“Class Day? Oh, Class Day!” He took a little time to gather himself together. “Yes, I've been at a good many. If you care to see something pretty, it's the prettiest thing in the world. The students' sisters and mothers come from everywhere; and there's fashion and feasting and flirting, from ten in the morning till ten at night. I'm not sure there's so much happiness; but I can't tell. The young people know about that. I fancy there's a good deal of defeat and disappointment in it all. But if you like beautiful dresses, and music and dancing, and a great flutter of gayety, you can get more of it at Class Day than you can in any other way. The good time depends a great deal upon the acquaintance a student has, and whether he is popular in college.” Westover found this road a little impassable, and he faltered. Cynthia did not apparently notice his hesitation. “Do you think Mrs. Durgin would like it?” “Mrs. Durgin?” Westover found that he had been leaving her out of the account, and had been thinking only of Cynthia's pleasure or pain. “Well, I don't suppose--it would be rather fatiguing--Did Jeff want her to come too?” “He said so.” “That's very nice of him. If he could devote himself to her; but--And would she like to go?” “To please him, she would.” Westover was silent, and the girl surprised him by the appeal she suddenly made to him. “Mr. Westover, do you believe it would be very well for either of us to go? I think it would be better for us to leave all that part of his life alone. It's no use in pretending that we're like the kind of people he knows, or that we know their ways, and I don't believe--” Westover felt his heart rise in indignant sympathy. “There isn't any one he knows to compare with you!” he said, and in this he was thinking mainly of Bessie Lynde. “You're worth a thousand--If I were--if he's half a man he would be proud--I beg your pardon! I don't mean--but you understand--” Cynthia put her head far out of the window and looked along the steep roof before them. “There is a blind off one of the windows. I heard it clapping in the wind the other night. I must go and see the number of the room.” She drew her head in quickly and ran away without letting him see her face. He followed her. “Let me help you put it on again!” “No, no!” she called back. “Frank will do that, or Jombateeste, when they come to shut up the house.” XLI.