“Everybody who sees you falls a victim, Cynthia,” he went on; “Mrs. Duncan and Janet lost their hearts.  You ought to have heard them praising you at breakfast.”  He paused abruptly, thinking of the rest of that conversation, and laughed.  Bob seemed fated to commit himself that day.  “I heard the way you handled Heth Sutton,” he said, plunging in.  “I’ll bet he felt as if he’d been dropped out of the third-story window,” and Bob laughed again.  “I’d have given a thousand dollars to have been there.  Somers and I went out to supper with a classmate who lives in Washington, in that house over there,” and he pointed casually to one of the imposing mansions fronting on the park.  “Mrs. Duncan said she’d never heard anybody lay it on the way you did.  I don’t believe you half know what happened, Cynthia.  You made a ten-strike.”

“A ten-strike?” she repeated.

“Well,” he said, “you not only laid out Heth, but my father and Mr. Duncan, too.  Mrs. Duncan laughed at ’em—­she isn’t afraid of anything.  But they didn’t say a word all through breakfast.  I’ve never seen my father so mad.  He ought to have known better than to run up against Uncle Jethro.”

“How did they run up against Uncle Jethro?” asked Cynthia, now keenly interested.

“Don’t you know?” exclaimed Bob, in astonishment.

“No,” said Cynthia, “or I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Didn’t Uncle Jethro tell you about it?”

“He never tells me anything about his affairs,” she answered.

Bob’s astonishment did not wear off at once.  Here was a new phase, and he was very hard put.  He had heard, casually, a good deal of abuse of Jethro and his methods in the last two days.

“Well,” he said, “I don’t know anything about politics.  I don’t know myself why father and Mr. Duncan were so eager for this post-mastership.  But they were.  And I heard them say something about the President going back on them when they had telegraphed from Chicago and come to see him here.  And maybe they didn’t let Heth in for it.  It seems Uncle Jethro only had to walk up to the White House.  They ought to have sense enough to know that he runs the state.  But what’s the use of wasting time over this business?” said Bob.  “I told you I was going to Brampton before the term begins just to see you, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but I didn’t believe you,” said Cynthia.

“Why not?” he demanded.

“Because it’s my nature, I suppose,” she replied.

This was too much for Bob, exasperated though he was, and he burst into laughter.

“You’re the queerest girl I’ve ever known,” he said.

Not a very original remark.

“That must be saying a great deal,” she answered.

“Why?”

“You must have known many.”

“I have,” he admitted, “and none of ’em, no matter how much they’d knocked about, were able to look out for themselves any better than you.”