t
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 responsibili