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This was because of a pain around his heart had she known it. He had felt that pain before. "H-how do they treat you, Cynthy?" She hesitated. She had not yet learned to use the word patronize in the social sense, and she was at a loss to describe the attitude of Mrs. Duncan and her daughter, though her instinct had registered it. She was at a loss to account for Mr. Worthington's attitude, too.
After a moment the girl asked, forlornly: "What should you do, father, if you were in my place?" "Well, there I guess you got me, Cynthy," said her father. "I don't believe 't any man, I don't care how old he is, or how much experience he's had, knows exactly how a girl feels about a thing like this, or has got any call to advise her.
Durgin paused for a fitting figure "save a flea from the gallows." Jeff burst into a laugh. "Well, I guess that's so, mother. And now you want me to throw away the only chance I've got of learning how to run Lion's Head in the right way by breaking with Cynthy." "Nobody wants you to run Lion's Head for a while yet," his mother returned, scornfully. "Jackson is going to run Lion's Head.
"I read two articles from the Newcastle Guardian about you about your life." "Yes," he said. But he did not turn. "How you had how you had earned your living. How you had gained your power," she went on, her pain lending to her voice an exquisite note of many modulations. "Yes Cynthy," he said, and still stared at the eastern sky.
Plumfield made no more efforts to persuade her, but rid herself of cloak and hood and went into Mr. Ringgan's room. Fleda placed herself again in her chimney corner. Burying her face in her hands, she sat waiting more quietly; and Cynthy, having finished all her business, took a chair on the hearth opposite to her.
"Cynthy, I'm glad we didn't press that post-office matter it was worth more to me than all the post-offices in the Union to have that talk with General Grant." They waited some time longer under the tree, happy in the afterglow of this wonderful experience. Presently a clock struck twelve. "Why, it's dinner-time, Cynthy," said Ephraim.
What had been her misery and affliction compared to this? Her limbs refused her, though she knew not whether she would have fled or rushed into his arms. How long she stood thus, and he stood, may not be said, but at length he put down his foot and took the saw from his knee, his eyes fell upon her, and his lips spoke her name. "Cynthy!"
Then he began slowly to unwrap the newspaper from the bundle: there were five layers of it, but at length he disclosed a bolt of cardinal cloth. "Call this to mind, Cynthy?" "Yes," she answered with a smile. "H-how's this for the dress, Mr. Painter-man?" said Jethro, with a pride that was ill-concealed. The painter started up from his seat and took the material in his hands and looked at Cynthia.
"Cynthy! whar is the gal?" said poor Mrs. Hollis, as she came around the house to hang out the ragged clothes on the althea-bushes and the rickety fence. "Cynthy, air ye a-goin' ter sit thar in the door all day, an' that thar pot a-bilin' all the stren'th out 'n that thar cabbige an' roas'in'-ears? Dish up dinner, child, an' don't be so slow an' slack-twisted like yer dad."
She felt angry with God, who, she was sure, was persecuting her, as Cynthy Ann had said, out of jealousy of her love for August, and she was determined that she would not look into that red-cloth Testament, which seemed to her full of condemnation. But there was a fascination about it she could not resist.
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