It was three o'clock when Mr. Lennox came
driving into the yard in the open buggy. Cynthia, erect and blooming,
with her big bandbox in her lap, sat beside him, and the new Jersey cow,
fastened by a rope to the tail of the buggy, came on behind with
melancholy moos. Cynthia had bought her wedding-bonnet sooner than she
had expected, so she had come home on the three o'clock train instead of
the five; and her father had bought the cow sooner than he had expected,
and had come to the railroad crossing just about the time that Cynthia's
train arrived. So he had stopped and taken in her and her bandbox, and
they had all ridden home together.
Mrs. Lennox stood in the kitchen door when they drove in.
"Oh, mother," Cynthia cried out, "I've had splendid luck! I've got the
handsomest bonnet!"
"I guess you won't care much about bonnets," answered her mother;
"_Fidelia's lost_." She spoke quite slowly and calmly, then she began to
weep wildly and lament. It was quite a time before she could make the
case plain to them, and Cynthia and her bandbox, and Mr. Lennox and the
horse and buggy and cow, all remained before her in a petrified halt.
As soon as Mr. Lennox fairly understood, he sprang out of the buggy,
untied the cow, led her into the barn, turned the team around, with a
sharp grate of the wheels, jumped in again, and gathered up the reins.
Cynthia, her rosy cheeks quite pale, still sat in her place, and the
tears splashed on her new bandbox cover.
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