"Why, it's dinner-time, Cynthy," said Ephraim. "I guess Jethro haint'
a-comin'--must hev b'en delayed by some of them politicians."

"It's the first time I ever knew him to miss an appointment," said
Cynthia, as they walked back to the hotel.

Jethro was not in the corridor, so they passed on to the dining room and
looked eagerly from group to group. Jethro was not there, either, but
Cynthia heard some one laughing above the chatter of the guests, and drew
back into the corridor. She had spied the Duncans and the Worthingtons
making merry by themselves at a corner table, and it was Somers's laugh
that she heard. Bob, too, sitting next to Miss Duncan, was much amused
about something. Suddenly Cynthia's exaltation over the incident of the
morning seemed to leave her, and Bob Worthington's words which she had
pondered over in the night came back to her with renewed force. He did
not find it necessary to steal away to see Miss Duncan. Why should he
have "stolen away" to see her? Was it because she was a country girl, and
poor? That was true; but on the other hand, did she not live in the
sunlight, as it were, of Uncle Jethro's greatness, and was it not an
honor to come to his house and see any one? And why had Mr. Worthington
turned hid back on Jethro, and sent for Bob when he was talking to them?
Cynthia could not understand these things, and her pride was sorely
wounded by them.

"Perhaps Jethro's in his room," suggested Ephraim.

And indeed they found him there seated on the bed, poring over some
newspapers, and both in a breath demanded where he had been. Ephraim did
not wait for an answer.