pursuits, to leading young men from their
occupations and duties?"

"If you've come here to recite the Blue Laws," said she, laughing again,
"I have something better to do than to listen to them."

"Cynthia," he cried, "I'll tell you what you are. I'll draw your
character for you, and then, if you can give me one good reason why I
should not associate with you, I'll go away and never come back."

"That's all very well," said Cynthia, "but suppose I don't admit your
qualifications for drawing my character. And I don't admit them, not for
a minute."

"I will draw it," said he, standing up in front of her. "Oh, confound
it!"

This exclamation, astonishing and out of place as it was, was caused by a
ring at the doorbell. The ring was followed by a whispering and giggling
in the hall, and then by the entrance of the Misses Merrill into the
parlor. Curiosity had been too strong for them. Susan was human, and here
was the opportunity for a little revenge. In justice to her, she meant
the revenge to be very slight.

"Well, Cynthia, you should have come to the concert," she said; "it was
fine, wasn't it, Jane? Is this Mr. Worthington? How do you do. I'm Miss
Susan Merrill, and this is Miss Jane Merrill." Susan only intended to
stay a minute, but how was Bob to know that? She was tempted into staying
longer. Bob lighted the gas, and she inspected him and approved. Her
approval increased when he began to talk to her in his bantering way, as
if he had known her always. Then, when she was fully intending to go, he
rose to take his leave.

"I'm awfully glad to have met you at last," he said to Susan, "I've heard
so much about you." His leave-taking of Jane was less effusive, and then
he turned to Cynthia and took her hand. "I'm going to Brampton on
Friday," he said, "for the holidays. I wish you were going."

"We couldn't think of letting her go, Mr. Worthington," cried Susan, for
the thought of the hills had made Cynthia incapable of answering. "We're
only to have her for one short winter, you know."

"Yes, I know," said Mr. Worthington, gravely. "I'll see old Ephraim, and
tell him you're well, and what a marvel of learning, you've become.
And--and I'll go to Coniston if that will please you."

"Oh, no, Bob, you mustn't do anything of the kind," answered Cynthia,
trying to keep back the tears. "I--I write to Uncle Jethro very often.
Good-by. I hope you will enjoy your holidays."

"I'm coming to see you the minute I get