t any moment
if he got my telegram promptly, and then, dear Edith!"

"I know, mamma," faltered Cynthia. It was hard to explain away her
apparent thoughtlessness. "But I sha'n't be gone long. It always does me
good to paddle, and Jack will be at home and the nurse has come. Do you
really need me, mamma?"

"Oh no, not if you want to go so much. I thought perhaps Edith would
like to have you near. But I must go back to her now. Don't stay away
too long, Cynthia. I like to have you within call."

Cynthia would have preferred to stay close by Edith's side, but there
was no help for it: she must go to Neal. Afterwards, when she came back
and brought Neal with her, her mother would understand.

She was soon in the canoe, paddling rapidly down-stream. A year had not
made great alteration in Cynthia's appearance. As she was fifteen years
old now her gowns were a few inches longer, and her hair was braided and
looped up at the neck, instead of hanging in curly disorder as it once
did; and this was done only out of regard for Edith. Cynthia herself
cared no more about the way she looked than she ever did. She did not
want to grow up, she said. She preferred to remain a little girl, and
have a good time just as long as she possibly could.

It was quite a warm morning for the time of year, and the low-hanging
clouds made exercise irksome, but Cynthia did not heed the weather. Her
one idea was to reach Neal as quickly as possible and bring him home.
How happy her mother would be! She wondered why he had not returned to
the house at once, instead of sending for her in this mysterious
fashion; it would have been so much nicer. However, she was glad he had
come, even this way. It was far better than not coming at all.

Her destination lay several miles from Oakleigh; but the current and
what breeze there was were both in Cynthia's favor, and it was not long
before she had passed under the stone bridge which stood about half-way
between. She met no one; the river was little frequented at this hour of
the morning so far from the town, for the numerous curves in the Charles
made it a much longer trip by water than by road from Oakleigh to
Brenton. A farmer's boy or two watched her pass, and criticised loudly,
though amiably, the long free sweep of her paddle.

Cynthia did not notice them. Her mind was fully occupied, and her eyes
were fixed upon the distance. As each bend in the river was rounded she
hoped that she might see Neal's