of his congregation: Cynthia
turns scarlet, leaving the minister puzzled and a little uneasy: Monday,
Miss Lucretia Penniman, alarmed, comes to Coniston to inquire after
Cynthia's health: Cynthia drives back with her as far as Four Corners,
talking literature and the advancement of woman; returns on foot,
thinking of something else, when she discerns a figure seated on a log by
the roadside, bent as in meditation. There was no going back the thing to
do was to come on, as unconcernedly as possible, not noticing
anything,--which Cynthia did, not without a little inward palpitating and
curiosity, for which she hated herself and looked the sterner. The figure
unfolded itself, like a Jack from a box.

"You say the woman wahn't any to blame--wahn't any to blame?"

The poke bonnet turned away. The shoulders under it began to shake, and
presently the astonished Jethro heard what seemed to be faint peals of
laughter. Suddenly she turned around to him, all trace of laughter gone.

"Why don't you read the book?"

"So I am," said Jethro, "so I am. Hain't come to this casting-off yet."

"And you didn't look ahead to find out?" This with scorn.

"Never heard of readin' a book in that fashion. I'll come to it in
time--g-guess it won't run away."

Cynthia stared at him, perhaps with a new interest at this plodding
determination. She was not quite sure that she ought to stand talking to
him a third time in these woods, especially if the subject of
conversation were not, as Coniston thought, the salvation of his soul.
But she stayed. Here was a woman who could be dealt with by no known
rules, who did not even deign to notice a week of marked coldness.

"Jethro," she said, with a terrifying sternness, "I am going to ask you a
question, and you must answer me truthfully."

"G-guess I won't find any trouble about that," said Jethro, apparently
not in the least terrified.

"I want you to tell me why you are going to meeting."

"To see you," said Jethro, promptly, "to see you."

"Don't you know that that is wrong?"

"H-hadn't thought much about it," answered Jethro.

"Well, you should think about it. People don't go to meeting to--to look
at other people."

"Thought they did," said Jethro. "W-why do they wear their best
clothes--why do they wear their best clothes?"

"To honor God," said Cynthia, with a shade lacking in the conviction, for
she added hurriedly: "It isn't right for you to go to church to
see--anybody. You g