Cynthia and Bob were left alone: left, moreover, in mortal terror of each
+other.  It is comparatively easy to open the door of a room and rush into
+a lady's arms if the lady be willing and alone.  But to be abandoned, as
+Susan had abandoned them, and with such obvious intent, creates quite a
+different atmosphere.  Bob had dared to hope for such an opportunity: had
+made up his mind during supper, while striving to be agreeable, just what
+he would do if the opportunity came.  Instead, all he could do was to sit
+foolishly in his chair and look at the coals, not so much as venturing to
+turn his head until the sound of footsteps had died away on the upper
+floors.  It was Cynthia who broke the silence and took command--a very
+different Cynthia from the girl who had thrown herself on the bed not
+three hours before.  She did not look at him, but stared with
+determination into the fire.
+
+"Bob, you must go," she said.
+
+"Go!" he cried.  Her voice loosed the fetters of his passion, and he
+dared to seize the band that lay on the arm of her chair.  She did not
+resist this.
+
+"Yes, you must go.  You should not have stayed for supper."
+
+"Cynthia," he said, "how can I leave you?  I will not leave you."
+
+"But you can and must," she replied.
+
+"Why?" he asked, looking at her in dismay.
+
+"You know the reason," she answered.
+
+"Know it?" he cried.  "I know why I should stay.  I know that I love you
+with my whole heart and soul.  I know that I love you as few men have
+ever loved--and that you are the one woman among millions who can inspire
+such a love."
+
+"No, Bob, no," she said, striving hard to keep her head, withdrawing her
+hand that it might not betray the treason of her lips.  Aware, strange as
+it may seem, of the absurdity of the source of what she was to say, for a
+trace of a smile was about her mouth as she gazed at the coals.  "You
+will get over this.  You are not yet out of college, and many such
+fancies happen there."
+
+For the moment he was incapable of speaking, incapable of finding an
+answer sufficiently emphatic.  How was he to tell her of the rocks upon
+which his love was built?
+
+How was he to declare that the very perils which threatened her had made
+a man of him, with all of a man's yearning to share these perils and
+shield her from them?  How was he to speak at all of those perils?  He
+did not declaim, yet when he spoke, an enduring sincerity which she could
+not deny was in his voice.
+
+"You know in your heart that what you say is not true, Cynthia.  Whatever
+happens, I shall always love you."
+
+Whatever happens: She shuddered at the words, reminding her as they did
+of all her vague misgivings and fears.
+
+"Whatever happens!" she found herself repeating them involuntarily.
+
+"Yes, whatever happens I will love you truly and faithfully.  I will
+never desert you, never deny you, as long as I live.  And you love me,
+Cynthia," he cried, "you love me, I know it."
+
+"No, no," she answered, her breath coming fast.  He was on his feet now,
+dangerously near her, and she rose swiftly to avoid him.
+
+She turned her head, that he might not read the denial in her eyes; and
+yet had to look at him again, for he was coming toward her quickly. "Don't
+touch me," she said, "don't touch me."
+
+He stopped, and looked at her so pitifully that she could scarce keep
+back her tears.
+
+"You do love me," he repeated.
+
+So they stood for a moment, while Cynthia made a supreme effort to speak
+calmly.
+
+"Listen, Bob," she said at last, "if you ever wish to see me again, you
+must do as I say.  You must write to your father, and tell him what you
+have done and--and what you wish to do.  You may come to me and tell me
+his answer, but you must not come to me before."  She would have said
+more, but her strength was almost gone.  Yes, and more would have implied
+a promise or a concession.  She would not bind herself even by a hint.
+But of this she was sure: that she would not be the means of wrecking his
+opportunities.  "And now--you must go."
+
+He stayed where he was, though his blood leaped within him, his
+admiration and respect for the girl outran his passion.  Robert
+Worthington was a gentleman.
+
+"I will do as you say, Cynthia," he answered, "but I am doing it for you.
+Whatever my father's reply may be will not change my love or my
+intentions.  For I am determined that you shall be my wife."
+
+With these words, and one long, lingering look, he turned and left
+her.  He had lacked the courage to speak of his father's bitterness and
+animosity.  Who will blame him?  Cynthia thought none the less of him
+for not telling her.  There was, indeed, no need now to describe Dudley
+Worthington's feelings.
+
+When the door had closed she stoke to the window, and listened to his
+footfalls in the snow until she heard them no more.
+
+
+
+
+ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS
+
+Fond of her, although she was no more than an episode in his life
+Had exhausted the resources of the little school
+That which is the worst cruelty of all--the cruelty of selfishness
+The home is the very foundation-rock of the nation
+The old soldier found dependence hard to bear
+We know nothing of their problems or temptations
+
+
+
+
+End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Coniston, V3
+by Winston Churchill
+
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