Then he fell asleep, his white head on Marcia Lowe's shoulder, the full radiance of the late sun flooding over them through the western window. For a half hour he slept and when he awakened he seemed hopelessly addled. Muttering and groping, hardly seeming to notice his companion, he made his way out of the church.
"Old Miss Susie May Lanley!" the little doctor repeated over and over. "I must hold to that until I get it on paper. I guess Uncle Theodore was married by some one living near old Miss Susie May Lanley's!"
Just as Marcia Lowe was leaving the church, Cynthia came running down the trail. She was smiling and calm.
"I came back," she said confidingly, "to tell you something. I've worked it out myself."
"Yes, dear;" the girl's face struck Marcia strangely. A new expression rested upon it.
"I'm—not—going—to suffer any more."
"Why, little Cyn?"
"No. No more! It hurts and hurts and then you get over it, and go on just the same. I'm not going to suffer!"
Miss Lowe went close and took the pretty face in her hands.
"See here, little girl, if suffering is a teacher it is not such a cruel thing; be a good learner."