steady-going young man, and that he sighed for the
moon.

"Moses," said the girl, when they came in sight of the elms that, shaded
the gable of the parsonage, "what do you think of Jethro Bass?"

"Jethro Bass!" exclaimed honest Moses, "whatever put him into your head,
Cynthy?" Had she mentioned perhaps, any other young man in Coniston,
Moses would have been eaten with jealousy.

"Oh, Jock was joking about him. What do you think of him?"

"Never thought one way or t'other," he answered. "Jethro never had
much to do with the boys. He's always in that tannery, or out buyin' of
hides. He does make a sharp bargain when he buys a hide. We always goes
shares on our'n."

Cynthia was not only the minister's daughter,--distinction enough,--her
reputation for learning was spread through the country roundabout, and
at the age of twenty she had had an offer to teach school in Harwich.
Once a week in summer she went to Brampton, to the Social library there,
and sat at the feet of that Miss Lucretia Penniman of whom Brampton has
ever been so proud--Lucretia Penniman, one of the first to sound the
clarion note for the intellectual independence of American women; who
wrote the "Hymn to Coniston"; who, to the awe of her townspeople,
went out into the great world and became editress of a famous woman's
journal, and knew Longfellow and Hawthorne and Bryant. Miss Lucretia
it was who started the Brampton Social Library, and filled it with such
books as both sexes might read with profit. Never was there a stricter
index than hers. Cynthia, Miss Lucretia loved, and the training of that
mind was the pleasantest task of her life.

Curiosity as a factor has never, perhaps, been given its proper weight
by philosophers. Besides being fatal to a certain domestic animal, as
an instigating force it has brought joy and sorrow into the lives of men
and women, and made and marred careers. And curiosity now laid hold of
Cynthia Ware. Why in the world she should ever have been curious about
Jethro Bass is a mystery to many, for the two of them were as far apart
as the poles. Cynthia, of all people, took to watching the tanner's son,
and listening to the brief colloquies he had with other men at Jonah
Winch's store, when she went there to buy things for the parsonage; and
it seemed to her that Jock had not been altogether wrong, and that there
was in the man an indefinable but very compelling force. And when
a woman begins to admit that a man has forc