he
had never faced life. Mr. Merrill was greatly affected.

"You must not speak of dying, Wetherell," said he, brokenly. "Will you
forgive me?"

"There is nothing to forgive, now that you have explained matters, Mr.
Merrill" said the storekeeper, and he smiled again. "If my fibre had been
a little tougher, this thing would never have happened. There is only one
more request I have to make. And that is, to assure Mr. Duncan, from me,
that I did not detain him purposely."

"I will see him on my way to Boston," answered Mr. Merrill.

Then Cynthia was called. She was waiting anxiously in the passage for the
interview to be ended, and when she came in one glance at her father's
face told her that he was happier. She, too, was happier.

"I wish you would come every day, Mr. Merrill" she said, when they
descended into the garden after the three had talked awhile. "It is the
first time since he fell ill that he seems himself."

Mr. Merrill's answer was to take her hand and pat it. He sat down on the
millstone and drew a deep breath of that sparkling air and sighed, for
his memory ran back to his own innocent boyhood in the New England
country. He talked to Cynthia until Jethro came.

"I have taken a fancy to this girl, Jethro," said the little railroad
president, "I believe I'll steal her; a fellow can't have too many of
'em, you know. I'll tell you one thing,--you won't keep her always shut
up here in Coniston. She's much too good to waste on the desert air."
Perhaps Mr. Merrill, too, had been thinking of the Elegy that morning. "I
don't mean to run down Coniston it's one of the most beautiful places I
ever saw. But seriously, Jethro, you and Wetherell ought to send her to
school in Boston after a while. She's about the age of my girls, and she
can live in my house: Ain't I right?"

"D-don't know but what you be, Steve," Jethro answered slowly.

"I am right," declared Mr. Merrill "you'll back me in this, I know it.
Why, she's like your own daughter. You remember what I say. I mean
it.--What are you thinking about, Cynthia?"

"I couldn't leave Dad and Uncle Jethro," she said.

"Why, bless your soul," said Mr. Merrill "bring Dad along. We'll find
room for him. And I guess Uncle Jethro will get to Boston twice a month
if you're there."

And Mr. Merrill got into the buggy with Mr. Sherman and drove away to
Brampton, thinking of many things.

"S-Steve's a good man," said Jethro. "C-come up here from Brampton to see