"I am going to try, Mr. Satterlee. I cannot be content in idleness. I was
wasting time in Boston, and I--I was not happy so far away from you
all--from Uncle Jethro. Mr. Satterlee, I am going to teach school. I have
always wanted to, and now I have made up my mind to do it."

This was Jethro's punishment. But had she not lightened it for him a
little by choosing this way of telling him that she could not eat his
bread or partake of his bounty? Though by reason of that bounty she was
what she was, she could not live and thrive on it longer, coming as it
did from such a source. Mr. Satterlee might perhaps surmise the truth,
but the town and village would think her ambition a very natural one,
certainly no better time could have been chosen to announce it.

"To teach school." She was sure now that Mr. Satterlee knew and approved,
and perceived something, at least, of her little ruse. He was a man whose
talents fitted him for a larger flock than he had at Coniston, but he
possessed neither the graces demanded of city ministers nor the power of
pushing himself. Never was a more retiring man. The years she had spent
in his study had not gone for nothing, for he who has cherished the bud
can predict what the flower will be, and Mr. Satterlee knew her
spiritually better than any one else in Coniston. He had heard of her
return, and had walked over to the tannery house, full of fears, the
remembrance of those expressions of simple faith in Jethro coming back to
his mind. Had the revelation which he had so long expected come at last?
and how had she taken it? would it embitter her? The good man believed
that it would not, and now he saw that it had not, and rejoiced
accordingly.

"To teach school," he said. "I expected that you would wish to, Cynthia.
It is a desire that most of us have, who like books and what is in them.