"And I know more than most women now," continued Cynthia, triumphantly.
"I'm going to be such a help to you soon--very soon. I've read a lot of
history, and I know some of the Constitution by heart. I know why old
Timothy Prescott fought in the Revolution--it was to get rid of kings,
wasn't it, and to let the people have a chance? The people can always be
trusted to do what is right, can't they, Uncle Jethro?"

Jethro was silent, but Cynthia did not seem to notice that. After a space
she spoke again:--"I've been thinking it all out about you, Uncle
Jethro."

"A-about me?"

"Yes, I know why you are able to send men to Congress and make judges of
them. It's because the people have chosen you to do all that for
them--you are so great and good."

Jethro did not answer.

Although the month was March, it was one of those wonderful still nights
that sometimes come in the mountain-country when the wind is silent in
the notches and the stars seem to burn nearer to the earth. Cynthia awoke
and lay staring for an instant at the red planet which hung over the
black and ragged ridge, and then she arose quickly and knocked at the
door across the passage.

"Are you ill, Uncle Jethro?"

"No," he answered, "no, Cynthy. Go to bed. Er--I was just