“Would it have made any difference to him where you had been?” she asked calmly enough. Bob had a presentiment that he was on dangerous ground. This new and self-possessed Cynthia was an enigma to him--certainly a fascinating enigma. “My father world have thought I was a fool to go off serenading,” he answered, flushing. Bob did not like a lie; he knew that his father would have been angry if he had heard he had gone to Coniston; he felt, in the small of his back, that his father was angry mow, and guessed the reason. She regarded him gravely as he spoke, and then her eyes left his face and became fixed upon an object at the far end of the corridor. Bob turned in time to see Janet Duncan swing on her heel and follow her mother up the stairs. He struggled to find words to tide over what he felt was an awkward moment. “We've had a fine trip;” he said, “though I should much rather have stayed at home. The West is a wonderful country, with its canons and mountains and great stretches of plain. My father met us in Chicago, and we came here. I don't know why, because Washington's dead at this time of the year. I suppose it must be on account of politics.” Looking at Jethro with a sudden inspiration, “I hadn't thought of that.” Jethro had betrayed no interest in the conversation. He was seated, as usual, on the small of his back. But he saw a young man of short stature, with a freckled face and close-cropped, curly red hair, come into the corridor by another entrance; he saw Isaac D. Worthington draw him aside and speak to him, and he saw the young man coming towards them. “How do you do, Miss Wetherell?” cried the young man joyously, while still ten feet away, “I'm awfully glad to see you, upon my word; I am. How long are you going to be in Washington?” “I don't know, Mr. Duncan,” answered Cynthia. “Did Worthy know you were here?” demanded Mr. Duncan, suspiciously. “He did when he saw me,” said Cynthia, smiling. “Not till then?” asked Mr. Duncan. “Say, Worthy; your father wants to see you right away. I'm going to be in Washington a day or two--will you go walking with me to-morrow morning, Miss Wetherell?” “She's going walking with me,” said Bob, not in the best of tempers. “Then I'll go along,” said Mr. Duncan, promptly. By this time Cynthia got up and was holding out her hand to Bob Worthington. “I'm not going walking with either of you,” she said “I have another engagement. And I think I'll have to say good night, because I'm very tired.” “When can I see you?” Both the young men asked the question at once. “Oh, you'll have plenty of chances,” she answered, and was gone. The young men looked at each other somewhat blankly; and then down at Jethro, who did not seem to know that they were there, and then they made their way toward the desk. But Isaac D. Worthington and his friends had disappeared.