ught 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 t