d that such a
proceeding would cause comment. At length he got up and stood before
the fire, his thoughts still above the clouds, and it was thus that Mr.
Merrill found him when he entered.

"Good evening," said that gentleman, genially, not knowing in the least
who Bob was, but prepossessed in his favor by the way he came forward
and shook his hand and looked him clearly in the eye.

"I'm Robert Worthington, Mr. Merrill" said he.

"Eh!" Mr. Merrill gasped, "eh! Oh, certainly, how do you do, Mr.
Worthington?" Mr. Merrill would have been polite to a tax collector or a
sheriff. He separated the office from the man, which ought not always to
be done. "I'm glad to see you, Mr. Worthington. Well, well, bad storm,
isn't it? I had an idea the college didn't open until next week."

"Mr. Worthington's going to stay for supper, Papa," said Susan,
entering.

"Good!" cried Mr. Merrill. "Capital! You won't miss the old folks after
supper, will you, girls? Your mother wants me to go to a whist party."

"It can't be helped, Carry," said Mr. Merrill to his wife, as they
walked up the hill to a neighbor's that evening.

"He's in love with Cynthia," said Mrs. Merrill, somewhat sadly; "it's as
plain as the nose on your face, Stephen."

"That isn't very plain. Suppose he is! You can dam a mountain stream,
but you can't prevent it reaching the sea, as we used to say when I
was a boy in Edmundton. I like Bob," said Mr. Merrill, with his usual
weakness for Christian names, "and he isn't any more like Dudley
Worthington than I am. If you were to ask me, I'd say he couldn't do a
better thing than marry Cynthia."

"Stephen!" exclaimed Mrs. Merrill. But in her heart she thought so,
too. "What will Mr. Worthington say when he hears the young man has been
coming to our house to see her?"

Mr. Merrill had been thinking of that very thing, but with more
amusement than concern.

To return to Mr. Merrill's house, the three girls and the one young man
were seated around the fire, and their talk, Merrill as it had begun,
was becoming minute by minute more stilted. This was largely the fault
of Susan, who would not be happy until she had taken Jane upstairs and
left Mr. Worthington and Cynthia together. This matter had been arranged
between the sisters before supper. Susan found her opening at last, and
upbraided Jane for her unfinished theme; Jane, having learned her lesson
well, accused Susan. But Cynthia, who saw through the ruse, declared