The Honorable Heth coughed. He was now very uncomfortable, indeed. How much did this astounding young person know, whom he had thought so innocent?
“I didn't discover he was in town until I ran across him in the corridor this evening. Should have liked to have introduced him to some of the Washington folks—some of the big men, although not many of 'em are here,” Mr. Sutton ran on, not caring to notice the little points of light in Cynthia's eyes. (The idea of Mr. Sutton introducing Uncle Jethro to anybody!) “I haven't seen Ephraim Prescott. It must be a great treat for him, too, to get away on a little trip and see his army friends. How is he?”
“He's very happy,” said Cynthia.
“Happy!” exclaimed Mr. Sutton. “Oh, yes, of course, Ephraim's always happy, in spite of his troubles and his rheumatism. I always liked Ephraim Prescott.”
Cynthia did not answer this remark at all, and Mr. Sutton suspected strongly that she did not believe it, therefore he repeated it.
“I always liked Ephraim. I want you to tell Jethro that I'm downright sorry I couldn't get him that Brampton postmastership.”
“I'll tell him that you are sorry, Mr. Sutton,” replied Cynthia, gravely, “but I don't think it'll do any good.”
Not do any good!—What did the girl mean? Mr. Sutton came to the conclusion that he had been condescending enough, that somehow he was gaining no merit in Mrs. Duncan's eyes by this kindness to a constituent. He buttoned up his coat rather grandly.
“I hope you won't misunderstand me, Cynthia,” he said. “I regret extremely that my sense of justice demanded that I should make David Wheelock postmaster at Brampton, and I have made him so.”
It was now Cynthia's turn to be amazed.