She came straight into the buttery, having rapped to give notice of her presence, and with a compliment to Miss Mason on the excellence of her butter, she asked whether that lady could supply her with a few more pounds next week; then her eyes falling on the little figure on the doorstep, she said:  “By-the-way, Miss Mason, your niece is to be one of Effie’s guests to-day, is she not?  Can you, as a great favor, let her come home with me now?  I have to drive to the Centre on some errands, and Cynthia, who is a helpful little woman, I can see, can be of so much use if you will part with her for the day.  It will be very neighborly of you to say yes.  I know it’s a good deal to ask, but my own girls are very busy, and I wish you would let me keep Cynthia until to-morrow.  I’ll take good care of her, and she shall be at home early.  Lend her to me, please?”

Mrs. Dean, with much gentleness of manner, had the air of a person to whom nobody ever says no, and Cynthia could hardly believe she heard aright when her aunt said, pleasantly: 

“Cynthia’s a good girl, but she’s like all children—­she needs to be kept at her work.  She can go if you really wish it, Mrs. Dean, and I’ll send for my cousin Jenny to stay here to-day.  There are new boarders coming,” she said, to explain her need of outside assistance.  Miss Mason prided herself on getting through her work alone; hired help she couldn’t afford, but she would not have had any one “under-foot,” as she expressed it, had money been plenty with her.

“You are a wonderful woman,” said Mrs. Dean, surveying the spotless tables and walls.  “You are always so brisk, and such a perfect housekeeper!  I wish, dear Miss Mason, you could look in on us yourself in the evening.  It will be a pretty sight.”

Miss Mason was gratified.  “Run away, Cynthia; put on your best frock, and don’t keep Mrs. Dean waiting,” she said.  In spite of her independence, she was rather pleased that her boarders should see the low phaeton at her door, the brown horse with the silver-mounted harness, and the dainty lady, in her delicate gray gown and driving gloves, chatting affably while waiting for Cynthia to dress.  She offered Mrs. Dean a glass of her creamy milk, and it was gratefully accepted.

Cynthia came back directly.  Her preparations had not taken her long.  Her “best frock” was of green delaine with yellow spots—­“a perfect horror” the lady thought; it had been purchased at a bargain by Mr. Mason, who knew nothing about what was suitable for a child.  Some lace was basted in the neck, and her one article of ornament, an old-fashioned coral necklace with a gold clasp, was fastened just under the lace.  The stout country-made shoes were not becoming to the child’s feet, nor was the rim of white stocking visible above them at all according to the present styles.  She was pretty as a picture, but not in the least arrayed as the other girls would be, whether from elegant city homes or the ample farm houses round about.