ever yet saw the man I couldn't back down, and I haven't
any patience with a woman who gives in to them." Miss Lucretia poked
vigorously a log which had fallen down, as though that were a man, too,
and she was putting him back in his proper place.

Cynthia, strange to say, did not reply to this remark.

"Cynthia," said Miss Lucretia, abruptly, "you don't mean to say that you
are in love!"

Cynthia drew a long breath, and grew as red as the embers.

"Miss Lucretia!" she exclaimed, in astonishment and dismay.

"Well," Miss Lucretia said, "I should have thought you could have gotten
along, for a while at least, without anything of that kind. My dear,"
she said leaning toward Cynthia, "who is he?"

Cynthia turned away. She found it very hard to speak of her troubles,
even to Miss Lucretia, and she would have kept this secret even from
Jethro, had it been possible.

"You must let him know his place," said Miss Lucretia, "and I hope he is
in some degree worthy of you."

"I do not intend to marry him," said Cynthia, with head still turned
away.

It was now Miss Lucretia who was silent.

"I came near getting married once," she said presently, with
characteristic abruptness.

"You!" cried Cynthia, looking around in amazement.

"You see, I am franker than you, my dear--though I never told any one
else. I believe you can keep a secret."

"Of course I can. Who--was it anyone in Brampton, Miss Lucretia?" The
question was out before Cynthia realized its import. She was turning the
tables with a vengeance.

"It was Ezra Graves," said Miss Lucretia.

"Ezra Graves!" And then Cynthia pressed Miss Lucretia's hand in silence,
thinking how strange it was that both of them should have been her
champions that evening.

Miss Lucretia poked the fire again.

"It was shortly after that, when I went to Boston, that I wrote the
'Hymn to Coniston.' I suppose we must all be fools once or twice, or we
should not be human."

"And--weren't you ever--sorry?" asked Cynthia.

Again there was a silence.

"I could not have done the work I have had to do in the world if I
had married. But I have often wondered whether that work was worth the
while. Such a feeling must come over all workers, occasionally. Yes,"
said Miss Lucretia, "there have been times when I have been sorry, my
dear, though I have never confessed it to another soul. I am telling you
this for your own good--not mine. If you have the love of a good man,
Cynthia, be c