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 emotio