He was aroused from these reflections by an incident. Some one had leaped over the railing which separated the stand from the field and stood before Cynthia,--a tanned and smiling young man in gray and crimson. His honest eyes were alight with an admiration that was unmistakable to the painter--perhaps to Cynthia also, for a glow that might have been of annoyance or anger, and yet was like the color of the mountain sunrise, answered in her cheek. Mr. Worthington reached out a large brown hand and seized the girl's as it lay on her lap. "Hello, Cynthia," he cried, "I've been looking for you all day. I thought you might be here. Where were you?" "Where did you look?" answered Cynthia, composedly, withdrawing her hand. "Everywhere," said Bob, "up and down the street, all through the hotel. I asked Lem Hallowell, and he didn't know where you were. I only got here last night myself." "I was in the meeting-house," said Cynthia. "The meeting-house!" he echoed. "You don't mean to tell me that you listened to that silly speech of Sutton's?" This remark, delivered in all earnestness, was the signal for uproarious laughter from Mr. Dodd and others sitting near by, attending earnestly to the conversation. Cynthia bit her lip. "Yes, I did," she said; "but I'm sorry now." "I should think you would be," said Bob; "Sutton's a silly, pompous old fool. I had to sit through dinner with him. I believe I could represent the district better myself." "By gosh!" exploded Mr. Dodd, "I believe you could!" But Bob paid no attention to him. He was looking at Cynthia. "Cynthia, you've grown up since I saw you," he said. "How's Uncle Jethro. "He's well--thanks," said Cynthia, and now she was striving to put down a smile. "Still running the state?" said Bob. "You tell him I think he ought to muzzle Sutton. What did he send him down to Washington for?" "I don't know," said Cynthia. "What are you going to do after the game?" Bob demanded. "I'm going home of course," said Cynthia. His face fell. "Can't you come to the house for supper and stay for the fireworks?" he begged pleadingly. "We'd be mighty glad to have your friend, too." Cynthia introduced her escort. "It's very good of you, Bob," she said, with that New England demureness which at times became her so well, "but we couldn't possibly do it. And then I don't like Mr. Sutton." "Oh, hang him!" exclaimed Bob. He took a step nearer to her. "Won't you stay this once? I have to go West in the morning." "I think you are very lucky," said Cynthia. Bob scanned her face searchingly, and his own fell. "Lucky!" he cried, "I think it's the worst thing that ever happened to me. My father's so hard-headed when he gets his mind set--he's making me do it. He wants me to see the railroads and the country, so I've got to go with the Duncans. I wanted to stay--" He checked himself, "I think it's a blamed nuisance." "So do I," said a voice behind him.