The Fourth of July came at last, nor was any contradiction made in the Brampton papers that the speech of the Honorable Heth Sutton had been cancelled. Instead, advertisements appeared in the 'Brampton Clarion' announcing the fact in large letters. When Cynthia read this advertisement to Jethro, he chuckled again. They were under the butternut tree, for the evenings were long now. "Will you take me to Brampton, Uncle Jethro?" said she, letting fall the paper on her lap. "W-who's to get in the hay?" said Jethro. "Hay on the Fourth of July!" exclaimed Cynthia, "why, that's--sacrilege! You'd much better come and hear Mr. Sutton's speech--it will do you good." Cynthia could see that Jethro was intensely amused, for his eyes had a way of snapping on such occasions when he was alone with her. She was puzzled and slightly offended, because, to tell the truth, Jethro had spoiled her. "Very well, then," she said, "I'll go with the Painter-man." Jethro came and stood over her, his expression the least bit wistful. "Er--Cynthy," he said presently, "hain't fond of that Painter-man, be you?" "Why, yes," said Cynthia, "aren't you?" "He's fond of you," said Jethro, "sh-shouldn't be surprised if he was in love with you." Cynthia looked up at him, the corners of her mouth twitching, and then she laughed. The Rev. Mr. Satterlee, writing his Sunday sermon in his study, heard her and laid down his pen to listen. "Uncle Jethro," said Cynthia, "sometimes I forget that you're a great, wise man, and I think that you are just a silly old goose." Jethro wiped his face with his blue cotton handkerchief. "Then you hain't a-goin' to marry the Painter-man?" he said. "I'm not going to marry anybody," cried Cynthia, contritely; "I'm going to live with you and take care of you all my life." On the morning of the Fourth, Cynthia drove to Brampton with the Painter-man, and when he perceived that she was dreaming, he ceased to worry her with his talk. He liked her dreaming, and stole many glances at her face of which she knew nothing at all. Through the cool and fragrant woods, past the mill-pond stained blue and white by the sky, and scented clover fields and wayside flowers nodding in the morning air--Cynthia saw these things in the memory of another journey to Brampton. On that Fourth her father had been with her, and Jethro and Ephraim and Moses and Amanda Hatch and the children. And how well she recalled, too, standing amidst the curious crowd before the great house which Mr. Worthington had just built.