addition to his
own fortune, had married one of the richest heiresses in New England.
Prudens futuri, that was Mr. Worthington's motto.

The next morning Cynthia, who was walking about the town alone, found
herself gazing over a picket fence at a great square house with a very
wide cornice that stood by itself in the centre of a shade-flecked lawn.
There were masses of shrubbery here and there, and a greenhouse, and a
latticed summer-house: and Cynthia was wondering what it would be like to
live in a great place like that, when a barouche with two shining horses
in silver harness drove past her and stopped before the gate. Four or
five girls and boys came laughing out on the porch, and one of them, who
held a fishing-rod in his hand, Cynthia recognized. Startled and ashamed,
she began to walk on as fast as she could in the opposite direction, when
she heard the sound of footsteps on the lawn behind her, and her own name
called in a familiar voice. At that she hurried the faster; but she could
not run, and the picket fence was half a block long, and Bob Worthington
had an advantage over her. Of course it was Bob, and he did not scruple
to run, and in a few seconds he was leaning over the fence in front of
her. Now Cynthia was as red as a peony by this time, and she almost hated
him.

"Well, of all people, Cynthia Wetherell!" he cried; "didn't you hear me
calling after you?"

"Yes," said Cynthia.

"Why didn't you stop?"

"I didn't want to," said Cynthia, glancing at the distant group on the
porch, who were watching them. Suddenly she turned to him defiantly. "I
didn't know you were in that house, or in the capital," she said.

"And I didn't know you were," said Bob, upon whose masculine intelligence
the meaning of her words was entirely lost. "If I had known it, you can
bet I would have looked you up. Where are you staying?"

"At the Pelican House."

"What!" said Bob, "with all the politicians? How did you happen to go
there?"

"Mr. Bass asked my father and me to come down for a few days," answered
Cynthia, her color heightening again. Life is full of contrasts, and
Cynthia was becoming aware of some of them.

"Uncle Jethro?" said Bob.

"Yes, Uncle Jethro," said Cynthia, smiling in spite of herself. He always
made her smile.

"Uncle Jethro owns the Pelican House," said Bob.

"Does he? I knew he was a great man, but I didn't know how great he was
until I came down here."

Cynthia said this so innocently