of
coffee in the kitchen.

It fell to Jeff mainly to keep the talk going. He had been out at the
barn with Jombateeste since daybreak, looking after the cattle, and the
joy of the weather had got into his nerves and spirits. At first he had
lain awake after he went to bed, but he had fallen asleep about midnight,
and got a good night's rest. He looked fresh and strong and very
handsome. He talked resolutely to every one at the table, but Jombateeste
was always preoccupied with eating at his meals, and Frank Whitwell had
on a Sunday silence, which was perhaps deepened by a feeling that there
was something wrong between his sister and Jeff, and it would be rash to
commit himself to an open friendliness until he understood the case. His
father met Jeff's advances with philosophical blandness and evasion, and
Mrs. Durgin was provisionally dry and severe both with the Whitwells and
her son. After breakfast she went to the parlor, and Jeff set about a
tour of the hotel, inside and out. He looked carefully to the details of
its winter keeping. Then he came back and boldly joined his mother where
she sat before her stove, whose subdued heat she found pleasant in the
lingering cold of the early spring.

He tossed his hat on the table beside her, and sat down on the other side
of the stove. "Well, I must say the place has been well looked after. I
don't believe Jackson himself could have kept it in better shape. When
was the last you heard from him?"

"I hope," said his mother, gravely, "you've been lookin' after your end
at Boston, too."

"Well, not as well as you have here, mother," said Jeff, candidly. "Has
Cynthy told you?"

"I guess she expected you to tell me, if there was anything."

"There's a lot; but I guess I needn't go over it all. I've been playing
the devil."

"Jeff!"

"Yes, I have. I've been going with another girl down there, one the kind
you wanted me to make up to, and I went so far I--well, I made love to
her; and then I thought it over, and found out I didn't really care for
her, and I had to tell her so, and then I came up to tell Cynthy. That's
about the size of it. What do you think of it?"

"D' you tell Cynthy?"

"Yes, I told her."

"What 'd she say?"

"She said I'd better go back to the other girl." Jeff laughed hardily,
but his mother remained impassive.

"I guess she's right; I guess you had."

"That seems to be the general opinion. That's what Mr. Westover advised.
I seem to be the