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