judice him against
the boy, and yet how can I explain why he left here? He can tell his own
story."

His wife, however, wrote a letter to her brother, and addressed it to
the care of her cousin, William Carpenter, of Philadelphia. She hoped
for an answer, but none came, and in a few days Mr. Franklin wrote to
Mr. Carpenter, asking if his brother-in-law had arrived, and then,
without waiting for a reply, he concluded to go himself to Philadelphia.

The following Sunday was Easter day--it came late this year. Cynthia,
sitting in the Franklin pew, saw to her dismay Tony Bronson on the other
side of the church. He was with the Morgans.

"Dear me," thought Cynthia, "there will be more trouble now that he has
come, for he will tell hateful things about Neal, I'm sure. I do hope
Edith won't see him."

Her thoughts wandered during the service. When it was over, and the
congregation streamed out of church into the mild spring air, the
Morgans invited Edith to come home with them to dinner. This she agreed
to do, much to her sister's disgust; but Cynthia was still further
incensed when Edith came back that afternoon and announced, in a
would-be careless manner, that she had promised to drive with Tony
Bronson the next day.

"Why, Edith!" said Cynthia, indignantly; "I shouldn't think you would
have anything to do with that Bronson. He has been hateful to Neal."

"I don't know why you should say that," returned Edith; "any one would
say that he had been exceedingly nice to Neal. He lent him all that
money, I'm sure. And, besides, what difference does it make? Neal has
behaved badly and run away. There is no reason why we should give up
people that Neal doesn't happen to like. Papa said the other day that
Tony Bronson was a very good sort of fellow, because he wasn't in that
last scrape of Neal's."

"Papa doesn't know a thing about him, and, at any rate, papa wouldn't
let you go to drive if he were at home. You know he wouldn't."

Mrs. Franklin came into the room just at this moment.

"Would not let Edith go to drive, Cynthia?" she said. "What do you mean,
dear?"

"Go to drive with strange men like that Bronson."

"What nonsense!" said Edith, crossly; "of course I can go. Papa never in
his life forbade my going to drive with any of the boys. How silly you
are, Cynthia!"

"Were you going to drive with Tony Bronson, Edith?" asked her
stepmother.

"Yes, I _am_ going, to-morrow."

"I think I agree with Cynthia, then.