d come to see her father in Coniston, and who had spoken so
kindly to her on that occasion.

"Well, well, well," he said; "Jethro, you'll be the death of me yet.
'Don't write-send,' eh? Well, as long as you sent word you were here, I
don't complain. So you licked 'em again, eh--down in Washington? Never
had a doubt but what you would. Is this the new postmaster? How are you,
Mr. Prescott--and Cynthia--a young lady! Bless my soul," said Mr.
Merrill, looking her over as he shook her hand. "What have you done to
her, Jethro? What kind of beauty powder do they use in Coniston?"

Mr. Merrill took the seat next to her and continued to talk, scattering
his pleasantries equally among the three, patting her arm when her own
turn came. She liked Mr. Merrill very much; he seemed to her (as, indeed,
he was) honest and kind-hearted. Cynthia was not lacking in a proper
appreciation of herself--that may have been discovered. But she was
puzzled to know why this gentleman should make it a point to pay such
particular attention to a young country girl. Other railroad presidents
whom she could name had not done so. She was thinking of these things,
rather than listening to Mr. Merrill's conversation, when the sound of
Mr. Worthington's name startled her.

"Well, Jethro," Mr. Merrill was saying, "you certainly nipped this little
game of Worthington's in the bud. Thought he'd take you in the rear by
going to Washington, did he? Ha, ha! I'd like to know how you did it.
I'll get you to tell me to-night--see if I don't. You're all coming in to
supper to-night, you know, at seven o'clock."

Ephraim laid down his knife and fork for the first time. Were the wonders
of this journey never to cease? And Jethro, once in his life, looked
nervous.

"Er--er--Cyn'thy'll go, Steve--Cynthy'll go."

"Yes, Cynthy'll go," laughed Mr. Merrill, "and you'll go, and Ephraim'll
go." Although he by no means liked everybody, as would appear at first
glance, Mr. Merrill had a way of calling people by their first names when
he did fancy them.

"Er--Steve," said Jethro, "what would your wife say if I was to drink
coffee out of my saucer?"

"Let's see," said Mr. Merrill grave for once. "What's the punishment for
that in my house? I know what she'd do if you didn't drink it. What do
you think she'd do, Cynthy?"

"Ask him what was the matter with it," said Cynthia, promptly.

"Well, Cynthy," said he, "I know why these old fellows take you round
with 'em. To t