refrain from asking those questions about Boston, and why she had come
back? Some such query was running in their minds as they talked, while
Jethro, having finished his milk and crackers, sat silent at the end of
the table with his eyes upon her. He rose when Mr. Satterlee came in.

Mr. Satterlee looked at her, and then he went quietly across the room and
kissed her. But then Mr. Satterlee was the minister. Cynthia thought his
hair a little thinner and the lines in his face a little deeper. And Mr.
Satterlee thought perhaps he was the only one of the visitors who guessed
why she had come back. He laid his thin hand on her head, as though in
benediction, and sat down beside her.

"And how is the learning, Cynthia?" he asked.

Now, indeed, they were going to hear something at last. An intuition
impelled Cynthia to take advantage of that opportunity.

"The learning has become so great, Mr. Satterlee," she said, "that I have
come back to try to make some use of it. It shall be wasted no more."

She did not dare to look at Jethro, but she was aware that he had sat
down abruptly. What sacrifice will not a good woman make to ease the
burden of those whom she loves! And Jethro's burden would be heavy
enough. Such a woman will speak almost gayly, though her heart be heavy.
But Cynthia's was lighter now than it had been.

"I was always sure you would not waste your learning, Cynthia," said Mr.
Satterlee, gravely; "that you would make the most of the advantages God
has given you."