dation. Lem was not a gossip, in
the disagreeable sense of the term, and he had not said a word to his
neighbors of his feelings on that terrible drive from Brampton. Knowing
that some blow had fallen upon Cynthia, he would have spared her these
visits if he could. But Lem was wise and kind, so he merely said that
she had returned a lady.

And they had found a lady. As they stood or sat around the kitchen (Eben
and Rias stood), Cynthia talked to them--about Coniston: rather, be it
said, that they talked about Coniston in answer to her questions. The
sledding had been good; Moses had hauled so many thousand feet of lumber
to Brampton; Sam Price's woman (she of Harwich) had had a spell of
sciatica; Chester Perkins's bull had tossed his brother-in-law, come
from Iowy on a visit, and broke his leg; yes, Amandy guessed her
dyspepsy was somewhat improved since she had tried Graham's Golden
Remedy--it made her feel real lighthearted; Eben (blushing furiously)
was to have the Brook Farm in the spring; there was a case of spotted
fever in Tarleton.

Yes, Lem Hallowell had been right, Cynthia was a lady, but not a mite
stuck up. What was the difference in her? Not her clothes, which she
wore as if she had been used to them all her life. Poor Cynthia, the
clothes were simple enough. Not her manner, which was as kind and sweet
as ever. What was it that compelled their talk about themselves, that
made them refrain from asking those questions about Boston, and why
she had come back? Some such query was running in their minds as they
talked, while Jethro, having finished his milk and crackers, sat
silent at the end of the table with his eyes upon her. He rose when Mr.
Satterlee came in.

Mr. Satterlee looked at her, and then he went quietly across the room
and kissed her. But then Mr. Satterlee was the minister. Cynthia thought
his hair a little thinner and the lines in his face a little deeper. And
Mr. Satterlee thought perhaps he was the only one of the visitors who
guessed why she had come back. He laid his thin hand on her head, as
though in benediction, and sat down beside her.

"And how is the learning, Cynthia?" he asked.

Now, indeed, they were going to hear something at last. An intuition
impelled Cynthia to take advantage of that opportunity.

"The learning has become so great, Mr. Satterlee," she said, "that I
have come back to try to make some use of it. It shall be wasted no
more."

She did not dare to look at Je