The celebrated Social Library, halfway up the street, occupied part of Miss Lucretia's little house; or, it might better be said, Miss Lucretia boarded with the Social Library. There Cynthia hitched her horse, gave greeting to Mr. Ezra Graves and others who paused, and, before she was fairly in the door, was clasped in Miss Lucretia's arms. There were new books to be discussed, arrived by the stage the day before; but scarce half an hour had passed before Cynthia started guiltily at a timid knock, and Miss Lucretia rose briskly.
“It must be Ezra Graves come for the Gibbon,” she said. “He's early.” And she went to the door. Cynthia thought it was not Ezra. Then came Miss Lucretia's voice from the entry:—
“Why, Mr. Worthington! Have you read the Last of the Mohicans already?”
There he stood, indeed, the man of leisure, and to-day he wore his beaver hat. No, he had not yet read the 'Last of the Mohicans.' There were things in it that Mr. Worthington would like to discuss with Miss Penniman. Was it not a social library? At this juncture there came a giggle from within that made him turn scarlet, and he scarcely heard Miss Lucretia offering to discuss the whole range of letters. Enter Mr. Worthington, bows profoundly to Miss Lucretia's guest, his beaver in his hand, and the discussion begins, Cynthia taking no part in it. Strangely enough, Mr. Worthington's remarks on American Indians are not only intelligent, but interesting. The clock strikes four, Miss Lucretia starts up, suddenly remembering that she has promised to read to an invalid, and with many regrets from Mr. Worthington, she departs. Then he sits down again, twirling his beaver, while Cynthia looks at him in quiet amusement.
“I shall walk to Coniston again, next week,” he announced.
“What an energetic man!” said Cynthia.
“I want to have my fortune told.”
“I hear that you walk a great deal,” she remarked, “up and down Coniston Water. I shall begin to think you romantic, Mr. Worthington—perhaps a poet.”
“I don't walk up and down Coniston Water for that reason,” he answered earnestly.
“Might I be so bold as to ask the reason?” she ventured.