shook hands with her, and did not deny that he had been instrumental in
the matter.

"And, Mr. Satterlee, I am so grateful to you," said Cynthia, when they
were in the street once more.

"My dear Cynthia, I did nothing," answered the minister, quite bewildered
by the quick turn affairs had taken; "it is your own good reputation that
got you the place."

Nevertheless Mr. Satterlee had done his share in the matter. He had known
Mr. Graves for a long time, and better than any other person in Brampton.
Mr. Graves remembered Cynthia Ware, and indeed had spoken to Cynthia that
day about her mother. Mr. Graves had also read poor William Wetherell's
contributions to the Newcastle Guardian, and he had not read that paper
since they had ceased. From time to time Mr. Satterlee had mentioned his
pupil to the judge, whose mind had immediately flown to her when the
vacancy occurred. So it all came about.

"And now," said Mr. Satterlee, "what will you do, Cynthia? We've got the
good part of a day to arrange where you will live, before the stage
returns."

"I won't go back to-night, I think," said Cynthia, turning her head away;
"if you would be good enough to tell Uncle Jethro to send my trunk and
some other things."

"Perhaps that is just as well," assented the minister, understanding
perfectly. "I have thought that Miss Bruce might be glad to board you,"
he continued, after a pause. "Let us go to see her."