use he has not to this day a very clear idea. As a matter of fact, he
followed Mr. Worthington and Mr. Duncan, and they made their exit by the
farther door. Jethro did not appear to take any notice of their
departure.

"Janet," said Mrs. Duncan, "I think Senator and Mrs. Meade must have gone
to our sitting room." Then, to Cynthia's surprise, the lady took her by
the hand. "I can't imagine what you've done, my dear," she said
pleasantly, "but I believe that you are capable of taking care of
yourself, and I like you."

Thus it will be seen that Mrs. Duncan was an independent person.
Sometimes heiresses are apt to be.

"And I like you, too," said Janet, taking both of Cynthia's hands, "and I
hope to see you very, very often."

Jethro looked after them.

"Er--the women folks seem to have some sense," he said. Then he turned to
Cynthia. "B-be'n havin' some fun with Heth, Cynthy?" he inquired.

"I haven't any respect for Mr. Sutton," said Cynthia, indignantly; "it
serves him right for presuming to think that he could give a post-office
to any one."

Jethro made no remark concerning this presumption on the part of the
congressman of the district. Cynthia's indignation against Mr. Sutton was
very real, and it was some time before she could compose herself
sufficiently to tell Jethro what had happened. His enjoyment as he
listened may be imagined but presently he forgot this, and became aware
that something really troubled her.

"Uncle Jethro," she asked suddenly, "why do they treat me as they do?"

He did not answer at once. This was because of a pain around his
heart--had she known it. He had felt that pain before.

"H-how do they treat you, Cynthy?"

She hesitated. She had not yet learned to use the word patronize in the
social sense, and she was at a loss to describe the attitude of Mrs.
Duncan and her daughter, though her instinct had registered it. She was
at a loss to account for Mr. Worthington's attitude, too. Mr. Sutton's
she bitterly resented.

"Are they your enemies?" she demanded.

Jethro was in real distress.

"If they are," she continued, "I won't speak to them again. If they can't
treat me as--as your daughter ought to be treated, I'll turn my back on
them. I am--I am just like your daughter--am I not, Uncle Jethro?"

He put out his hand and seized hers roughly, and his voice was thick with
suffering.

"Yes, Cynthy," he said, "you--you're all I've got in the world."

She squeezed his hand in