THE following Sunday morning Nelson Floyd went to church. From the doorway he descried a vacant seat on the side of the house occupied by the men and boys, and when he had taken it and looked over the well-filled room, he saw that he had Cynthia Porter in plain view. She had come alone. A few seats behind her he saw Pole Baker and his wife. Pole had never looked better. He wore a new suit of clothes and had recently had his hair trimmed. Floyd tried to catch his eye, but Pole looked neither to the right nor left, seeming only intent on Hillhouse, who had risen to read the chapter from the Bible which contained the text for his sermon. In their accustomed places sat Captain Duncan and his daughter Evelyn. The old gentleman had placed his silk-hat on the floor at the end of the bench on which he sat, and his kid-gloved hands rested on his gold-headed, ebony cane, which stood erect between his knees. When the service was over and the congregation was passing out, Floyd waited for Cynthia, whom he saw coming out immediately behind the Duncans. “Hello, Floyd; how are you?” the captain exclaimed, cordially, as he came up. “Going home? Daughter and I have a place for you in the carriage and will drop you at the hotel--that is, if you won't let us take you on to dinner.” Floyd flushed. Cynthia was now quite near, and he saw from her face that she had overheard the invitation. “I thank you very much, captain,” Floyd said, as he smiled and nodded to her, “but I see that Miss Cynthia is alone, and I was just waiting to ask her to let me walk home with her.” “Ah, I see!” Duncan exclaimed, with a gallant bow and smile to Cynthia. “I wouldn't break up a nice thing like that if I could. I haven't forgotten my young days, and this is the time of the year, my boy, when the grass is green and the sun drives you into the shade.” With a very haughty nod to Floyd and Cynthia together, Evelyn Duncan walked stiffly on ahead of her father. Outside, Cynthia looked straight into the eyes of her escort. “Why did you refuse Captain Duncan's invitation?” she asked. “Why did I?” He laughed, mysteriously. “Because during service I made up my mind that I'd get to you before the parson did; and then I had other reasons.” “What were they?” “Gossip,” he said, with a low, significant laugh. “Gossip? I don't understand,” Cynthia said, perplexed. “Well, I heard,” Floyd replied, “that since I've been finally invited to Duncan's house I'll run there night and day, and that it will end in my marrying that little bunch of lace and ribbons. I heard other speculations, too, on my future conduct, and as I saw our village talker, Mrs. Snodgrass, was listening just now, I was tickled at the chance to decline the invitation and walk home with you. It will be all over the country by night.” They were traversing a cool, shaded road now, and as most of the congregation had taken other directions, they were comparatively alone.