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"Cynthia Badlam Fund Hopkins," said the good woman triumphantly, "is that what you mean?" "Suppose we leave out one of the names, four are too many. I think the general opinion will be that Hehninthia should unite the names of her two benefactresses, Cynthia Badlam Hopkins." "Why, law! Mr. Gridley, is n't that nice? Minthy and Cynthy, there ain't but one letter of difference!
"Ye hev got a mighty cur'ous way o' showin' it," she reiterated, with renewed animation "a-comin' all the way down hyar from the mountings ter beat my dad out'n that thar saddle an' bridle, what he's done sot his heart onto. Mighty cur'ous way." "Look hyar, Cynthy." The young hunter broke off suddenly, and did not speak again for several minutes.
Georgina expressed an ungracious satisfaction, adding abruptly "You'll be able to see him there, Cynthy, just as well as here." Cynthia made no reply. Mrs. Friend was sitting in the bow-window of the "Fisherman's Rest," a small Welsh inn in the heart of Snowdonia. The window was open, and a smell of damp earth and grass beat upon Lucy in gusts from outside, carried by a rainy west wind.
"Tain't book-larnin' 'tain't what you'd get in book larnin' in Boston, Cynthy." "What, then?" she asked. "Well," said Jethro, "they'd teach you to be a lady, Cynthy." "A lady!" "Your father come of good people, and and your mother was a lady. I'm only a rough old man, Cynthy, and I don't know much about the ways of fine folks.
But there stood Cynthy making some sort of gesture, which Julia took to mean that she was to go quick. She did not dare to show any eagerness. She laid down her work, and moved away listlessly. And evidently she had been too slow. For if August had been in sight when Cynthy Ann called her, he had now disappeared on the other side of the hill.
Then the Yankee dealers begun to fotch 'em in an' sell 'em at Lexin'ton an' Louisville an' Limestone. Rube an' Dink wuz the fust I owned bought 'em o' ole Jake Bledsoe in the spring o' '87. Now I own nigh on to twenty darkeys, big an' little. The place is fairly runnin' ovah with the lazy imps, an' it keeps me an' Cynthy Ann on the tight jump frum sun-up tell dark lookin' aftah 'em."
She stole to him and flung her arms about his neck, and with a cry he seized her and held her against him for I know not how long. Had it been possible to have held her there always, he would never have let her go. At last he looked down into her tear-wet face, into her eyes that were shining with tears. "D-done wrong, Cynthy."
Entering the kitchen she said to Aunt Cynthia: "'Pears ter me yo' must have powerful lot o' time on han', Sis' Cynthy." "Well'm I AIN'T. No ma'am, not me," was Cynthia's prompt reply, for to tell the truth she was beginning to weary of doling out religious consolation and bodily sustenance, yet hospitality demanded something.
Even then he did not turn to her, but he answered. Curious to relate, though his heart was breaking, his voice was steady steady as it always had been. "I I've seen it comin', Cynthy," he said. "I never knowed anything I was afraid of before but I was afraid of this. I knowed what your notions of right and wrong was your your mother had them. They're the principles of good people.
Fleda did not lift up her eyes, but her mounting colour showed that she understood both speeches. "Because, if you are in general such a misty personage," Mr. Rossitur went on, half laughing, "I would humbly recommend a choice of incense." "O, I forgot to open the windows!" exclaimed Fleda, ingenuously. "Cynthy, wont you, please, go and do it!
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