She would give no further explanation, and her mother could not induce her even to glance at the watches in Shreve's window. No; she had decided that she did not need one.
When they reached home she took the money and went to her own room. She was standing by the window, carefully packing the coins in a little box with cotton, and about to do it up for the mail—for she knew no better way of sending the money—when she heard the sound of wheels on the drive.
Looking out, she saw one of the depot carriages approaching, and in the vehicle was Neal himself.
Full of apprehension, dreading she knew not what, Cynthia dropped the box of money and flew down stairs.
It was not vacation, it was the middle of the school-term.
Why had Neal come home?