t a word. Each was scanned from the store where Rias now
reigned supreme, and from the harness shop across the road. Some drove
away striving to bite from their lips the tell-tale smile which arose in
spite of them; others tried to look happy, despite the sentence of doom
to which they had listened.

Jethro Bass was indeed a great man to make such as these tremble or
rejoice. When he went abroad with Cynthia awheel or afoot, some took off
their hats--an unheard-of thing in Coniston. If he stopped at the store,
they scanned his face for the mood he was in before venturing their
remarks; if he lingered for a moment in front of the house of Amanda
Hatch, the whole village was advised of the circumstance before
nightfall.

Two personages worthy of mention here visited the tannery house during
the years that Cynthia lived with Jethro. The Honorable Heth Sutton
drove over from Clovelly attended by his prime minister, Mr. Bijah
Bixby. The Honorable Heth did not attempt to conceal the smile with
which he went away, and he stopped at the store long enough to enable
Rias to produce certain refreshments from depths unknown to the United
States Internal Revenue authorities. Mr. Sutton shook hands with
everybody, including Jake Wheeler. Well he might. He came to Coniston
a private citizen, and drove away to all intents and purposes a
congressman: the darling wish of his life realized after heaven knows
how many caucuses and conventions of disappointment, when Jethro had
judged it expedient for one reason or another that a north countryman
should go. By the time the pair reached Brampton, Chamberlain Bixby was
introducing his chief as Congressman Sutton, and by this title he was
known for many years to come.

Another day, when the snow lay in great billows on the ground and filled
the mountain valleys, when the pines were rusty from the long winter,
two other visitors drove to Coniston in a two-horse sleigh. The sun was
shining brightly, the wind held its breath, and the noon-day warmth was
almost like that of spring. Those who know the mountain country will
remember the joy of many such days. Cynthia, standing in the sun on the
porch, breathing deep of the pure air, recognized, as the sleigh drew
near, the somewhat portly gentleman driving, and the young woman beside
him regally clad in furs who looked patronizingly at the tannery house
as she took the reins. The young woman was Miss Cassandra Hopkins, and
the portly gentleman, t