standing in the window.
When he turned and saw her he started to come forward in his old
impetuous way, and stopped and looked at her in surprise. She herself did
not grasp the reason for this.
"Can it be possible," he said, "can it be possible that this is my friend
from the country?" And he took her hand with the greatest formality,
pressed it the least little bit, and released it. "How do you do, Miss
Wetherell? Do you remember me?"
"How do you do--Bob," she answered, laughing in spite of herself at his
banter. "You haven't changed, anyway."
"It was Mr. Worthington in Washington," said he. "Now it is 'Bob' and
'Miss Wetherell.' Rank patronage! How did you do it, Cynthia?"
"You are like all men," said Cynthia, "you look at the clothes, and not
the woman. They are not very fine clothes; but if they were much finer,
they wouldn't change me."
"Then it must be Miss Sadler."
"Miss Sadler would willingly change me--if she could," said Cynthia, a
little bitterly. "How did you find out I was at Miss Sadler's?"
"Morton Browne told me yesterday," said Bob. "I felt like punching his
head."
"What did he tell you?" she asked with some concern.
"He said that you were here, visiting the Merrills, among other things,
and said that you knew me."
The "other things" Mr. Browne had said were interesting, but flippant. He
had seen Bob at a college club and declared that he had met a witch of a
country girl at the Merrills. He couldn't make her out, because she had
refused to see him every time he called again. He had also repeated
Cynthia's remark about Bob's father not being quite the biggest man in
his part of the country, and ventured the surmise that she was the
daughter of a rival mill owner.
"Why didn't you let me know you were in Boston?" said Bob, reproachfully.
"Why should I?" asked Cynthia, and she could not resist adding, "Didn't
you find it out when you went to Brampton--to see me?"
"Well," said he, getting fiery red, "the fact is--I didn't go to
Brampton."
"I'm glad you were sensible enough to take my advice, though I suppose
that didn't make any difference. But--from the way you spoke, I should
have thought nothing could have kept you away."
"To tell you the truth," said Bob, "I'd promised to visit a fellow named
Broke in my class, who lives in New York. And I couldn't get out of it.
His sister, by the way, is in Miss Sadler's. I suppose you know her. But
if I'd thought you'd see me, I shoul
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