and women an incredible distance away heard
them in an incredible time: those in the village found an immediate
pretext for leaving their legitimate occupation and going to the store,
and a gathering was in session there when young Mr. Worthington drove
past it on his way back. Bob thought little about the rumors, and not
thinking of them it did not occur to him that they might affect Cynthia.
The only person then in Coniston whom he thought about was Jethro Bass.
Bob decided that his liking for Jethro had not diminished, but rather
increased; he admired Jethro for the advice he had given, although he did
not mean to take it. And for the first time he pitied him.

Bob did not know that rumor, too, was spreading in Brampton. He had his
dinner in the big walnut dining room all alone, and after it he smoked
his father's cigars and paced up and down the big hall, watching the
clock. For he could not go to her in the school hours. At length he put
on his hat and hurried out, crossing the park-like enclosure in the
middle of the street; bowed at by Mr. Dodd, who always seemed to be on
hand, and others, and nodding absently in return. Concealment was not in
Bob Worthington's nature. He reached the post-office, where the partition
door was open, and he walked right into a comparatively full meeting of
the Brampton Club. Ephraim sat in their midst, and for once he was not
telling war stories. He was silent. And the others fell suddenly silent,
too, at Bob's entrance.

"How do you do, Mr. Prescott?" he said, as Ephraim struggled to his feet.
"How is the rheumatism?"

"How be you, Mr. Worthington?" said Ephraim; "this is a kind of a
surprise, hain't it?" Ephraim was getting used to surprises. "Well, it is
good-natured of you to come in and shake hands with an old soldier."

"Don't mention it, Mr. Prescott," answered honest Bob, a little abashed,
"I should have done so anyway, but the fact is, I wanted to speak to you
a moment in private."

"Certain," said Ephraim, glancing helplessly around him, "jest come out
front." That space, where the public were supposed to be, was the only
private place in the Brampton post-office. But the members of the
Brampton Club could take a hint, and with one consent began to make
excuses. Bob knew them all from boyhood and spoke to them all. Some of
them ventured to ask him if Harvard had bust up.

"Where does Cynthia-live?" he demanded, coming straight to the point.

Ephraim stared at him fo