thro, but she was aware that he had sat
down abruptly. What sacrifice will not a good woman make to ease the
burden of those whom she loves! And Jethro's burden would be heavy
enough. Such a woman will speak almost gayly, though her heart be heavy.
But Cynthia's was lighter now than it had been.

"I was always sure you would not waste your learning, Cynthia," said Mr.
Satterlee, gravely; "that you would make the most of the advantages God
has given you."

"I am going to try, Mr. Satterlee. I cannot be content in idleness. I
was wasting time in Boston, and I--I was not happy so far away from you
all--from Uncle Jethro. Mr. Satterlee, I am going to teach school. I
have always wanted to, and now I have made up my mind to do it."

This was Jethro's punishment. But had she not lightened it for him a
little by choosing this way of telling him that she could not eat his
bread or partake of his bounty? Though by reason of that bounty she was
what she was, she could not live and thrive on it longer, coming as it
did from such a source. Mr. Satterlee might perhaps surmise the truth,
but the town and village would think her ambition a very natural one,
certainly no better time could have been chosen to announce it.

"To teach school." She was sure now that Mr. Satterlee knew and
approved, and perceived something, at least, of her little ruse. He
was a man whose talents fitted him for a larger flock than he had at
Coniston, but he possessed neither the graces demanded of city ministers
nor the power of pushing himself. Never was a more retiring man. The
years she had spent in his study had not gone for nothing, for he who
has cherished the bud can predict what the flower will be, and Mr.
Satterlee knew her spiritually better than any one else in Coniston. He
had heard of her return, and had walked over to the tannery house, full
of fears, the remembrance of those expressions of simple faith in
Jethro coming back to his mind. Had the revelation which he had so long
expected come at last? and how had she taken it? would it embitter her?
The good man believed that it would not, and now he saw that it had not,
and rejoiced accordingly.

"To teach school," he said. "I expected that you would wish to, Cynthia.
It is a desire that most of us have, who like books and what is in them.
I should have taught school if I had not become a minister. It is a high
calling, and an absorbing one, to develop the minds of the young." Mr.
Satterlee