She did not see Mr. Saltonstall when he called, and she really did miss him at two little companies. Then she wondered if she oughtn't give one, she had gone to so many.

"Why, yes," Cousin Chilian answered. She might have turned the house upside down so long as she was going to stay in it.

Then she wondered if she ought to invite _him_. Mrs. Lynde and she were very good friends, and she should ask Avis, of course. They spoke--they were not ill friends.

Chilian considered. "Yes, I think I would," he made answer.

They had a merry time and danced on the beautiful rugs, and had a fine supper. And Mr. Saltonstall was glad to be friends. She _was_ young and presently she might think of lovers. He would try and keep his chance good.

_Anthony came now_ and then and spent a Sunday with them. He loved to hear Cousin Chilian read Greek verses, but the pretty love odes seemed to mean Cynthia, and he used to watch her. Then Ben Upham was a visitor as well, and used to play checkers with her, as that was considered quite a good exercise for one's brains.

Polly would be married in the spring, Alice Turner in June. The Turners were always besieging her for a two or three days' visit, and the Turner young men hovered round her. She never seemed to do anything, she never demanded attention, but when she glanced up at them, or smiled, they followed her as the children did the Pied Piper. She might have led them into dangerous places, but she was very simple of heart. Yet the danger was alluring to them.

Polly came to her for a good deal of counsel. When there were two patterns of sleeves, which should she take?

"Why, I'd have the India silk made with this and the English gingham with that--you see it will iron so much easier. Miss Grayson does up the puffs on a shirring cord, then you can let them out in the washing."

"That's a fine idea. You do have such splendid ideas, Cynthy."

"They are mostly Rachel Winn's," laughed the young girl.

They had a capable woman in the kitchen now. Cynthia should have been mastering the high art of housekeeping, people thought, instead of running about so much and driving round in the pony carriage with Miss Winn, or a girl companion. Of course, there was plenty of money, but one never quite knew what would happen.

John Loring was building his house as people who could did in those days. They would not be able to finish it all inside, and there was a nook left for an addition when they needed it. Polly was to have some of grandmother's furniture, and John's mother would provide a little.

Corner cupboards were quite a subst.i.tute in those days for china closets, and window-seats answered for chairs. But there was bedding and napery, and no one thought of levying on friends. Relatives looked over their stock and bestowed a few articles. Cynthia thought of the stores in the old house and wished she might donate them. She did pick out some laces from her store, and two pretty scarfs, one of which Polly declared would be just the thing to trim her wedding hat, which was of fine Leghorn. So she would only have to buy the feather.

They haunted the stores and occasionally picked up a real bargain. Even at that period shoppers did not throw their money broadcast.

"Cynthia Leverett is the sweetest girl I know," Polly said daily, and Bentley was of the same opinion.

They were to stand at the wedding.

"And I want you to wear that beautiful frock that you had when Laura Manning was married. I shall only have two bridesmaids, you and Betty, but I want you to look your sweetest."

And surely she did. They had a very nice wedding party and the next day Polly went to her own house and had various small tea-drinkings, and she arranged them for Sat.u.r.day so Bentley could come up. They were wonderfully good friends, but Cynthia felt as if she had outgrown him.

In her estimation he was just a big friendly boy that one could talk to familiarly. Anthony was more backward in the laughter and small-talk.

Then there was the college degree. There was no such great fuss made over commencement then, no grand regattas, no inter-collegiate athletics, for it was a rather serious thing to begin a young man's life and look forward to marriage.

He went straight to Mr. Chilian. It was the proper thing to be fortified with the elders' consent. Of course, he would not marry in some time yet, but if he could be her "company" and speak presently--they had been such friends.

Chilian studied the honest young fellow, whose face was in a glow of hope. So young to dream of love and plan for the future!

"You are both too young;" and his voice had a bit of sharpness in it.

"Cynthia is not thinking of such things."

"But one _can_ think of them. They begin somehow and go into your very life. I believe I've loved her a long while."

"I think neither of you really know what love is. No, I cannot consent to it. I want her to go on having a good free time without any anxiety.

I have some right to her, being her guardian."

"But--I will wait--I didn't mean to ask her immediately."

"We are going on a journey presently. I cannot have her disturbed with this. No, your attention must be devoted to business for the next two years."

He drew a long breath. "But you don't mean I must break off--everything?" and there was an unsteadiness in his voice.

"Oh, no. Not if you can keep to the old friendliness."

Then Chilian Leverett dropped into his easy-chair and thought. The child had grown very dear to him, she was a gift from her father. A tumultuous, uncomprehended pain wrenched his very soul. To live without her--to miss her everywhere! To have lonely days, longer lonely evenings when the dreariness of winter set in. And yet she had a right to the sweet, rich draught of love. But she did not need it amid all the pleasures of youth. Let her have two or three years, even if it was blissful thoughtlessness. But he must put her on her guard. A young fellow soon changed his mind. The old couplet sang itself in his brain:

"If she be not fair for me, What care I how fair she be?"

Did he get over his early love and forget? We all say, "But ours was different."

How to find the right moment? Ben did not come over. She was very busy with this friend and that, youth finds so _many_ interests. But one evening, when they were sitting on the porch in the moonlight, the young fellow walked slowly along, glanced at them, halted.

She flew down to the gate.

"Oh, Ben, what has happened?" she cried, the most bewitching anxiety in her face. "Why, you have not been in--for weeks."

"Not quite two weeks." Had it seemed so long to her? To him it had been months.

"Oh, come in. Cousin Chilian will be glad to see you."

The radiant cordiality in her face unnerved him.

"And you?" Yes, he must know.

"Do you have to ask that question?"

The sweet, dangerous eyes said too much, but the smile was that of amus.e.m.e.nt.

So they walked up the path together. Mr. Leverett greeted him in a friendly manner.

"I thought I ought to come in and say good-bye. I'm going off on some business for father, and may not be back for several weeks."

"That sounds as if you needed an apology for coming at all," she commented with half-resentful gayety.

He flushed and made no immediate reply.

"And we are going to take a journey as well. Up somewhere in Maine. Mr.

Giles Leverett insists we shall, for our health, but I think it is our delightful company. He has to go to look after a large estate where some people think of founding a town. Isn't it funny?" and she gave her bewitching laugh that was like the notes of silver bells, soft, yet clear. "They must go off and build up new places. And some people are going West, as if there wasn't room here. Have you noticed that we are overcrowded?"

"Well, sometimes along the docks it looks that way."

"I like a good many people. Often Merrits' is crowded, and it's funny to catch bits of sentences. And at Plummer's as well. Did you ever read right across the paper, one line in each column, and notice the odd and twisted-up sense it made? That's about the way it sounds."

How bright and charming she was! Ben could not keep his eyes from her radiant face. Was she really a coquette, Chilian wondered. Yet she was so simple with it all, so seemingly careless of the effect. That was the danger of it.