He thought that he wanted to make some sort of explanation to Miss Euphrosyne. But what explanation could he make? There was no earthly reason for his appearance in Tusculum. He talked of the West until eleven o’clock, and then he took a hesitating leave. [Illustration] The next day he made a weak pretense of casually passing by when he knew that Miss Euphrosyne was working in the garden; but he found it no easier to explain across the front fence. The explanation never would have been made if it had not been for Miss Euphrosyne. A curious nervousness had come over her, too, and suddenly she spoke out. “Mr. Cutter—excuse me—but what has brought you here? I mean is it any thing that concerns us—or—or—Papa’s affairs! I thought everything was settled—I had hoped—“ There was nothing for it now but to tell the whole story, and Dick told it. “I suppose you’ll think we’re a pack of barbarians,” he said, when he had come to the end, “and, of course, it’s all impracticable _now_.” But Miss Euphrosyne did not seem to be offended—only thoughtful. “Can you call here to–morrow at this time, Mr. Cutter?” she inquired. * * * * * Miss Euphrosyne blushed faintly when Dick presented himself to hear judgement pronounced. “I suppose you will think it strange,” she said, “but if your plan is feasible, I should wish to carry it out. Frankly, I _do_ want to see the girls married. Clelia and Lydia and I are past the time when women think about such things—but Clytie—and the rest. And, you know, I can remember how Papa and Mama lived together, and sometimes it seems cruelly hard that those dear girls should lose all that happiness—I’m sure it’s the best happiness in the world. And it can never be, _here_. Now, if I could get occupation—you know that I’m teaching school, I suppose—and if the rest of the girls could keep up their work for the New York people—why—don’t you know, if I didn’t tell—if I put it on business grounds, you know—I think they would feel that it was best, after all, to leave Tusculum....” Her voice was choked when she recommenced. [Illustration] “It seems awful for me to talk to you in this cold–blooded way about such a thing; but—what _can_ we do, Mr. Cutter? You don’t know how poor we are. There’s nothing for my little Clytie to do but to be a dressmaker—and you know what _that_ means, in Tusculum. Oh, _do_ you think I could teach school out in Star—Star—Starbuckle?” Miss Euphrosyne was crying. Dick’s census of possible pupils in the neighborhood of Starbuck satisfied Miss Euphrosyne. It troubled Dick’s conscience a bit, as he walked back to the hotel. “But they’ll all be married off before she finds it out, so I guess it’s all right,” he reflected. * * * * * The next week Dick went to New York. This was in pursuance of an idea which he had confided to Winfield, on the eve of his forth–setting.