eh--down in Washington? Never
had a doubt but what you would. Is this the new postmaster? How are
you, Mr. Prescott--and Cynthia--a young lady! Bless my soul," said Mr.
Merrill, looking her over as he shook her hand. "What have you done to
her, Jethro? What kind of beauty powder do they use in Coniston?"

Mr. Merrill took the seat next to her and continued to talk, scattering
his pleasantries equally among the three, patting her arm when her
own turn came. She liked Mr. Merrill very much; he seemed to her (as,
indeed, he was) honest and kind-hearted. Cynthia was not lacking in a
proper appreciation of herself--that may have been discovered. But she
was puzzled to know why this gentleman should make it a point to pay
such particular attention to a young country girl. Other railroad
presidents whom she could name had not done so. She was thinking of
these things, rather than listening to Mr. Merrill's conversation, when
the sound of Mr. Worthington's name startled her.

"Well, Jethro," Mr. Merrill was saying, "you certainly nipped this
little game of Worthington's in the bud. Thought he'd take you in the
rear by going to Washington, did he? Ha, ha! I'd like to know how you
did it. I'll get you to tell me to-night--see if I don't. You're all
coming in to supper to-night, you know, at seven o'clock."

Ephraim laid down his knife and fork for the first time. Were the
wonders of this journey never to cease? And Jethro, once in his life,
looked nervous.

"Er--er--Cyn'thy'll go, Steve--Cynthy'll go."

"Yes, Cynthy'll go," laughed Mr. Merrill, "and you'll go, and Ephraim'll
go." Although he by no means liked everybody, as would appear at first
glance, Mr. Merrill had a way of calling people by their first names
when he did fancy them.

"Er--Steve," said Jethro, "what would your wife say if I was to drink
coffee out of my saucer?"

"Let's see," said Mr. Merrill grave for once. "What's the punishment for
that in my house? I know what she'd do if you didn't drink it. What do
you think she'd do, Cynthy?"

"Ask him what was the matter with it," said Cynthia, promptly.

"Well, Cynthy," said he, "I know why these old fellows take you round
with 'em. To take care of 'em, eh? They're not fit to travel alone."

And so it was settled, after much further argument, that they were all
to sup at Mr. Merrill's house, Cynthia stoutly maintaining that she
would not desert them. And then Mr. Merrill, having several times
repeated the