Mrs. Franklin raised her head and looked at Cynthia.
"You can't mean—"
"Yes, I do. Neal!"
"Child, where is he? Is he here? Has he come back?"
"No, mamma," said Cynthia, shaking her head sadly, "he wouldn't come. I begged and implored him to, but he wouldn't."
"Oh, Cynthia, why didn't you tell me? I could have made him come; I would have gone down on my knees to him! Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because he said I mustn't. He sent me a note yesterday. I knew he would never forgive me if I told."
"Yesterday! You knew he was coming yesterday? Cynthia, you ought to have told!"
"But, mamma, he told me not to, and I didn't have time to think it over, for we were so frightened with Edith's accident. It all came at once. But you could not have made him come."
"Where is he now?"