Mr. Gibson began,--"Well, Cynthia; I've seen the Squire to-day, and

made a clean breast of it."

Cynthia looked up quickly, questioning with her eyes; Molly stopped

her netting to listen; no one spoke.

"You're all to go there on Thursday to lunch; he asked you all, and I

promised for you."

Still no reply; natural, perhaps, but very flat.

"You'll be glad of that, Cynthia, shan't you?" asked Mr. Gibson. "It

may be a little formidable, but I hope it will be the beginning of a

good understanding between you."

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"Thank you!" said she, with an effort. "But--but won't it make it

public? I do so wish not to have it known, or talked about, not till

he comes back or close upon the marriage."

"I don't see how it should make it public," said Mr. Gibson. "My

wife goes to lunch with my friend, and takes her daughters with

her--there's nothing in that, is there?"

"I am not sure that I shall go," put in Mrs. Gibson. She did not

know why she said it, for she fully intended to go all the time; but

having said it, she was bound to stick to it for a little while; and,

with such a husband as hers, the hard necessity was sure to fall upon

her of having to find a reason for her saying. Then it came, quick

and sharp.

"Why not?" said he, turning round upon her.

"Oh, because--because I think he ought to have called on Cynthia

first; I've that sort of sensitiveness I can't bear to think of her

being slighted because she is poor."

"Nonsense!" said Mr. Gibson. "I do assure you, no slight whatever

was intended. He does not wish to speak about the engagement to any

one--not even to Osborne--that's your wish, too, isn't it, Cynthia?

Nor does he intend to mention it to any of you when you go there;

but, naturally enough, he wants to make acquaintance with his future

daughter-in-law. If he deviated so much from his usual course as to

come calling here--"

"I am sure I don't want him to come calling here," said Mrs. Gibson,

interrupting. "He was not so very agreeable the only time he did

come. But I am that sort of a character that I cannot put up with

any neglect of persons I love, just because they are not smiled upon

by fortune." She sighed a little ostentatiously as she ended her

sentence.

"Well, then, you won't go!" said Mr. Gibson, provoked, but not

wishing to have a long discussion, especially as he felt his temper

going.

"Do you wish it, Cynthia?" said Mrs. Gibson, anxious for an excuse to

yield.




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