“If Jackson don’t get back in time next summer,” Mrs. Durgin said, in one of the talks she had with the girl, “I guess I shall have to let Jeff and you run the house alone.”

“I guess we shall want a little help from you,” said Cynthia, demurely.  She did not refuse the implication of Mrs. Durgin’s words, but she would not assume that there was more in them than they expressed.

When Jeff came home for the three days’ vacation at Thanksgiving, he wished again to relinquish his last year at Harvard, and Cynthia had to summon all her forces to keep him to his promise of staying.  He brought home the books with which he was working off his conditions, with a half-hearted intention of study, and she took hold with him, and together they fought forward over the ground he had to gain.  His mother was almost willing at last that he should give up his last year in college.

“What is the use?” she asked.  “He’s give up the law, and he might as well commence here first as last, if he’s goin’ to.”

The girl had no reason to urge against this; she could only urge her feeling that he ought to go back and take his degree with the rest of his class.

“If you’re going to keep Lion’s Head the way you pretend you are,” she said to him, as she could not say to his mother, “you want to keep all your Harvard friends, don’t you, and have them remember you?  Go back, Jeff, and don’t you come here again till after you’ve got your degree.  Never mind the Christmas vacation, nor the Easter.  Stay in Cambridge and work off your conditions.  You can do it, if you try.  Oh, don’t you suppose I should like to have you here?” she reproached him.

He went back, with a kind of grudge in his heart, which he confessed in his first letter home to her, when he told her that she was right and he was wrong.  He was sure now, with the impulse which their work on them in common had given him, that he should get his conditions off, and he wanted her and his mother to begin preparing their minds to come to his Class Day.  He planned how they could both be away from the hotel for that day.  The house was to be opened on the 20th of June, but it was not likely that there would be so many people at once that they could not give the 21st to Class Day; Frank and his father could run Lion’s Head somehow, or, if they could not, then the opening could be postponed till the 24th.  At all events, they must not fail to come.  Cynthia showed the whole letter to his mother, who refused to think of such a thing, and then asked, as if the fact had not been fully set before her:  “When is it to be?”

“The 21st of June.”

“Well, he’s early enough with his invitation,” she grumbled.

“Yes, he is,” said Cynthia; and she laughed for shame and pleasure as she confessed, “I was thinking he was rather late.”

She hung her head and turned her face away.  But Mrs. Durgin understood.  “You be’n expectin’ it all along, then.”