g to Coniston!" exclaimed Miss Lucretia.

The name of that place--magic name, once so replete with visions of
happiness and content--seemed to recall Cynthia's spirit from its flight.
Yes, the spirit was there, for it flashed in her eyes as she turned and
looked into Miss Lucretia's face.

"Are these the articles you read?" she asked; taking the clippings from
her muff.

Miss Lucretia put on her spectacles.

"I have seen both of them," she said.

"And do you believe what they say about--about Jethro Bass?"

Poor Miss Lucretia! For once in her life she was at a loss. She, too,
paid a deference to that face, young as it was. She had robbed herself of
sleep trying to make up her mind what she would say upon such an occasion
if it came. A wonderful virgin faith had to be shattered, and was she to
be the executioner? She loved the girl with that strange, intense
affection which sometimes comes to the elderly and the lonely, and she
had prayed that this cup might pass from her. Was it possible that it was
her own voice using very much the same words for which she had rebuked
Mrs. Merrill?

"Cynthia," she said, "those articles were written by politicians, in a
political controversy. No such articles can ever be taken literally."

"Miss Lucretia, do you believe what it says about Jethro Bass?" repeated
Cynthia.

How was she to avoid those eyes? They pierced into, her soul, even as her
own had pierced into Mrs. Merrill's. Oh, Miss Lucretia, who pride
yourself on your plain speaking, that you should be caught quibbling!
Miss Lucretia blushed for the first time in many, years, and into her
face came the light of battle.

"I am a coward, my dear. I deserve your rebuke. To the best of my
knowledge and belief, and so far as I can judge from the inquiries I have
undertaken, Jethro Bass has made his living and gained and held his power
by the methods described in those articles."

Miss Lucretia took off her spectacles and wiped them. She had committed a
fine act of courage.

Cynthia stood up.

"Thank you," she said, "that is what I wanted to know."

"But--" cried Miss Lucretia, in amazement and apprehension, "but what are
you going to do?"

"I am going to Coniston," said Cynthia, "to ask him if those things are
true."

"To ask him!"

"Yes. If he tells me they are true, then I shall believe them."

"If he tells you?" Miss Lucretia gasped. Here was a courage of which she
had not reckoned. "Do you think he will tel