That afternoon Miss Cynthia harnessed her fat grey pony into the phaeton herself--she kept neither man nor maid, but lived in her big, immaculate house in solitary state--and drove away down the dusty, buttercup-bordered road, leaving Wilbur sitting on the verandah. She returned in an hour's time and drove into the yard, shutting the gate behind her with a vigorous snap. Wilbur was not in sight and, fearful lest he should be in mischief, she hurriedly tied the pony to the railing and went in search of him. She found him sitting by the well, his chin in his hands; he was pale and his eyes were red. Miss Cynthia hardened her heart and took him into the house. "I've been down to see Mr. Robins this afternoon, Wilbur," she said, pretending to brush some invisible dust from the bottom of her nice black cashmere skirt for an excuse to avoid looking at him, "and he's agreed to take you on trial. It's a real good chance--better than you could expect. He says he'll board and clothe you and let you go to school in the winter." The boy seemed to shrink. "Daddy said that I would stay with you," he said wistfully. "He said you were so good and kind and would love me for his sake." For a moment Miss Cynthia softened. She had been very fond of her stepbrother; it seemed that his voice appealed to her across the grave in behalf of his child. But the crust of years was not to be so easily broken. "Your father meant that I would look after you," she said, "and I mean to, but I can't afford to keep you here. You'll have a good place at Mr. Robins', if you behave yourself. I'm going to take you down now, before I unharness the pony, so go and wash your face while I put up your things. Don't look so woebegone, for pity's sake! I'm not taking you to prison." Wilbur turned and went silently to the kitchen. Miss Cynthia thought she heard a sob. She went with a firm step into the little bedroom off the hall and took a purse out of a drawer. "I s'pose I ought," she said doubtfully. "I don't s'pose he has a cent. I daresay he'll lose or waste it." She counted out seventy-five cents carefully. When she came out, Wilbur was at the door. She put the money awkwardly into his hand. "There, see that you don't spend it on any foolishness." * * * * * Miss Cynthia's Action made a good deal of talk in Wilmot. The women, headed by Mrs. John Joe--who said behind Cynthia's back what she did not dare say to her face--condemned her. The men laughed and said that Cynthia was a shrewd one; there was no getting round her. Miss Cynthia herself was far from easy. She could not forget Wilbur's wistful eyes, and she had heard that Robins was a hard master.