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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/7497-0.txt b/7497-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f0fd0cd --- /dev/null +++ b/7497-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10226 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Further Adventures of Quincy Adams +Sawyer and Mason's Corner Folks, by Charles Felton Pidgin + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Further Adventures of Quincy Adams Sawyer and Mason's Corner Folks + +Author: Charles Felton Pidgin + + +Release Date: February, 2005 [EBook #7497] +This file was first posted on May 11, 2003 +Last Updated: March 16, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Franks + + + + + + + + +THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER AND MASON'S CORNER FOLKS + + +By Charles Felton Pidgin + +Author of “Quincy Adams Sawyer,” “Blennerhassett,” “Stephen Holton,” + etc. + +Illustrated by Henry Roth + + +[Illustration: “HE LOOKED UP, SUDDENLY, AND SAW A PRETTY GIRL, DRESSED +IN PICTURESQUE ITALIAN COSTUME.”] + + +1909 + + + +To My Daughter Dora + + + + +PREFACE + +Eight years ago, “Quincy Adams Sawyer and Mason's Corner Folks” was +published, being heralded, truthfully, as the work of an “unknown +author.” It met with favour from reviewers and the reading public. My +pleasantest souvenirs are hundreds of letters, from personally unknown +correspondents, wishing to know more about “Quincy” and the other +characters in my first story. + +I know that few, if any, “sequels” are considered as interesting as +the original work, and an author, to a certain extent, tempts fate in +writing one. But if we visit friends and have a pleasant time there +seems to be no reason why another invitation should not be accepted. So, +if a book pleases its readers, and the characters therein become +their friends, why should not these readers be invited to renew their +acquaintance? + +They may not enjoy themselves as much as at their first visit, but that +is the unavoidable result of repetition. The human mind craves novelty, +and, perhaps, the reader will find it, after all, within these pages. + +C. F. P. + +WIDEVIEW FARM, BELMONT, MASS. August, 1908. + + + + +CONTENTS + +PREFACE + + I. THE GOVERNOR'S SPEECH + II. A DAY WITH THE GOVERNOR + III. A VACATION AT FERNBOROUGH + IV. THE HAWKINS HOUSE + V. 'ZEKE PETTINGILL'S FARM + VI. “JUST LIKE OLD TIMES” + VII. STROUT AND MAXWELL'S GROCERY + VIII. UNCLE IKE AND OTHERS + IX. A “STORY” SERMON + X. THE RAISED CHECK + XL. THE WRECK OF THE _ALTONIA_ + XII. FERNBOROUGH HALL + XIII. “HORNABY HOOK” + XIV. AN AMERICAN HEIRESS + XV. AN ELOPEMENT + XVI. YOUNG QUINCY + XVII. HIS FATHER'S FRIENDS + XVIII. AN OLD STRIFE RENEWED + XIX. BOYHOOD TO MANHOOD + XX. MARY DANA + XXI. AT HARVARD + XXII. ALICE'S DREAM + XXIII. “BY THE BEAUTIFUL BLUE DANUBE” + XXIV. “WE THREE” + XXV. A PERIOD OF TWENTY-THREE YEARS + XXVI. “CATESSA” + XXVII. O. STROUT. FINE GROCIERIES +XXVIII. THE HOME COMING XXIX. THE FINAL CONFLICT + XXX. TOM, JACK AND NED + XXXI. THE GREAT ISBURN RUBY + XXXII. “IT WAS SO SUDDEN” + + + + +The Further Adventures of Quincy Adams Sawyer and Mason's Corner Folks + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE GOVERNOR'S SPEECH + + +When the applause had subsided, Governor Sawyer began to speak. + +“My Friends and Fellow Citizens: When I stood before the representatives +chosen by the people, and an audience composed of the most eminent men +and women in the State, and took the oath to support the constitution of +my native State and that of my country, my heart was filled with what +I deemed an honest pride. My fellow citizens had chosen me to fill the +most exalted position in their power to bestow, and when the Secretary +of the Commonwealth uttered the well-known words which your toastmaster +has just repeated--God save the Commonwealth of Massachusetts--I felt in +every fibre of my body that I would be true to my oath and to the people +who had shown their confidence in me. + +“But the satisfaction I felt on that occasion was no greater than that +which I experience to-night. I came among you entirely unknown. I have +heard that some wondered whether I was a city swell, what my business +was, what led me to choose your town for a vacation, and how long that +vacation was to be, especially as I came in the winter when country life +is popularly, but erroneously, supposed to be dull. + +“By some I was welcomed,--others--I don't blame them--refused to extend +to me the hand of fellowship. But, I liked some of your people so +well--and one in particular”--all eyes were turned towards his wife, who +bore the scrutiny bravely--“that I determined to stay--and I did.” + +Hiram Maxwell could not forget past events in which he had figured +prominently and cried, “Three cheers for Quincy Adams Sawyer,” which +were given with a will, and accompanied by many expressions of approval +in the shape of clapping of hands, pounding of canes, and stamping of +thick-soled boots. The Governor continued his remarks. + +“I staid so long that I might have become a voter. I did not, but +besides my native city of Boston, I shall always render my allegiance to +this town, which turned the current of my life into such happy channels. + +“I will not weary you with a long speech.” + +Cries of “Go on,” “We can stand it,” came from all parts of the hall, +and Mrs. Hawkins said to Olive Green, “He's a beautiful speaker. I +could listen to him all night if it wa'n't for gettin' breakfast for my +boarders. My bread didn't ris worth a cent, and I've got to git up airly +and make biscuits.” + +His Excellency went on, “I want you to make Fernborough, the Mason's +Corner of five years ago, a beautiful town--more beautiful than it is +now.” Make good, wide roads, don't call them streets, and have wide +tires on your wagons to preserve them. Plant trees both for grateful +shade and natural beauty. Support your Village Improvement Society +by suggestions and contributions. Attend town meeting regularly, be +economical but not stingy in your appropriations, pay good salaries +and wages for honest service. Be partisans if you wish, in State and +National elections, but in choosing your town servants, get the best men +regardless of politics. + +“Support and constantly aim to elevate the standard of education in your +schools, and remember that the mother and the teacher are the makers of +those who are to rule in the future. + +“Do these things, and you will make Fernborough a worthy member of +that galaxy of communities which represents the civic virtues and +possibilities in the highest degree--our New England towns, in which the +government is by the people, of the people, and for the people, and may +God grant that these bulwarks of our freedom may ever be preserved.” + +It was decided by the committee to have a reception in the Selectmen's +room. It was conveniently arranged for such a purpose, having a door at +either end, besides the double one near the middle. At the request of +Selectman and Toastmaster Strout, the Governor and his wife and the +Countess of Sussex, formerly Lindy Putnam, stood in line to greet the +citizens of Fernborough. + +First came Benoni Hill, who had increased in rotundity since selling his +grocery store and giving up an active life. + +“How much is flour a barrel?” asked Quincy as he shook hands with him. + +“When I kept the store myself everything I wanted I got at wholesale, +but now your partners charge me full price.” + +“That's right,” said Quincy. “You got a good price for the store, and +now we're trying to get some of it back,” and he laughed heartily as he +extended his hand to young Samuel Hill. His wife, the former Miss Tilly +James, was with him. + +“I am pleased to meet a lion-tamer,” said Tilly. + +“I never saw a live one,” said Quincy, somewhat puzzled by the remark. + +“Oh, yes, you have. Our local lion, Obadiah Strout, is as tame as a +dove, and we owe it to you.” + +“If I remember aright, a certain Miss Tilly James aided me when I gave +the first lesson.” + +“Oh! you mean the time you whistled 'Listen to the Mocking Bird.' I wish +you had repeated it to-night.” + +Cobb's Twins, William and James, with their wives, were next in line. + +“How's farming?” asked Quincy. + +“Bill and I,” said James, “spend most of our time on our own places, but +we help 'Zeke and Hiram out on their hayin' an' potato diggin'.” + +“Samantha,” said Quincy, addressing Mrs. James Cobb, “do you remember +the first time I came to see Miss Putnam?” + +“Oh, yes, I'd heard about you goin' round with Huldy Mason. Didn't I +laugh when I showed you into Aunt Heppy's room? She did the hearin' for +both of 'em, for you remember her husband, Silas, was as deaf as a stone +post.” + +“Mrs. Putnam found out all about me before I got away. I shall never +forget what she told me about her husband sitting on the ridge pole of +the barn, blowing his horn, and waiting for Gabriel to come for him.” + +As Robert Wood came up, Quincy stepped from the line to greet him. + +“Your hand ain't quite as hard as it was five years ago,” said Robert. + +“No, I'm out of practice. You could handle me now.” + +“It cost me two dollars to get my watch fixed,” said Robert, +irrelevantly. + +“I was on time in that affair,” said Quincy, conscious, when too +late, that he had wasted a pun on an obtuse individual. “Are you still +carpentering?” + +“Yes. Lots of new houses going up, and Ben Bates and me have all we can +handle. Here, Ben, come here. The Governor's askin' 'bout you.” + +Benjamin Bates was rather diffident, and had been holding back, but at +Bob's invitation came forward. + +“How d'ye do, Governor?” was his salutation. Diffidence when forced to +action often verges on forwardness. + +“Glad to meet you again,” said Quincy. “Robert says they keep you busy.” + +“Yes, we don't have so many resting spells now they use donkey engines +as we did when Pat or Mike had to climb the ladder.” + +“The march of improvement forces us all into line,” said Quincy as he +greeted Miss Seraphina Cotton. + +“Teaching school, now, Miss Cotton?” + +“No, your Excellency, I am fortunately relieved from what became, near +the end of my long years of service, an intolerable drudgery. Teaching +American children to talk English is one thing, but teaching French +Canadians, Poles, Germans, Russians, Italians, and Greeks was quite a +different proposition.” + +“And yet it is a most important work,” said Quincy--“making good +citizens from these various nationalities. America, to-day, is like a +large garden, with a great variety of flowers from foreign stalks.” + +Miss Cotton smiled somewhat satirically. “I'm afraid, your Excellency, +if you'd ever been a school teacher, you'd have found many weeds in the +garden.” + +“But how did you gain your freedom?” asked Quincy. “Did they pension +you?” + +“Oh, no. An uncle died out West and left me enough with which to buy an +annuity. I board with the Reverend Mr. Howe. You remember him?” + +“Why, certainly, I do. And here's his son, Emmanuel--have I got the name +right?” + +“Yes, Governor, just right as to sound. I spell it with an 'E' and two +M's,” said young Mr. Howe, as Miss Cotton moved on to tell of her good +fortune to Alice and Linda. + +“How's your father, now? Does he preach every Sunday?” + +“Reg'lar as clock work. Of course I couldn't tell everybody, but I +reckon he's using some old sermons that he wrote forty years ago, but +the young ones never heard them, and the old ones have forgotten.” + Quincy laughed. Ministers' sons are seldom appalled by worldly ways and, +quite often, adopt them. + +“This is Arthur Scates,” said Mr. Strout, as he presented a young +man with sunken cheeks, hollow eyes, and an emaciated body. “He ain't +enjoyin' the best of health.” + +“Ah, I remember,” said Quincy. “You are the young man who was to sing +at the concert when I first came here. I took your place, and that act +turned out to be the most important one in my life. I owe much of my +present happiness to you. What is your trouble?” + +“My lungs are affected. I have lost my voice and cannot sing. I had +counted on becoming an opera singer.” + +“Why do you not go to one of the out-door hospitals for treatment?” + +The young man's face flushed, and he remained silent. + +“Pardon me,” said Quincy. “I understand. Come to Boston next week, to +the State House, and I will see that you have the best of treatment.” + +“Wall, Mr. Sawyer, it does one's eyes good to set 'em on you again. This +is Olive Green,--you remember her sister Betsey worked for me when you +was one of my boarders.” The woman's voice was loud and strident, and +filled the room. + +“Mrs. Hawkins, I shall never forget you and Miss Betsey Green, and how +you both tried to make my stay with you a pleasant one.” + +“You've put on consid'rable flesh since I saw yer last. Guess you've +been taking your meals reg'lar, which you never did when you lived with +me. But your market's made now, and that makes the difference. They say +folks in love have poor appetites.” She laughed loudly, and stopped only +when Olive put a restraining hand on her arm. “I hope Alice is a good +cook, but she never had much chance to learn.” + +Quincy thought it was time to change the subject. “How's Mr. Hawkins?” + +“I tell him he's just as lazy as ever. He's kalkerlatin' on getting +three good broods of chickens. He's gone on chickens. He wanted to come +tonight, but we've lots of boarders, and they're allus wantin' ice water +or somethin' else, and so I told him he'd got to stay to home. You'll +have plenty of time to see him to-morrer.” + +Many others greeted the Governor and his right hand felt the effect of +so many hearty grips, some of them of the horny-handed variety. + +The Cottonton Brass Band was now stationed in the hall, and a short +concert closed the evening's entertainment, which was allowed, by all, +to be the most high-toned affair ever given in the town. + +As Quincy laid his head upon his pillow that night, his mind reverted to +his first arrival at Mason's Corner, and the events that had taken place +since. + +“Alice, five years ago, could your wildest imagination have conjured up +such an evening as this?” + +“No, Quincy. What has taken place in our lives is truly wonderful. My +daily prayer is that these happy days may last.” + + + + +CHAPTER II + +A DAY WITH THE GOVERNOR + + +Governor Sawyer sat in the Executive Chamber at the State House. It was +eleven o'clock on the morning following the festivities at Fernborough. +Quincy and Alice had staid over night at the Hawkins' House, and Ezekiel +in the morning urged them strongly to wait a day and see what great +improvements he had made on the old farm which had been so neglected +during the last years of Mrs. Putnam's life. But Quincy said his +presence in Boston was imperative, that certain matters required his +attention, and so the earliest train brought him and his wife to the +city. Quincy left the carriage under the arch at the State House. + +Alice was driven to the well-known house on Mount Vernon Street, in +which Aunt Ella had lived so long, but which had lost much of its +cheerfulness, and all of its Bohemianism since that lady had gone to +England and become Lady Fernborough. + +The Executive Chamber was a large room, and simply furnished with a flat +top desk of wine-red mahogany, a bookcase, and a few chairs. A door +to the left led to the office of the private secretary; the one to the +right to a short and narrow corridor across which was the door of the +Council Chamber--a room occupied by that last link between democratic +and aristocratic government. It must not be inferred that the members +of the Council are aristocrats--far from it, but with the +lieutenant-governor they form a “house of lords” which may or may +not agree with the policies of the chief magistrate. They can aid him +greatly, or they can “clip his wings” and materially curb his freedom of +action. The Council is a relic of the old provincial and colonial days, +its inherited aristocratic body clothed in democratic garments. As its +duties could be performed by the Senate without loss of dignity, and +with pecuniary saving, its retention as a part of the body politic is +due to the “let well enough alone” policy of the American citizen which +has supplanted the militant, progressive democracy of his forefathers. + +At the end of the short corridor was the office of the Executive +Secretary and his stenographer from which, through an opening hung with +portières, one passed into the general reception room where the +faithful messenger stood guard, authorized to learn the business of each +new-comer. + +The private secretary had opened the mail and had assorted it as +“ordinary,” “important,” and “most important.” For an hour the Governor +dictated steadily, and it would take several hours' clicking of +the typewriter before the letters and documents were ready for his +signature. + +The waiting-room was now filled with persons desiring audience with his +Excellency. A well-known city lawyer and ward politician was the first +to enter. + +“Good-morning, Guv'nor.” + +The Governor arose, came forward, and extended his hand. “Good-morning, +Mr. Nutting.” + +“Are you going to send in the names of the Industrial Expansion +Committee to-day?” + +“I have intended to do so.” + +“Well, I want to say a good word for Mr. Collingwood. He is promoting a +company to develop water power on the Upper Connecticut above Holyoke. +He is a client of mine, and I can vouch for his business ability and his +desire to improve and increase our manufacturing facilities.” + +The Governor was silent for a time. He was busily thinking. No doubt +this Mr. Collingwood was concerned financially, indirectly if not +directly, in the proposed company he was promoting, and perhaps Mr. +Nutting himself would profit far beyond his normal legal fee if Mr. +Collingwood was named on the commission. Mr. Nutting noticed the delay +of his Excellency in replying. + +“It will be all right if you send his name in. There will be no doubt of +his confirmation.” + +Again the Governor thought. The four wheels of the executive coach +were in good order, but, apparently, the fifth wheel had been put in +condition for use, if it became necessary. + +“Here are Mr. Collingwood's endorsements,” said Mr. Nutting, as he +placed a large packet of papers on the governor's desk. + +“Thank you, Mr. Nutting. I will give them consideration.” + +Mr. Nutting withdrew, and the lieutenant-governor, who had arrived late, +was given precedence over the others in the reception room. After the +customary salutations, the lieutenant-governor seated himself in the +governor's chair, which Quincy had temporarily vacated, and lighted a +cigar. + +“Are you going to send in Venton's name?” + +“He is inexperienced.” + +“I know it, but he'll learn. If, following precedent, I become your +successor, he will be of great help to me in certain lines.” + +There was a slight frown on the governor's face. “Mr. Williams, the +present head of the department, has held it for many years, is a most +efficient man, and I have heard no complaints.” + +“I know that,” said his Honour, David Evans, “but he's getting old, and +rotation in office is one of the principles of our Bill of Rights.” + +“I am well aware of that,” said the governor, “but retention in office +for good and efficient service is one of the principles of our civil +service law.” + +Mr. Evans arose and flicked the ashes from his cigar upon the rich +carpet which covered the floor. + +“Am I to understand then that you will renominate Williams? Let me say +now that there is strong opposition to him in the Council and he may +fail of confirmation. Will you send Venton's name in then?” + +“I think I should send Mr. Williams' name in again.” + +“But, suppose he is turned down the second time?” asked Mr. Evans. + +“I think I should continue sending in his name until good and sufficient +reasons were given for his rejection. This is not a voting contest +between two nominees. I am convinced Mr. Williams is the best man for +the place. Such being my opinion, to withdraw his name, would be a +self-stultification, and, to speak plainly,”--and his jaw was firmly +set,--“an acknowledgment that the Council is a stronger arm of the +government than the Chief Executive.” + +Mr. Evans was evidently indignant. “Well, Mr. Venton is backed by men +who contribute heartily for campaign expenses. If you can get along +without their aid this fall have your man Williams,” and Mr. Evans +strode from the room with a curt “Good-morning.” + +The private secretary laid some papers on the governor's desk. The +first one that he examined conferred certain valuable privileges, in +perpetuity, upon a corporation without requiring any compensation for +the franchise. The property thus alienated from public use had been paid +for by the people's money. In response to a vigorous push on an electric +button, the private secretary appeared. + +“Send for Senator Downing. I must see him immediately.” + +His Excellency thought, “How can the people's so-called representatives +give away the property of the people so indiscriminately? It would not +do to mention it, without proof, but I am convinced that all such public +robberies are for private gain. Ah, good-morning, Senator.” + +Senator Downing was a short, heavily-built man, with dark hair, black +eyes, and a jaw and chin indicative of bull-dog pertinacity. + +“In your bill, Senate 513, I notice that the railroad Company is not +called upon to pay for the great privilege conferred.” + +“Why should they? It simply gives them a quick connection with +tide-water, and reduced transportation charges means lower prices.” + +“How will prices be regulated?” was the Governor's query. + +“As they always have been,” replied the Senator brusquely. “Supply and +demand--” + +“And by combinations called trusts,” added the Governor. “Cannot some +provision be made by which the Company will pay a yearly rental? It will +reduce the burden of taxation just so much.” + +“Perhaps if you recommend it, some attention will be given it, but I +should not care to prejudice my political standing by endorsing such an +amendment.” + +“I will consider the question carefully,” said Quincy, wearily, as he +laid down the bill, and Senator Downing departed. + +The next bill was what was called “a labour measure.” It gave members of +trade unions a right demanded by them, called “peaceful picketing;” in +other words, during a strike, the right to use argument, persuasion, in +fact any rightful inducement to keep a non-union man from working for +the “struck” firm or corporation. The bill had been passed by a majority +of 48 in the House, and by the narrow margin of one vote in the Senate. +A tie had been expected when the President of the Senate, who was +a prominent manufacturer was counted upon to kill the bill. If the +Governor vetoed it, the Senate would probably sustain the veto, throwing +the greater responsibility upon him, each member voting against the bill +sheltering himself behind the veto. Thus do partisans play politics +with the head of their party. While he was reading the bill the +lieutenant-governor was ushered in again. + +“Downing has been talking with me about his bill. He says you are going +to veto it.” + +“I did not say so. I asked him his reasons for turning over public +property for private use and gain, and he did not seem well-prepared to +answer me.” + +Mr. Evans replied, “The best reason, to my mind is, that the heaviest +tax payers, members of our party, are all in favour of the bill.” + +“Are they numerous enough to elect a governor who will do their +bidding?” + +“Perhaps not, but their money is powerful enough to do it”--he +paused--“if it becomes necessary.” + +The Governor arose, and Mr. Evans, influenced by the action, did the +same. The two men faced each other. + +“Mr. Evans,” and the Governor seemed to increase in stature, “I fully +understand your last remark--if it becomes necessary. You shall have an +open field. I prize the great honour that has been conferred upon me by +placing me here, but I must confess I dislike the duties, circumscribed +as they are by personal and political influences. I can understand, now, +why a ruler wishes to be an autocrat. It is the only way in which he can +make his personality a part of his body. I shall not be a candidate for +re-election this autumn. I wish my personal freedom of action, and I +prize it more than fame or power.” + +“May I mention your decision to the leaders of the party?” + +“If you so desire. From this moment I am to be untrammelled except by my +official oath.” + +Mr. Evans took his leave, evidently pleased with a part of what he had +heard, and in a short time was closeted with some leading politicians in +a private room of a prominent hotel. + +The Governor resumed his reading of the labour bill, but was aroused +from his contemplation of its provisions by the entrance of Mr. Amos +Acton. Mr. Acton was secretary of a manufacturer's association. He +was tall and spare. His hair was sandy in hue, and his mouth twitched +nervously. + +“Your Excellency, I came to see you about that picketing bill. If it +becomes a law our manufacturers will be driven from the State. They are +now seriously handicapped by the vigorous provisions of existing laws. I +trust your Excellency will not add to our present burdens.” + +“I have read the bill, Mr. Acton. It seems conservative, with full +provision for the protection of life and property.” + +“That's not the question. When Union men strike we must have the +Non-Union men to fill their places; but this bill says the Non-Union man +shan't work.” + +“It says the Union man may persuade him, peacefully, not to work.” + +“We all know what that means. If he does work, he will be called a +'scab' and his family will be ostracized in every possible way.” + +“It is hard to draw the line,” said the governor. “You say, or imply, +that every man has a right to work for whoever will employ him. Granted. +But do you always give him work when he wants it? Do you pay him what he +asks, or do you not fix the rate of wage? You must realize the fact that +collective bargaining has superseded dealing with the individual.” + +“Some of us do not allow that,” said Mr. Acton. + +“I know it, and that causes the difficulty. Your relations with your +employees should be based upon trade agreements, legalized and strongly +adhered to by both sides.” + +“I have just come from a meeting of leading manufacturers,” said Mr. +Acton, “and they wished me to express to you their urgent request, I may +say solicitation, that you will veto this bill.” + +After Mr. Acton's departure, Quincy rang for his secretary, to whom he +delivered the papers containing his official decisions. + +Mr. Williams was renominated for the position that he had so long and so +ably filled. + +As members of “The Industrial Expansion Commission” nine manufacturers +were named, one for each of the leading industries of the State, +chosen independent of known or presumed political affiliations; Mr. +Collingwood's name was not among them. + +A vigorous veto of the bill giving a private corporation control of +public property was sent to the Senate. + +The “peaceful picketing” bill was signed. + +The door opened, and a pretty face looked in. + +“Come in, Maude--I've just finished.” As the secretary withdrew, keeping +his eyes fixed on the governor's youngest sister, she advanced slowly +into the room. The door closed automatically and Maude tip-toed to her +brother's side, returning his welcoming kiss. + +“What's his name?” she asked, pointing towards the self-closing door. + +“My secretary? Harry Merry,” said Quincy, “but the press boys all call +him Sober Harry.” + +“I think he's just splendid,” said the impulsive Maude--“such beautiful +eyes! But that isn't what I came for. I went up to your house and just +brought Alice down to ours, and she told me all about the fine time you +had and your speech. Will it be printed?” + +“Mr. Sylvester Chisholm, editor of the Fernborough Gazette was there and +a faithful transcript of my feeble remarks will, no doubt, appear in his +paper.” + +“Feeble!” said Maude contemptuously. “Have you been doing feeble things +since you came back?” + +“No, Maude, I have done some very strenuous things, and I shall be glad +to get home to my family.” + +Maude repeated, seriously, + + “To make a happy fireside clime + For weans and wife + Is the true pathos, and sublime, + Of human life. + +“But you are not going home,” she continued,--“you are invited to dinner +with your respected pa and ma and your two young--” + +“And beautiful sisters,” added Quincy with a laugh. “I'll come, but you +must play the latest popular songs for me, and Alice will sing 'Sweet, +Sweet Home,' and perhaps I can forget the cares of State--until +to-morrow, anyway.” + +Maude flounced out of the door tossing a kiss from the tips of her +fingers, to the astonishment of Sober Harry who had just entered, and +who wished, from the bottom of his heart, that the flying salutation had +been for him. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A VACATION AT FERNBOROUGH + + +The Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer did not dine at home that evening. +Quincy's mother said that he had gone to Salem but would return later. +After dinner the little company of five repaired to the parlour. Maude +sang negro melodies despite the protests of her mother, and her sister +Florence's assertion that they were only sung at cheap variety shows. + +“How do you know that?” cried Maude. “Did Reginald tell you?” + +“Who is Reginald?” asked Quincy. + +“Oh,” said Maude, tossing her head, “he's Florence's latest. She met him +night before last--” + +“Maude!” Her sister's voice was full of angry protest. “Don't say +another word.” + +“Such matters,” said her mother mildly, “are not suitable subjects for +general conversation. There is a privacy about them which should be +respected.” + +“We'll leave Florence out of it, then,” said Maude. “I met him at Mrs. +Dulton's reception. His name is Capt. Reginald Hornaby, and he's +the fourth son of Sir Wilfred Hornaby, of Hornaby Hook, Hornaby, +England--don't you know,” and she winked spitefully at Florence. + +“He told me all that himself,” she continued, “so I know it must be so. +Won't it be nice to have a place in England where we can make ourselves +at home?” + +“Aunt Ella will be glad to see you at any time,” remarked Quincy. “Why +don't you go back with her? She'd be delighted.” + +“I would but for one thing,” replied Maude. “I'm afraid I might fall in +love with an Englishman, and one title in the family is enough.” + +Alice interposed: “Aunt Ella has an English husband with a title.” + +“Yes,” said Maude, “but he _has_ his title, while Reggie is four blocks +away from the fire.” + +“You're as big a tease as ever,” and Quincy drew his favourite sister +towards him. “Don't plague Flossie any more. Think of your possible +fate. You may marry a Jap.” + +“I know a lovely little Jap, now. His name is Hioshato Konuka. Oh, +Alice, won't you stay all night? When are you going on your vacation, +Quincy?” + +“In about ten days, if the legislature is prorogued by that time.” + +“Where are you going?” asked his mother. + +“Alice wishes to go to Fernborough for a week or two, and then we shall +go to Nantucket.” + +“Will the Earl and Sir Stuart pay us a visit?” was the next question. + +“I invited them in your name, mother, but Linda and Aunt Ella were +anxious to get back to their yacht at Nantucket. They will sail from +there to New York and take the steamer home next week.” + +“Is the Countess of Sussex' sister-in-law, the Lady Elfrida, married +yet?” asked Florence. + +“I understand she is engaged,” Quincy replied. + +Maude was incorrigible. “Reggie told me she was practising deep +breathing, owing to the length of the Episcopal marriage service.” + +“Maude,” said her mother sharply, “if you were not of age I should send +you to bed.” + +“I'm going. Alice, while Quincy runs up to the house to say that you are +not coming home, you come to my room. I've some pretty things to show +you.” + +As Quincy walked up Walnut Street, he saw a bright light in Dr. Culver's +window. He rang the bell, and the doctor himself came to the door. + +“Is that you, Quincy? Come in.” + +“Paul, how are you?” + +“Fine as silk. Business is good, but I'm doing my best to keep the +undertakers out of a job. Have you read the evening papers?” + +“I seldom do. I prefer to wait until morning.” + +“The papers are rapping you hard for signing that picketing bill, but +the labour men are delighted. You'll run ahead of your ticket sure next +fall.” + +“I'm not going to run. One year is enough.” + +“Will Evans get the nomination? I won't vote for him. How are your +wife's eyes?” + +“All right. She has better vision, now, than I have. We owe you a great +debt of gratitude for sending us to Dr. Tillotson.” + +“He's a wonder. He told me the other day that he is going to cure what +is called split retina, which has never been done.” + +Quincy bethought himself of the message he had to deliver and made a +hurried departure, first inviting the Doctor to dine with him the next +day. On his return to the Beacon Street house, he found his father at +home reading an evening paper. + +“Quincy, I see that you vetoed that railroad bill.” + +“Yes, I did. I saw no reason why public property should be given to a +private corporation without compensation.” + +“The public would be compensated indirectly. I am a large stockholder +in the railroad, and, to speak plainly, I drew that bill myself. I met +Senator Downing and he says the bill will be passed over your veto.” + +“I cannot help that, father. I did my duty as I saw it. If the bill +becomes a law without my signature, I cannot be blamed for future +developments.” + +The Hon. Nathaniel dropped the subject. “Quincy, I have purchased a +house in the country and shall go there in a few days. Won't you and +your wife pay us a short visit?” + +“Certainly, we will. We are going to Fernborough for a few days and then +will drop in on you, before we go to Nantucket.” + +By the look on his father's face Quincy knew that he was disappointed. +The Hon. Nathaniel never liked “to play second fiddle.” Quincy hastened +to rectify his mistake. “We can put it the other way round, just as +well. We'll come and see you before we go to Fernborough.” + +“That will please me better, but, of course, you must not do it if your +wife objects.” + +“She will not object. She is upstairs, now, with Maude. Of course, the +girls are going.” + +“Yes, and I have invited Captain Hornaby, a very fine young man. But, I +must retire. I have a case in court to-morrow.” + +Quincy found both commendation and criticism in the morning papers. His +face wore its usual genial expression as he entered the elevator, and +Robert's “good morning” was particularly cheerful. + +The Governor's first caller was Mr. Acton. + +“You see,” he began, “that your approval of the picketing bill is +receiving universal condemnation.” + +“Hardly,” was the reply. “Two papers and the Governor sustain it and the +labour press and unions are yet to be heard from.” + +“We shall endeavour to secure a repeal of the bill next year. In the +meantime, we shall carry the matter to the courts.” + +“May the cause of truth and justice prevail in the end” was Quincy's +comment, and Mr. Acton took his departure in an uncomfortable state of +mind. + +The day wore away. At three o'clock a vote was taken in the Senate and +the so-called Downing bill was passed over the veto. Not so, in the +House, for one newspaper, read by nearly all the working men, had so +strongly pointed out the nature of the “grab” proposed by the bill, +that the State House was besieged by its opponents, and the veto was +sustained by a narrow margin. + +About five o'clock, Mr. Evans and Senator Downing were dining in a +private room at a hotel. “So, the Governor won't run again,” said the +Senator. + +“He so informed me yesterday. He may change his mind.” + +“You're not satisfied with things as they are,” remarked the Senator. + +“No,” replied the lieutenant-governor, “I'm disgusted with the Williams +matter. When I'm governor, I'll request his resignation.” + +“And when you're governor, we'll put my bill through. Do you know the +Governor's father is one of our heaviest stockholders? We'll have our +way yet.” + +Within a week the legislature was prorogued. The House had a mock +session, during which partisanship, and private victories and defeats +were forgotten, for the time at least, and the fun was jolly and hearty. + +Ben Ropes, the funny man of the House, but a member of the minority, +convulsed all by announcing his candidacy for the governorship, with the +understanding that no money was to be spent, no speakers engaged, the +question to be settled by joint debates between the opposing candidates. +Every member of the House arose, and amid wild cheers, pledged him their +support. + +The Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer's estate at Redford comprised some +eighty acres. Within five minutes' walk of the house was a sheet of +water covering fully fifty acres known as Simmons' Pond. On the farther +side of the pond were a few cottages and near them a tent indicating the +presence of a camping party. + +“Next year,” said the Hon. Nathaniel to Quincy as they stood on the +shore of the pond, “I am going to buy some twenty acres on the other +side of the pond. Then I shall own all the land surrounding it, and my +estate will be worthy of the name which I have given it--Wideview--for +nobody's else property will obstruct my view in any direction. I shall +name this,” and he pointed to the pond, “Florence Lake after my eldest +daughter. What do you think of Captain Hornaby?” + +Quincy hesitated--“He's a typical Englishman--healthy, hearty, but with +that English conceit that always grates on my nerves.” + +“Are we Americans free from it?” his father asked. “To my mind, conceit +is often but the indication of self-conscious power. Its possessors +never acknowledge defeat I have always had that feeling in my law +practice.” + +Quincy changed the subject, “What have you in the boat house?” + +“Canoes--three canoes. I have ordered a large row-boat but it is not +ready yet. When I own the 'lake' and the land beyond, my residence will +stand in the centre of my estate. I shall retire from practice in a few +years, and spend my last days here. We all have to go back to the soil +and I am going to make my progress gradual.” + +“Won't you find it rather dull here after so long an active life in the +city?” + +“Not dull, but quiet,” was the dignified response. “I shall pass my time +surveying the beauties of Nature to which, to my discredit, I have +been so long oblivious; then, I shall commune with the great minds in +literature, and read the latest law reports.” + +Quincy wondered whether Nature, literature, or law would be his father's +most appreciated relaxation, but inclined to the latter. + +The next morning Maude exclaimed: “Let's have some fun. What shall we +do?” + +“There are three canoes in the boat house,” said Quincy, “why not a row +on the pond?” + +“Fine!” cried Maude. “Quincy, you are a man of ideas.” + +Captain Hornaby had asked Florence to go with him and she had willingly +consented. This emboldened Harry Merry, who had come down from the State +House with the Governor's correspondence, and he, rather bashfully, +requested Maude's company in the third canoe. + +“Can you swim?” she asked. + +“I learned when a boy,” said Harry. + +“All right. I don't believe the style has changed much since then. I +wouldn't go with you unless you could swim. It would be too great a +responsibility.” + +Harry thought to himself that he would be willing to swim ashore with +such a “responsibility” in his arms. + +Maude turned to the Captain: “Can you swim, Captain Hornaby?” + +“Of course, Miss Maude. We Englishmen are all sea dogs, don't you know?” + +“But Englishmen are drowned sometimes,” said Maude. “How about Admiral +Kempenfelt and the Royal George? See Fourth Class Reader for full +particulars in verse.” + +The three couples were soon afloat--Quincy and Alice, Captain Hornaby +and Florence, Harry and Maude. + +“Let's have a race,” cried Maude. “To that big white rock down there,” + and she pointed to the farther end of the pond. Harry took the lead with +short, swift strokes, but the long, steady paddling of Captain Hornaby +gained on him steadily, and to Maude's disgust the Captain reached the +rock first, Harry being a close second, and Quincy a late third. + +Maude was excited. “Let's race back to the boat house. A prize for the +first one who reaches it.” + +“What will be the prize?” asked the Captain. + +Maude saw that Harry needed encouragement. + +“I haven't anything with me but kisses and only one of them to spare.” + +Harry shut his teeth with a snap. He was going to win that race. + +As they were nearing the boat house Harry was in the lead, the Captain +close behind, with Quincy following leisurely. This was a young people's +race--married men barred. For some unexplainable reason Captain Hornaby +tried to cross Harry's bow. The project was ill-timed and unsuccessful. +Harry had just made a spurt and his canoe went forward so fast that the +Captain's boat, instead of clearing his, struck it full in the side and +Harry and Maude were thrown into the water. Florence, who really loved +her sister despite their many quarrels, gave a loud scream and stood up +in the boat. Her action was fatal to its equilibrium, and the Captain +and she were soon in the water's embrace. + +The accident occurred about two hundred feet from the shore where the +water was deep. Captain Hornaby grasped Florence and struck out for the +boat house float. She had fainted and did not impede him by struggling. + +Harry had essayed to bear Maude ashore, but she broke away from him and +swam vigorously towards land, Harry in pursuit. + +“Don't worry, Alice,” said Quincy. “They are not in danger.” + +“But, Quincy, suppose it had been our boat.” + +“If it had been,” said he, “you would be as safe in my arms as Florence +is in those of the Captain, providing you did not struggle.” + +Harry exerted his full strength and skill to overtake Maude, but she, +flushed with the excitement, her thin costume clinging close to her +form, reached the bank some twenty feet ahead of him. + +“I had to do it,” she cried, “and I suppose I must deliver the prize by +kissing myself.” + +Then her exuberant nature gave way, and she sank helpless to the ground. +Harry did not envy the Captain who was carrying Florence in his arms, +for was not Maude in his? + +In the evening as they sat upon the veranda watching the dying glories +of the sun, Quincy said to Maude, “Why didn't you let Harry bring you +ashore?” + +“The idea of it,” she exclaimed. “And be under obligations to him--not +on your life. Think of poor Florence. If that Captain asks her to marry +him she must accept because he saved her life.” + +Later, when the sun had set, and the moonbeams silvered the surface of +the pond, Harry mustered up courage to ask Maude what she meant when she +said it was too great a responsibility to go out canoeing with a man who +couldn't swim. + +“Why, I meant if you couldn't swim it might be a great job for me to get +you ashore. I knew I could take care of myself all right.” + +At the other end of the veranda the Hon. Nathaniel and Captain Hornaby +were engaged in conversation. The Captain was not asking the Hon. +Nathaniel for the hand of his daughter Florence but, instead, for a +loan, giving as his reason that when he threw off his coat his letters +of credit to the value of five hundred pounds went to the bottom of the +pond. + +“I shall have to write home to my brother, the Earl, for other letters, +and it will take some time for them to reach me.” + +[Illustration: “'IF YOU WILL GIVE ME YOUR NOTE AT THIRTY DAYS I WILL LET +YOU HAVE THE FIVE HUNDRED.'”] + +“You are at liberty to remain here until you receive word,” said the +cautious Hon. Nathaniel. + +“I appreciate your great kindness,” said the Captain, “but I must visit +New York and Chicago at an early day.” + +“How much will supply your present need?” asked the lawyer. + +“I had expected my trip would cost me at least five hundred dollars.” + +“If you will give me your note at thirty days I will let you have the +five hundred. I will bring it down to-morrow night.” + +On the second day following, the Captain took an apparently very +reluctant departure. + +A week later Quincy and Alice were in Boston making preparations for +their trip to Fernborough. + +“I am going to buy the tickets this morning, Alice--we must have seats +in a parlour car. How shall we go--to Cottonton or Eastborough Centre?” + +“To Eastborough surely,” said Alice. “We will drive over the old road. +Do you remember the day that you took me to see Aunt Heppy Putnam after +her husband died?” + +“Alice, every day I passed at Mason's Corner near you was like Heaven to +me, and, now, for a week or more I mean to live in Paradise again. What +a joy it will be to see the old scenes and faces, hear the familiar +voices, and remember the happy days we have had there.” + +“I'm afraid, Quincy, some of the charm has departed. Things have +changed, and, in spite of our resolves, we change with them.” + +When they alighted at Eastborough Centre, Ellis Smith stood there with +his carriage. + +“How do you do, Ellis, and how's your brother Abbott? Will you take us +to the Hawkins House?” said Quincy. Turning to his wife, he added, +“Mrs. Rawkins is a good cook--her rooms are large and clean. We can go a +visiting during the day and have quiet times by ourselves when we wish.” + His wife nodded her acquiescence with the plan proposed. + +“Ellis, can you handle those two big trunks alone?” + +“Yes, Guv'nor. I'm a leetle bit heavier built than Abbott.” + +Quincy drew Alice's attention to the Eagle Hotel. + +“There's where we hatched the plot that downed Mr. Obadiah Strout, when +he was an enemy of mine. Say, Ellis, drive up by the Poor House, through +the Willows, and then back down the Centre Road to Mason Street. That +will carry us by some of the old landmarks.” + +As they passed the Poor House they saw “pussy” Mr. Waters, sitting on +the piazza and Sam standing in the barn doorway. + +“There's where my Uncle James died,” said Quincy. “Did I ever tell you, +Alice, that he left some money and it went to found the Sawyer Public +Library? He made me promise not to tell that he left any, and it has +always troubled me to receive a credit that really was not my due.” + +“But you could have kept the money, couldn't you?” + +“Oh, yes. He gave it to me outright.” + +“Then I think you are entitled to full credit for the good use you made +of it.” + +“Looking at it that way, perhaps you are right, Alice. Here are the +Willows.” + +“What a lonely place.” + +“You didn't think so, Alice, when we used to drive through here.” + +“I was blind then and couldn't see except with your eyes. You didn't say +it was lonesome.” + +“How could I say so, when I was with you?” + +Alice squeezed his hand lovingly. + +As they turned into Mason Street, Quincy exclaimed: “There's where Uncle +Ike's chicken coop stood until he set it on fire.” + +“Did he set it on fire?” cried Alice. + +“Now I've let out another promised secret. Can you see 'Zeke's house +ahead?” + +“Yes, how inviting the old place looks. I'm glad Hiram Maxwell has it, +for we can sit in the old parlour and sing duets as we used to.” + +“Now we're going up Obed's Hill,” said Quincy. “Deacon Mason's house +looks as neat as ever.” + +“Do you remember when Huldah Mason broke her arm, Quincy?” + +“Do not remind me of that, Alice. I was never in love with her, but no +one could help liking her. There's the grocery store in which I am a +silent partner”--he paused a moment--“and here we are at the Hawkins +House.” + +As Ellis Smith reined up, the front door was opened and Mrs. Hawkins +came out to meet her guests. “I got your letter, an' I know'd it was +you. How be ye both? Seems like old times. Come right in the parlour. +I've got the curtains down so as to keep it cool,” and the delighted +woman led the way into the house. In the hallway, she screamed, “Jonas! +Jonas! Hurry up and pick those chickens. Guv'nor Sawyer and Alice are +here.” + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE HAWKINS HOUSE + + +The converting of Mrs. Hawkins' boarding house into a hotel had been due +to two causes: First, the thrift and economy of the lady herself, which +had enabled her to put by a good sum in the bank. This she expended in +building an ell with extra sleeping rooms, painting the structure cream +colour with brown trimmings, and replacing old furniture with that +of modern make. This latter, she confessed within a year, was a great +mistake, for the new chairs became rickety, the castors would not hold +in the bed posts, the bureau drawers became unmanageable, and the rooms, +as she expressed it, had a “second-hand” appearance. Then it was that +the old mahogany furniture, that had been relegated to the attic, was +brought down, furbished up, and restored to its original place. When +Quincy entered the room which he had formerly occupied, it did not seem +possible that five years had elapsed. + +The second cause that had led Mrs. Hawkins to change the small and +modest sign--“Rooms and Board”--which had been in the front window +for years, for a large swinging sign over the front door--“Hawkins +House”--having large gold letters on a blue ground--was the rapid growth +of the town. Many new mills had been erected in the neighbouring city of +Cottonton. The operatives being unable to obtain suitable accommodations +in the city, had come to Fernborough to live, where they could have +gardens, fresh air, and playgrounds for their children. Fernborough +became to Cottonton what Methuen is to Lawrence. Mrs. Hawkins was +democratic, but shirt-sleeves and Prince Albert coats did not look +well together, so she had turned what had been her sitting room into +a private dining room, and it was here that what she called her “star +boarders” were served. + +By the time Quincy and Alice had opened their trunks, and distributed +the contents in the capacious closet and deep, roomy bureau drawers, the +cheerful tones of the dinner bell were heard, and they descended to the +private room. + +They were its only occupants. + +“I thought as how you might be hungry after so long a ride an' so I just +hurried Jonas up so you could begin afore the crowd came in. I don't +introduce folks now I run a hotel. If they gets acquainted it's their +lookout not mine,” and Mrs. Hawkins and Olive brought in the fare from +the adjoining kitchen. + +Such a meal for hungry people! Lamb broth, roast chicken, yeast biscuit, +potatoes, string beans, cucumbers, lettuce, berry pie, blackberries, +currants, frosted cake, with tea, coffee, or cocoa. + +“What does she charge?” asked Alice in a whisper when they were alone. + +“A dollar a day for room and board--three square meals for board.” + +After dinner they went into the parlour, where Mrs. Hawkins joined them. + +“I jest told Jonas he must help Olive wash the dishes to-day, for I +hain't seen ye for so long I'm just dyin' to have a talk with yer, +'cause I s'pose you'll eat and run while yer here, you know so many +folks.” + +“We haven't much to tell about ourselves,” said Quincy. “What we want to +know is how Fernborough folks are getting along.” + + +“Wall, I s'pos'd you'd like to hear what's goin' on 'round here, an' +p'raps I can tell yer some things that other folks mightn't mention, +'cause they'd forgot it, or p'raps wouldn't want to tell. Is that cheer +comfortable, Alice? I s'pose I ought to say Misses Guv'nor Sawyer, but +it don't come nat'ral, I've known yer so long.” + +“I shall always be Alice to my good friend Mrs. Hawkins and her daughter +Mandy.” + +“Speakin' o' Mandy, you know she's got two little boys--twins, one named +after Deacon Mason, and t'other after your husband's friend Obadiah +Strout, ther perfesser--and she's got a little girl, nigh on ter two +years old named Marthy after me--but they don't call her Marthy--it's +allus Mattie. These new-fangled names fuss me all up. If Mary and Marthy +were good enough for the Lord's friends, I don't know what he'd think to +hear 'em called Mamie and Mattie. + +“Speakin' o' names, there's my Jonas, which is same as Jonah I s'pose. +Anyway it fits him to a T, for he's a reg'lar Jonah if there ever +was one, which our minister, Mr. Gay, you'll meet him at dinner-time +to-morrow, says he's doubtful about. + +“If a whale swallowed my Jonas it couldn't keep him down, for he's just +_satirated_ with tobacco smoke--he says he has to puff it on the hens +and chickens to kill the varmints, and I should think it would. Do you +smoke, Mr. Sawyer?” + +“Cigars, occasionally. I am not an habitual smoker.” + +“Well, old Mr. Trask told me as how pipe smoke wouldn't colour lace +curtains same as cigars do. Now you jes' smoke all you want to up in +your room an' I'll see if it washes out.” + +“Alice dislikes smoke, and I never use tobacco in her presence--so your +lace curtains won't suffer.” + +“Wall, I'm kinder sorry for I wanted to see if Doctor Trask knew what he +was talkin' about. When I'm rich I'll have three doctors and two on 'em +will have to agree afore I'll take any of their pizen. I jes' remembered +that the new minister, Mr. Gay, smokes. I'll put some lace curtains up +in his room. You ain't seen him yet. He parts his hair in the middle. +The gals are all crazy 'bout him. I like his preachin' putty well, but +he don't use near as much brimstone as old Mr. Howe does.” + +“Is Mr. Howe's son going to be a clergyman?” Alice asked. + +Mrs. Hawkins laughed raucously. + +“The Lord save us, I guess not! Why Emmanuel has gone and married a play +actress--and isn't she some? She rides a hoss just like a man does, and +the way she jumps fences and rides hur-rah-ti-cut down the street would +jes' make your hair stand on end. She's away now--I wish you could see +her. Of course you're goin' over to the store.” + +“Why, certainly,” said Quincy. “I'm a special partner, you know. I shall +call on Mrs. Strout. You remember the party at Deacon Mason's, Alice--I +danced with Miss Bessie Chisholm--” + +Mrs. Hawkins couldn't wait, “Yes, an' she made the perfesser just the +kind of wife he needed. She bosses the house... for I heard her tell him +one day that if he didn't like her cookin' he might have his meals at +the store--an' she goes to dances with her brother Sylvester. Some folks +think she's a high-flyer--but I don't blame her seein' as how she has +that old blowhard for a husband--which is true, if he is your pardner.” + +Alice asked if the Strouts had any children. + +“Yes, they've got a little boy, an' he's a chip of the old block. His +father brought him here one day and he pulled the cloth of'n that table +there and broke a chiny vase that I paid fifty cents for, and his father +never said a word about buyin' me another.” + +“I hope that Mr. Strout and Hiram get along together well,” said Quincy. + +“Hiram's a good feller. Mandy did well when she got him, but she has you +to thank for it, Mr. Sawyer. If you hadn't set him up in that grocery +store I'm afraid he'd be chorin' now. You remember Mrs. Crowley? She +jes' loves them children, but Mandy's afeerd she's going to lose her. +She's got a beau--a feller named Dan Sweeney, and his hair is so red you +could light a match by techin' it. He works for your brother 'Zeke. He's +a good enuf feller, but he and Strout don't hitch horses. You see he was +in the same regiment with the Perfesser an' he knows all about him, same +as you found out, and Strout don't talk big afore him. The fact is, the +Perfesser hain't many friends. There was Abner Stiles. They two used to +be as thick as molasses, but since Strout wouldn't give him the job in +the grocery that he'd promised him, Abner's gone back on him.” + +“Does Uncle Ike board with Mandy now?” Alice knew that he did, but +wished Mrs. Hawkins' view of the strange doings of her uncle. + +“Yes, he's there--goin' on eighty-two and chipper as a squirrel. He's +got religion Mandy says, and so many kinds that she don't know which one +he's got the most of.” + +Quincy looked at his watch. “Mrs. Hawkins, we're going up to Ezekiel's +house. We shall stay to supper, but will get back before you lock +up--ten o'clock, isn't it?” + +“No such hours in a hotel. We're allus open till twelve, and sometimes +all night--when it pays. It's a hard life, but you know what's goin' on +an' that's considruble for a woman who's tied up in the house as I am.” + + + + +CHAPTER V + +'ZEKE PETTINGILL'S FARM + + +Quincy had intended to drive to his brother-in-law's house, but Alice +preferred to walk as the distance was so short. The Hawkins House was on +Mason Street. A short walk brought them to Mason Square. In plain view +were the Town Hall and the Chessman Free Public Library. + +“I always thought it was foolishness to name these streets after me,” + said Quincy, as they stood on the corner of Sawyer Street. “There's +Adams Street back of the Town Hall and Quincy Street on the other side.” + +“I don't agree with you,” said Alice. “I would rather have a street +named after me than a monument erected to my memory.” + +At Putnam Square they turned to the left into Pettingill Street and soon +reached her brother's house. Huldah saw them coming and ran down the +path to meet them. + +“Why, when did you come, and where are your things? You are surely going +to stay with us.” + +“Our headquarters are at the Hawkins House,” said Quincy. “We have been +in town but a few hours and you have the first visit.” + +“I am so disappointed you aren't to be with us,” and Huldah's face +showed the feeling she had expressed. + +“You won't be when I give you our reasons,” Quincy replied. “Mrs. Putnam +died in this house, and Alice has such a vivid recollection of her last +day on earth--” + +“I understand,” said Huldah, “but you must come and see us every day.” + +“Where's Ezekiel?” asked Alice. + +“Getting in his last load of hay--about sixty tons this year. We only +had thirty a year ago.” + +“Where's my namesake--Quincy Adams Pettingill?” + +“He goes every day to see his grandpa and grandma. Abner will be here +with him soon.” + +When they reached the piazza, Quincy took a good view of the farm. +What a contrast to the condition it had been in, when occupied by the +Putnams! Then everything had been neglected--now garden, field, +and orchard showed a high state of cultivation, and the house and +outbuildings were in good repair and freshly painted. Inside, the +careful attention of a competent housekeeper was apparent. Huldah +Pettingill was a finer looking woman than Huldah Mason had been, but +Quincy had never forgotten how pretty she looked the day she lay in bed +with the plaster cast on her broken arm--the result of the accident for +which he had taken the blame belonging to another. + +They had just sat down in the little parlour when cries of “Mamma” were +heard outside and four year old Quincy Adams Pettingill burst into the +room followed closely by Abner Stiles. + +“He don't mind me no more'n a woodchuck would,” said Abner--then his +eyes fell on Quincy, who rose to greet him. + +“Why, if it ain't”--but words failed him as Quincy gave his hand a +hearty grasp. + +“This is the first time I ever shook hands with a guv'nor,” said Abner. +“I didn't know you was going to shake hands all round the night of the +show an' I went home.” He looked at his right hand, rubbed it softly +with his left, and then remarked: “I sha'n't wash that hand for a couple +o' days if I can help it.” + +His hearers laughed, for his words were accentuated by the old-time grin +that had pleased Obadiah Strout on some occasions, but on others had +raised his ire to an explosive point. + +“Are father and mother at home?” asked Huldah. + +“Yes, both on 'em. Susie Barker's been helpin' her to-day, and the +Dekin's wife thinks o' keepin' her reg'lar.” + +“I'll have them come to supper,” said Huldah. “Abner, hitch up the black +mare into the low phaeton and bring them up here. Don't tell them who's +here, but tell them that I say they must come.” + +“Well, I declare!” All looked up and saw Ezekiel standing in the +doorway. He wore overalls and thick boots, his sleeves were rolled +up, showing his brawny arms with muscles like whip-cords. His face was +brown, but his beard was neatly trimmed, and his eyes bright. He was +a picture of robust, healthy manhood, and showed what he was,--a +hard-working, independent New England farmer. Alice sprang into his arms +and received a resounding smack. One hand grasped Quincy's while the +other encircled his dainty wife's waist, and he drew her towards him. + +“You have a fine farm,” said Quincy. + +“About as good as they make them,” 'Zeke replied. “I've a good market +for all I can raise. Strout and Maxwell buy a great deal of garden +truck, and I sell considerable to Mrs. Hawkins direct. What I have left +we eat or give away.” + +Alice had taken young Quincy on her lap. He became communicative. “I've +got a grandpa and grandma and Uncle Abner.” + +“Abner isn't your uncle,” said Alice. “I'm your Aunt Alice, and that is +your Uncle Quincy.” + +Ezekiel laughed. “You can't convince him but that Abner's his uncle. +Abner comes after him every afternoon and takes him down to the Deacon's +house and that gives Huldy a good chance to do my mending.” + +The sound of carriage wheels indicated new arrivals, and Huldah went to +the door to meet her father and mother. + +“Have you got callers?” asked Mrs. Mason. “I don't think I'll go in. I +didn't dress up, but came just as I was.” + +“And I never saw you looking better,” said Quincy, stepping into the +entry to meet them. + +“I'm glad to see you again, Mr. Sawyer,” and the Deacon's grasp was a +firm one. “I didn't get up to the Town Hall that night, for I didn't +feel first-rate and Sophia didn't want to go alone, but Abner told me +what you did and said, and I reckon added a little on his own account.” + +Abner appeared in the doorway. “I've put up the mare, Mr. Pettingill. +Want me for anything more, Dekin?” + +“You can go home and help Susie,” said Mrs. Mason. + +When Abner had gone, the Deacon chuckled and said, “Nothing could please +Abner better than to take supper with Susie and pass the evening in her +company. He's more'n forty and she's only twenty, but such hitch-ups +ain't uncommon nowadays.” + +“That is what they call a December and May marriage,” remarked Alice. + +“Not quite as bad as that,” said the Deacon. “I should say about October +and March.” + +It was a jolly company that sat down to a well-filled table that +evening. Quincy's first coming to town, and his exciting experiences +during his four months' residence at Mason's Corner, formed the +principal topics of conversation, and Alice appreciated more fully than +ever her husband's persistency, which had shown itself as strongly in +doing good to others as it had in manifesting love for herself. + +When they reached the Hawkins House Mrs. Hawkins was on the watch for +them. + +“There's a young man here to see you, Mr. Sawyer. He came on the train +to Cottonton and my man Andrew brought him over. I told him you wouldn't +be home till late and I sent him off to bed. Was that all right?” + +“I can tell better,” said Quincy, “when I find out who he is and what he +wants.” + +“He said his name was Gerry or Ferry or something like that. He's kind +of bashful, I 'magine.” + +“It's Merry,” Quincy exclaimed. “Something has turned up at the State +House, but it will keep till morning.” + +As they were ascending the stairs, Mrs. Hawkins called out, “Oh, Mr. +Sawyer, there was a letter came for you. It's up in your room.” + +It was from Maude. “Let us see what that volatile sister of mine has to +say. Something very important or she wouldn't write.” As he opened the +note sheet, he turned to his wife. “Shall I read it aloud?” + +“I should love to hear it.” + +Quincy read: + + * * * * * * * + +“MY ABSENT RELATIVE: You will be delighted to hear that I have found +Captain Hornaby's missing coat and wallet. I was out in the new boat +when I saw something on the bottom of the pond. You know the water is +as clear as glass. It wasn't very deep and I fished the coat up with +an oar. I gave it to father and he examined the wallet with apparently +great interest. Perhaps he thought there was some money in it, but there +wasn't. There were some visiting cards bearing the name Col. Arthur +Spencer, but nary a red. Father is trying to find out who the Colonel +is. I think father loaned the Captain some money--don't you? Now that +we have a real live boat, no more slippery canoes for me. I hope you and +Alice are having a fine time--of course you will on your old stamping +ground. + +“I don't find any fault, because I'm so young and of so little +importance, but it seems funny that nobody ever invited me to visit +Fernborough. Please don't consider this a bid for an invite, for I won't +come. Your neglected sister, + +“MAUDE.” + + * * * * * * * + +“Is it possible?” cried Alice, “that Maude has never been here?” + +“It is a lamentable fact.” + +“She won't come now.” + +“I'll fetch her,--hand-cuffed, if necessary.” + +Quincy was up early to learn Merry's errand. A request had come from the +Governor of Colorado for the extradition of a Pole named Ivan Wolaski, +who was accused of being concerned in a dynamite explosion in a Colorado +mine. + +“Have you looked into the case, Harry?” + +“Somewhat. I think it is part of a political feud.” + +Quincy made preparation for an immediate departure. + +“Mrs. Hawkins, I must go to Boston at once with Mr. Merry. Will you have +Andrew get a team ready for me? I will leave it at the Eagle Hotel. I +know the way home.” + +“You ought to,” said she. “You've druv it times enough.” + +“What will you do with yourself all day, Alice? I must go to the State +House on business, but I'll be back by six o'clock.” + +“If I were home I'd have my horse saddled and have a ride out to the +Arboretum or Chestnut Hill.” + +“They've no saddle horses here, unfortunately. I'll tell you what to do. +After dinner go down to Mandy Maxwell's and see her and the children, +and have a talk with Uncle Ike. I'll be there in time for supper, tell +Mandy.” + +When Quincy went down stairs he found that Mrs. Hawkins had gone out to +the stable to give Andrew directions about the team. + +Quincy said in a low tone: “Mrs. Hawkins, have you some spare stalls in +your stable that I can use while here?” + +“You can have the old barn all to yourself. It's a leetle further from +the house, but it's in first-rate order.” + +As they drove towards Eastborough Centre, Quincy pointed out the objects +of interest to Mr. Merry, who thought Fernborough a beautiful town. + +“Come down next Saturday afternoon, Harry, and stay over Sunday. Bring +down any important letters. Perhaps my sister Maude will come back with +me.” + +Mr. Merry accepted the invitation with polite outward thanks, but with +an inward sense of intense gratification. Love is blind. If he had +reflected, he would have come to the conclusion that the daughter of +the Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer, the millionaire, was not for him, an +unfledged lawyer with a mother to support. + +When they reached Eastborough Centre, Quincy found he was too late for +the train. He had nearly an hour at his disposal. His first visit was to +the Eagle Hotel, where he put up the horse. Mr. Parsons, the proprietor, +was greatly pleased to meet him. + +“You haven't forgotten how we railroaded Strout out of office, have +you?” + +“That was long ago,” said Quincy. “Strout and I are good friends now. +He's one of my partners in the Fernborough store.' + +“So I've been told.” + +Quincy took Mr. Parsons aside and had an animated conversation with him. + +“I can get you just what you want, Guv'nor. Kind and gentle but some go +in them when needed.” + +“Send them to the Hawkins House and don't forget the saddles.” + +They crossed the square to the telegraph office, where Quincy sent this +message. + +“Miss MAUDE SAWYER, + +“Wideview, Redford, Mass. + +“Meet me at State House by two o'clock. Leave your trunk at station. +Something important. + +“QUINCY.” + + +As they were leaving the office Quincy met Tobias Smith, father of +Abbott and Ellis Smith, and Wallace Stackpole. + +“Glad to see you, Guv'nor,” said 'Bias. “You remember Mr. Stackpole that +we gave Strout's job of tax-collector to--he's held it ever since. We're +mighty glad Strout lives in Fernborough. We don't have circuses at town +meetings now he's gone.” + +Quincy's next visit was to the office of the _Fernborough Gazette_, +which was published in Eastborough, as the editor and proprietor, Mr. +Sylvester Chisholm, Mr. Strout's brother-in-law, could not get printers +in Fernborough, and, being an Eastborough-born boy, his paper had a +large circulation in that town and in Westvale, its principal village. + +Quincy obtained some copies of the paper containing his speech at the +Town Hall. On looking it over he was astonished to find it reported +_verbatim_. + +“How did you manage it, Mr. Chisholm? My address was extemporaneous.” + +Sylvester smiled. “Well, the fact is, Mr. Sawyer, while I was working on +the _Eastborough Express_, when you were here five years ago, I studied +short-hand, and it came in handy that night.” + +The train was express to Boston and Quincy was in his chair in the +Executive Chamber by half-past eleven. After a careful examination +of the case of Ivan Wolaski, he decided to refuse the request for +extradition, and the Governor of Colorado was so notified in a +communication which from moral, legal, political, and humanitarian +points of view was unanswerable. It was nearly two o'clock when the last +official letter was signed. + +The door was opened by the messenger. Quincy expected Maude to enter, +but it was Mr. Acton, the energetic opponent of the “peaceful picketing” + law. + +“I heard, Mr. Governor, that you were here, and I thought it only fair +to inform you that we shall apply for injunctions just the same as if +that bill you signed had not become a law, and, in that way, test its +constitutionality.” + +“You have a legal right to do that,” said the governor, “but I question +your moral right.” + +“How so?” asked Mr. Acton. + +“Supposing I had applied for an injunction to prevent you and a score of +others from trying to influence me to veto the bill?” + +“That would have been foolish. No judge would have granted it.” + +“And why not?” said the governor sternly. “Were not all of you engaged +in 'peaceful picketing'? Why should not the working man have the same +right to persuade his fellows that you exerted to influence me?” + +Mr. Acton had not exhausted his argument: “But the probable destruction +of property and possible loss of life?” + +“Matters fully covered by law,” the Governor replied. “They are under +the jurisdiction of the police, the sheriff, and, if need be, the +militia.” + +Mr. Acton, despite the argument advanced, “was of the same opinion +still.” + +Quincy rang for the messenger, who appeared. + +“I am going now. Does any one wish to see me?” + +“There's a young lady outside. She's been waiting some time.” + +Quincy looked at his watch. It was quarter past two. + +“Admit her, at once.” + +Maude began the conversation. “I received your astonishing telegram, +Quincy, and was here _on time_,” and she emphasized the final words. + +“What does it mean? Is Alice sick?” + +Quincy took the cue. “Not exactly sick, but she wants to see you very +much, and I felt so sure you would come to please her, that I ignored +your refusal to accept an invitation from me. Come, we'll have lunch at +Young's, and then a carriage to the station,--is your trunk there?” + +Maude nodded. She felt that Quincy had played a trick on her and she was +in a rebellious mood. + +She ate her lunch in silence. Not a word was spoken during the drive to +the station. When the train was under way Quincy remarked, casually, “I +invited Mr. Merry to come down next Saturday and stay over Sunday.” + +From that moment until they reached Eastborough Centre, Quincy could not +have desired a more talkative or vivacious companion. As they stepped +upon the platform, Mr. Parsons came up. + +“They're there, safe and sound. I went up with them myself, so's to be +sure.” + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +“JUST LIKE OLD TIMES” + + +Alice had a delightful day at Mandy Maxwell's. The twins, Abraham Mason +and Obadiah Strout, sturdy little fellows of the same age as Ezekiel's +boy, were full of fun and frolic. Swiss, Uncle Ike's dog, had grown old +in the past five years, but the antics of the youngsters overcame at +times both age and its accompanying dignity, or love of repose, and he +was often as frisky as in his younger days. + +Mrs. Crowley told Alice, in confidence, that she “was most dead” with +the noise of them, and that, some day, she would be “kilt intirely” by +falling over them. + +Alice held the little girl for hours, and, remembering Mrs. Hawkins' +complaint, called her “Martha” instead of “Mattie.” + +After the death of Capt. Obed Putnam, his companion, Uncle Ike came down +from his attic and had the room that Quincy occupied when he boarded +with Ezekiel Pettingill. He was now eighty-one years of age, and too +feeble to go up and down stairs, so his meals were taken to his room. + +He was greatly pleased to see Alice and to learn that there had been no +return of the trouble with her eyes. + +“If we had known as much then as we do now, you wouldn't have needed any +doctor, Alice.” + +“Why, how's that?” she asked. + +“Because the mind governs the body; as we think we are--we are.” + +“Well, Uncle Ike, why don't you think you are able to go down stairs and +walk back again?” + +“I was referring to disease, not the infirmities of old age.” + +“What's the difference, Uncle?” + +“I can't explain it, but there's a mighty sight of difference. I've been +trying to get Mandy to let me live on sour milk, because a great doctor +in Europe says we'll live longer if we do.” + +“How long would you care to live?” + +“As long as I could. I've been reading up on all the religions and all +the substitutes, and it's going to take me some time to decide which is +best--for me, I mean. I don't presume to dictate to others.” + +“Which do you favour so far?” + +“I was brought up on theology--great, big doses of it. I was taught +that God was everything and man was nothing. Now I'm willing to give the +Almighty credit for all his wonderful works, but I can't help thinking +that _man_ deserves some credit for his thousands of years of labour. +There's a man out in Chicago who has got up a religion that he calls +Manology. There's some good points in it, but he goes too far to suit +me. I've read about ghosts and spirits, but I've got to see one before I +take stock in them.” + +“I understand how you feel, Uncle. You have lost the two anchors which +make this life bearable. They are Faith and Hope. For them you have +substituted Reason--not the reason of others, or of the ages, but your +own personal opinion. Until you are satisfied, every one else is wrong.” + +“Perhaps you're right, Alice. I can see now that my life has been +misspent. I should have remained at home and made my wife and children +happy. Instead, I became, virtually, a hermit, and for more than twenty +years I have thought only of myself and done nothing for humanity, that +has done everything for me.” + +Alice was deeply touched by her Uncle's self-accusation. He had been +good to her, and not unkind to others. But he was drifting in a sea of +doubt, and really wishing to live his life over again. She felt sorry, +but what could she say to give his mind peace? She would begin on the +material plane. + +“Uncle, how much money have you?” + +“That's what troubles me, Alice. When I left home”--his voice lingered +on the word--“I gave my wife and children two-thirds of what I had. The +rest I put into an annuity, which dies with me. That will do nothing for +those I love and who love me.” + +To Alice, the case seemed almost hopeless. Here was a man who, owning +his past life had been self-reliant, independent, impatient as regarded +advice and control--was now weaker than a child, for, in youth, Faith is +triumphant. + +“You must have a talk with Quincy, Uncle. Perhaps he can help you.” She +went down stairs with a sinking heart. She loved her uncle, but love, +powerful as it is, cannot always cast out unbelief. + +“Where can your husband be, Alice?” asked Mandy. “Half-past six, and +supper's ready. I remember how I used to call out 'supper's ready' +when you and he were in the parlour singing. I hope you'll sing some +to-night.” + +Mrs. Crowley rushed into the dining room. “He's coming, but he's got a +woman with him.” + +“Who can she be?” thought Alice as they followed Mrs. Crowley to the +front door. + +“Hello, Alice,” cried Maude. “I've brought him back with me.” + +Quincy told Ambrose, Mandy's boy-of-all-work, to drive the team to the +Hawkins' House and tell Mrs. Hawkins that he wished a room that night +for his sister. Ambrose's hand clutched the half-dollar tightly as +he repeated the message to Quincy's satisfaction. Mrs. Crowley gazed +admiringly at the Governor until he disappeared from view. Alone, in the +kitchen, she gave vent to her feelings. + +“The foine gintleman that he is. 'How do you do, Mrs. Crowley.' sez he, +and he shakes me hand as jintly as if I was a born lady. And the pretty +sister that he has, an' the beautiful wife. An' he's the President of +the State, an' sez he, 'Mrs. Crowley, how do you do, an' it's delighted +I am to see you again.'” + +Mrs. Crowley wiped her eyes with her apron and resumed her household +duties, occasionally repeating, “'How do you do, Mrs. Crowley.' When Dan +comes to-night I'll tell him what the Governor said.” + +Hiram soon joined the party, it being his night off. As of old, he +stammered, or stuttered, when excited, and the sight of Quincy and Alice +was enough to entirely disorganize his speaking apparatus. + +“Ain't this jolly?” said he. “Just like old times. I heerd you was at +Miss Hawkinses, but I didn't think as how you'd git round here so quick. +But we're mighty glad to see 'em, ain't we, Mandy? I hope you're all as +hungry as I am.” He went to the kitchen door and called, “Mrs. Crowley, +we're waiting for the supper.” + +“How I wish Uncle Ike could be with us,” said Alice. + +“Why can't you call him?” asked Quincy. + +“He's too weak in his legs to come down,” said Mandy. + +“I'll fetch him,” and Quincy bounded up stairs, while Mandy got a place +ready for him. + +Quincy soon returned with Uncle Ike in his arms and placed him in a big +arm-chair at the head of the table. + +Alice looked up and smiled at her husband. + +“Now it is much more like old times,” she said, softly. + +Maude, who had been an interested listener and spectator, finally +exclaimed, “I'm not surprised that you stayed down here four months, +Quincy, but we used to wonder, until we saw Alice, what the great +attraction was.” + +Maude's explosive remark caused a general laugh in which Uncle Ike +joined. Alice, feeling that all eyes were fixed upon her, blushed +prettily, “As my husband's residence here brought good to others as well +as to myself, I am glad that a poor, blind girl, such as I was, proved +an attraction strong enough to keep him here.” + +She stopped, somewhat abashed at making so long a speech, which Maude +might think indicated that she was offended at her sister-in-law's +reference to herself. + +“Bravo, Alice,” cried Uncle Ike, “so say we all of us.” + +After supper all adjourned to the parlour. Quincy offered to carry Uncle +Ike. + +“No, young man. I'm all right on an even floor. It's these up and +down stairs that tire my loose joints”--and he made his way, without +assistance, to an easy chair in a farther corner. Quincy looked about +the room. Five years had made little change. The old square piano was +in its accustomed place, as well as the music stand. He looked over the +pieces--the same ones that he and Alice had sung together years ago. + +“Let's have some music,” said Hiram. “We haven't heard any singers, +except Dan, since you folks went away. Guess that pianner's out of tune +by this time.” + +It certainly was, but their hearts were in tune, and it mattered little +if some of the keys refused to move, or the sounds emitted were more +discordant than melodious. + +“Is this Dan a good singer?” asked Quincy. + +“Fine!” exclaimed Hiram. “He's great on Irish songs.” + +“They are always humourous or pathetic,” remarked Alice. “Some of them +remind me of a person trying to laugh with a heart full of sorrow, and +their love songs are so sweet.” + +“Can't we have him in?” asked Maude. + +“I'll go and see if he's come,” said Mandy. “He often drops in and helps +Mrs. Crowley clear up after supper.” + +Maude laughed. “A sure sign he's in love. I hope I'll get such a helpful +husband.” + +“Your life will be on different lines,” remarked Uncle Ike. “You will +not be obliged to do your own housework.” + +“I don't know about that. I've loafed all my life and I'd really like to +know what work is.” + +Mandy came back with smiling face. “Yes, he's there, and they're putting +the dishes in the closet. He's coming in, and, of course, Mrs. Crowley +will come too.” + +“While we are waiting, play something, Maude,” said Quincy. + +“I only took three quarters,” she said roguishly, as she seated herself +and dashed off “Waves of Ocean” in strident style. + +“I always liked that,” said Hiram. + +“So do I, with my bathing-dress on,” and Maude acknowledged the applause +that greeted her efforts with a low bow. + +The door was opened, and Mrs. Crowley entered followed by Mr. Daniel +Sweeney. Mrs. Crowley with her neat calico dress and white apron, did +not look her forty-five years, and Mr. Sweeney, although five years her +senior, was a young appearing man. + +“I haven't the music with me,” said Mr. Sweeney to Maude, who offered to +play the accompaniment. + + “Give me the key--I guess I can vamp it.” + +Mr. Sweeney struck a note. + +“What's the title?” asked Maude. + +“Widow Mahan's Pig.” + +“Oh, I know that,” said Maude. “It's one of my favourites. I often sing +it to my sister Florence. She just adores it.” + +“Why, Maude,” cried Alice, “how can you tell such stories?” But Quincy +was laughing quietly. But few people understood Maude as he did. + +Mr. Sweeney had a fine baritone voice; he sang with great expression, +and, what is particularly desirable in a comic song, the words could be +heard and understood. + +I. + + Young Widow Mahan had an iligant pig, + In the garden it loved for to wallow and dig; + On potatoes it lived, and on fresh buttermilk, + And its back was as smooth as fine satin or silk. + Now Peter McCarthy, a graceless young scamp, + Who niver would work, such a lazy young tramp, + He laid eye on the pig, as he passed by one day, + And the thafe of the world, he stole it away! + + _Chorus_ + + An iligant pig in every way, + Young Widow Mahan used often to say: + “Faith, when it's full grown, I'll go to the fair, + A mighty foine price I'll get for it there.” + +As Mr. Sweeney started to repeat the four lines of the chorus, a soprano +voice rose above his own, and, as the last note died away, Maude came +in for her share of the applause. Mrs. Crowley was delighted, and showed +her appreciation by laughing until she cried. + + II + + He drove the poor piggy to Ballyporeen, + And the price of it soon he did spend in poteen, + He got into a fight and was cracked on the head, + Then to jail he was carried and taken for dead. + The constable then for the Father did send, + For he thought that McCarthy was quite near his end; + He confessed to the priest, did this penitent youth, + About the pig stealing he told the whole truth. + +Maude improvised a short symphony before the third and last stanza. + + III + + Then to young McCarthy, the Father did say: + “Now what will you do at the great Judgment Day? + For you will be there, at the bar you will stan' + The pig as a witness, and Widow Mahan.” + “Faith, what will I do?” young McCarthy did say. + “An' the pig will be there at the great Judgment Day? + Begorre! I'll say to the Widow, 'Asthore, + Take back your old pig, for I want it no more' + + “'An iligant pig in ivery way, + Schwate Widow Mahan, plaze take it away. + Faith, now it's full grown, just go to the fair, + A mighty foine price you'll git for it there.'” + +“Yes,” said Uncle Ike, “that's what the rich man will say. After +cheating the poor, buncoing the credulous, and 'cornering' his fellows, +he will say he is willing to give it back, for he has no further use +for it. There's a good moral in that song, Mr. Sweeney, and some of our +sordid millionaires ought to hear it.” + +Quincy looked at his watch. “The hour is late--for the country, but, +fortunately, our hotel keeps open all night.” + +Quincy carried Uncle Ike up stairs to his room and told him he would +come some day and have a good old-fashioned talk with him. + +They walked home slowly, Maude admiring the moonlight night and the +cool, scented air. When they reached their own room, after seeing Maude +to hers, Alice repeated to her husband her conversation with Uncle Ike. + +“You must do something to cheer him up, Quincy. Promise me, won't you?” + +“Yes, I promise. I hope I won't forget to perform it as I have in one +instance.” + +“Why--what?” + +“Do you remember that young man at the Town Hall--Arthur Scates? He's in +consumption. I told him to come to the State House and I would see that +he had proper treatment. He hasn't been--or perhaps he has since I've +been away, but I will see him to-morrow.” + +Alice looked up at him approvingly. “Quincy, I agree with you that the +real value of money is found in the good that can be done with it.” + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +STROUT AND MAXWELL'S GROCERY + + +The next morning, after breakfast, Quincy asked his wife and Maude to +accompany him to Mrs. Hawkins' barn. + +“I wish I had my saddle horse here,” said Alice. + +“So do I,” added Maude. “I did think of bringing him.” + +Alice laughed, “Do you know, Maude, sometimes you say the most +ridiculous things? How could you bring a horse with you?” + +“Easy enough--on a cattle car. Besides, I could have ridden down here if +Quincy hadn't been in such a hurry.” + +“Alone?” + +“No, with Bobby. What better protector can a woman have than a good +horse? I shall never remain in danger long if my heels or my horse's +will get me away from it.” + +“Maude, you're a strange girl,” said Alice. Then she put her arm about +her and added--“but one of the best girls in the world.” + +By this time they had reached the barn. Two stalls were occupied. Quincy +pointed to two side-saddles hanging on the wall. + +“As I knew you were both good horse-women, I had these sent up with your +riding habits from Eastborough Centre yesterday. I am going to be busy +at the store this morning, and I thought you might enjoy a ride.” + +Maude threw her arms about his neck and kissed him. + +“You are the bestest brother in the world.” + +“And the most thoughtful husband,” said Alice as he drew her close to +him. + +“Well, I'll saddle them and see you mounted.” + +A quarter of an hour later Quincy led the horses to the street. + +“Don't go down Obed's Hill--it is very steep. Ride along Pettingill +Street to the Centre Road, which will bring you to Mason Street, and +when you've walked your horses up hill you'll be near the grocery store, +where you'll find me.” + +They waved a good-bye as they rode off, and Quincy made his way to the +grocery store. Mr. Strout came from behind the counter to meet him. +Hiram was busy putting order baskets in the gaudily painted wagon. + +“I heard as how you were in town, and Hiram said you were at his house +last night, but I ain't one of the kind that gits mad if I'm waited on +last at table. In music you know we usually begin down low and finish +off up high, and visitin' is considerable like music, especially when +there's three children and one of 'em a baby.” + +His closing words were intended to refer to Hiram's family, but Quincy +made no reply. + +Mr. Strout was never at a loss for words: “How do you like being +Governor?” + +“So well that one term is enough. I'm going to Europe later.” + +“I mean to go some day. I've heard so many foreigners blow about what +they've got over there, I'm kinder anxious to see for myself. If they've +got a better grocery store than this, I'll introduce improvements as +soon as I get back.” + +Hiram having finished his work and dispatched the team, the three +partners went into the private office, which was monopolized by Mr. +Strout. It contained one desk and two chairs. Hiram brought in an empty +nail keg and closed the door. + +“We've done twenty per cent. more business this month than same time +last year.” Mr. Strout opened a desk drawer. “Will you smoke, Guv'nor?” + +Quincy accepted the cigar, and Strout, without offering one to Hiram, +was returning the box to the drawer when Hiram, by a quick movement, +gained possession of it, and taking out half-a-dozen put them in his +pocket. + +“That'll even matters up a little, I guess,” he said. Mr. Strout +scowled, but catching Quincy's eye, said nothing. + +“Would you like to look over the books? I'll have them brought in.” + +“Don't trouble yourself to do that,” said Quincy. “I'll examine them at +the bookkeeper's desk.” + +“Oh, very well,” said Strout. “You'll find them O. K. But now's you're +here there's one thing I want to say. Hiram don't agree with me, but he +ain't progressive. There's no _crescendo_ to him. He wants to play in +one key all the time. He's--” + +Quincy interrupted, “What did you wish to say about the business? We'll +drop personalities for the present, at least.” + +“Well, our business is growing, but we can do ten times as much with +more capital. What I want to do is to start branch stores in Cottonton, +Montrose, and Eastborough Centre. We send our teams to all these places, +but if we had stores there we'd soon cut the other fellers out, for +buying in such large quantities, we could undersell them every time.” + +“I'm rather in favour of the branches, but don't go to cutting prices. +The other fellow has the same right to a living that we have.” + +“Why not let him have what he's got then and not interfere with him?” + said Mr. Strout, chewing his cigar vigorously. + +“For the reason,” said Quincy, “that we don't keep store to please our +competitors, but to serve the public. I believe in low prices in sugar, +tea, and coffee, to draw trade. But general cuts in prices are ruinous +in the end, for our competitors will cut too, and we shall all lose +money.” + +“I ain't agin the new stores,” said Hiram, “but I'm teetotally agin +chopping prices down on everything and tryin' to beat the other feller.” + +“How much money will it require?” asked Quincy. “Have you estimated on +rent, fixtures, stock, horses and wagons, stabling, wages and salaries, +and sundry expenses?” + +“Yes, I've got it all down in black and white, it's in the safe. My +estimate, and it is as close as the bark to a tree, is six thousand +dollars spot cash.” + +“I'll look over your figures,” said Quincy, “and if they seem all right, +I'll advance the money on the usual terms, eight per cent., but I must +have a four thousand dollar mortgage to cover your two-thirds, for I +don't suppose you can put up two thousand apiece.” + +“Not this year,” said Strout, as he proceeded to relight his cigar. + +The door was thrown open violently and Alice rushed in. + +“Oh, Quincy, Maude's horse has run away with her and I'm afraid she's +thrown and perhaps killed. I tried to catch up with her but I could not, +and I saw nothing else to do but to come and let you know.” + +“Which way has she gone?” cried Quincy. “How did it happen?” + +“We stopped at 'Zekiel's and had a talk with Huldah, who came down to +the gate. Then we went on until we came to the Centre Road. When Maude +saw the long straight stretch ahead she cried, 'Let's have a race!' +Before I could remonstrate, she gave her horse a sharp cut with the +whip. He took the bit in his teeth and bolted. I rode on as fast as I +dared to, but when I reached Mason Street she was not in sight.” + +“If she had come this way we should have seen or heard her,” said +Quincy. “She must have gone towards Eastborough Centre. Come, Alice, I +will get the carryall. If she is hurt she will not be able to ride her +horse.” + +Leading her horse, Quincy and Alice went to the Hawkins House. + +“He takes it pretty cool,” said Strout to Hiram. “If she was my sister +I'd ring the church hell, make up a party, and go in search of her dead +body, for that's what they'll come back with.” + +“I don't take no stock in that,” remarked Hiram. “She's used to horses, +and she's a mighty bright, independent girl. She'll come home all +right.” + +“No doubt she's independent enough,” retorted Strout. “That runs in +the family. But the horse, it seems, was independent too. Perhaps the +Guv'nor will have a boxing match with him for his independence to a +Sawyer.” + +As Hiram went back into the store he said to himself: “That Strout's +only a half-converted sinner anyway. He'll never forget the thrashing +that Mr. Sawyer gave his man, Bob Wood.” + +Quincy had Alice go to her room, for she was agitated and extremely +nervous, and he asked Mrs. Hawkins to look out for her until his return. + +With Andrew's help, the carryall was soon ready and Quincy drove to the +store. What was his surprise to find Maude there, still on her horse, +and apparently uninjured. With her, also on horseback was an attractive +girl, a stranger to Quincy. + +“I'm all right, Quincy,” Maude cried as he alighted, “but there would +have been a funeral but for this young lady.” + +Quincy, with hat in hand, bowed to the stranger. “I am deeply grateful +for your valuable service, madam. To whom are we indebted for my +sister's rescue from death?” + +The young lady smiled, showing a set of even, white teeth. “Not so great +a service after all. Your sister is a good horsewoman. If she hadn't +been, she would have been thrown long before I reached her.” + +“But your name, Madam,” persisted Quincy. “Her father will wish to know, +and to thank you.” + +“My name when in Fernborough is Mrs. Emmanuel Howe. When I'm on the +stage, it is Dixie Schaffer. I was born in the South. My father was Col. +Hugh Schaffer of Pasquotank County, North Carolina.” + +“My father and all of us will feel under great obligations to you.” + +“I hope he will not. I have no objections to receiving his thanks in +writing, if he is disposed to send them, which I think unnecessary as +you are his representative. But kindly caution him not to suggest or +send any reward, for it will be returned.” She bowed to Quincy, turned +her horse's head and rode away. + +As Strout entered the store he said to himself, “Bully for her. She +don't bow down to money. She's got brains.” + +A few days later, however, Miss Dixie Schaffer was the recipient from +the Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer of a beautiful gold pendant in the shape +of a horseshoe, set with pearls. If one could have glanced at a stub +in the lawyer's check book, he would have found the name of a prominent +jeweller, and the figures $300. It is needless to add that the gift was +not returned to the donor. When Alice saw that Maude had escaped without +injury, she soon recovered her equanimity. + +“How did it happen, Maude?” asked Quincy. “Alice says you gave the horse +a sharp blow.” + +“I must have hit her harder than I intended--but I was thinking of the +race more than of her. Didn't she run, hurrah-ti-cut, as Mrs. Hawkins +says? I was bound I'd keep on her back unless she fell down or ran into +something, and I did. I wasn't foolish enough to jump and land on my +head. + +“When we got to the main road, I didn't know which way to turn--I mean +I couldn't think. She settled the matter by turning to the right, which +was very fortunate, but I didn't know I was on the road to Dixie.” + +“Maude, you're incorrigible,” laughed Alice. + +“No, I'm a sensation. I was full of them as I dashed on. But she was a +well-bred horse and kept in the middle of the road. Then, to my joy, I +saw Dixie ahead. As I went by her I yelled--yes, yelled--'she's running +away.' + +“Dixie yelled--yes, yelled--'Hold on, I'll catch you.' She did, but we +ran more than a mile before she got even with me, grasped my horse's +bridle, and pulled her round so quickly that I came near landing in the +bushes. And here I am.” + +“You must not ride her again,” said Alice. + +“That's just what I am going to do. I'm not going to deprive that horse +of my company, when it was all my fault. No more whip, she needs only +the voice--and little of that.” + +“Alice,” said Quincy, “Mr. Strout has invited us to dinner. He will be +offended unless his invitation is accepted.” + +“I don't feel equal to meeting that man in his own house. I cannot bear +him even at long range. Take Maude.” + +“I'll go, Quincy. I love these odd characters.” + +“He's married and has a little boy,” said Alice. + +“Then my love for the father will be invisible--I'll shower my affection +upon his offspring.” + +Quincy, after introducing his sister to Mr. Strout and his wife, +expressed his regret that his wife was so unnerved by the runaway that +she was unable to accompany him. Mr. Strout, in turn, expressed his +regrets, as did Mrs. Strout, then he added: “Miss Sawyer, we'll have to +pay you a commission. The store has been full of folks asking about you, +and after I told them all about the runaway and how you were rescued, +they had to talk it over, and I sold more than forty cigars and ten +plugs of tobacco.” + +“How did you know how I was rescued?” asked Maude. + +“Well, I heard part and imagined the rest. I had to tell 'em something +or lose the trade.” + +Mrs. Strout was a very good cook and the dinner was a success. + +Strout leaned far back in his chair and Maude assumed a similar +position. Quincy looked at her reprovingly, but she did not change her +attitude. To her brother's astonishment, she addressed Mr. Strout. + +“I suppose you have travelled a great deal, Mr. Strout.” + +“Well, yes, I have. Since I got back from the war I've taught music, and +as my pupils were too lazy to come to me, I went to them. But speaking +of travelling, I was in a runaway once. It had been snowing for about +four days without a break and the roads were blocked up. I had to go to +Eastborough Centre and I hired a horse I'd never driven before.” + +“Didn't you have to put snow-shoes on him?” asked Maude. + +“Oh, no, because I waited until the roads were broken out.” + +“That's one on me,” acknowledged Maude. + +“Well, I nearly tipped over a dozen times, but I got to the Centre where +the roads had been cleared. But my sleigh went into a gully and came +down on the horse's heels. My, wasn't she off in a jiffy! I held her in +the road, the men, and women, and children, and dogs and hens getting +out of the way as fast as they could. She was a going lickety-split, and +although I wasn't frightened, I decided she'd got to stop. + +“I saw a house with an ell, and in the corner the snow was packed up ten +feet high. I had an idea. I put all my strength on to one rein, turned +her head, and she went into that snow bank out of sight, all but her +tail. I got out of the sleigh, sat down on the snow, and laughed till I +thought I'd die.” + +“And the horse?” queried Maude. + +“It took half an hour to dig her out. They say horses are intelligent, +but I don't think they know any more than hens.” + +“I thought hens were bright,” said Maude. “They say they hide their eggs +so we can't poach and boil them.” + +“Well, you can judge. When we moved into this house all the doors had +glass knobs. I took them off, put them in a box and set them out in the +barn. I saw a hen setting, but didn't notice her particularly until one +day she got off the nest while I was in the barn, and true as I live, +that fool hen had been trying to hatch out those knobs.” + +“They said you have a little boy, Mr. Strout,” Maude looked at him +inquiringly. “I hope he isn't sick.” + +“No, he's all right. But we never let him come to the table when we have +company, because he talks too much.” + +“What's his name?” + +“That's the funny part of it. My wife has lots of relations, and some +wanted him named this, and some wanted him named that. So I went to the +library and looked at all the names in the dictionary.” + +Maude's curiosity was excited. “What did you finally decide upon?” + +“Well, we haven't named him yet. We call him No. 3, I being No. 1, and +my wife No. 2.” + +After their guests had departed, Mrs. Strout asked, “Why didn't you tell +Miss Sawyer that our boy's name was same as yours?” + +“Why didn't I?” snapped her husband. “Because she was so blamed anxious +for me to tell her. Them Sawyers are 'ristocrats. They look down on us +common people.” + +Mrs. Strout remonstrated. “I thought he was real nice, and she's +a lovely girl. Besides, he set you up in business and made you +postmaster.” + +“And what did he do it for? Just to show the power of money. What did he +want of a grocery store except to beat me out of it?” + +“But you owned up in your speech at the Town Hall that you'd treated him +mean, and that you were his friend.” + +“That was official. Do you suppose he means all he says? No! No more +than I do. When I get enough money, there won't be but one partner in +that grocery store, and his name will be O. Strout.” + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +UNCLE IKE AND OTHERS + + +At the breakfast table next morning, Maude sat with her head bent over +her plate. All were awaiting Olive's advent with the fruit. + +“At your devotions, Maude?” asked Alice. + +“Yes, I am thanking the Lord that my life was saved by a woman. _She_ +can't ask me to marry her.” + +A trio of “good mornings” greeted the Rev. Mr. Gay as he entered and +took his accustomed place at the head of the table. He bowed his head +and asked a blessing. + +“Why do you ask a blessing, Mr. Gay?” + +Mr. Gay looked up, but there was no levity in Maude's eyes. + +“It is our duty to thank the Almighty for his goodness in providing for +our physical ends.” + +“But,” said Maude, “with the exception of the fruit all our food is +prepared by man. We couldn't eat it just as it grows.” + +“God has given us the necessary intelligence to properly utilize his +blessings.” + +“But some people starve to death,” said Maude, forsaking the main +argument. + +“Unfortunately, yes, owing to man's lack of brotherly feeling, or +rather, a hap-hazard method of distributing his blessings. It is not +God's will that any of his creatures should lack food or raiment.” + +“Do you really believe, Mr. Gay, that God takes a personal interest in +us? That he sent Mrs. Howe yesterday to save my life?” + +“I certainly do, Miss Sawyer.” + +“I can't understand it,” said Maude. “I looked upon it simply as a lucky +coincidence. But supposing the horse had turned to the left, and stopped +of his own accord when he reached that steep hill. What would that +prove?” + +Quincy and Alice who had listened to the discussion, looked at the +clergyman, who hesitated before answering. At last, a smile lighted up +his face and he replied: “It would prove that, in that particular case, +you did not need the intervention of Heavenly power.” + +“I'm not convinced yet,” said Maude. “I am coming to hear you preach +to-morrow. Do make it plain to me, please.” + +“With God's help, I will try to,” the clergyman answered. + +Quincy passed the morning at the grocery, making arrangements for the +establishment of the branch stores, Mr. Strout's plans being approved +with some material modifications. Strout told his wife that Mr. Sawyer +had fixed it so he couldn't get control of the business, but that he +would put a flea in his ear some fine day. + +“I can't see through it,” said Bessie Strout. “Why have your feelings +towards Mr. Sawyer changed so? I think he is a perfect gentleman.” + +“So he is. So am I. But we grew on different bushes.” Feeling that he +did not wish to confess that jealousy of others' attainments was the +real foundation of his hostility, Mr. Strout took his departure. Two +hours later Mrs. Strout was delighted at receiving a call from Miss +Maude Sawyer and the Governor's wife. + +Quincy wished to have a talk with 'Zekiel about Uncle Ike, so he walked +over to the old Putnam house. He had asked his wife to accompany him, +but she declined. + +“That house gives me the shivers,” she had said. “I never can forget the +ordeal I went through the day that Aunt Heppy died. I gave the house to +'Zekiel because I never could have lived in it. Maude and I are going to +call on Mrs. Strout.” + +Quincy found 'Zekiel in the barn, and broached the matter on his mind at +once. + +“I'm glad you spoke of it,” said 'Zekiel. “I was over to Mandy's +yesterday and Uncle Ike wants to come and live with us. Not that he's +dissatisfied where he is, for he likes Mandy and the children, and they +do everything to make him comfortable--but it's the stairs. He wants to +eat with the others; he says he feels like a prisoner cooped up in one +room. We have a spare room on the ground floor that old Silas Putnam +used to sleep in. I'm only afraid of one thing--'twill be too much care +for Huldah. If I could get some one to help her with the work, she'd be +glad and willing to look after Uncle Ike.” “We must find some way out of +it,” said Quincy, as they parted. + +His next visit was to the home of Arthur Scates. He found the young man +in bed and in a very weak condition. + +“He's had two o' them bleedin' spells,” said his grandmother, “an' las' +night I thought sure he was a goner. But I giv him some speerits of +ammony and he perked up a little. Yer see, Mr. Sawyer, we're poor, an' +it's no use tryin' to cover it up, an' I can't give Arthur the kind +of vittles he ought to have. He wants nourishin' things an'”--The old +lady's feelings overcame her and she began to cry. “I'm ashamed of +myself, but I can't help it. He's my only son's boy, and he's an orphan, +an' wuss. I'm sixty years old, but I can do a day's work with any of the +young ones, but I can't leave him alone. I should have a conniption fit +if I did.” + +Quincy thought it advisable to allow the old lady to have her say out +before replying. + +“Mrs. Scates, I think there are brighter days coming for you.” + +“The Lord knows I have prayed hard enough for 'em.” Quincy spoke to +Arthur. “I expected to see you in Boston, but I suppose you were in too +poor health to come.” + +“Tell him the whole truth, Arthur,” said his grandmother--“his health +was too poor an' we hadn't any money.” + +“Arthur,” said Quincy, “I am going to find a home for you in a +sanatorium where you will have the treatment you need and the proper +food to build you up. One of these days, if you can repay me, well and +good. If not, I can afford to give it. Your voice may make your fortune +some day. And, now, Mrs. Scates, I've got some work for you. Mrs. +'Zekiel Pettingill--” + +“She that was Huldy Mason,” broke in Mrs. Scates, “she was just the +nicest girl in town.” + +“Yes,” assented Quincy, “she's going to have an addition to her +family--” + +“You don't say,” again interrupted Mrs. Scates. “Well, I've nussed a +good many--” + +“You misunderstand me,” said Quincy quickly. “Her Uncle Ike is coming to +live with her, and she needs assistance in her work. You must go and see +her at once.” + +While she was gone, Quincy explained to Arthur the nature of his coming +treatment; how he would have to virtually live out of doors daytimes and +sleep with windows and doors open at night. “I will see that you have +good warm clothes. I will pay for your board and treatment for a year, +and give you money for such things as you may need.” + +“I'll try hard to get well so I can repay you,” said Arthur. + +“She says she'll take me,” cried Mrs. Scates, as she entered the +room--“just as soon as I can come, and here's a big basket of apples and +peaches, she sent you, and--” the poor woman was quite out of breath. +“I met that minister, Mr. Gay, and he said he was coming up to see you, +Arthur.” + +“Did you ever go to Mr. Gay's church?” Quincy asked Mrs. Scates. + +“Jus' onct, and that was enough. He'll have to leave here sooner or +later.” + +“What for?” + +“Why, he don't believe in no divil--an' ye can't make folks good unless +they knows there's a divil.” + +Quincy recalled the story of the Scotch woman, a stern Presbyterian, who +thought if ten thousand were saved at the final judgment that it would +be “muckle many,” and who, when asked if she expected to be one of the +elect, replied “Sartainly.” He felt that a theological discussion with +Grandma Scates would end in his discomfiture and he wisely refrained. + +Quincy reached Mandy Maxwell's just in time for dinner, and, at his +request, it was served in Uncle Ike's room. + +“This is more cheerful,” said he to Quincy. “I once thought that being +alone was the height of enjoyment--and I did enjoy myself very selfishly +for a good many years. Has Alice told you of our conversation?” + +Quincy nodded. + +“I've been thinking about it since and I decided my first move would be +to live, if I could, with my own flesh and blood. But while they've got +a down-stairs room, it will be too much work for Huldah.” + +“That's provided for,” said Quincy. “Mrs. Scates is going to help +Huldah.” + +“What's to become of her grandson--he's consumptive they tell me.” + +“He's going to a sanatorium to get cured.” + +“And you are going to pay the bills?” + +Quincy nodded again. + +“I get a lesson very often. You are using your money to help others, +while I've hoarded mine.” + +Quincy looked at the speaker inquiringly. Alice had given him to +understand that her uncle had used his income for himself. + +“I know what you're thinking, Mr. Sawyer. I did tell Alice I had +an annuity, but I haven't spent one-tenth of what's coming to me. I +arranged to have it put in a savings bank, and I've drawn just as little +as I could and get along. I bought a fifty thousand dollar annuity +at sixty. I got nine per cent, on my money, besides the savings bank +interest. As near as I can figure it out I'm worth about two hundred +thousand dollars. I've beat the insurance company bad, and I ain't dead +yet. I have all this money, but what good has it done anybody?” + +“It can do good in the future, Uncle.” + +“I want to leave something to Mandy's boys--not too much--for I'm afraid +they'd squander it, and become do-nothings. What shall I do with it?” + +“Do you wish me to suggest a public use for your fortune?” + +“That's what I've been telling you about it for. You've a good knack of +disposing of your own and other folks' money, and I thought you could +help me out.” + +Quincy did not speak for some time. Finally he said, “Uncle Ike, the +Town Hall in Fernborough is but one mile from the centre of the city of +Cottonton. That city is peopled, principally, with low-paid cotton mill +operatives. Their employers, as a rule, are more intent on dividends +than the moral or physical condition of their help. Accidents are common +in the mills, many are broken down in health by overwork, and those +who become mothers are forced by necessity to resume work in the mills +before their strength is restored.” + +Uncle Ike shut his teeth with a snap. “That's worse than hoarding money +as I've done. Mine may, as you say, do good in the future, but theirs is +degrading human beings at the present. I wish I could do something for +them, especially the mothers. It's a shame _they_ have to suffer.” + +“You can do something, Uncle Ike. My suggestion is, that you leave the +bulk of your fortune to build a hospital in Fernborough, but provide +in your will that the mill operatives of Cottonton, or all its poorer +inhabitants, if you so wish it, shall be entitled to free treatment +therein.” + +“I'll do it,” cried Uncle Ike. “As soon as I get settled at 'Zeke's, +I'll send for Squire Rundlett to come and make out my will. You've taken +a big load off my mind, Mr. Sawyer.” + +As Quincy was mounting Obed's Hill slowly, for it was very steep, he +thought to himself--“Getting Uncle Ike to do something practical towards +helping others was much better than talking theoretical religion to +him.” + +When he reached the Hawkins House, Andrew was getting ready to drive to +Cottonton to meet the three o'clock express from Boston. + +“There's a friend of ours coming down on that train, Andrew--a young man +named Merry.” He took out his note book, wrote a few lines, and passed +the slip with some money to Andrew. + +“You get that--have it covered up so no one can see what it is, and +leave it in the barn when you get back.” + +Quincy told his wife about Arthur Scates and Uncle Ike. + +“I'm going to take Uncle Ike to Mr. Gay's church to-morrow,” he added, +“but I didn't say anything about it to-day. I'm not going to give him +time to invent excuses.” + +Maude did not conceal her pleasure at meeting Harry again. She was a +companionable girl, and Mr. Merry was too sensible to think, because a +young lady was sociable, that it was any indication that she was falling +in love with him. + +“Are you going riding this evening, Alice?” Quincy walked to the window. +“The sunset is just glorious. There's a purple cloud in the west, the +edges of which is bordered with gold. There are rifts in it, through +which the sun shows--and now, come quickly, Alice, the sun, a ball of +fire, has just sunk below the cloud which seems resting upon it.” + +When they turned away from the window, Alice said: + +“I don't think I will ride any more. Maude must take the horse I had--he +is so gentle. What a pity Mr. Merry cannot go with her for a ride.” + +“He can. I sent Andrew for a saddle for him to use.” + +“Quincy, you are the most thoughtful man in the world.” + +In less than half an hour Maude, with Harry riding the mare, were on +their way towards the Centre Road. When they returned, an hour later, +there had been no runaway, unless Harry's heart had undergone one. +Maude's countenance did not, however, indicate that she had participated +in any rescue. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +A “STORY” SERMON + + +The influx of mill operatives and mechanics from Cottonton in search of +a breathing place after a hard day's work, had led to the building up +of the territory north of Pettingill Street and east of Montrose Avenue. +This fact had led to the erection of the Rev. Mr. Gay's church in the +extreme northern part of the town, but near to both Montrose town and +Cottonton city. + +“We are all coming to your church this morning, Mr. Gay,” said Quincy at +breakfast. + +“I shall be glad to see you, but you must not expect a city service. The +majority, in fact all, of my parishioners are common people, and I use +plain language to them.” + +“I think simplicity in devotional exercises much more effective than an +ornate service,” said Alice. + +“Do you have a choir?” asked Maude. + +“We can't afford one, but we have good congregational singing.” + +“I'm glad of that,” said Maude. “I hate these paid choirs with their +names and portraits in the Sunday papers.” + +“I shall take the carryall and go for Uncle Ike. It is a beautiful +morning and you will all enjoy the walk,” Quincy added. + +Uncle Ike, at first, gave a decided negative. “I haven't been inside a +church for many a year and it's too late to begin now.” + +“That's no argument at all,” said Quincy. “But my principal reason for +wishing you to go is so you can see the people that your hospital is +going to benefit one of these days.” + +“But these preachers use such highfalutin' language, and so many +'firstlies' and 'secondlies' I lose my hold on the text.” + +“Mr. Gay is a common, everyday sort of man, does not pose when out of +his pulpit, and never talks over the heads of his audience.” + +“How do you know all that?” + +“I sit with him at table, and I've studied him. Then he told us not +to expect a city sermon for he used simple language, and they have +congregational singing.” + +“Well, I'll go--this once,” said Uncle Ike, and Quincy assisted him +in making his preparations. On their way to the church they passed two +couples--Alice and Mrs. Hawkins, and Maude and Mr. Merry. Mr. Jonas +Hawkins could not leave home for he was afraid the cats would carry off +his last brood of chickens. Some fifty had been hatched out, but only a +dozen had survived the hot weather, heavy rains, and the many diseases +prevalent among chickens. + +When Mr. Gay arose to give out the first hymn, Maude said to Mr. Merry, +“Why, he looks like a different man. His red hair is a beautiful brown.” + +“It's the light from the coloured glass windows,” commented Mr. Merry. + +“Then it must be the curtains in Mrs. Hawkins' dining room that colour +his hair at home,” retorted Maude. + +How grandly rose the volume of tone from scores of throats! Even Uncle +Ike's quavering voice joined in. + + “All hail the power of Jesus' name, + Let nations prostrate fall; + Bring forth the royal diadem, + And crown Him Lord of all.” + +The organ creaked and wheezed somewhat, but so many fresh, young voices +softened its discordant tones. + +A short prayer, and Mr. Gay began his sermon, if such it can be called. + +“MY BRETHREN: My text, to-day is, 'The fool hath said in his heart, +There is no God.' All nations have a God, even if all the people do not +believe in him. The majority in each nation does believe in a God. Are +those who do not believe all fools? Unhappily, no. There are many highly +educated men and women who deny the existence of God. They claim man is +a part of Nature, and Nature is all. They forget the poet who wrote + + “'Man is but part of a stupendous whole, + Whose body Nature is, and God the soul.' + +“Remember, God is the Soul. Each of you has a soul, a spark of the +Divinity. + +“I can best support my argument by a story--a true one. + +“I once knew a young man whom we will call Richard. He had a well-to-do +father and was sent to college. When he graduated, his father, a pious +man, wished him to study for the ministry. He objected, saying his +health was poor. He wished to go into the mountains, he lived in the +West, and his father consented. + +“He drifted into a mining camp and whatever regard he may have had for +religion, soon disappeared. He was not a fool, but, in his heart, he +said there was no God. + +“With another young man, whom we will call Thomas, he formed a +partnership, and they went prospecting for gold,--gold that the God whom +they would not acknowledge had placed in the earth. + +“They were attacked by Indians and Thomas was killed. Richard was +obliged to flee for his life. His food was soon exhausted, he had no +water, he had no God to whom he could pray for help. + +“He came to a hole in the ground, near a foothill. He got upon his knees +and looked down--yes, there was water--not much, but enough for his +needs--but it was beyond his reach. He leaned over the edge to gaze upon +the life-giving fluid that God has given us, and his hat fell into the +well. In his hat was his gold-dust--his fortune--so useless to him then. +He forgot his thirst for water in his thirst for gold. + +“There was a stout branch of a tree near by. He placed it across the top +of the hole. He would drop down into the well, and recover his hat, get +a drink of water and draw himself up again. The well did not seem more +than six feet deep, and with his arms extended he could easily reach the +branch and draw himself up to safety. He dropped into the well, found +his hat with its precious gold, drank some of the muddy water which, +really, was then more precious to him than the metal, and looked up. +He extended his arms but they fell short some six feet of reaching the +branch. He had under-estimated the depth of the well--it was fifteen +instead of six feet. + +“He would clamber up the sides, he would cut steps with his knife and +make a ladder. The earth was soft, and crumbled beneath his weight. That +mode of escape was impossible. He was a prisoner in a hole with only +muddy water to sustain life for a short time, and no prospect of escape. + +“Night came on. He looked up at the stars. They seemed no farther away +than the top of the well. + +“When a child he had been taught to say 'Our Father who art in Heaven,' +Did he have a Father in Heaven? Was Heaven where those stars were? Was +that Father in Heaven the Being that folks called God? + +“He fell into a deep sleep. When he awoke the stars were still shining, +but no nearer than before. + +“In his loneliness, in his despair, he cried, 'Oh, God, help me!' He +covered his face with his hands and wept. He had forsaken the belief of +a lifetime. He had acknowledged that there was a God! + +“There was a rustling sound above him, and a heavy body fell to the +bottom of the well. Some wild animal! He was unarmed with the exception +of his hunting-knife. That was slight protection against a savage beast, +but he would defend himself to the last. + +“He listened. The animal, whatever it was, was breathing, but it did +not move. Perhaps it was stunned by the fall, but would soon revive. +He would kill it. A few firm blows and the beast was dead. It did not +breathe. Its body was losing its warmth. He was safe from that danger. + +“He slept again. When he awoke the sun was high. Beside him was the dead +body of a mountain lion. + +“He drank some more of the muddy water. He was so hungry. Was there no +means of escape? Must he die there with that dead lion for a companion? + +“He had an inspiration. With his knife he cut the lion's hide into +strips. He tied these together until he had a rope. He threw it over the +branch and drew himself up. The Earth looked so bright and cheerful. He +threw himself upon his knees and thanked God for his deliverance. He +was an educated 'fool' no longer. He had found God in that pool of muddy +water, and God had sent a lion to deliver him. + +“How do I know that the story I have told you is true? Richard returned +to his father's home. He went back to college and entered the divinity +school. He became a clergyman, and he has preached to you, to-day, from +the text, 'The Fool hath said in his heart that there is no God!'” + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE RAISED CHECK + + +The Rev. Mr. Gay's parishioners looked at him in astonishment. He had +disbelieved in God but had been converted in what seemed a miraculous +manner. And yet, perhaps, after all, it was only a coincidence. Alice +felt sure that Uncle Ike would be of that opinion. + +The pastor, as soon as he had made his sensational declaration, said +“Let us pray.” His appeal was for those who doubted--that God would open +their eyes--but not as his had been--to acknowledge his power and mercy. + +Then followed “Old Hundred.” + + “Praise God from whom all blessings flow, + Praise Him all creatures here below.” + +A benediction, and the service was over. + +There were seats for four in the carryall. Maude preferred to walk and +Mr. Merry was of the same mind. Mrs. Hawkins sat with Quincy on the +front seat, and Alice with Uncle Ike. + +“What did you think of the sermon, Uncle Ike?” Alice asked. + +“A thrilling personal experience. The fear of death has a peculiar +effect on some people--it kills their will power. Did Mr. Gay know that +I was to attend his church?” + +Alice flushed. “Quincy mentioned it at the breakfast table.” + +“Was he informed of my opinions on religious matters?” + +“They were not mentioned before him.” + +“Another coincidence”--and Uncle Ike relapsed into silence. + +As they were nearing the Maxwell house, Alice asked, “Uncle Ike, are you +willing to have Mr. Gay call upon you?” + +“I have no objection, if he will let me choose the subjects for +conversation,” was the reply. + +In the evening Maude and Mr. Merry walked to the Willows and back. + +“Have you become a matchmaker?” Alice asked her husband. + +“What prompts the question?” + +“Maude and Mr. Merry have been thrown together very much. You approve of +you would prevent their intimacy.” + +Quincy laughed. “Maude undoubtedly has a heart, but she doesn't know +where it is. Mr. Merry is too sensible a fellow to imagine Maude will +fall in love with him, or that he could support her if she did.” + +“Poor logic, Quincy. Such marriages take place often, but unless they +are followed with parental blessings,--and financial backing,--seldom +prove successful. + +“Well, the intimacy will end to-morrow morning. He will return to the +city, and, probably, never see her again.” + +“I've no objection to Mr. Merry. I consider him a very fine young man. I +was thinking of Maude's happiness.” + +Mr. Merry did return to Boston early the next morning, and, to all +appearances, Miss Sawyer looked upon his action as a very natural one, +and one in which she was not particularly interested. If she had any +secret thoughts concerning him they were driven from her mind by the +receipt of a telegram just as they sat down to dinner. + + “REDFORD, MASS., July 2, 187--. + “MAUDE SAWYER, Care of Q. A. Sawyer, + “Fernborough, via Cottonton. + “Do please come home at once. Something terrible + has happened. FLORENCE.” + +“What can it be? What do you think is the matter? The message is so +inexplicit.” + +Her brother replied, “Florence evidently is living, unless some one +used her name in the telegram. If father or mother were sick or dead she +certainly would have said so.” + +“Perhaps not,” said Maude. “She might wish to break the news gently, in +person.” + +“I am willing to wager,” said Quincy, “that the trouble affects her more +than any one else. But you must go, Maude, and Alice and I will go with +you, by the first train to-morrow morning.” + +Quincy had Andrew get the carryall ready and he and Alice went round to +say good-bye. He told Arthur Scates he would come or send for him soon, +and that his grandmother could go and help Mrs. Pettingill. + +Andrew was told to return the saddle to Cottonton, and Quincy decided +that they would go to Boston by way of Eastborough Centre, so Mr. +Parsons could be informed that they were through with the saddle +horses. They found Uncle Ike fully committed to the idea of founding the +hospital. He had seen Squire Rundlett, who was drawing up his will. The +goodbye seemed more like a farewell in Uncle Ike's case, for he had aged +much in the last year and was really very feeble. Alice told him that +Mr. Gay had promised to call upon him in a few days. + +When they reached Boston, Quincy said: + +“Maude, you must take the train at once for Redford and see what the +trouble is. I will leave Alice at home and run down to see you this +afternoon.” + +Maude found Florence in her room, her nose red and her eyes filled with +tears. + +“Now, Florence, what is it all about?” + +“Oh, it is horrible,” and there was a fresh flood of tears. + +“Are you sick? Mother says she is well and so is father.” + +“It's all about Reggie.” + +“Capt. Hornaby? Is he dead?” + +“Worse. I wish he was. No, I don't mean that. But the disgrace.” + +Maude was getting impatient. “What has he done? Married somebody else? +But he never proposed to you, did he?” + +Florence wiped away her tears. “No, not exactly. But we understood each +other.” + +“Well, I can't understand you. Why don't you tell me what he's done?” + +“Well, you know that father loaned him some money when he lost his +pocketbook in the pond.” + +Maude sniffed. “I imagined he did--nobody told me so.” + +“Father gave him a check for five hundred dollars.” + +“And the Captain's run away and won't pay. Those foreign fellows often +do that. What an appropriate name Hornaby Hook is.” + +“He has paid. He sent father the money and said he was going back to +England at once.” + +“So, ho! I understand now. My sister has been deserted, jilted, snubbed, +and her Sawyer pride is hurt. If you'd written me that I'd be in +Fernborough now, and so would Quincy and Alice. Florence, it was mean of +you to send such a bloodcurdling telegram for so simple a thing.” + +“But that isn't all,” cried Florence. “When the check for five hundred +dollars that father gave him came back it had been raised to five +thousand, and father has lost all that money. Oh, it is all over, and I +shall never see him again.” + +Another paroxysm of sobs, and a flood of tears. Maude's sisterly +sympathy was, at last, aroused. + +“Don't take on so, Flossie. Perhaps he didn't do it after all.” + +“But father is so indignant. Think of his being paid back with his own +money.” + +Maude could not help laughing. “That was rather nervy, I'll admit. But +that very fact makes me think he's innocent.” + +She didn't really think so, but Florence was likely to go into hysterics +and something must be done. + +“You know his address. You had better write to him and see what he has +to say for himself.” + +“I can't. Father says if I have any further communication with him, +directly, or indirectly, he'll disown me.” + +“Well, wait awhile. Father'll calm down in time. Cheer up, Flossie, dry +your eyes, and do put some powder on your nose. It's as red as a beet.” + + * * * * * * * + +A little later in the season, Quincy and Alice started for their summer +home at Nantucket, where they spent a pleasant two months, Quincy going +up to Boston when needed at the State House. As autumn approached, and +the time for the state election drew near, great influence was brought +to bear on Quincy to make him rescind his decision, and run for governor +a second time, but his mind was fully made up, and in spite of the +urgings of the leaders of his own party, as well as those of the public +at large, he remained firm in his resolve. + +Mr. Evans worked hard for the nomination, but his predilections were +well known among the labouring classes, and he failed to receive the +necessary votes. Benjamin Ropes, a man respected by all, was elected +governor, and in January Quincy retired from public life, and settled +down to what he thought would be a period of rest and quiet with his +wife in the Mount Vernon Street home. + +About the middle of the month, however, a letter came from Aunt Ella. + + * * * * * * * + +“FERNBOROUGH HALL, “HEATHFIELD, SUSSEX. + +“MY DEAR QUINCY AND ALICE: I was going to write nephew and niece, but +you both seem nearer and dearer to me than those formal titles express. +I see that Quincy is now out of politics, and I know that he needs a +change. Your rooms are all ready for you here, and I want you both to +come, just as soon as you can. It will be the best for you, too, Alice, +as you will escape the very bad winter that Boston always has. I +was delighted to hear the news, and I do hope and pray it will be a +boy,--then we shall have a Quincy Adams Sawyer, Junior. + +“I wish Maude could come with you. I could introduce her to society +here, and, I have found--don't think me conceited--that there is nothing +that improves an English gentleman so much as having an American wife. +If some of your nice young American gentlemen would marry some English +girls and transplant them to American soil, I think the English-speaking +race would benefit thereby. + + “Sir Stuart is well, and so is + “Your loving aunt, + “ELLA.” + + * * * * * * * + +“The same Aunt Ella as of old,” said Quincy, “always full of new ideas +and quaint suggestions. It would be a good thing for you to go, I think, +Alice, and I should really relish the change myself. What do you say, a +steamer sails next week from here; shall we go?” + +“Why, Quincy, it is rather sudden, but I should be glad to see Aunt Ella +and Linda again, and I really see no reason why we should not go.” + +“Well, we will call that settled, then. And Maude, do you think she +would join us?” + +“Not unless you take Mr. Merry with you,” replied Alice with a good +natured laugh. + +Quincy called at the Beacon Street house that afternoon, and had a talk +with Maude about going to Europe with them. He read her Aunt Ella's +letter, and added, + +“You see, she wishes you to come with us.” + +“Well, I won't go. She wants to marry me off to some Englishman with +a title and no funds. If I ever get married, my husband will be an +American. No, take Florence, and let her hunt up Captain Hornaby, her +recreant lover,--if he was one. She says they 'understood' each +other, but it's evident none of us comprehended--I came near saying +apprehended--him.” + +“I will speak to father about it,” said Quincy. “Please tell him that +I'll call at his office to-morrow morning. Give my love to Florence. I +won't trouble her about it until I've seen father.” + +Alice thought Florence's substitution for Maude, as regarded the trip to +England, was advisable, and certainly showed Maude's good-heartedness. + +When Quincy saw his father he made no mention of the Hornaby incident in +connection with Florence joining them on their trip abroad, but in spite +of this the Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer was, at first, strongly opposed +to the idea of his daughter going away from home. Quincy knew his father +too well to argue the matter, and turned the conversation to other +subjects. + +“I have brought my will, father, and wish you would put it in your safe. +I have left everything to Alice to do with as she pleases. I have named +you and Dr. Paul Culver as my executors. Have you any objection to +serving?” + +“You will be more likely to act as my executor than I as yours, but I +accept the trust, feeling sure that I shall have no duties to perform.” + +“There's another matter, father, I wish to speak about. My former +private secretary, Mr. Merry, is studying law. When my term expired he, +of course, lost his position, for my successor, naturally, wished one of +his own friends in the place. If I were a lawyer, I would take him into +my office, but--” + +“You can't use him in your grocery store,” interrupted the Hon. +Nathaniel. Quincy took the sarcasm good-naturedly, and laughed. That his +father had, to some extent, overcome his displeasure at his son becoming +a tradesman, was shown by his next words. + +“Our law business is increasing daily, and perhaps I can make an opening +for him in the near future. I will bear him in mind.” + +The Hon. Nathaniel reserved his decision in relation to Florence's trip +until he had discussed the matter with his wife, but the next day Maude +saw Alice and told her that her father had consented, on one condition, +and that was that Quincy would bring her back with him when he returned +to America. The Hon. Nathaniel was still suspicious of Aunt Ella, and +evidently thought that she wished to get control of his daughter as she +had of his son. + +Quincy gave his father the required promise. Florence must have time to +prepare for such a long journey, so Quincy was obliged to give up +the plan of sailing from Boston on a certain date as he had intended. +Besides, he wanted, personally, to see how Arthur Scates was getting +along at the Sanatorium which was at Lyndon in the Adirondacks, and so +he booked passage on the steamer _Altonia_, to sail from New York in +three weeks. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE WRECK OF THE _ALTONIA_ + + +“Florence will be ready to start to-morrow,” said Alice. This was +welcome intelligence to Quincy, who wished several days to spare in New +York before sailing. + +As soon as his wife and sister were located at a hotel in New York, +he made the trip to Lyndon in the Adirondacks to see Arthur Scates. He +found him greatly improved, and he told Quincy that he had not felt +so well in years. The doctors, too, were more than pleased with his +condition, and said that it was only a question of a few months when he +would be entirely well again. + +When he returned to New York he found that Alice had been to visit Mrs. +Ernst in West 41st Street. Madame Archimbault lived with them and still +carried on the millinery establishment on Broadway, in which Quincy had +accidentally discovered the long-sought Linda Putnam masquerading under +the name of Celeste. How that discovery had operated to change the lives +of many people came forcibly to Quincy as he sought Leopold Ernst in his +down-town office. + +Leopold was almost hidden behind piles of manuscripts and newspapers +when Quincy entered his room. + +“Up to your neck, Leopold?” + +As soon as Leopold saw who had addressed him, he jumped up, pushed a +pile of manuscripts from his desk to the floor, and grasped Quincy's +extended hand in both of his. + +“Let me help you pick up your papers,” said Quincy. + +“No, they're in their proper places. They're rejected. I have accepted +two out of fifty or more. The American author sends tons to the literary +mill, but it grinds out but a few pounds. But the novices are improving. +They will yet lead the world, for we have a new country full of God's +wonderful works, and a composite population whose loves and hates +reproduce in new scenes all the passions of the Old World. They are +the same pictures of human goodness and frailty in new frames--and my +business is to judge the workmanship of the frames.” + +They talked about old times, particularly the success of Alice's first +romance. + +“Marriage is often fatal to literary activity. Is your wife to write +another book?” + +“I think not. We expect an addition--not edition--to our family library +soon after our return from England.” + +“That settles it. Literature takes a back seat when Maternity becomes +its competitor. It is well. Otherwise, how could we keep up our supply +of authors?” + +The evening before the sailing of the _Altonia_, a happy party assembled +in a private dining room at Quincy's hotel. Toasts were drunk. Alice and +Rosa sang and Florence accompanied and played classic selections upon +the piano. + +“Bon voyage,” cried Leopold, as they separated. “Make notes of something +really new, make a book of up-to-date travels, and our house will +publish it for you, for I'll recommend it no matter how bad it is. We +have to do that often for friends of the firm,--why not for our own?” + + A foggy night on the ocean. The barometer ranged low. An upward +glance disclosed a black mist--no sign of moon or stars. A bad night on +land, when trains of cars crash into others laden with humanity--some +dying mercifully without knowing the cause; others cruelly, by slow +cremation, with willing hands nearby powerless to help. + +A bad night off shore, when freight-laden craft, deceived by beacon +lights, are beached upon the treacherous sand or dashed against +jagged rocks. The life-savers, with rocket, and gun and line, and +breeches-buoys, try in vain, and, as a last resort, grasp the oars +of the life-boat and bring to safety one or two of a crew of ten. Sad +hearts in homes when the news comes; but it is only one of the scenes in +the drama of life. + +A bad night at sea--with a great ocean liner, its iron heart pulsating, +plunging through the black waves into dense mountains of fog. + +Despite the darkness and chill of the winter night, Quincy, Alice, and +Florence were on the deck of the _Altonia_. Alice shuddered and Quincy +drew her wrap more closely about her. + +“Shall we go down into the cabin?” + +“Not yet. There is nothing enjoyable about this Cimmerian gloom, and yet +it has its attractions. Florence, what is it that Tom Hood wrote about +London fog?” + +“I only remember one line, and I'm not sure I can quote that correctly. +I think it reads: 'No sun, no moon,' I should add 'no stars, no proper +time of day.'” + +During the two days since leaving New York, Florence had been a creature +of moods: sad, when she brooded over her trouble due, she felt sure, to +another's act; light-hearted when she thought of the prospect of again +meeting Reginald and having him prove his innocence. + +She had been spared newspaper publicity. Not for ten times the sum he +had lost would the Hon. Nathaniel have had his daughter's name in the +public prints. He was a lawyer, but it was his business to get other +people out of trouble, and not to get his own family into it--which +shows that great lawyers are not exempt from that very common human +frailty, selfishness. + +Sounds of applause were borne to their ears. “Let us go in,” said +Florence, “some one has been singing.” + +In the main saloon, all was merriment. Each passenger had faith in Capt. +Robert Haskins, who had crossed the Atlantic hundreds of times. The +_Altonia_ belonged to a lucky line, the luck that follows careful +foresight as regards every detail, the luck that brings safety and +success from constant vigilance. + +In the first cabin were more than two hundred souls--young and old, +maids and matrons, young and middle-aged men, and a few beyond the +allotted three score years and ten. + +Mlle. Carenta, a member of a troupe of grand opera singers, whom many +had heard during the company's engagement in New York, arose from the +piano amid cries of “bravo,” for her superb vocalism. She had sung +Gounod's _Ave Maria_. + +“How sweetly she sang,” said Alice, as she touched her husband's arm to +more fully draw his attention from the beautiful vocalist. “Don't you +think so, Quincy?” + +“Divine,” was the reply. “One can almost fancy the doors of Heaven are +open.” + +The cabin was warm--in reality, hot,--but Alice shuddered as she had +when chilled by the mist and cold. She caught quickly at her husband's +arm. + +“I wish we were safe at Fernborough Hall with Aunt Ella.” + +“And so do I, my dear, but the walking is poor, and we must put up with +our present method of locomotion for a few days longer. Think of the +good times we have had and those in store for us.” + +Alice reassured by the words and the accompanying pressure of Quincy's +hand exclaimed: “How delightful it was in the country, and how I enjoyed +our visits. I shall always love Mason's Corner as it was called when--” + +“I met my fate,” her husband added. “My line fell in a pleasant place--” + +“Don't call me a fish,” said his wife, as she smiled half reprovingly. + +“Well, we're on the water; if we were in it, we all might wish to be +fish--or rather whales.” + +The next moment all was confusion. Faces that were white became +red--those that were red turned white--even through the colour that art +had given to niggardly nature. Fully half the occupants of the saloon +were thrown violently to the floor in a promiscuous heap. Others saved +themselves from falling by grasping frantically at the nearest object. +Many of the lights went out. Some of the women swooned, while men who +had deemed themselves brave shook like palsied creatures. + +A man half ran, half fell, down the stairway that led into the saloon +and stood before the affrighted passengers. No tongue could form a +question, but each eager face asked, + +“What is it? What has happened?” + +His voice came, thin and husky, “We've been struck by another ship in +the fog!” + +At sea, at night, and that a night of winter chill--and the fog! Such +the thought. The fact--ten thousand tons of steel and wood, the product +of man's industry, fashioned by his brain, and blood, and bone, crushed +and useless, and half a thousand human beings--looking forward to years +of happiness--doomed to a terrific struggle with the elements. Strong, +courageous, creative man--now a weak, fear-stricken, helpless creature! + +“_To the boats!_” came the cry from above, and it was echoed by hundreds +of voices. In those three words were a gleam of hope: they opened a +path, but through what and to what would it lead? The other ship, +a tramp steamer, which had collided with the _Altonia_ was already +sinking, and in a few minutes went down, bow foremost, only a few of the +crew having escaped in their own boats. + +Quincy had been an athlete in his college days. In time of danger, +whether the man be ignorant or educated, one feeling--the instinct of +self-preservation--is paramount. Alice and Florence had stood mute, +helpless. Quincy put an arm about each and sprang to the narrow +doorway. It was blocked by two stout men who fought frantically to gain +precedence. + +Quincy placed his wife in front of him, and, with the hand thus +temporarily freed, he grasped one of the men by the collar and threw +him back into the saloon where he was trampled upon by the frenzied +passengers. + +Regardless of the consequence of his act, Quincy mounted the stairs +quickly and gained the deck. The boats were being filled rapidly. He +placed his wife and sister in one of them. + +Alice cried, “Come, Quincy, there is room here.” + +“No, Alice, not yet. The women must go first.” + +“I will not go without you.” + +“Yes, you will, Alice--and you know why.” + +The mighty craft was filling rapidly. Captain Haskins feared that like +the tramp steamer it would founder before the passengers could get into +the boats--their frail hope for safety. For himself, he asked no place. +He had the spirit of the soldier who expires beside his dying horse, +looking fondly at the animal that has borne him so many times in safety, +and now gives up his life with his master's. + +“For God's sake, come, Quincy!” cried Alice. “For our sake!” and +Florence added her entreaties. + +Quincy turned and saw a woman with a child by her side. She had made +her way from the steerage. She was being deported, for she suffered from +trachoma. She had been refused permission to land and join her husband +who had stood outside the “pen” and gazed at her and the child. Quincy +placed the woman in the boat beside his wife and put the child in its +mother's arms. + +“Lower away!” came a shrill cry. + +“Oh, Quincy, must we part thus?” + +Captain Haskins grasped Quincy by the arm. + +“Get into the boat, Mr. Sawyer.” + +Quincy saw that the boat, filled with women, was already over-loaded. + +He turned to the Captain and said: “There is more room here with you.” + + Nature's ways are mysterious but effective. A brisk breeze broke the +fog, and the rays of the noonday sun fell upon a placid sea. The boat +containing Alice and Florence was picked up by the _Macedonian_ of +a rival line and the rescued made comfortable. For hours the steamer +cruised about rescuing hundreds of the _Altonia_'s passengers, but some +of the boats were never heard from. + +Alice and many others had hoped that the wrecked vessel was still +afloat, but the _Altonia_ had disappeared,--was far below in hundreds of +fathoms of water. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +FERNBOROUGH HALL + + +Fernborough Hall,--not a hall in the town of Fernborough in the +Commonwealth of Massachusetts, but a rambling, old-fashioned brick +building in the County of Sussex in “Merrie England;” a stately home +set in the middle of hundreds of acres of upland, lowland, and woodland. +Wings had been added as required, and a tower from which, on a clear +day, the English Channel could be seen with the naked eye, while a +field-glass brought into view the myriad craft, bound east and west, +north and south, on the peaceful missions of trade. + +There was no terrace upon which gaudy peacocks strutted back and forth, +but in front of the Hall was a small artificial lake in which some +transplanted fish led the lives of prisoners. Lady Fernborough begged +the Baronet to end their miserable existence, but, to him, innovation +was folly and destruction bordered on criminality. + +“When I am gone, Ella,” he would say, “you may introduce your American +ideas, for everything will be yours. When the Fernborough name dies, let +the fish die too.” + +The long search for his lost daughter had made him misanthropic. His +knowledge of her sad death had been accompanied, it is true, by +the pleasing intelligence that his daughter's child lived, but that +grand-daughter, though of his blood and British born, had not been +educated according to British ideas. To be sure, she was now a Countess, +but she had been transplanted to her native soil, and had not grown +there. + +It might be asked, if he was so insular in his ideas, why had he taken +an American wife, and she a widow? He had been charmed by her vivacity. +She lifted him out of the gloom in which he had lived so long. If she +had been tame and prosaic, she would have worn the weeds of widowhood +again in a short time. She made him comfortable; she surrounded him with +the brightest people she could find; he was not allowed to mope indoors, +and Sir Stuart Fernborough and his sprightly American wife attended all +the important social functions of the County, and many in London, and +at the houses of their friends. And now a great joy was to come to Lady +Fernborough. She expected visitors from the United States, and what she +considered needful preparations kept her in a flutter of excitement. + +“How soon do you expect them?” asked Sir Stuart at breakfast. + +“To-morrow, or next day. They sailed on the tenth; to-morrow is the +seventeenth, but they may rest for a day in Liverpool--” + +“Or stay a day or two in London,” suggested Sir Stuart. + +“I hope not, for my guests will be impatient to see a real live American +ex-governor. Quincy's political advancement has been very rapid.” + +“America is a rapid country, my dear,” was Sir Stuart's comment. + +When Lady Fernborough reached her boudoir, she seated herself at her +writing desk and wrote rapidly for nearly an hour. + +“I don't wish too many guests,” she soliloquized as she sealed the last +invitation. “Now, I must write to Linda.” + +“My dear Linda, + +“I have a great surprise for you. You must forgive me for keeping +a secret. I do it so seldom, I wished the experience. I am like the +penniless suitor who proposed to an heiress, who, he knew, would reject +him, just to see how it would make him feel to lose a fortune. I think +I saw that in Punch, but it fits my case exactly. They will be here, +_sure_, day after to-morrow. I mean Quincy and Alice, and, I hope, +Maude. Come and bring all the children. I suppose Algernon is in London +helping to make laws for unruly Britishers, but we will make merry and +defy the constables. Despite my marital patronymic, and my armorial +bearings, I am still, your loving aunt Ella.” + +Alice was not to tell the sad news to Lady Fernborough. The telegraph +outstrips the ocean liner, and a newspaper, with tidings of the great +calamity, was in Aunt Ella's hands long before the arrival of the +broken-hearted wife and disconsolate sister. The invitations were +countermanded, and days of sorrow followed instead of the anticipated +time of joyfulness. + +Alice and Florence told the story of the tragedy over and over again to +sympathizing listeners. + +“That was just like Quincy to give his place to that poor woman and her +child,” said Aunt Ella. “Like Bayard he was without fear and he died +without reproach.” + +Alice would not abandon hope. She racked her brain for possibilities and +probabilities. Perhaps there had been another boat in which her husband +and the Captain escaped. They might have been discovered and rescued by +some vessel bound to America, or, perhaps, some faraway foreign country. +He would let them know as soon as he reached land. + +Aunt Ella, though naturally optimistic, did not, in her own heart, share +Alice's hopeful anticipations. Perhaps Florence's somewhat extravagant +account of the collision and the events which followed it led her to +form the opinion that her nephew's escape from death was impossible. + +Hope takes good root, but it is a flower that, too often, has no +blossom. A month passed--two--three--four--five--six--and then despair +filled the young wife's heart. She could bear up no longer, and Dr. +Parshefield made frequent visits. + +Aunt Ella pressed the fatherless infant to her breast. + +“What shall you name him, Alice?” + +“There can be but one name for him. God sent us two little girls, but +took them back again. We both wished for a son, and Heaven has sent one, +but has taken the father from us.” + +“And you will name him--” + +“Quincy Adams Sawyer, Junior,” was the answer. “It is his birthright.” + +“But,” said Aunt Ella, “they never add Junior to a boy's name unless his +father is living.” + +Alice sat up in bed, and her eyes flashed as she said, + +“My heart has renewed its hope with this young life. I believe my +husband still lives, and, until I have conclusive proofs of his death, +our son's name will be Quincy Adams Sawyer, Junior.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +“HORNABY HOOK” + + +Time, it is said, will dull the deepest sorrow. There are some who put +out of sight everything to remind them of the lost one, while others +treasure every memento, and never tire of recalling the virtues of the +departed. + +In Alice's case the presence of her little boy was a constant reminder +of her husband. In Aunt Ella she found a willing listener, and talking +of her past happy married life aided greatly in restoring her nerve +power and improving her general health. + +She said one day, “Aunt Ella, don't you think it better to face your +troubles bravely than to fly away from them?” + +“I certainly do. You are following the right course, Alice; the same as +I did when Robert died. Your parting with Quincy was sad, inexpressibly +so, but imagine my feelings to awake and find my husband dead in the bed +beside me. Did I try to forget him? You remember his rooms in the Mount +Vernon Street house. They became my Mecca--the place to which I went +when I had a 'blue fit,' or was depressed in any way. God has sent you +a child to keep your husband's memory fresh. I repeat, Alice, you are +doing the right thing.” + +“I do it,” said Alice, “for two reasons. One is that it makes me happy. +The other is, that believing that my husband still lives, I wish to +bring up his son so that he will be proud of him.” + +Florence, after awhile, made a confidante of Aunt Ella and told her +about Captain Hornaby. She confessed her interest in him and said that +notwithstanding his crime she loved him, but that her father would never +forgive him. + +“What part of England did he come from?” asked Aunt Ella. + +“He said from Hornaby--that the place was named after his family. Their +home was called Hornaby Hook, because, as he said, it was built upon a +promontory in the form of a hook.” + +“What is his father's name?” + +“Sir Wilfred, and Reginald is the fourth son.” + +“No chance of his ever getting the title,” remarked Aunt Ella. + +“I wonder where Hornaby Hook is,” said Florence. + +“That's easily found out. Linda has _Burke's Peerage_ and I'll write to +her to-day.” + +Lady Fernborough more than kept her promise, for in her letter she +told the Countess Florence's unhappy love story besides asking for +information about the Hornaby family. + +Linda's reply was a revelation. + +“MY DEAR AUNT ELLA, + +“I was very sorry to hear that Quincy's sister has been so unfortunate +in her love affair, and astonished to find that Captain Hornaby is +the cause of it. You will be surprised to learn that Algernon is well +acquainted with Sir Wilfred who is an old-fashioned English gentleman +and the soul of honour. He has met the Captain and thought him a fine +young fellow. Hornaby Hook is on the Sussex coast about ten miles from +us. Come and see us and bring Florence with you. Perhaps there is an +explanation of the affair which the Captain can give. He should not +be condemned without a hearing. Give my love to Alice and tell her I'm +coming to see that baby very soon. With love, ever yours, LINDA.” + +Aunt Ella was now in her element. There was a mystery to be explained +and she held the key. She told Florence where Hornaby Hook was, and that +the Hornaby family was a fine one, and that Sir Wilfred was held in the +highest respect by everybody, but did not mention Linda's suggestion +of a visit, and a possible explanation. She knew Florence would not +accompany her if there was any possibility of her meeting the Captain. +It would appear as though she was running after him, and no American +girl, especially a Sawyer, would do that. + +Sir Stuart was greatly interested in young Quincy, and Mrs. Villiers, +the housekeeper, thought him the handsomest and best baby she had ever +seen. Thus the way was paved for the first step in Aunt Ella's plot. + +“Alice, do you think you would be very lonesome if I went away for a +week?” + +“Why no, Aunt Ella. Why should I be? I have the baby, and Sir Stuart and +Mrs. Villiers are both goodness itself to me.” + +“Florence is not looking very well. Don't you think a week at the +seashore would do her good?” + +“I wish she could go, poor girl. When I think of her, I say to myself +that I have no right to be unhappy. If Quincy is dead, he died nobly, +to save others. But the shame connected with Captain Hornaby is what +Florence feels so deeply.” + +That same day Aunt Ella wrote to Linda that she was coming with +Florence, and that Algernon and she must arrange in some way to bring +about that “explanation.” + +Algernon, Earl of Sussex, and the Countess Linda lived at Ellersleigh +in the County of Sussex, not many miles from historic Hastings. To +Aunt Ella and Florence they extended a warm and heartfelt welcome, and +Florence, used as she was to the luxuries of life, could not but marvel +at the beauty and even splendour that surrounded the Countess--once an +American country girl named Linda Putnam. + +“I have sent out cards for a dinner party next Thursday,” said Linda to +Aunt Ella. “There will be an opportunity for that 'explanation,' but you +must assume the responsibility if there should be a tragic ending.” + +“We must hope for the best,” replied Aunt Ella. “I will gather up the +fragments after the explosion.” + +From the expression on Florence's face, when Sir Wilfred Hornaby and +Captain Reginald Hornaby were announced as guests, the explosion seemed +imminent. + +In her mind, she had looked forward to such a meeting with a sensation +of delight. Now that it had come her pride was up in arms. She had +been tricked into coming. The Countess and Aunt Ella had arranged this +meeting. Perhaps he had been told that she would be present. Well, if +they did meet, he would have to do the talking. She had no explanation +to make. If he had one, he must introduce the subject. + +At the dinner Florence sat next to Sir Wilfred, but the Captain was far +removed on the other side of the long table. Sir Wilfred was politely +attentive. Did he know of his son's crime? Evidently not--but, if he +did, he had condoned the offence. But how could he if he was the man of +honour that the Countess had pictured him in her letter to Aunt Ella? +No, the son had deceived _his_ father as he had _her_ father. Did she +really love him? Had she forgiven him? If he had proposed when Florence +was in that state of uncertainty, his rejection would have been swift +and positive. + +When the dinner was over, the Captain, apparently unconscious of guilt, +approached Florence. He offered his arm. + +“Will you come with me, Miss Sawyer? I have a very important question to +ask you.” + +Should she go? He was going to ask her a question. She had many to ask +him. This unpleasant uncertainty must end--now, was the accepted time. + +She took his arm, and he made his way to the conservatory--that haven of +confidences, where so many lovers have been made happy, or unhappy. + +“Why have you not answered my letters?” he said. + +“I never received them.” Her voice was cold, and she removed her hand +from his arm. + +“I sent them in your father's care.” + +“That is probably the reason why I did not get them.” + +“Why should he refuse to give them to you? I borrowed money from him but +I repaid him before I left America.” + +He thought she was not acquainted with his perfidy. She would undeceive +him. + +“Did you tell him the truth when you borrowed it?” + +His face flushed. How could she know? But she did. He would be honest +with her. + +“No, I did not.” + +“I knew it. My sister Maude recovered your coat, but there was no money +or bills of exchange in your pocket book--only a few visiting cards +bearing the name of Col. Arthur Spencer.” + +The young man bowed his head. He was guilty. She would leave him +without another word. She turned to go. He caught her hand, which she, +indignantly, withdrew from his grasp. + +“I will explain, Miss Sawyer.” Was he going to tell the truth, or invent +another story? + +“Arthur Spencer was the Colonel of the first regiment with which I +was connected. I do not belong to it now. He is a poor man, and an +inveterate gambler. I had not seen him for two years, when we met in New +York just before I went to Boston. You are tired, Miss Sawyer.” + +He pointed to a seat beneath some palms, and led her, unresistingly, to +it. + +“He asked me to dinner with him, and I went. Then he suggested a game of +cards while we smoked and I foolishly consented. The stakes, at first, +were small, and he won rapidly. He increased his bets and I was forced, +against my will, to meet them. When we stopped playing, he had not only +won all my money, but had my 'I O U' for three hundred dollars. I had to +borrow money from him to pay my hotel bill and fare to Boston.” + +Florence nodded. She could not speak. + +“I had letters of introduction to Boston families--among them, your own. +When that accident happened--” she looked up at him inquiringly-- + +[Illustration: “You have acknowledged that you are a gambler] + +“No, don't think that of me--it was not intentional on my part--I was +without money--the Colonel must be paid--my allowance was not due for +ten days--I invented the story that I told your father.” + +“It was a lie!” Florence choked as she uttered the accusing words. + +“Yes, it was a lie, and one for which I have sincerely repented, I told +my father, and he forgave me, but said, as the coat was gone, to let the +matter drop, that nothing would be gained by confessing to your father +as he had been paid, and had met with no loss.” + +Florence sprang to her feet. “No loss!” she cried. “How can you say +that? You have acknowledged that you are a gambler and a liar--why not +finish the story and confess your crime?” + +“Crime, Florence! What do you mean?” + +Her lips curled + +“You do not know what I mean?” + +“No, as God hears me, I do not. You accuse me--of what?” + +She felt that the crux was reached. “Did you not know when the check +for five hundred dollars came back to my father's bank that it had been +raised to five thousand dollars?” + +The Captain reeled, and came near falling. He clutched at the palm tree +which sustained him until he regained his footing. + +“My God! And you have thought me the thief!” + +“What else could I think?” + +“I can't understand.... I met Col. Spencer in Boston--those birds of +prey always follow their victims, and gave him the check, receiving two +hundred dollars in return. He must have--and yet I cannot believe he +would do such a thing. He is in London now. To-morrow I will go and find +him.” + +“But if he denies it--how can you prove him guilty?” + +“Unless he frees my name from such a charge--I will challenge him--and +kill him!” + +Florence could no longer act as accuser. Her heart plead for the young +Englishman who had confessed his error, but who so strenuously denied +his participation in a crime. “Miss Sawyer, will you mercifully suspend +judgment until my return from London?” + +She did not reply in words, but gave him her hand. + +When they rejoined the company both Linda and Aunt Ella noticed +Florence's heightened colour and the brightness of her eyes. + +“He must have explained,” said Linda, “when an occasion offered.” + +“I hope so,” was Aunt Ella's reply, and she felicitated herself upon the +success of their joint plot. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +AN AMERICAN HEIRESS + + +For some time after rejoining the company, Florence was so busy with her +thoughts that she paid little attention to what was going on about her. +She was aroused from her abstraction by a sharp voice: + +“Don't you think Captain Hornaby is a very handsome young man?” Florence +looked and found that her questioner was Lady Elfrida Hastings, the only +sister of the Earl. When that lady had visited them at Nahant, she had +considered her the embodiment of all the female virtues. She recalled +her statuesque repose, and her aristocratic manner which had so pleased +her father. She also remembered the morning when she was discovered by +Maude practising the Lady Elfrida's poses, and her sister's inquiry as +to whether she had a chill and wanted the quinine pills. + +Feeling the necessity of saying something, she replied: “I haven't +noticed him particularly.” + +The Lady Elfrida, perfect gentlewoman that she was, said severely, +for her, “Your failure to do so, certainly was not due to lack of +opportunity.” + +So, her long absence in his company had been noticed. She was at a loss +for a reply, when to her great relief the Earl approached and asked if +she would play a certain piece which he had admired very much when in +America. + +“What was its name?” + +“I can't remember,” said the Earl. “It ran something like this,” and he +hummed a few measures. + +“Oh,” cried Florence, “Old Folks at Home.” The scene through which she +had gone with the Captain had awakened deep emotions, and her voice was +in the temperamental condition to give a sadly-weird effect to the lines +of the chorus. When she sang + + “Oh, my heart is sad and weary” + +the Lady Elfrida turned to Mrs. Ellice, the Rector's wife, and remarked, +“There was a rumour that Captain Hornaby was greatly interested in Miss +Sawyer, but from something she told me to-night I do not think it will +be a match.” + +“Why, what did she say?” asked Mrs. Ellice with natural feminine +curiosity as regards love affairs. + +“I hardly feel warranted in repeating it,” said the Lady Elfrida, “as it +was given to me in confidence.” + +Later in the evening the Lady Elfrida sought Captain Hornaby. “My dear +Captain, don't you think Miss Sawyer sings divinely?” + +The Captain, with his mind on Col. Spencer and the tenfold check, +replied, rather brusquely, “I'm not a great lover of negro melodies.” + +The Lady Elfrida felt sure that Captain Hornaby was still an “eligible,” + but she reflected that he was a fourth son and dependent upon the bounty +of his father and elder brother, and that her dowry must come from her +brother who, in her opinion, had a very extravagant wife--but none of +those American girls had any idea of economy. + +The next morning, Captain Hornaby went to London in search of Colonel +Spencer. He visited his clubs, and, because it was necessary, many of +the gambling places, but his quest was fruitless. As a last resort he +went to the War Office and learned that the Colonel had sailed the day +before to join his regiment in India. + +The Captain reported the failure of his mission to Florence. + +“I have been talking the matter over with Aunt Ella. She advises me to +send a cable message to father asking what bank the check was deposited +in and by whom.” + +“He may have cashed it at your father's bank,” said the Captain. + +“Then Aunt Ella says my father can see the bank officers and make sure +that the Colonel got the money.” + +“I will go back to London to-morrow and send the message in your name.” + +“The story deepens,” said the Captain, when he returned with the reply +from the Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer. It read, + +“State National. Deposited five hundred. Revere House. Interviewed my +bank.” + +“What does it mean?” asked Florence. “So many words are omitted. I can't +make sense of it.” + +“It means,” said the Captain, “that Col. Spencer is innocent. He was +staying at the Revere House when I paid him his three hundred dollars. +He must have cashed your father's check at the hotel, they paying him +five hundred dollars only, and they, I mean the hotel proprietors, +deposited it in their bank, the State National.” + +“But what do the last three words mean?” + +“They mean that some one in your father's bank raised the check and he +has seen the bank officers about it.” + +“I'm so glad,” cried Florence. “You must come and explain it all to Aunt +Ella.” + +She was greatly pleased to learn that Captain Hornaby was innocent of +any complicity in the embezzlement, and said to Florence: “You will get +a letter from your father telling you who the real criminal is,” and +turning to the Captain, continued, “We go back to Fernborough Hall +to-morrow, Captain Hornaby, but when that letter comes we will send for +you.” + +“I can bear the suspense now that Colonel Spencer and myself are free +from any charge of criminality, but I greatly regret, Miss Sawyer, that +your father has met with such a heavy loss.” + +“Don't worry, yet, Captain,” said Aunt Ella. “Florence's father won't +be out any money if there's any legal way of making the bank bear the +loss.” + +When Aunt Ella and Florence returned to Fernborough Hall they told Alice +the wonderful story. + +“I am so glad for your sake, Florence, and the Captain's too. I think +Aunt Ella's suggestion about sending the cablegram to your father was an +excellent one.” + +The story was told, also, to Sir Stuart. He was gratified to learn that +two officers of Her Majesty's army had been freed from the charge of +embezzlement, but deplored the fact that gambling was so prevalent among +them. + +“I am an Englishman born and bred,” said he, “but I think the law of +primogeniture is, as a general rule, a bad one. Driving, as it does, +the younger sons into the army, the navy, the church, and the law may be +beneficial, for the branches of our national defence and the professions +must be recruited from a stratum of intelligent men; the lack of money +may be a spur to ambition in many instances, but it often leads +to devious practices, and--” he saw that he had three interested +listeners--“the whole system is contrary to your countrymen's idea that +all men are created free and equal. While I cannot accept that doctrine +_in toto_, I do believe that the bestowal of titles and fortune upon the +eldest son is attended with grave evils, not only among our nobility, +but in our royal successions. The Almighty does not follow such a law +in endowing his children, and it is contrary to Nature's _dictum_ 'the +survival of the fittest.'” + +Sir Stuart had expressed such opinions during his term in Parliament. +The path of the political pioneer is strewn with temporary defeats, but +all reforms, based upon truth, are ultimately successful, or life would +be a stagnant pool instead of a river of progress. + +A letter from Maude contained a solution of the mystery. + +“DEAR AUNT ELLA AND SISTER FLO:--What a rumpus there has been about that +raised check. Father was as dumb as an oyster about the affair until he +had it all settled, then he told ma and me. + +“How you two feminines must have suffered--one from hopeless love--and +the other from helpless sympathy. But it is all over now, and the +probity of two, presumably, gallant officers is vindicated, while +the paying teller of father's bank is behind the bars with a certain +prospect of years of manual labour for bed and board. Why will men be so +foolish? Easily answered. The love of gold, not made in an honest way, +but by speculating with other folks' money. Mr. Barr, the aforesaid +teller, is a nice young fellow with a wife and two children, but his +life is wrecked. Of course she will get a divorce and try to find a +better man. We are all well, including Mr. Merry. He intended to take +the place in father's office that Quincy spoke about, but Harry--there, +I've written it, so will let it go--had a better position offered him +by Mr. Curtis Carter, one of Quincy's old friends, and he's doing +splendidly Mr. Carter told me. + +“I am heartbroken about Quincy. I trust Alice's hopes may be realized +and most of the time I share them. + +“How's that nephew of mine? Send him over and we'll bring him up a +Yankee boy. He's no Englishman. + +“We are all well, and everybody sends love to everybody. MAUDE. + +“P. S. Father didn't lose anything on the check. The bank paid the money +back to him.” + + * * * * * * * + +Aunt Ella kept her promise to the Captain and the part of Maude's letter +which concerned the check was read to him. He improved his opportunity +by asking Florence to be his wife. + +“My father was greatly pleased with you and will welcome you as a +daughter.” + +“Whether my father will welcome you as a son is the question,” said +Florence. “My father is a very wealthy man. I know the conventionalities +and requirements of English life, and although my love for you is not +dependent upon your having or not having a fortune, I cannot become a +burden to you, or dependent upon your family, as I might become if my +father refused his consent.” + +“You American girls are intensely practical.” + +“Are not Englishmen equally so when they pay court to American +heiresses? I don't mean you, of course.” + +“My father and brothers will allow me twenty-five hundred pounds a year, +about twelve thousand dollars of your money.” + +“Could we live, as we have both lived, on that income, Reginald?” + +“To be honest, Florence, I don't think we could have a town house, a +place in the country, and entertain much.” + +“Certainly not, Reginald. If my father gives his consent, I will be your +wife whenever you say. If he refuses, we must wait.” + +The next mail brought a short letter for Florence from her sister. + +“DEAR FLO:--I didn't want to put what I'm going to write now in my other +letter. I suppose Reggie will propose now. Don't you accept him until +Father is told. You love money and style, and the first enables you to +indulge in the second. + +“I don't blame Reggie for borrowing if he was hard up, but knew he could +pay. But most men are deceitful creatures, anyway. Don't let Aunt Ella +write to father. He was always sore about her influence over Quincy, and +he mustn't think Aunt Ella made this match. If the Countess would write +him, puffing up Reggie's ancestors, and his blue blood and ancestral +home, and a hint (I hope it is so) that the Hornaby's are a very wealthy +family and related (distantly of course) to royalty, Pater may say +'yes,' and give you his blessing. I do, if that will help any. Your +loving sister, + +“MAUDE.” + + * * * * * * * + +Florence had to make confidantes of Aunt Ella and Alice. She repeated +her conversation with Reginald and allowed them to read Maude's letter. + +“Maude has a level head,” was Aunt Ella's comment. “I'll go and have a +talk with Linda. If she will write your father in the Captain's behalf, +I think things will come out all right.” + +Linda was not only willing to assure the Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer +that Capt. Hornaby belonged to an old and honourable family, but also +that he did not seek his daughter's hand because her father was a +wealthy man, for the Hornaby estate was a large one, and the rentals +sufficient to allow the Captain an adequate income, although there were +other brothers to share the patrimony. + +The Hon. Nathaniel deliberated before answering. Florence had always +been a dutiful daughter and the fact that she would not become engaged +without his consent was an acknowledgment of his parental influence +which was vastly pleasing to his vanity. He had been tricked into +accepting Alice as his son's wife, and he knew that Maude, when she +made up her mind to marry would be guided little, if any, by his advice. +Filial love and respect deserved their reward. + +He wrote the Countess giving his consent to the marriage, and, what was +most important, declared his intention of allowing Mrs. Captain Hornaby +an income of fifteen thousand dollars annually, and a liberal provision +at his death. He was very sorry, but pressing legal duties would prevent +his attendance at the wedding if it took place in England. + +The Countess insisted upon the wedding taking place at Ellersleigh. She +had obtained the, otherwise, obdurate father's consent, and demanded +compensation for her services. + +So many weddings have been described that novelty in that line is +impossible. Sufficient to say that the Countess fulfilled expectations +and more, and the event was the year's sensation in Sussex, the echoes +of which reached imperial London, and far off democratic America. + +The Lady Elfrida Hastings was present at the wedding. She congratulated +the Captain and his bride, but took occasion to say to the latter,-- + +“My dear, don't sing those sentimental American songs any more. That +night you looked so _triste_ I was afraid the present delightful affair +would never become a reality.” + +Florence did not confess that, on the evening in question, she had +misgivings herself. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +AN ELOPEMENT + + +The Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer sat in his library reading a ponderous +legal document. It was full of knotty points requiring deep thinking, +and the Hon. Nathaniel was breathing deeply and thinking deeply when +the door was opened quietly and a young girl looked in. She stood for a +moment regarding the reader. + +“Father, are you very busy?” + +The man finished reading the page before noticing the speaker. + +“I am always busy, Maude, except when asleep, and I sometimes think my +subliminal consciousness is active then.” + +Maude's inclination was to say “Oh, my!” but she repressed the +ejaculation. + +“I can give you a few minutes, Maude, if the subject is an important +one. Come in.” + +Maude entered, seated herself, folded her hands in her lap and regarded +her father as a disobedient pupil would a teacher. + +“Father--” + +The Hon. Nathaniel was listening attentively. + +“Father--” + +“Repetition is effective if not indulged in to excess. I often use it in +my arguments before juries.” + +Maude flushed. She was particularly sensitive to sarcasm, but could +stand any amount of good-natured raillery. + +“Father, I'm going to be married.” + +The Hon. Nathaniel readjusted his glasses and regarded the speaker. + +“It must be a clandestine attachment. I am not aware of meeting any +gentleman who declared any desire to make you his wife. At whose house +have you met your intended? I have no reason to suspect your Aunt Ella +owing to her absence in Europe.” + +“I've never been to anybody's house. I've walked with him on the Common +and in the Public Garden.” + +“Ah, two parks frequented by the elite of the city.” + +Maude resented his last remark. “Just as good people as I am go there.” + +“Do you mean that you are no better than those who go there?” + +His voice was stern. Maude saw that she had made a mistake. “Some of +them,” she said in a low voice. + +“Who is the favoured gentleman? Have I the honour of his acquaintance?” + +“Why, yes, you've met him. It's Harry, I mean Mr. Merry.” + +“The young man who was Quincy's private secretary. Quincy wished me to +take him into my office, but he never appeared in person.” + +“He's with Mr. Curtis Carter on Tremont Street. Mr. Carter was one of +Quincy's most intimate friends.” + +“And Mr. Merry preferred going to one of Quincy's friends, than to me, +and criminal cases rather than civil procedure. Mr. Carter revels in +murder trials. But why has this young man failed to consult me on +a matter so greatly affecting your future? Why have you assumed the +initiative? This is not leap year.” + +Maude was ready to cry, but she choked down her rising temper. + +“I think he's afraid to.” + +“What has he done that he should fear me?” + +Maude made another mistake. “He never borrowed any money of you.” + +The Hon. Nathaniel disliked any reference to that raised check. “If he +marries you, perhaps he will find it difficult to support you without +borrowing money--but I shall not loan him any.” + +“He says he can support me as well as I wish, and I am going to marry +him.” + +This was flat-footed defiance, and the Hon. Nathaniel grew red in the +face at being thus bearded in his den. + +“Maude, I am astonished. I command you not to meet this young man again +unless in my presence or that of your mother. When I meet him, I shall +have something to say to him.” + +He resumed the reading of the document, and Maude, knowing that it was +useless to say more, left the room. + +The next day at noon, Maude told her mother she was going to make some +purchases on Winter Street. As no objection was made, Maude felt sure +that her father had not mentioned their conversation to her mother. +She met Harry and they walked down the “Long Path” on the Common, made +famous by the genial “Autocrat,” not only of one breakfast table, but of +thousands of others. + +“He will never consent,” said Maude. + +“I thought so.” + +“He was real mean to me--as sarcastic as he could be.” + +“Rich fathers are usually indignant when their daughters wish to marry +poor men. He can have no other objection to me.” + +“Have you any money saved up, Harry?” + +“Yes, I've got two thousand dollars in the bank to furnish our flat +with.” + +“We shall have to go to a justice of the peace, for father will not let +me be married at home. Oh, if Aunt Ella were here.” + +“Where is she?” + +“In England. She's the wife of a baronet, and he is rich and so is Aunt +Ella.” + +“Maude, let's elope and go to England for our honeymoon.” + + * * * * * * * + +Aunt Ella and Alice had been to Ketchley to make some purchases for +young Quincy's wardrobe. As they entered the house a maid said that a +young lady and gentleman were waiting to see them. + +“Both of us?” queried Aunt Ella. + +The maid replied: “They said they wished to see Lady Fernborough and +Mrs. Quincy Adams Sawyer.” + +“I will see if baby is all right and join you in a few minutes,” said +Alice. + +Aunt Ella passed her hat and wrap to the maid, and entered the drawing +room. + +“Maude Sawyer, what cloud did you drop from? Where did you come from? +Excuse me,” said Aunt Ella as she espied Maude's companion, who had kept +in the background. + +“This is my husband, Mr. Harry Merry. We're just from London. We've been +doing the town. What a big noisy place.” + +Alice came in and the introduction was repeated. + +“Well, Maude,” said Aunt Ella, “we're delighted to see you and your +husband, but your arrival was so unexpected that you must pardon my +evidences of surprise.” + +“They're very excusable,” said Maude. “I can hardly realize, myself, +that we are here. You and Alice are wondering what brought us, and you +are entitled to an explanation. We just eloped because father would not +give his consent.” + +The presence of Mr. Merry made the situation an awkward one, but Aunt +Ella was a woman with opinions and was not afraid to express them. So +she said: + +“I suppose your father will disinherit you. I hope that will not mar +your future happiness.” + +“I don't think it will. Harry has a good position, we've got some money +in the bank, and we're going to have a nice little flat in Cambridge or +Roxbury. I want to see my little nephew, Quincy's boy, and then we are +going right back to London.” + +“Come with me,” said Alice, “and see the baby, but Aunt Ella and I will +never consent to your leaving us so soon. You must pay us a long visit.” + +“I would,” replied Maude, “but for one thing father said to me. We will +stay over night, for I have so much to tell both of you.” + +“Come to the library,” said Aunt Ella. “I will introduce your husband to +Sir Stuart, and then we will go to the nursery where we can talk as long +as we wish.” + +When they reached the nursery, Maude's first wish was gratified--she +held, and hugged and kissed, and praised her brother's boy. Alice's face +beamed with delight. + +“Now, Maude,” exclaimed Aunt Ella, “why this runaway marriage? Tell us +all about it.” + +Maude laughed. “It's so funny. I told father I was going to marry Mr. +Merry, and he about the same as said I shouldn't. He told me not to meet +him again unless in his presence or mother's.” + +“That was reasonable. Why did you object?” asked Aunt Ella. + +“It wouldn't have done any good. He's opposed to Harry because he isn't +rich. Was Nathaniel Adams Sawyer rich when he married your sister, Aunt +Ella?” + +“I should say not. They began housekeeping in three rooms, but my +brother-in-law is a born money-maker.” + +“We're going to have five rooms, and I think Harry has it in him to make +money--at any rate I'm going to give him a chance and help him all I +can.” + +“How did you manage to get away?” asked Alice. She remembered that +Quincy married her without his father's consent. But for the fact +that she became famous by writing a popular book, he would never have +welcomed her into the family. In fact, he had been “cornered” and had +to surrender. So, she was full of sympathy for Maude, for her own fate +might have been similar. + +“That's the funny part,” said Maude. “I could get away easily enough, +but I wanted my clothes and many things that I prized. I knew it was +wrong, but I deceived my father. I am sorry for that, but I couldn't +give Harry up.” + +“What did you do?” asked Aunt Ella. + +“Why, I told father if he wanted to get me away from Harry that he must +let me come to England and see Florence. I didn't say I was coming to +see you--” + +“That wouldn't have appealed to him,” interrupted Aunt Ella. + +Maude continued: “Then everything was plain sailing. He gave me money +for an outfit, bought my ticket and return, found me a chaperone, a +brother lawyer and his wife were coming over, and gave me five hundred +dollars to spend. I consider that is my dowry, for I don't expect any +more. Florence gets fifteen thousand a year and I get five hundred all +in a lump. But I am not envious of Florence. She needs the money, and I +don't.” + +“Then your father does not know that you are married?” said Alice. + +“Certainly not. Harry was on the same boat, but we never spoke to each +other all the way over. We suspected that father had spoken to Mr. +Harding or his wife about Harry, and so we were very circumspect and +gave no cause for suspicion.” + +“Well,” said Aunt Ella, “I will go with you to see Florence, but Mr. +Merry--” + +“Please call him Harry, Aunt Ella. Isn't he your nephew--in-law?” + +“Then,” Aunt Ella continued, “Harry must stay here. Alice and I will +think out some way of breaking the news to your father. I'm glad +you told me the whole story, for I think I see a way to overcome his +objections.” + +The visit to Mrs. Captain Hornaby was paid, and Maude Sawyer was obliged +to kiss and be kissed by her brother-in-law. + +“You didn't win the canoe race,” said Maude, “but you were determined +to have that kiss and so you married Florence;” but her sister was not +present when she made the remark. + +“Where is your friend, Colonel Spencer?” + +“In India. I have never seen him since I gave him that check.” + +“That paying teller got twenty years in prison for his penmanship,” said +Maude. “Father thought you were the bad man until Aunt Ella sent the +message that led father to investigate and find out who deposited the +check. I was awful glad that you got out of it so nicely.” + +“So was I,” said Reginald. “I hope some day I can help somebody else out +of a bad box just to show my gratitude.” + +Maude thought of her “bad box,” but Reginald could not help her or +Harry. + +“Are you going to India?” she asked. “How is it that you are not with +the army?” + +“I have sold my captaincy. Florence did not wish me to leave her, and my +eldest brother decided the matter. He hates farming and accounts. I love +both, so I am in charge of the estate. My brother Paul has been given a +living as they call it in the church, and Geoffrey has entered the navy. +My brother Wilfred will inherit the title, so we are all provided for.” + +Aunt Ella and Alice had many long confabs about the young couple, and +how to reinstate Maude in her father's good graces when the truth became +known to him. + +“I have an idea,” said Alice one morning to Aunt Ella. “Yesterday I had +a letter from Dr. Paul Culver, one of the executors of Quincy's will. He +says his practice is so great that he cannot do justice to my interests, +and asks me to suggest some one to be appointed in his stead.” + +“What's your idea? Though perhaps I can guess,” said Aunt Ella. + +“I am going to suggest Mr. Merry. I had many talks with him while you +were away with Maude, and I am deeply impressed in his favour. Are you +surprised?” + +“Not so much as you will be when I tell you that Florence and her +husband are going back with Maude. Harry will have to go too, so +something must be done. Now, you know that I gave Quincy an allowance of +five thousand dollars a year when he was married. I am going to give it +to Harry.” + +“And why not let them live in the Mount Vernon Street house--until--” + Her voice broke. + +“I know what you were going to say, Alice. It is a good idea--all +furnished and ready for occupancy. I shall never see it again--and you +may not for years--for I can't spare you.” + +“When do they sail?” Alice asked. + +“In about a week. I'm going to write a letter to Sarah to-night to pave +the way.” + +It was midnight when Aunt Ella completed a letter that seemed to fit the +case. + +“MY DEAR SISTER SARAH:--I write to let you know that Florence and her +husband will sail for America in about a week. This may not be news to +you, for probably Florence has written you, but it will be news when I +tell you that Maude and her husband, Mr. Merry, will sail on the same +steamer. They have visited Florence and are now here with me. + +“I presume Nathaniel will be very angry, and he may say that I am +responsible, as he did in Quincy's case. I did help Quincy and Alice +and I am going to help Maude and Harry. I am going to allow them five +thousand a year and Alice gives them the free use of the Mount Vernon +Street house. She has written Nathaniel about Mr. Merry taking Dr. +Culver's place as one of Quincy's executors. + +“Now, if Nathaniel gets very angry and threatens to disinherit Maude, +just ask him, for me, why it is that all his children have been +married away from home. Has it always been their fault, or is his +home discipline in part, or wholly, the cause? It didn't make so much +difference in Quincy's case, but here in England no girl is married +outside of her father's house, unless it be in church. + +“Your children are now all married, and, I think, well married. Let +Nathaniel make the best of it, and, instead of keeping up a family +warfare, change his tactics and become an indulgent, loving father. + +“Your sister, + +“ELLA. + +“P. S. Let Nathaniel read this letter. It will do him good.” + +Aunt Ella read her letter over before sealing it. There was a quiet +smile on her face as she pressed the seal upon the melted wax. Then she +soliloquized: + +“Yes, it will do him good to read that letter. He has no one else to +boss now but Sarah, but she doesn't resist, and ready acquiescence takes +away the pleasure of domineering. The boss wishes to break stout twigs, +not simply press down pliant willows.” There came a sharp rap upon the +door--it was thrown open, and Alice entered. + +“Oh, Aunt Ella, Quincy is very sick. He is choked up so he can hardly +breathe. I'm afraid it is the croup.” + +“We must send for Dr. Parshefield at once. But who can go? Henry injured +his foot to-day and cannot walk. Lennon, the butler, cannot ride a +horse, and Simon, the stable boy, would be frightened to death so late +at night.” + +“Oh, what shall we do?” cried Alice. + +“Do?” exclaimed Aunt Ella. “I'll go myself. It's only two miles to +Ketchley and I can ride back with the Doctor. I'll get Harry to help me +harness the horse. Open the windows to give your boy plenty of air, and +fan him.” + +She took up the oil lamp that stood upon her writing table. “This is +whale oil--a nauseous smelling compound. Rub his neck and chest well +with it.” + +Alice sought the nursery and followed Aunt Ella's directions. She was +sitting by the crib watching her child's laboured breathing when her +aunt returned. + +“Harry is going on horseback. He knows the road to Ketchley and where +the Doctor lives. Give him some more of the oil.” + +It was administered and the child began to choke--he seemed to be +strangling--then the phlegm that had impeded his breathing was thrown +off, and his face resumed its natural colour. When the Doctor arrived an +hour later, he was sleeping quietly. Aunt Ella told what they had done +by way of emergency treatment. + +“Evidently a very effective treatment,” said Dr. Parshefield. “I could +not have done better myself.” + +“It was so good of you, Harry,” said Alice. “I shall never forget your +kindness.” + +Then she threw her arms about Aunt Ella's neck. + +“Oh, Auntie, if he had been taken from me, I could not have borne it.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +YOUNG QUINCY + + +It had been arranged while Aunt Ella and Maude were at Ellersleigh that +Florence and her husband should come to Fernborough Hall and make a +visit before their departure for the United States. Owing to Harry's +presence at the Hall it became necessary, when they arrived, to divulge +the well-kept secret of Maude's unconventional marriage. + +Aunt Ella managed the introduction with her usual straightforwardness, +treating it as a matter of course. Florence and her husband were +naturally surprised, but both of them liked Harry Merry. Had Florence +been married at home, with the usual family friends and accessories, she +would have looked with less tolerance on Maude's elopement. To be sure +she had not eloped, but when she looked into her own heart she had to +confess to herself that she would have married Reginald even if her +parents had refused their consent. So, as the intent makes the offence, +she forgave Maude for her escapade, and during their stay at the Hall +they manifested more sisterly regard for each other than they had ever +before shown. + +Reginald and Harry “hitched horses” at once. Men who marry sisters are +united by a stronger tie than the usual brother-in-law bond, and the +Englishman and the American felicitated themselves upon their capture of +the Sawyer sisters. They played billiards on a table where the balls had +not clicked for a generation. They smoked in a room which had been free +from the odour of tobacco for a score of years. They rode horseback upon +steeds whose principal duty, as Harry expressed it, had been to “heat +their 'eads horff.” They even fished in the miniature lake and gave +their catch to dogs who knew so little about real sport that they +thought the fish were game. They took long walks together and knew +by name every man, woman, and child on the estate. The conservative +Englishman, if alone, would not have gone so far, but the democratic +American took the lead, and politeness, if not inclination, forced his +companion to follow. + +They often passed an evening with Sir Stuart in his library. The Captain +related incidents in his military life, while Harry, who had been a +great reader, drew on both memory and imagination for tales of the +Great West, with an occasional ghost story, supported by irrefutable +witnesses. The day before their departure, Aunt Ella took Florence +to her boudoir and told her what she had written to _her_ sister, +Nathaniel's wife, about her children's marriages. + +“I hope Sarah will let your father read my letter. I said just what I +thought, and I shall stand by Maude and her husband come what may.” + +“And so will I,” cried Florence. “You helped Reginald by solving the +mystery of that check, and I will do all I can to help Maude and Harry. +I think he is a fine fellow, and Reggie says they have become like two +brothers.” + +“I am glad to hear,” said Aunt Ella, “that they are bound by love as +well as by law.” + +In about a month there came a long letter from Maude. + +“DEAR AUNT ELLA AND SISTER ALICE:--I have so much to tell you that I +hardly know where to begin. We had a fine trip--no storms--and none of +us missed a meal, which was bad for the company. But they made up their +loss on others who ate a supper on leaving England and a breakfast on +reaching America. + +“Mother was delighted to see us and father was so nice to us all that I +came near fainting. He is a changed man. I wonder what drug he has been +taking.” + + * * * * * * * + +“Didn't you tell Maude about your letter to her mother?” asked Alice. + +“No, I told Florence, but thought Maude would appreciate the change +now, _if_ it took place, if she was ignorant of what influence had been +brought to bear on her father.” + +Aunt Ella continued the reading. + + * * * * * * * + +“Harry and I have been to Fernborough. Alice's brother sent us word that +Uncle Isaac Pettingill was dead and we went to the funeral. He had no +complaint. He was tired out, so Mrs. Maxwell told us, and went to sleep. +He left each of Mrs. Maxwell's boys five thousand dollars, and the same +amount to Quincy Adams Pettingill. The remainder of his fortune, I don't +know how much, is bequeathed to build a free hospital in Fernborough. + +“There's another good man dead--Deacon Mason,--and his wife has gone +to live with her daughter, Mrs. Pettingill. That funny little man, Mr. +Stiles, has gone there too. + +“I saw Mrs. Hawkins, and she said: 'I mos' cried my eyes out when I +heerd 'bout that collision at sea, an' what it did. I can't see no sense +in them captains bein' so careless and reckless. Tell Miss Alice I wish +she'd come home and bring that boy. I want ter see ef he looks like his +father.' + +“I came near forgetting what to me is the most important part of my +letter. Harry has been appointed as Quincy's executor in place of Dr. +Culver, and, this is the wonderful thing, father has induced Harry to +leave Mr. Carter's office and go into his office. He told Harry that +they were all getting old and they needed young blood in the firm--but +Harry's not in the firm yet. No more this time from your loving, + +“MAUDE MERRY.” + +“My letter to Sarah did do some good,” said Aunt Ella triumphantly. + +“Poor Uncle Ike, I wish I could have been with him. I wonder if I shall +ever see Fernborough again?” + +Aunt Ella did not answer the question as she would have liked to, and +Alice went to her room to recall those former happy days which would +never come again. + +Nearly nine years had passed since young Quincy's birth, and Alice was +still at Fernborough Hall. She could not leave it now, for Aunt Ella +was again a widow. Her mind was troubled about her boy. He had recurrent +attacks of throat trouble, and was not strong as she wished him to be. + +“It's the damp, foggy weather,” said Aunt Ella. “We're too near the +water, and this country, beautiful as it is, is not like our bright +America.” + +Dr. Parshefield suggested a trip to the South of France, but Alice +declared that was impossible. + +“Something must be done--now what shall it be?” was Aunt Ella's +declaration and inquiry. Then Alice remembered what Maude had said +in one of her letters--that young Quincy should be brought up as an +American. She spoke to Aunt Ella about the matter, repeating what Maude +had written. + +“Where could we send him?” + +“The _where_ is not so important” Aunt Ella remarked, “as the _to whom_. +Florence and Maude are both out of the question for they have young +children of their own who might, or might not, take to an outsider. +Quincy's mother would be delighted to have him for he is her son's son, +but Boston, with its east winds would be no better than here. Besides, +his grandfather would say that he'd raised one family of disobedient +children and he wanted a quiet life.” + +The question remained unsettled that day, but the next morning Aunt Ella +burst into Alice's room with a loud cry-- + +“Eureka! I have it! Why didn't we think of it before?” + +“You say you have it,” said Alice, “but what is it? That pattern that +you were looking for?” + +“No, a happy home for this youngster,” as she patted his curly head +lovingly. + +“Now, can't you guess?” + +Alice shook her head. + +“Well, I must say, you are not a very thoughtful _sister_,” and the last +word was strongly emphasized. + + +“What, do you mean--'Zekiel?” cried Alice. + +“The very man, and Fernborough is the place. You must write to your +brother at once.” + +As Alice was writing the thought came to her, “Perhaps if my boy goes +to Fernborough, some day I may go to see him, and the old town, and the +people there, once more.” + +In due time a reply came from 'Zekiel. It was short, but to the point. +“Huldy will be delighted to have him. Our boy Quincy is nearly fourteen +years old now and he'll take good care of his little cousin. I'll try +and be a father to him until you come for him.” + +The important question, “How was the boy to reach America?” was answered +by one of those happy coincidences which happen often in books and +occasionally in real life, such as is being depicted. The Rev. Mr. Gay, +who had been a constant visitor to Uncle Ike during his last days, paid +a visit to Fernborough Hall on his return from a trip to the Holy Land. + +“Heaven must have sent you,” said Alice, and she told him of her desire +to have her boy go to Fernborough. + +Mr. Gay consented to take charge of young Quincy. In a few days the +parting came. The mother's heart was sorely tried. But mother-love is +unselfish, and Alice's only consolation came from the conviction that +her temporary loss was for her son's permanent good. + +Her nights were sleepless, filled with thoughts of accidents, and storms +and collisions at sea, until a welcome letter dispelled her imaginings, +for it brought the intelligence that young Quincy was safe with his +father's friends. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +HIS FATHER'S FRIENDS + + +It is the good fortune of some fatherless or motherless children to be +adopted into good families where the natural love and care that have +been denied them are supplied, as it were, by proxy. With young Quincy +it was so, only much more so. It fell to his lot to be adopted by an +entire town. Its residents had been, with few exceptions, his father's +friends. The sad story of his father's loss at sea was known to all, +and the town's heart warmed towards him; the town's arms were open to +embrace him, and care for him. + +To his Aunt Huldah Pettingill he seemed as though sent from another +world. He was her husband's nephew, and hers--but there was a closer tie +acknowledged within her own heart, and kept there as a precious secret. +He was Quincy Adams Sawyer's son--the son of the man who had taught +her what love was. It had been a bitter lesson, for when her heart +was awakened, it was but to find that the one who had played upon its +sensitive strings did not love her, and that her duty was to another who +did love her. She had been a true and loving wife with no unsatisfied +heart-longings, but-- + + “You may break, you may shatter the vase, if you will, + But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.” + +So Huldah Mason still kept within a secret corner of her heart a fond +remembrance of happy days gone by. And now Quincy's son was one of her +family; she could be a mother to him and no one would have a right to +question her manifestations of affection. It is often that the human +heart thus finds solace for past sad experiences or suffering. + +It was only natural that Huldah, after her father's death, should take +her mother to her own home. The old Deacon had acquired enough of this +world's goods to avoid the necessity of hard labour during the last +years of his life. Good books had been his constant companions, and an +old-fashioned cane-bottomed rocking chair his favourite seat upon the +piazza or by the kitchen fire. Abner Stiles had done the necessary farm +work and the household chores. When the Deacon passed away, the town +lost one of its broadest-minded, most honest, most helpful citizens. + +Mrs. Mason, still hale and hearty, assisted her daughter in her +household duties, but allowed Abner to put up the clothes line and take +it in. + +“And this is his son, and his poor father--” The Deacon's good wife +could say no more, but clasped little Quincy close to her motherly +breast. + +“You told me how it happened, Huldy, and I told father, but it don't +seem real even now. His father was such a fine man.” + +She stopped, for her daughter had turned her head away, and her mother +knew that it was to brush away some tears that could not be kept back. + +To 'Zekiel Pettingill, the boy was Alice's child. His only sister had +been the apple of his eye, and his great, honest heart welcomed the boy +as if he were his own. + +His own son, Quincy Adams Pettingill, was in his fourteenth year and +upon him devolved the outdoor education of his young cousin. In this +pleasant task he was aided by his sister Sophie who was a year younger +than the newcomer. + +There was a scene of wild excitement when young Quincy paid his first +visit to the old Pettingill place where his mother was born. It was +still the home of Hiram Maxwell and his wife, formerly Mandy Skinner. +The two boys, Abraham Mason Maxwell and Obadiah Strout Maxwell had been +told often the story of Mr. Sawyer's visit to Eastborough, and how he +boarded in that house, and little Mandy was glad to see “Kirwinzee.” + +The old dog, Swiss, had, with difficulty, been dragged from the grave of +his former master, Uncle Ike, but no force, or persuasion, could induce +him to leave the old house. Probably the name “Quincy” had a familiar +sound and he wagged his tail slowly as an evidence of recognition and +welcome. + +The most explosive greeting came from Mrs. Crowley. + +“An' it's the foine young man he is, the picter of his feyther.” She +would have taken him in her arms and hugged him but for the presence of +others, but, afterwards, when alone with him she patted his curly head +and told him that he would have to be a fine man to be as good as his +father. Everywhere he went his father was talked about and praised, and +his mother had taught him to love his father's memory. Thus early +the ambition to be like his father was instilled in the boy's mind. +Confident as Alice was that her husband was still living, Aunt Ella +had protested effectually against her implanting any such hope in the +child's mind, and he had been brought up with the belief that his father +had died before he was born. There was one place where his father's +praises were faint, and that was at the grocery store. + +[ILLUSTRATION: “'I S'POSE ONE OF THESE DAYS YOU'LL BE WEIGHIN' SUGAR AND +DRAWIN' 'LASSES.'”] + +“Ah, my young man,” said Mr. Obadiah Strout, on his first visit, “your +father's money started this business, but I've worked mighty hard to +build it up to what it is now. I s'pose one of these days you'll be +weighin' sugar and drawin' 'lasses.” + +“I guess not,” exclaimed Hiram. “Rich men's sons don't us'ally take to +their father's business.” + +“You're right for once, Hiram,” Mr. Strout acknowledged. “They uzally +run through the money, bust the biz'ness and bring up in jail.” + +“Well, this young fellow won't,” cried Hiram, hotly. “He's goin' to be a +great man like his father, won't you, Bub?” + +“Bub” took a handful of raisins from an open box, and eyed his +questioner wonderingly. + +“There's many a slip 'twixt the cow and the churn,” said Mr. Strout as +he took a ten cent cigar from the case and lighted it. Perhaps the +sight of the son recalled a scene in the same shop many years before on +Quincy's first visit to Mason's Corner when a box of cigars had been the +subject of an animated discussion between the boy's father and himself, +followed by a passage-at-arms--or, more correctly speaking--fists. We +humans are only veneered with politeness or good nature; underneath, +man's revengeful nature lies dormant--but not dead. + +Mrs. Hawkins was delighted to see him. “Olive, don't you think he's the +likeness of his father?” + +Olive agreed, because she had found that agreement with her employer's +opinions made life pleasant, and also led to many desirable additions to +her wardrobe. + +Mrs. Hawkins surveyed him again. “I'll never forget what a poor appetite +his father had when he boarded here. He never came to his meals reg'lar. +But he was in love, head over heels an' an extry dip,--an' I don't blame +him, for 'Zeke Pettingill's sister was good enough for any man, even +if he did git to be guv'nor. Have a cookey?” and Quincy's pockets were +filled with cakes that contained raisins and citron. + +“Them's seedless raisins, Quincy. I had a boarder once, a reg'lar +hayseed who came down here from Montrose to work hayin' time, an' he +asked me how I got the stuns out of the raisins. Jes' to fool him, I +said I bit 'em out, an' do you know, that old fool never teched another +bit o' cake while he stopped here.” + +Mr. Jonas Hawkins took him out to see the hens and chickens, and told +him that he “kalkilated that mos' on 'em eggs that was bein' sot on +would hatch out.” Quincy's great delight was going with Hiram in the +grocery wagon. One day they went over the same road from the Pettingill +farm to Eastborough Centre that his father had travelled so many times. + +The old sign board “Three Miles to Mason's Corner” was still there, +but how changed the other conditions. No consumptive uncle in the +Poor House, no philosophical Uncle Ike living in a chicken coop, no +inquisitive Mrs. Putnam, no mysterious Lindy, no battle royal with the +music teacher, no town meeting to engineer, no grocery store to buy, +no Deacon's daughter to go driving with, no singing school, no surprise +party, no blind girl to comfort and aid--and finally marry. + +There were none of the incidents that had made his father's life at +Mason's Corner so exciting and interesting. Now, there was only a little +boy riding in a red wagon with yellow wheels, inhaling the pure air +and sweetness of the wild flowers, listening to the songs of birds, and +wishing that Uncle Hiram would make the horse go faster. + +It is safe to leave him with his father's friends, for surely his lines +had fallen in a pleasant place. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +AN OLD STRIFE RENEWED + + +It was February and the air was stinging cold. It was one of those +nights such as Lowell wrote about in “The Courtin'.” + + “God makes sech nights, all white an' still + Fur'z you can look or listen, + Moonshine an' snow on field an' hill, + All silence an' all glisten.” + +In the store of the Strout and Maxwell Company quite a number of the +town's people were gathered about the big air-tight stove which was kept +stuffed full of wood by willing hands and from which came great waves of +almost scorching heat. + +Such congregations of villagers are often said to be composed of loafers +and loungers, but it was not so at Fernborough. The men who represented +the brains and marrow of the town met there. It was the home of the town +debating society and supplied a free forum for the discussion of public +questions. If the advanced ideas in statesmanship and social economy +incubated there could have become the property of the nation, our +country would have grown wiser and better. + +But for the intense cold the company gathered there on the evening in +question would have been much larger. Benoni Hill, the former proprietor +of the store and the richest man in town, did not think his wealth +was any reason why he should hold aloof or consider himself above his +neighbours, whose patronage had been the foundation of his fortune. +He was given an old arm-chair while the others sat upon soap-boxes and +nail-kegs. Cobb's Twins, William and James, were there, Emmanuel Howe, +the minister's son, and Bob Wood who still sang bass in the village +church choir. + +The store door was opened letting in a gust of cold air which made all +draw nearer to the red-hot stove. The newcomer was Samuel Hill, Benoni's +son. + +A chorus of voices cried: “Hello, Sam!” and a place was made for him so +he could thaw out his almost frozen fingers. + +“It's mighty cold, ain't it?” said his father. + +“Well, I should smile,” replied Sam. This expression he had heard the +last time he was in the city, and he derived great pleasure from its +repetition. + +“How's Tilly?” asked Bob Wood. + +“Able to be up and have her bed made.” + +All laughed at the rejoinder. Smiles and laughter are easily evoked in a +village grocery. + +Mr. Obadiah Strout and Mr. Hiram Maxwell, general partners, were in the +private office, a small room adjoining the post-office. Mr. Strout was +smoking a cigar and reading a letter between the puffs. Hiram, with his +chair tilted back against the wall, was smoking his after-supper pipe, +for it was after seven o'clock in the evening. + +“Mr. Maxwell,” said Obadiah, laying down the letter he had been reading, +“this is from the trustees of the estate of the Honourable Quincy +Adams Sawyer, formerly our special partner, and the ex-Governor of this +Commonwealth. I mention the fact of him being our former special partner +first, before I said anything about his political elevation, for I don't +believe, Mr. Maxwell, that he would ever have been Governor if he hadn't +jined in with us.” + +Mr. Strout always called Hiram “Mr. Maxwell,” when they talked over +business affairs. + +Hiram blew a cloud from his pipe. “Wall, I guess they're putty well +satisfied with what we've been doin', ain't they?” + +Mr. Strout leaned back in his chair with a self-satisfied look on his +face. + +“Wall, they must be a pretty near set if they expect more'n twelve per +cent, on the capital. No, they're all right, 'though one of 'em, that +Mr. Merry, is mighty inquisitive 'bout small things. Marryin' inter the +Sawyer family 'counts for it, I s'pose.” + +Hiram was used to hearing covert slurs and open flings at the Sawyer +family, but had found replies only provocative of attacks upon himself, +so he listened in silence. Mr. Strout took up the letter. “I wrote +'em 'bout startin' that new branch over to Westvale, and although they +answered in a kinder top-lofty style--I reckon that young Merry writ the +letter--I 'magine they're in for it, horse, foot, and dragoons. They'll +put up the money. An' the question now is who'll go over and take charge +of it.” + +Hiram put his pipe on the table. “There's two folks that don't want to +go, an' that's Mandy an' me. I don't s'pose the children would find any +fault, but they're not old enough to vote on the question.” + +Hiram knew that his partner was anxious to get him out of the +Fernborough store, and so he filed his objections at once. + +“Oh,” said Strout, “of course I didn't have no sech idee as askin' you +to go, even if you did know who was the best man for the job. The snail +thinks he's travelled a long ways when he goes a foot, an' some men are +jus' like him.” + +Hiram ignored the personal application. + +“Well, bein's you didn't want me to go, I s'pose you've somebody in +mind. Suit yourself, as us'al.” + +“Well, I've thought it all over, an' I think Billy Ricker's our man. +He'll be over from Montrose to-morrow an' I'll talk it over with him. +We've got that Montrose trade so solid he can be spared from there now. +Guess there ain't any trade tonight or Bob would have called us in afore +this.” + +“Ef we sold cord wood we might be doin' somethin',” and, laughing in his +old way at his own joke, Hiram started to follow his partner into the +store. + +“Say, Hiram,” called out Strout in a loud voice, “bring in them two +chairs--everything's occupied out here 'cept the counter.” + +As the proprietors took their seats, the store door was opened again, +this time admitting Mr. Abner Stiles. His teeth were chattering, and +he stamped his feet upon the floor, and beat his hands against his +shoulders in old-fashioned country style. + +“Moses Williams!” he cried. “I kinder think the North Pole must have +slid down an' come to stop in this 'ere town. I say, Strout, if that +organ of yourn was pumped to-night you'd have to play 'From Greenland's +Icy Mountains,' or some sech tune.” + +“Where have you been?” asked Mr. Strout. + +“Hain't been nowhere. Jes' came from the Pettingill house. Young Master +Sawyer wants some brown sugar to make some candy. Give me five pounds.” + +“So it's Master Sawyer, is it?” said Strout as he weighed the saccharine +substance. “I thought it was Mister before a man was a Master.” + +“I ain't a talkin' about men--he's only a boy, and a mighty smart boy +too.” + +“I'm tired hearing about him,” said Strout. “Can't you give us something +new?” + +“Yes, I kin,” said Abner. “Boys, I've got something funny to tell you. I +went to Cottonton this afternoon and I'd jest got back when they sent me +for the sugar.” + +“What ye doin' over there?” asked Benoni. + +Abner scratched his head then winked at Benoni. + +“I went to buy somethin' for an individual who shall be nameless out of +respect--” + +“Go on with your story,” shouted Strout. “You'd better hurry home with +that sugar or the 'Master' may make it hot for you.” + +This remark caused a laugh at Abner's expense. + +“Jes' go ahead, Abner,” said Benoni, “we're all a-waitin'.” + +“Well, I met a feller on the train and he buzzed me all the way here. +He wanted to know where I lived, an' when I told him I lived in +Fernborough, that used to be a part of Eastborough, he jest piled me +full of questions. I told him all I knew--” + +“An' added a little something” broke in Strout. + +“No, I jest stuck close to the truth. He wanted to know about Mr. Quincy +Adams Sawyer. I told him he was dead, but he said he wanted to know +about him when he lived here. Then I told him there was a man in town +who could tell him more'n I could about that, an' I jest giv' him your +name, Obadiah.” + +This sally turned the laugh on Strout who was about to make a sharp +rejoinder, when the store door opened and a strong current of cold air +caused all to turn. + +“Shut the door!” cried Bob Wood in his gruff voice. + +“I beg your pardon,” said the man, as he complied. + +He was very tall,--more than six feet in height. He was dressed in a +suit of shiny black; his coat was buttoned tightly and the collar was +turned up. The most noticeable part of his costume was a broad-brimmed +straw hat. He wore no overcoat and his hands were ungloved. + +“Gentlemen, I must beg pardon for this intrusion, but I used to live in +these parts many years ago, and I am here to inquire whether any of my +family are awaiting the return of a long-lost relative.” + +Abner nudged Mr. Strout and said in a whisper: “That's the feller.” + +“What might your name be?” asked Mr. Benoni Hill in his genial manner. + +“I have occupied many stations in life, and whether high or low have +always assumed a cognomen to match my position.” + +“A cog what?” asked Bill Cobb in a voice so low that he thought only his +brother Jim could hear; but his question reached the stranger's ear. + +“By cognomen I mean a desirable _alias_ or a characteristic +appellation.” + +This explanation gave rise to a chorus of “Oh's.” + +“Kerzactly,” remarked Benoni, and then all laughed. + +“When I left this town thirty years ago, my name was Richard Ricker. On +returning to those paths which my childish feet so often trod--I have +just come from the West Indies where the climate is hotter than that +stove--it seems appropriate that I should assume my family name. It is +done. I am now Richard Ricker.” + +Abner nudged Strout again, who resented it, but Mr. Stiles remarked in a +whisper: “He's crazy--mad as a March hare.” + +Mr. Ricker did not hear his opinion of his sanity. + +“My father's name was Benjamin, Martha was my mother, and I had a +brother William--that is, I had them all when I ran away to sea at the +age of seventeen years, ten months, and fifteen days. I always remember +my exact age for I wished to know just how long I had been gone when I +got back.” + +The villagers looked at the stranger with marked variations in +expression, but no one spoke until Abner remarked: + +“I guess you've struck the right place. There's a young feller named +Billy Ricker that works for Mr. Strout here,” and he pointed to that +gentleman. “Billy's father was named Bill, but he's dead; so's Ben and +Marthy. I know'd 'em all.” + +“I am glad to learn that I have a nephew in the land of the living. +Where is he?” + +“He lives in Montrose, the next town north of us,” said Mr. Strout. “We +have a branch store there an' Billy has charge of it.” + +“If he had some capital, I suppose he could become a partner,” remarked +Mr. Ricker. + +“Not much,” said Strout. “We have all the money we need, and know where +to get more. What we want is men, an' we have a good one in Billy.” + +Mr. Ricker removed his unseasonable headgear and moved nearer to the +stove. + +“I have heard of the late Mr. Sawyer and was sorry to hear of his early +demise.” He looked at Abner, then at Mr. Strout. + +“Your friend here has told me about his wonderful exploits--how he +thrashed the town bully, and beat the singing-master at his own game.” + +Bob Wood and Strout glared at Abner. + +“But his experiences, which I have been told have appeared in print,” + the stranger continued, “are trifling compared with the perils and +adventures which have fallen to my lot. I could make your blood run +cold.” + +“Ef we open the front door, I guess the weather will do that,” said +Hiram, and it was the general opinion, though not verbally expressed, +that Hiram had got one on the stranger. + +Mr. Emmanuel Howe, the clergyman's son, was noted for his extreme +politeness. He had attended one term at a divinity school before he met +Miss Dixie Schaffer. He arose from the nail-keg upon which he had been +sitting, and motioned for the stranger to take his place. + +As he accepted the mute invitation, Mr. Ricker turned to the company and +said: “Gentlemen, shall I intrude upon your time if I relate just one of +my adventures?” + +“Oh, go ahead,” said Strout. “It's our rule to let a man talk until we +get enough, and then--” + +He raised his right foot, suddenly. + +“I understand,” said Mr. Ricker. “When I was about twenty-two years old +our vessel was wrecked and I, the only one saved, was cast ashore on +a cannibal island--or, to be more correct ethnologically, an island +inhabited by cannibals. I was a handsome young fellow, and it is not +at all surprising that the Queen, who was young, unmarried, and, +fortunately, very pretty, fell in love with me and wished to become my +wife. + +“But the Prime Minister, or Great Panjandrum, as he was called, wished +his son to marry the Queen and become King, so he, and his minions +planned to get rid of me. + +“Lola-Akwa, that was the Queen's name, discovered the plot, and resolved +to save me. + +“You all read your Bibles, and you will remember that in the olden days +there were places that were called 'Cities of Refuge.' On that island +there was a Tree of Refuge. It was at least one hundred feet high and +for two hundred feet from it, in every direction, not a tree or shrub +could be found. This open space gave the pursuers a fine chance for an +arrow shot before the refugee reached the tree. + +“Lola-Akwa told me to climb to the top of that tree and stay there until +she sent word for me to come down. + +“But the Great Panjandrum discovered my hiding place. The Queen declared +that I was protected by all that was sacred in their religion, but the +Great Panjandrum proved by the cannibal Bible that only cannibals were +entitled to its protection. He said they would roast a man, and if I +would eat him and pick his bones I might go free. I declined, for I am +rather particular about my diet. + +“Then the Great Panjandrum seized an axe and struck at the foot of the +tree. Others followed his wicked example and it soon began to totter. +They next tied a rope about the trunk of the tree. The plotters were +sixteen in number--I counted them. They stood in line, tugging at the +rope. + +“Lola-Akwa stood far back awaiting the terrible moment of my death. I +could see that her eyes were filled with tears. The tree fell, and I +went flying through the air--to certain death! + +“When I came to, I found myself clasped in Lola-Akwa's arms. 'Where am +I?' I asked. 'Look' she said. I did, and learned the wonderful truth. + +“The Great Tree had fallen upon the Great Panjandrum and his fifteen +conspirators and killed them all.” + +For a moment there was silence, then a chorus of voices exclaimed: “Did +you marry the Queen?” + +The stranger pressed his hand upon his forehead. + +“No. If I remember correctly some one held an ace and took my Queen.” + +He rose from the nail-keg. + +“I'm hungry. I would like some supper and a bed for the night. To-morrow +I will embrace my only living relative. Is there a boarding house in +town?” + +“Somethin' better'n that,” said Abner. “We've got a Hotel--the Hawkins +House. Mrs. Hawkins keeps it. I'm going along that way and I'll +interduce you. She's a pretty good talker herself,” and Abner winked +with both eyes as they went out. + +“Well,” said Benoni, as the door closed after them. “The Bible says +Ananias was a pretty good story teller, but that gentleman seems to have +added some modern improvements.” + +“He's a cussed liar,” said Bob Wood. + +“And if Mrs. Hawkins is smart she'll make him pay in advance.” + +The door was thrown open full width and two men rushed in. + +“Have you seen him?” cried one. + +“Seen who?” asked Strout. + +“He's tall--black clothes--had on a straw hat--” + +“Who in thunder is he?” cried Strout. + +“He's a lunatic--just escaped from the asylum. We tracked him to this +town--” + +“He's gone to the hotel,” said Bob Wood. “You can nab him easy there. +I'll show you the way.” + +The men started on the run, led by Bob Wood, and followed by all who had +been enjoying the hospitality afforded by the soap-boxes, nail-kegs, and +the red-hot stove. + +“What beats me,” said Hiram, “is how he knew all about the Ricker +family.” + +“Simple enough,” said Strout with a sneer, “That ass Abner told him the +whole business. He never could keep his mouth shet. That's the reason I +wouldn't give him a job in this store.” + +Mr. Strout extinguished some of the lights, locked the door, and resumed +his seat by the stove. + +“Ain't you going home?” asked Hiram. + +“Not jest yet; I've some thinkin' to do. I don't take much stock in +fightin' but I'd like to punch Abner Stiles' head.” + +“What's he been doing?” + +“Why, didn't you hear what he said he said to that crazy fellow about +Sawyer getting the best of me at my own game?” + +“Wall, he told the truth, didn't he, Strout?” + +“Look here, Mr. Hiram Maxwell, I want you to understand that if we are +to continue together as partners in this 'ere grocery business, there +must be mutual respect atween us.” + +“Wall,” said Hiram, “I s'pose you mean by that, that ef I ain't what you +consider respec'ful to you, you'll get out and leave me the business. +You see, Obadiah, it's not for you or me to say who'll stay in--that's +for the trustees. So, I wouldn't lay down the law too fine, Obadiah.” + +“Wall, I hoped,” said Strout, “that when that Sawyer married 'Zeke +Pettingill's sister and left this town that we'd be able to have a +little peace round here and run things our own way. Course, I don't want +any man to get drowned, but it wasn't my fault that the ship he was +on ran into another. He was allus runnin' into somethin' that didn't +concern him. But bein' he's gone, and no blame can be laid at my door, I +thought we'd heard the last of him, but since he's died the air's fuller +of Sawyer than it was afore. It makes me sick the way everybody tumbles +over themselves to make of that boy of his'n. I don't think there's much +to him.” + +“He's got a big head, an' he's a mighty bright little fellow,” said +Hiram. + +“Wall, then he resembles his father in one respect--_he_ had a big +head.” + +“I'm surprised, Obadiah, to hear you talk the way you do. I ain't forgot +that meetin' in the Town Hall where you got up and owned up that he was +'bout right, and thet you'd been mean as dirt, but he shook hands with +you, and forgave you like a gentleman as he was, and I thought you were +good friends.” + +“I'm good friends with anybody that keeps out of my way,” said Strout. +“But that Sawyer was like that _malary_ that the boys got off to war. +It gets into your blood and you can't get it out. Why, he snubbed 'Zeke +Pettingill jest the same as he did me when they had that sleigh ride, +and he didn't have spunk enough to hit back. If 'Zeke had jined in with +me we'd had him out o' town lively. And then the way he butted in at +my concert and turned a high-class musical entertainment inter a nigger +minstrel show by whistling a tune vas enough to make anybody mad clean +through.” + +“Wall, you got mad, didn't you?” said Hiram. “What good did it do yer?” + +Mr. Strout's newly aroused wrath was not appeased. + +“Then again, the way he squeezed himself in at that surprise party. +Since I married Bessie Chisholm, I've talked to her a good many times +'bout the way she danced with him that night.” + +“Come now, Strout, what did she say? She wasn't engaged to you then. +What did she say? Now be honest.” + +Mr. Strout could not restrain a grim smile. + +“Wall, to tell the truth, Hiram, she told me it was none of my business, +an' when I came to think it over I didn't believe it was--but it would +be now.” + +Mr. Strout's vials of wrath had not all been emptied. He seemed to be +enjoying a rehearsal of all his past troubles and grievances. + +“I guess that if the folks had known at first that the Jim Sawyer who +died in the Poor House was his uncle, they wouldn't have considered him +such great shucks after all. An' the way he tried to get Huldy Mason to +marry him and throw over 'Zeke Pettingill, who had loved her ever since +she was a baby, was a mighty mean piece of business in my opinion.” + +This remark gave Hiram an opportunity which he was not slow in +improving. + +“I heerd as how there was another feller in town who tried to get Huldy +to marry him and throw poor 'Zeke over.” + +Mr. Strout puckered up his mouth and there was a strained look on +his face which indicated that the shot had gone home. But his verbal +ammunition was not all expended. + +“You can tell me what you've a mind to, but I know that he tried mighty +hard to get Lindy Putnam to marry him, an' I don't imagine he'd have +taken up with a blind girl if he hadn't heard that Heppy Putnam was +going to leave her all her money. I had him looked up by some friends of +mine in the city. They said he didn't have much himself, but his father +paid his bills. His father jest gave him to understand that if he didn't +marry the right girl, with plenty of dough, he wouldn't get much from +him.” + +“Wall, you may be right and you may be wrong, Obadiah. But when a man's +dead I don't think it does you any good to roast him and pick his bones. +It's too much like those _cannibiles_ that crazy feller told us about. +Quincy Adams Sawyer was always a good friend to me, and a better one +to you, Strout, than you deserved, judgin' from the way you've been +talkin'. His money has been the makin' of both on us, and while we do +business together I hope we'll let Mr. Sawyer, as the church folks say, +rest in pieces.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +BOYHOOD TO MANHOOD + + +Until he was fourteen years of age, young Quincy attended the public +schools in Fernborough and Cottonton. While in England he had had a +governess and later a tutor, so that when he reached America he was much +farther advanced than Fernborough boys of his own age. Methods in the +New England town were different, however, and his Uncle Ezekiel +was satisfied to have him keep pace with the others, and not arouse +antagonism by asking for any special promotion. + +Ezekiel's son Quincy had decided to become a farmer, following in his +father's footsteps. But scientific farming was supplanting old methods, +and he had taken the course at the Agricultural College and received his +diploma. + +Young Quincy wished a college education. To obtain admission it was +necessary for him to attend a preparatory school, and, relying upon Mr. +Gay's description of its advantages, Andover was selected. + +While at the Cottonton High School, Quincy's chum had been a boy two +years older than himself, named Thomas Chripp. He was the son of a +weaver at Cottonton. Like Quincy, he had been born in England, but his +father had been drawn to America by the lure of higher wages, nothing +having been said to him, however, about the increased cost of living. + +Thomas's father would not let him become a back-boy in the mill. + +“I've breathed cotton all my life,” said Mr. Chripp to Ezekiel, “and I +think too much of my only boy to condemn him to a life in a hot room, +where the only music is the whizzing shuttles. No, my boy Tom shall +breathe God's fresh air and become a big, strong man instead of a +wizened-up little fellow like me. Why, would you believe it, Mr. +Pettingill, I began work in a cotton mill when I was eight years old, +and I've lived in one ever since--forty years! Sundays when I walk out +in the fields I can't get the din out of my ears, and I told Susan, my +old wife, the other day, that if I died before she did to have the lid +screwed down extra tight so I could be sure of a little quiet.” + +“My nephew,” said 'Zekiel, “thinks a lot of your boy and wants him to go +to college with him.” + +“But I haven't got the money to pay his way,” said Mr. Chripp. + +“My nephew has plenty of money, and if he's willing to help your boy +along in the world there's nobody to object that I know of.” + +So it was arranged that Tom Chripp should go to the preparatory school +and college with Quincy, the latter to pay the expenses of both. “'Twas +a lucky day for Tom that sent that Sawyer boy to school in Cottonton,” + said Mr. Chripp to his wife. + +“It'll be the making of Tom,” he added, and the happy mother thought so +too. + +When Mr. Strout heard of it, he remarked to his partner Mr. Maxwell, + +“More of the arrogance of wealth. If I was a young man like Tom Chripp +I'd make my own way in the world.” + +Hiram swallowed some smoke, coughed, and then replied: “Probably he +will, when he gits his eddikation. Money makes the mare go now as it +always has, Obadiah, an' you an' me can't stop it.” + +“Like father, like son, I guess, Hiram. His father used to enjoy +throwing his money away an' the son's goin' to sail in the same boat. +I shouldn't be surprised if he came back to town some day and licked +somebody jest to be like his father.” + +“I shouldn't nuther,” said Hiram as he began putting up an order for the +Hawkins House. + +While Quincy was attending the public schools, Mrs. Nathaniel Sawyer +made two visits each year to Fernborough to learn of her grandson's +progress. Thanksgiving he passed at his Uncle 'Zekiel's where he had +eagerly watched the growth of the turkey that was destined to grace the +festal board on that day. At Christmas he went to Boston and returned +laden with gifts, many of which were immediately donated to his cousins +and Mandy Maxwell's children. + +Mr. Strout's ire was kindled when Hiram described the presents his +children had received from Quincy. + +“Thank the Lord I've got money enough to buy my children's presents +myself without dependin' on second-hand things that other folks don't +want.” + +“So've I,” said Hiram, “but what I save that way I puts in the bank, for +I'm bound to own the old Pettingill Place some day.” + +“Oh, spend your money, Hiram. Your rich friends will give you the house +some day.” He was so pleased with the subtle humour of his last remark +that he tossed a scoop half full of coffee into the sugar barrel, much +to Hiram's amusement. + +During Quincy's first year at Andover he was twice called from his +studies. The Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer after his return home from a +bank directors' banquet was taken with an attack of acute indigestion. +He was in great pain. One of the most prominent physicians in the city +was summoned. He gave a strong hypodermic injection of morphine to +stop the pain, but did nothing to remove the cause. The pain itself +was stopped by the anodyne, but the cause of the pain--the +indigestion--stopped the beating of Mr. Sawyer's heart within an hour. + +By his will, $250,000 were left to his daughter Florence, and $100,000 +to his daughter Maude. To compensate for the $150,000 difference in the +bequests, the Hon. Nathaniel Sawyer's interest in the firm of Sawyer, +Crowninshield, and Lawrence was conveyed to Mr. Harry Merry, provided +that one-third of his share from the income of the law-business was paid +to the trustees of the estate of his grandson Quincy Adams Sawyer. The +remainder of his property, both real and personal, was left to his wife, +Sarah Quincy Sawyer. + +Quincy's grandmother did not live long to enjoy her fortune. Maude +wished her to sell the Beacon Street house and come to Mount Vernon +Street. Her mother wished her to come to Beacon Street. While the +_pros_ and _cons_ were being considered, the old lady died of absolute +inanition. She had been dominated so long by a superior will power, she +had been so dependent upon her late husband in every event of her life, +that without him she was a helpless creature, and so willing to drop her +burden, that she did not cling to life but gave up without the semblance +of a struggle. Her last will and testament was very short, containing +but one clause, which gave all her property to her grandson Quincy Adams +Sawyer. When Aunt Ella heard of her sister's death, she said to Alice: + +“They were not two distinct beings, Nathaniel was one and a half, and +Sarah only a half.” + +“That boy will sure go to the devil now,” was Mr. Strout's comment. + +“I don't think so,” said Hiram. “He's too much like his father.” + +“How do you know where his father has gone?” snapped Mr. Strout, who did +not believe, evidently, that good works were a sure passport to future +bliss. + +Quincy's vacation after his first year at Andover was passed at +Fernborough. He was warmly welcomed and congratulated upon the great +fortune that had fallen to him. + +“He's got a big head, sure enough,” said Mr. Strout, “but I think he's +a little weak in the legs. He won't disgust the community by fightin' as +his father did.” + +“I wish he'd thrash Bob Wood's son--he's too impudent to live,” said +Mrs. Amanda Maxwell, to whom Mr. Strout had addressed his remark. + +“No danger o' that,” and Mr. Strout laughed gleefully. “Young Bob's as +good with his fists as his father was.” + +“He didn't amount to much when Mr. Sawyer tackled him,” and with a +scornful laugh Mrs. Maxwell flounced out of the store. + +“Your wife's as bad as the rest on 'em, Hiram.” + +“Yes, Obadiah; it seems to be whoopedemic, as the doctors say.” + +Quincy's second and third years at Andover passed quickly and again +vacation time had come. + +“Let's go to Fernborough as usual,” said Quincy, and Tom, without +argument, seconded the motion. This time, Tom was Quincy's guest. They +were young men now. Quincy was seventeen and Tom nineteen, but the +fields were as green, the fruit as sweet, the vegetables as crisp and +fresh, and their friends as glad to see them as when they were children. + +A year had brought some changes. Mrs. Maxwell mourned the loss of her +son Obadiah, who had been gored by an angry bull and found dead in the +West pasture. For a wonder, Mr. Strout showed some sympathy, perhaps +because the little boy was his namesake. + +The Rev. Caleb Howe had passed away. In his place the church had called +the Rev. Hudson Quarles, a bachelor of forty, whose hobby was fancy +fowls. He joined the Grange and talked on “Poultry Raising” and “A Small +Fortune in Squabs.” His hens were the heaviest for their age in the +community, and to prove it he was always willing to “weigh up” at the +grocery store. + +Mr. Strout called him a crank and played a joke on him that led to a +division in the church and came near costing Mr. Strout his position as +organist. + +There were two scales on the long grocery counter. Mr. Strout tampered +with one of them by affixing two pounds of lead to it which he covered +with gold paint to hide the deception. + +Bob Wood's hen was weighed in the fraudulent scales and beat Mr. +Quarles' by a half pound, the clergyman's being really a pound and +a half the heavier. The plot would have been a success but for the +keen-eyed Quincy who examined the scales and discovered the imposition. + +Mr. Strout declared it was all a joke and that he was going to own up +when he got ready to do so. This explanation was accepted by some and +scoffed at by others. Naturally, Mr. Strout looked upon Quincy as a +meddler. + +“By Godfrey!” he exclaimed to Hiram, “either that Sawyer boy or me has +got to leave town.” + +“When are yer goin'?” asked Hiram, quietly, but he got no reply. + +Miss Dixie Schaffer retired from the stage and settled down. Her +mother-in-law, being an invalid confined to her room, prevented any +interference in her household affairs, and she was free from suggestions +as to what she should give, and what she shouldn't give her son, who had +been named Hugh after her own father. + +Many new people had moved into the town. Among the newcomers was a +former detective on the Boston police force named Horace Dana. Through +an injury received in making an important arrest, he had become a +cripple, able to get around only slowly and with crutches. He was a +widower with one daughter, about fifteen years of age, named Mary. + +The young lady was as old in appearance as many girls of eighteen, and +her looks so belied her age, that the village beaux paid court to her at +once. Her most persistent suitor was young Bob Wood who had just reached +his majority. + +As she was walking one day in the Center Road, far from any dwelling, +she met Bob. He improved the opportunity by asking her to be his wife. + +“Why, Mr. Wood, I'm too young to marry.” + +“But I'm just old enough,” said Bob, “and you suit me exactly.” + +“Mr. Wood, I'm going to tell you the truth. I'm not yet fifteen years +old. Father says I can't have a beau till I'm eighteen, and I'm sure I +don't want one.” + +Bob had learned much street slang during his visits to Cottonton, and +considered its acquisition a benefit and its use an accomplishment. + +“You've said it. Now sneeze it, and dust your brain.” + +Mary regarded him with astonishment. “I don't understand such language, +Mr. Wood. What do you mean? I haven't a cold in my head.” + +Bob laughed insolently. + +“No, but you've got a cold heart. What I meant by my French was that +you're bluffing. If you ain't eighteen, I'm a primary school boy.” + +“Then you don't believe me!” Mary's blue eyes opened to their fullest +extent. + +Bob thought those blue eyes and light brown hair, golden in the +sunlight, those rosy cheeks, and pretty mouth made a most attractive +picture, and, in his rough way, he really loved her. + +“I'm going home,” said Mary, “and I shall tell my father you said I lied +to you.” + +“No, you don't,” cried Bob, and he grasped her arm so tightly that she +winced. “You don't go until you promise me not to say anything to your +father.” + +“I won't promise!” Hot tears filled her eyes. + +“Then you don't go,” and Bob tightened his grip. + +The next moment a hand clutched his coat collar and he was thrown +violently on his back. + +Bob, who was agile, was quickly on his feet again and faced his +assailant. “Oh, that's you, Sawyer, is it? Why do you interfere with +what's none of your business?” + +“I think it is,” said Quincy, calmly. “My, friend and I--” He turned, +and at that moment Tom emerged from behind a clump of bushes at the +roadside. + +“My friend and I,” Quincy repeated, “were behind those bushes and +overheard your insulting language to this young lady and your brutal +treatment of her.” + +“Hiding to see what you could hear,” said Bob, sneeringly. + +“Not at all. We came 'cross lots and were just stepping into the road +when we espied you, and retreated, awaiting your departure.” + +“Very prettily said, Master Sawyer, but I don't believe a word of it.” + +“You called this young lady a liar and she was powerless to resent it, +but I'm not. Tom, hold my coat.” + +“Oh, please don't fight,” pleaded Mary. “I'll never speak to him again.” + +“Say, Quincy,” exclaimed Tom, “he's too heavily built for you. Let me +tackle him.” + +“Two to one! I s'pose that's what you city snobs call fair play.” + +Bob removed his coat and threw it on the ground. “If you'll come one at +a time, I'll lick you both.” + +Quincy addressed Mary. “Don't be distressed. You may pardon his offence +to you if you choose, but I'm going to settle my personal account with +him. He doubted my word. I'm going to make him believe what I said, and +by that time he'll be ready to apologize to you.” + +Bob squared off, but Quincy did not raise his hands. + +“Are you 'fraid? Don't you know how to put up your dukes?” + +“I'm not a boxer,” said Quincy, “if that's what you mean. I'll look out +for myself, rough and tumble.” + +Bob rushed forward and aimed a blow at Quincy's face. It fell short, for +Quincy retreated; then, springing forward, he gave Bob a violent kick +on his left knee. As his opponent threw his right leg over to keep his +balance he was obliged to lean forward; Quincy caught him by the collar +and Bob went sprawling upon the ground. He leaped to his feet, red with +rage. + +“Why don't you fight fair?” he bellowed. + +“You fight your way and I'll fight mine,” was Quincy's reply. + +“All right,” cried Bob, “I'll try your way.” + +He sprang upon Quincy and grabbed him by the collar with both hands and +pulled him forward. This just suited Quincy, for, catching Bob around +the legs, he lifted him high in the air and threw him backwards over his +head. Bob's face was cut and bleeding, when he arose. + +“Time's up,” cried Tom. “Three straight falls settle it.” + +“The first one don't count,” growled Bob. “He sneaked in on me and I had +no show.” + +“He's right, Tom,” said Quincy. “We'll have one more after this if he +wants it.” + +This time Bob profited by having observed his antagonist's tactics. He +caught Quincy around the body and tried to crush him with his brawny, +muscular arms. + +Tom gave a cry of alarm and came close to the wrestlers. + +“Keep back, Tom,” cried Quincy. As he spoke he fell backwards, carrying +Bob with him, who gave a yell of exultation as Quincy's shoulders struck +the ground. His hold was relaxed while falling. Quincy doubled his legs +up, put both feet against Bob's stomach, gave him a violent kick, and +Bob was once more upon his back. + +“'Twarn't fair,” he yelled. “I had him down first.” + +“We weren't playing for points,” said Quincy, “and everything's fair in +rough and tumble. If you want some more, I'm ready.” + +Bob stood sullenly, but made no move forward. + +“Now, let's talk it over,” said Tom. “Do you think this young lady or +my friend lied to you? Before you answer, just remember this is my fight +now, and unless you take back the lie and apologize for what you said +and did to this young lady, I'll thrash you so they'll have to send a +wagon to carry you home.” + +Bob did not speak. + +“Quincy,” said Tom, “you go along with the young lady, and I'll settle +my account after you're gone. You look a little white around the gills. +You had no right to fight a heavy-weight like him.” + +“I wish to thank you both,” said Mary, “but I'm a stranger in this +town--I have lived here only a few months, and--I don't know your +names.” + +She blushed prettily and the lids modestly covered the blue eyes. The +three had moved along the road a short distance while she was speaking. + +“My name is Quincy Adams Sawyer, and this is my friend and classmate at +Andover, Thomas Chripp.” + +The lids were lifted but the blush deepened. “My name is Mary Dana. I +live with my father on Pettingill Street.” + +“Why,” cried Quincy, “Ezekiel Pettingill is my uncle--I live with him. +I'm going home your way, and, with your permission, I will escort you to +your father's house.” + +“All right, Quincy--you go ahead,” said Tom. “But you must excuse me. +I've kept Mr. Wood waiting.” + +They were around a bend in the road by this time. When Tom returned +to the scene of the encounter, Mr. Wood was not in sight. Mr. Chripp +laughed, and paraphrased an old couplet. + + “He who fights, then runs away, + Will have to fight some other day.” + +Quincy walked beside Mary, but said little. He would not acknowledge +it, but the exertion had been too much for him. His knees felt weak, +his sight grew dim, and, before Mary was aware of his condition, he sank +upon the grass by the roadside. + +She knelt beside him, took off his straw hat and fanned him. Then she +lifted his head upon her knee and fanned more vigorously. Her big blue +eyes were gazing at him when he opened his and looked up into her face. +Again, a rosy flush came to her cheeks. + +“I'm better now,” said he. “I'm not very strong, but I can walk now.” + +He got up with a show of vigour that did not deceive Mary. + +“You rest here, and I'll send your uncle for you with a carriage.” + +“By no means, Miss Mary, It was only a momentary feeling. Throwing him +over my head is what did it.” + +“I'm so sorry you met Mr. Wood and me.” + +“Well, I'm not, Miss Mary. Uncle 'Zeke told me that Bob Wood's father +used to be the town bully, and that my father, when they were both +young, gave him a good thrashing. I've watched Bob--we were in school +together, and he was always impudent and overbearing to me when I was +a little fellow. I've felt that some day we'd have it out together. I'm +glad it's over, and that I had the good fortune to serve you at the same +time.” + +Mr. Dana thanked Quincy for his defence of his daughter from further +insult and perhaps injury. + +“I've been in a good many scraps myself, Mr. Sawyer. For seventeen years +I was a member of the detective squad in Boston. I resigned because of +injuries received in a fight with some bank robbers,” and he pointed to +the crutches beside his chair, “and although they wanted me to stay at +police headquarters I wouldn't hang onto a job I couldn't do to my own +satisfaction.” + +“I hope your daughter will have no further trouble with Mr. Wood.” + +“No danger, Mr. Sawyer. She is going to boarding school very soon to +finish her education. Why, Mary, we have been very remiss. Can you not +offer Mr. Sawyer some refreshment?” + +Mary smiled and ran from the room. + +“You'll be lonely without her,” remarked Quincy. + +“Yes, certainly, but I shall not be alone. It's a secret as yet, but the +fact is I'm going to marry a young lady who lives in Westvale, part of +Eastborough, you know, and I don't wish to force Mary to live with +a step-mother. I think they would agree all right, but my plan will +prevent any possible unpleasantness. I love them both too well to make +them, and myself, unhappy.” + +Some dainty cakes, fruit, and cold well water were served in the dining +room. Quincy ate slowly, but his thoughts were not about the food. He +had shown little interest in the Fernborough girls with the exception of +those in the families of his relatives and closest friends. But he +was nearing the susceptible age, when, to a pure-minded boy, a girl +playmate, by some mysterious transformation, becomes an object of +admiration, and even veneration. That delicious mystery that surrounds +young womanhood was attracting him. Mary was the cause of his +newly-awakened interest, and soon a strong friendship sprang up between +the two. + +When Hiram heard that Quincy had got the best of young Bob Wood he ran +back to the store and told his partner. + +“Say, Strout, you can run the store for an hour or so. I must tell +Mandy. She'll be 'mos' tickled to death.” + +Mr. Strout's disgust was shown in both voice and manner when Abner +Stiles came in. + +“Say, Abner, is it true that Sawyer boy licked Bob?” + +“I should say so,” said Abner. “He must have got an all-fired trouncing, +for his face looks like a raw beefsteak, an' one of the fellers said +he'd been spittin' blood.” + +“Them Sawyers is brutes,” was Mr. Strout's comment. “I hope to the +Lord that he is the last one of that brood to come to this town. Their +money's the best part of 'em, but it ain't any better, when you come to +that, than other folkses.” + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +MARY DANA + + +Quincy and Tom spent one more year at Andover. When they parted from the +old school it was with feelings of deep regret. + +“I could be happy here for ten years more,” said Quincy. + +“So could I,” replied Tom. “But, after all, this is only a narrow path +in the world of knowledge. Harvard is but a street and when we get out +into the world I suppose we shall find a boulevard.” + +“I'm going to look down upon the world before I investigate its +thoroughfares,” remarked Quincy. + +“What do you mean?” + +“I shall visit Fernborough for only a short time this summer, a few days +in which to see the folks, and then I shall go to the White Mountains. +I'm going to stand on the top of Mount Washington, and look down on the +busy hives of men.” + +Tom knew Quincy had received a letter from Mary, saying that she and her +aunt intended spending the summer at Fabyans, and he felt that Quincy, +being near Mary, would probably be on a higher pinnacle than any +mountain could supply, and the “eternal hills” would become objects of +secondary importance. But, Tom wisely refrained from mentioning these +thoughts, for lovers do not seek confidants unless help is needed. + +Quincy found Fernborough but little changed, During the fourteen years +that he had been a resident of, or a visitor to, the town there had been +but little to disturb its serenity. Goldsmith's “Deserted Village” could +not have had a better record for unbroken placidity. The wrestling match +between young Quincy and Bob Wood had been an incentive to some animated +conversations at meal times and at the grocery, but the “locals” in the +_Fernborough Gazette_ had never risen above the usual level of, + +Hal Prentiss has bought a Jersey cow, + +Strout and Maxwell have a new wagon, + +William Jones has painted his fence green, + +Sol. Peters cut twenty tons of hay from his lot on the Center Road, + +Mrs. Jerusha May is visiting her daughter Hannah at Westvale, + +And more of the same kind, interesting to a rural community but +considered inconsequential by those conversant with more exciting +intelligence. + +But Fernborough was destined to have its share of important events, +which incidentally interfered with the well laid plans of both Quincy +and Mary for the vacation in the mountains. + +For the first time in the town's history newsboys went through its +streets, calling out “All about the Murder at Cottonton,” and offering +for sale copies of the _Cottonton Journal_. The boys held up the papers +so the headlines in large type could be seen. The word “Fernborough” + caught the eyes of those attracted by the word “Murder” and the copies +were soon disposed of, obliging many intending purchasers to share the +news with those who had been fortunate enough to obtain copies. + +Quincy was in Mason Square when the newsboys arrived and he purchased +a paper. He glanced at the headlines and saw a name that caused him to +utter an exclamation of astonishment. He did not stop to discuss the +matter with any of the large crowd that had been collected, but whipping +up his horse soon reached Mary's home. Leaving the animal standing in +the yard he burst into the sitting room crying loudly, “Mary! Mary!” + +“Why, what is the matter, Quincy--are you hurt?” + +“No, but something has happened in Cottonton and they sent newsboys over +here with the papers.” + +“Somebody living in Fernborough must be mixed up in the affair,” said +Mr. Dana, who was sitting in his rocking chair near the window. + +“I should say there was, decidedly so. Sit down, and I'll read what it +says.” + +“THE MURDER AT COTTONTON + +“A YOUNG MAN NAMED ROBERT WOOD, A NATIVE OF FERNBOROUGH, ARRESTED AS THE +CRIMINAL AND LOCKED UP WITHOUT BAIL. ANOTHER CANDIDATE FOR THE ELECTRIC +CHAIR!” + +“Bob Wood, he was the one who insulted you, wasn't he?” + +“Yes, father, but that was a long time ago,” said Mary. “Do let Quincy +read the rest of it.” + +“A brutal murder was committed last night at the Ellicott Mills,” + Quincy continued. “The unfortunate victim was Mr. Samuel Ellicott, the +treasurer and principal owner. He was found sitting at his desk with +his head crushed in. The blood-stained implement of destruction has +been discovered. Robert Wood, Jr., a native of the adjoining town of +Fernborough, has been arrested and held without bail. Young Wood +has been an employee at the mill, but had aspired to the hand of Mr. +Ellicott's only daughter Mabel. Mr. Ellicott was firmly opposed to the +match, and, with the view, probably, of forcing the young man to leave +the city, had discharged him from his employ. Mr. Ellicott was busily +engaged in making preparations for pay day, which occurs to-day, and was +alone in his office at the time. There seems to be no doubt of the guilt +of the accused. His cane was found in Mr. Ellicott's office and must +have been used to inflict the murderous blows which have deprived +Cottonton of one of its most enterprising and respected citizens.” + +“What do you think of that, Mary?” asked Quincy. + +“I don't know yet. What do you think, father?” + +“The case has no mystery--no charm for the detective's mind. I was +thinking that naughty boys who plague little girls often become wicked +men. Now, what do you think?” + +Mary did not answer at once. When she did speak it was the result of +deliberation. In a small way she had often tried to help her father out +in solving some of the mysteries that had come up in his line of work, +and now the detective instinct in her was strongly aroused as Quincy +knew it would be. + +“Quincy and I both know the young man,--not pleasurably, I'll admit,” + she said, finally. “Everybody thinks him guilty, but we have no right +to join the multitude without cause. He may be innocent. It would be a +double victory to repay an enemy with kindness, and, perhaps, save an +innocent man's life.” + +“Just what I thought you would say,” cried Quincy. “I feel too that +there is a chance that Wood is not the one. But what can we do?” he +continued. + +“First, you must go and see Bob Wood's father, Quincy, and tell him that +I am going to investigate the affair, with my father's help. But tell +him he must be quiet about it. If we are to accomplish anything, it must +be done without any one knowing we are interested in the matter. Father +and I will look over all the papers that have reports of the trial, +and, perhaps you had better attend the trial yourself, and make careful +notes, for the papers do not always get things just straight. Then, I +want to see Miss Mabel myself, and see what she says.” + +“But, why do you wish to do all this, Mary?” said Mr. Dana. “It strikes +me as being a simple case of a very brutal murder, and one in which +there is no doubt that the authorities have got the right man.” + +“I don't believe him guilty, that's all.” + +“That's an opinion,--not a reason.” + +“I know it, but woman's intuition often comes nearer to the truth than +man's judgment.” + +She threw her arms about her father's neck, and her eyes looked down +into his, “You'll help all you can, won't you, father?” she pleaded. + +“Well, I have nothing else to do, and this affair awakens my interest. +But from what I know of the case now, I think they have the right man.” + +“You're a dear, good father to help,” and she gave him another embrace +and a kiss. + +The next day there was a preliminary meeting which Quincy attended at +Mary's request. It was with difficulty that Mary waited until he made +his report. + +“The principal witness was Gustave Pinchot, the night watchman. He heard +loud voices but as Mr. Ellicott was quite deaf he did not attach much +importance to that. Pinchot didn't see anyone come in or go out.” + +“Couldn't Bob Wood prove an alibi?” + +“Hardly, for he testified that he went to the office that evening, and +Miss Ellicott said that he told her he was going.” + +“No alibi--and no evidence yet,” said Mr. Dana. + +“It's coming,” said Quincy. “Mrs. Larrabee with whom Wood boarded +testified that he had a heavy oaken staff and that he took it with him +when he went out that evening because he had sprained his ankle.” + +“Did Mr. Wood acknowledge that the staff was his?” + +“He did finally. He injured his case by saying, at first, that he didn't +take it with him, but Mrs. Larrabee's testimony knocked that.” + +“Is that all the testimony against him?” inquired Mary. + +“Oh, no,” continued Quincy. “Wood made a damaging statement that will +make it go hard with him. When he asked Ellicott for his daughter's +hand, the old man got mad and threatened to kick him out. Then the +judge asked Wood what he said when Ellicott threatened him and the young +fellow incriminated himself by saying that he told Ellicott if he did +that he would not live to do it again.” + +“Did it appear that he had been kicked out?” inquired Mary. + +“No; and Wood denied it as well.” + +“And you saw his father, Quincy? What did he have to say?” + +“He's all broken up, but says that his son is innocent.” + +“Of course, that's to be expected,” said Mary, and then continued, +“I saw Mabel Ellicott yesterday. She's in love with him, sure, and of +course does not think him guilty. She told me, though, that Bob Wood had +said to her that if she were an orphan there would be no objection to +their marriage.” + +“That would probably go against him, if the prosecution calls her at the +trial, and she testifies to that. But, what do you really think about +it, Mr. Dana?” asked Quincy. + +“I have my suspicions, but I am not going to mention them yet. You two +young people are taking hold of the matter in good shape, and I want to +see what you can do about it; but, although, I do not say that Wood +is not guilty, I do say that I doubt if the government has sufficient +evidence to convict him.” + + * * * * * * * + +Mary became so interested in the case that she decided not to go to the +White Mountains for the summer, and Quincy also remained in Fernborough, +helping Mary as much as he could. Often they would go off on long tramps +in the surrounding country, and once Quincy went to Boston and was +gone several days. That they procured some evidence was clear from the +satisfied remarks made by Mr. Dana, who approved of the lines on which +they were working. + +Although they had made some headway they were not ready to present +their theories when the time came for Bob Wood's trial. Many thought +him innocent, but the jury were of a different opinion, and brought in a +verdict of murder in the first degree. + +The day after the close of the trial, the district attorney of Normouth +County was sitting in his office opposite the Court House. He was +preparing his address opposing the granting of a new trial, which he +knew would be proposed the next day by the counsel for the defence. + +He had gone over the evidence time and time again. He was a +conscientious man. He felt that the law of the State had been +defied--had been outraged--and yet within his heart was that natural +feeling of sympathy and pity for the unfortunate being for whom but a +few short weeks of life remained, and he could not help regretting the +part he had been obliged to take in convicting the young man. + +At that moment, a clerk entered and said that a young lady wished to see +him. In obedience to the direction given, the clerk withdrew; the door +was opened again, and a blue eyed, fair-haired girl entered. Standing +near the district attorney's desk, she said: + +“Mr. Harlow, as there is no one here to introduce me, I will introduce +myself. My name is Mary Dana. My father is, or rather was, a detective +for seventeen years in Boston, but our present abiding place is the town +of Fernborough. In the city he often used to tell me of the cases on +which he was working, and I would try to solve them with him. Robert +Wood lived in Fernborough, and from the day of his arrest I have been +much interested in the case, and with the help of my father and a friend +of mine, Quincy Adams Sawyer, the son of the former governor, I have +been trying to find the man who murdered Mr. Ellicott,--for I have never +believed that Robert Wood was the guilty person.” She smiled, and added, +“Detectives, I believe, are more often interested in strengthening +evidence, and bringing about imprisonment and executions than they are +in trying to prove people innocent.” + +“But, my dear young lady,” said the district attorney, “the young man +whom you speak of has already been proved guilty by a fair-minded jury. +There seems to be no question of his being innocent, and, after the jury +have returned their verdict it is rather late to still try to prove him +not guilty.” + +“What I have to tell you I think is important. Can't you spare me a +little time?” + +“I have a luncheon engagement in half an hour, and can give you twenty +minutes, but it will do no good, I am sure. Won't you sit down?” and Mr. +Harlow placed a chair for her near his desk. + +“Thank you,” said Mary, as she seated herself, “I will be as brief as +possible. I have read of many murder cases, but I believe I never knew +of one in which there was more conclusive evidence against the person +accused than in this instance. When I first took up the case, my father +did not think there was a possible loophole of escape for him; but the +truth does not always appear on the surface. Then, jurors get wrong +impressions. Witnesses are often prejudiced. Sometimes the judge is +not impartial. Then there are coincidences which are fatal so far as +appearances go, but which can be satisfactorily explained.” + +The district attorney nodded, somewhat impatiently, and fingered his +watch-chain. + +“The day after the murder I called on Mabel Ellicott, primarily to ask +her some questions about Robert Wood, but I also had a chance to see +the body of her father, and to examine the wound upon the murdered man's +head. I decided that Mr. Ellicott had been struck with something else +beside the oaken staff which, covered with blood, was found near his +chair. In fact, I found in the wound certain foreign substances which +could not have formed part of an oaken staff. + +“That was a clue, but I told it only to my father and Mr. Sawyer. It led +us to look for something else. I must confess that a week passed without +our discovering anything to bolster up my opinion. Finally, it occurred +to me that perhaps the foreign substances I had found in the wound +might have been on that part of the cane that comes in contact with the +ground. But we will drop that for the present. + +“Back of the mill is a piece of sunken ground. During the night, after +Mr. Ellicott was murdered, there was a heavy fall of rain, and this +piece of sunken ground was covered with water to the depth of several +inches, in some places, at least six. I do not mean that the rainfall +was so great, but the water ran down from higher elevations until it +made, what appeared to be, quite an extensive pond. + +“Mr. Sawyer and I made several circuits of this temporary pond; why, I +could not exactly tell you. A detective, I have been told, can seldom +tell why he examines certain objects so closely, but something seemed to +draw me towards that improvised lake. + +“While looking at the water, I saw something which projected several +inches above its surface, and I had a curiosity to know what it was. +Mr. Sawyer put on a pair of rubber boots, and waded out to it, lifted +it from the water, and found it to be a large, irregular shaped stone +weighing at least ten pounds, which he brought back to me. He then went +back and splashed round in the pond with the hope of finding something +else of interest, but could discover nothing. + +“I wondered how that stone came to be in the middle of that pond, and +we devoted several days after that to an examination of the surrounding +country. Back from the mill, some four or five hundred feet away, was a +ledge of rock. We, that is Mr. Sawyer and I, for I forgot to tell you my +father is now a cripple and could only help us with his advice at home, +examined its surface very carefully, using a magnifying glass and, to my +great satisfaction, I finally located a place into which the stone found +in the pond fitted nicely. Evidently, then, the stone had been detached +for some purpose, and that purpose having been accomplished, the stone +had been thrown into the pond.” + +The district attorney looked at his watch again and betrayed signs of +uneasiness. + +“Pardon me, Mr. Harlow, but would you not rather lose a dinner than send +an innocent man to his death?” + +“You still have ten minutes,” was the district attorney's reply, “But, +I cannot see the connection between what you are relating and your idea +that Robert Wood is not guilty.” + +Mary continued her narration. + +“I asked Mr. Sawyer to examine the tools and implements in the mill +workshop and he found a pickaxe, one point of which had been subjected +to rather rough treatment. I naturally connected that pickaxe with the +ledge of rock that had been found in the pond. + +“An examination of the night watchman's quarters followed. Mr. Sawyer +could discover nothing until he came to a small cupboard which was +locked. Locks, however, do not keep detectives, or criminals either, +from making further investigations. In the cupboard, he found a coil of +rope. There was a certain peculiarity about that rope of which I will +speak later. + +“After that Mr. Sawyer loafed around the mill quite a good deal in the +evenings and became acquainted with Mr. Pinchot the night watchman. He +is a French Canadian. He told Mr. Sawyer that his parents lived in a +small town near Montreal, that they were both quite old and he was +their only living son, although he had five sisters, all working in the +States. + +“He had saved some money, and as his parents had a farm, and needed +his assistance, he had resigned his position and the day following the +murder was to have been the last one at the mill. He had withdrawn his +resignation when told that the law would require him as a witness, and +has continued in service. + +“Mr. Sawyer then made a trip to Boston and found that Mr. Pinchot had +not intended to go to Canada but had been making inquiries as to when a +steamer would sail for France. He had been told he would have to go to +New York. Am I taking up too much of your time, Mr. Harlow?” + +“It makes no difference now. I am too late for the dinner. Pray +proceed.” + +“While in the city Mr. Sawyer called upon the architects who drew the +plans for the Ellicott Mills. I mean the original plan, for many changes +have been made in the interior. He procured a copy of this, and we found +that when the mill was first constructed, the part used by the treasurer +at the time of the murder had been the receiving room for raw materials. +I next made an excuse for us to visit the mills one Sunday and we +investigated the second story of the mill. The floor was covered with +grease and dirt and was black with age. I got upon my hands and knees +and, with my magnifying glass, examined every foot of the floor. + +“For a long time, my search was not rewarded, but, finally, I found a +white place in the wood. A splinter had been detached. With a knife, I +scraped the dirt from the floor. My search was rewarded. I had found +a trap door! Its former use was apparent. On the wall, above the trap +door, was a stout hook. Upon this hook the tackle had been put and goods +lifted from the receiving room to the story above.” + +“Well what does all this lead up to?” asked the district attorney. + +“I will show you very soon, now, Mr. Harlow. If you remember, the safe +at the mill was found open the morning after the murder but had been +closed and locked by the superintendent. This was a very foolish thing +to do, as the combination had been known only to the treasurer, and +it was several days before it was opened by an expert sent by the +manufacturers. It was then found that the money drawn by Mr. Ellicott +for the payroll, some three thousand dollars, had disappeared.” + +“Yes, I remember,” said the district attorney, “the thief was never +found, and with the more important matter of the murder on our hands +little attention was paid to the loss of the money. It was clear from +the start that Robert Wood had nothing to do with it, because revenge, +not robbery was his motive. But, what does all this mean that you are +telling me?” + +“I forgot to state, or, rather postponed saying it, that the coil of +rope that was found in the cupboard had a noose in one end of it, and +that in Mr. Ellicott's wound I found small particles of stone. I summed +up the case thus: Pinchot plotted to steal the money drawn for payday +and to kill Mr. Ellicott if it became necessary. He lifted the trap +door, having thrown the noose in the rope over the hook in the wall. Mr. +Ellicott was quite deaf and did not notice the opening of the trap door +or the man's descent by means of the rope. He used the stone because he +could throw it away and no weapon could be found. The murderer saw the +oaken staff. He knew that Mr. Ellicott had a visitor that evening so +he used the staff to complete his deadly work and left it behind as a +witness against an innocent man. He took the money from the safe, drew +himself up by the rope, closed the trap door, locked up the rope and +threw the stone into the pond. In France he would be safe to spend the +proceeds of his crime. A nice bit of circumstantial evidence, is it +not?” + +“Then you believe in circumstantial evidence, Miss Dana?” + +“In certain cases. But I think it would render the community just as +safe, and be more just to the accused if, in cases of circumstantial +evidence where there is the least doubt, the sentence should be +imprisonment for life with a provision in the law that there should +be no pardon unless the innocence of the life convict was conclusively +proven. When a murderer is taken red-handed, I would not abate one jot +or tittle of the old Mosaic law--an eye for an eye, a tooth for a +tooth, a life for a life. But you know that many murderers of whose +premeditated guilt there could be no doubt have been much more leniently +dealt with by our judges and juries than those caught in the coils of +circumstantial evidence.” + +“Where is the watchman now?” asked the district attorney. + +“Here in Cottonton, but he is intending to leave to-night for New York, +I found out this morning. Of course, he was not able to leave before +this as he had to stay in the vicinity, being a witness at the trial, +but his leaving so soon now simply seemed to confirm my suspicions, and +I thought it time to bring the matter to your attention.” + +“Miss Dana,” said the district attorney, rising, and holding out his +hand to her. “I have done the best I could to convict Robert Wood of the +murder of Samuel Ellicott, because I really believed him guilty, and my +oath of office bound me to do my duty; but, if he is innocent, I believe +it as much my duty to right the wrong done him. You have built up a +careful case, and I myself shall ask for a stay of sentence until after +this new evidence can be presented to the Grand Jury. I believe you have +saved an innocent man, and I feel your future as a great detective is +assured.” + +It was unnecessary for Mr. Harlow to apply for stay of sentence in the +case of The Commonwealth of Massachusetts _vs._ Robert Wood. Within an +hour after Mary Dana had left the district attorney's office, Gustave +Pinchot was under arrest, and, sitting in the same chair which Mary had +occupied, was confessing his crime. + +The day that Robert Wood was discharged, with no stain upon his name, +Quincy and Mary took her father to Cottonton. At the prison they met +Robert's father who had come to take his son home. He was profuse in his +thanks to Mr. Dana, for to him he considered his son's escape from death +was due. + +“You are wrong, Mr. Wood,” said Mr. Dana. “Your son owes his life not +so much to me as to my daughter here, and to Mr. Sawyer. She practically +worked up the case herself; I made but few suggestions, and it was at +her request that Mr. Sawyer made certain investigations that fitted in +with her own ideas and made success possible.” + +“Miss Dana,” said young Robert, “a year ago I insulted you, and was +properly treated for my words and actions by Mr. Sawyer. I owe you both +an apology which I now make and ask your forgiveness. But for you, and +Mr. Sawyer, I should have died a felon. You have, indeed, heaped coals +of fire on my head.” + +Mary answered, “That was forgiven long ago, but if you wish my +forgiveness you have it freely. How does Miss Ellicott feel now that you +are declared innocent?” + +“She came to see me this morning and we are to be married as soon as +possible, and I am to become the treasurer of the mill. She will own +three-quarters of the stock.” + +When Mr. Strout learned that Robert's release was due to the exertions +of Mary and Quincy he sniffed and exclaimed: + +“Folks in love will do all sorts of things. She's gone on that young +Sawyer, and she only started in on the thing so she could have a chance +to traipse around the country with him. He'll come back here for her +some day, and her market'll be made. All I hope is that he'll take her +to Boston, or some other foreign place to live an' we shall see and hear +the last of 'em.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +AT HARVARD + + +The newspapers gave much space to the near approach to miscarriage of +justice in the Wood's case, and many editorials were written on the +fallacy of allowing circumstantial evidence to carry as much weight as +it did. But what was spoken of most was the clever detective work of +Mary Dana. She was the recipient of congratulatory letters for her work +from all parts of the country, and the press could not say too much in +her praise. + +Mary received a most flattering offer to join the Isburn Detective +Bureau in Boston. Mr. Irving Isburn, the proprietor of the world-wide +known agency, had for more than fifty years been engaged in solving +mysteries and apprehending offenders against the law. His success had +been phenomenal, and if his agency had been called “The Scotland Yard +of America” it would have been a derogation rather than a compliment. +He had surrounded himself with the most expert men and women in the +profession, and in a letter to Mr. Dana he said he considered Miss Dana +would be a most important and valuable acquisition to his staff. Mr. +Dana, however, decided that Mary was too young to start business +life, so she was sent to Boston to boarding school for a year. At the +expiration of that time she joined Mr. Is burn's staff, and soon that +gentleman wrote her father that in certain lines of investigation she +was unexcelled. + +With the coming of autumn, after Bob Wood's release, Quincy and Tom +started in on their four years at Harvard. They had passed their +entrance examinations without conditions, so the few days in the last of +September, spent so anxiously by many of the freshman class in trying to +make up conditions given them the spring before, allowed Quincy and Tom +to live in Arcady until the portals of the temple of learning were +ajar. Rooms were engaged at Beck Hall, and the young men began their +inspection of the classic city on the Charles. + +“This city is on the square,” remarked Tom. “Lafayette, Central, Putnam, +Harvard, Brattle, and some more on the East side I suppose.” + +“The college is on the square too,” said Quincy, “as long as Dr. Eliot +is Prexie.” + +College life has been depicted many times in books, and Quincy and +Tom's four years probably contained few events that had not had their +counterparts in the lives of other young Harvard men. They joined many +clubs and societies the initiation ceremonies being, in reality, a mild +form of hazing. + +Quincy and his chum were not goody-goody boys, but they had mutually +pledged each other that they would lead temperate lives and refrain from +all dissipation that would prejudice their standing as students. Quincy +saw Mary frequently, and, after she was employed by Mr. Isburn, they +talked over some of the most interesting of Mary's cases. + +In their college life, Tom and Quincy were unsuspecting, and became the +butt of many good-natured and some unkind jokes. On one occasion they +were invited to join a theatre party. It was a variety or vaudeville +show and ended with a pantomime, the closing scene in which was a +skating carnival. + +When the skaters came on, the members of the theatre party rose in their +seats and pelted the performers with paper snowballs made hard by the +liberal use of paste. The police were called in. Quincy and Tom had +taken no part in the snowballing but, as examination showed their +pockets were full of the substitutes for the natural product, they were +adjudged as guilty as the others. + +One evening Quincy and Tom went to the theatre together. During a +pathetic speech by the heroine the clang of a big cow bell was heard. +The audience vented its displeasure in hisses. Again came the clangour +and all eyes were turned towards the unconscious youths, Quincy and Tom. +Again were the policemen called in. Two young men who sat behind Quincy +and his friend were accused of causing the disturbance. They indignantly +denied any knowledge of it and left the theatre threatening a suit for +damages. Further investigation by the minions of the law discovered the +bell fastened to the hat-holder beneath Quincy's seat, while the string +that served as a bell pull was under Tom's foot. Denial of such strong +circumstantial evidence was useless and Quincy and Tom promised to cause +no further annoyance. On their way home in the car they discussed the +situation. + +“It's Dupont and Kidder that put that up on us, and we must get even,” + said Tom. + +“But how?” was the question. + +A week later Tom purchased tickets for a whole row of seats at one of +the principal theatres, explaining that they were for a large theatre +party. Dupont and Kidder had been recipients of complimentary tickets +which entitled them to seats in the middle of the row. They expected +that Quincy and Tom and other students would complete the party. Not +so, as events proved. Dupont and Kidder, immaculately dressed, had for +companions two waitresses at a well-known Cambridge café, two Harvard +Square hairdressers, and a number of individuals whose dress and general +appearance indicated physical strength rather than mental powers. Dupont +and Kidder went out at the end of the first act and did not return. + +The next time that Tom met Fred Dupont he asked, + +“Do you believe in the Declaration of Independence?” + +“My great-grandfather signed it,” said Dupont proudly. + +“How does it read?” asked Tom--“something about men being born free and +equal--a barber's as good as a millionaire's son--isn't it?” + +“It's all right,” replied Dupont, “Kidder and I only took one bell to +the theatre, but you kindly supplied us with two. Nothing's too good +for us at that café now, and we've invited Kitty and May to go to the +theatre with us to-morrow night.” + +“It's no use, Quincy,” said Tom. “Dupont and Kidder took their medicine +as patiently as we did, and they liked it so well they're going to have +more of it.” + +Then he told Quincy what Dupont had said. + +“The victory's ours,” cried Quincy. “That shows that Americans, rich or +poor, are democratic at heart. All that keeps them apart is the foolish +idea that the possession of money lifts them above their fellows. Put +them on a money equality, and only the very exclusive ones will care +about the colour of their blood. It was a good lesson for Dupont and +Kidder whose fathers are wealthy men, and they have wisely profited by +it.” + +“Then you don't believe in social castes?” said Tom. + +“Why should I? My father married a poor girl and I don't expect to find +my wife on Beacon Street or Commonwealth Avenue.” + +After Tom had asked his question the thought came to him that if Quincy +had believed in social distinctions on account of wealth he would not +have chosen the son of a cotton weaver as his boon companion, but it was +too late to take back the question, and Quincy had answered it. + +The four years of study were at an end. Quincy was loaded with +scholastic honours while Tom's prowess has been most effectually shown +on the ball team and in the 'Varsity Eight, which came near winning a +trophy for the Crimson. + +Just before Class Day, Quincy went into the office of Sawyer, +Crowninshield, Lawrence & Merry to see Harry Merry about some matters +connected with his income. + +“Quincy, I am glad to see you,” exclaimed Mr. Merry. “I was on the +point of sending a messenger out to Cambridge to have you come right +in. Something very strange has happened this morning and it may be a +question which even your friend Miss Dana may find worthy of her skill +in attempting to solve.” + +“What is it, Uncle Harry? There is nothing I love like a mystery, and +Miss Dana often talks her cases over with me.” + +“This is a mystery in which you and your mother in England may be +greatly concerned; but before letting her know anything about it I think +it better to find out what it really means. For you to understand +the matter clearly, I will have to go back a number of years. In +your father's will your grandfather and Dr. Paul Culver were named as +executors. After a while the doctor wished to resign, and as you know I +was appointed in his place.” + +“Yes, and you have always done more than your duty, and I am truly +grateful. But, pardon me for interrupting you. Please go on.” + +“To make myself thoroughly familiar with all the details of my trust, I +went over all the old accounts. When your father and mother started on +that unfortunate trip to Europe, your father took with him some English +gold, some bank notes, and, to last him for his further expenses while +abroad, five bills of exchange, each for two hundred pounds, Sterling, a +total of about five thousand dollars. These bills of exchange were +drawn by his bank here in Boston, and in favour of the bank's agents in +London. About six years ago I changed the deposits of your trust account +to another bank. Until then I had always kept that five thousand still +intact, as it was drawing fair interest, and as, you may not know, your +mother has always had an idea that your father was not drowned. But, +when I changed the account, it seemed foolish to leave that money +still there, and as the bills of exchange had never been presented for +payment, I had no trouble in having them cancelled, and receiving the +money. + +“But, and here is where the important part of the matter comes in for +you, one of those bills of exchange, drawn over twenty-three years ago, +has to-day been returned to the bank here in Boston from the London +agents.” + +“Why, Uncle Harry,” cried Quincy, “what can it mean? Is it possible that +my father is still alive? I can't understand it, I am bewildered,” and +strong man as he was he was unnerved. + +“Calm yourself, Quincy,” said Harry Merry, “I am afraid that would be +entirely too good news to be true, but at least it must mean that your +father's body was found some time or other, and probably the bill of +exchange got into the hands of some dishonest person who has cashed it.” + +“Have you got it here?” + +“Yes,” and Mr. Merry handed a paper to him. + +“Is the signature that of my father?” asked Quincy turning the bill +over, and looking at the various endorsements on the back. + +“I am not sure. If I were, there would be one great question solved, for +he would never have put his name to it, of course, until he was ready to +cash it. In a way it looks a little like his writing, but it may be, and +I think it is, a rather bungling forgery. It is more than likely that in +the wallet in which he kept the bills of exchange he may have had some +papers to which he had signed his name, and the signature was copied +from that.” + +“I want to show this to Miss Dana,” said Quincy, “perhaps she can help +me solve the problem. Have you got any paper with my father's signature +to it?” + +“Wait a few minutes, and I will see if I can find any in the old files.” + +After a good quarter of an hour, which to Quincy seemed as though it +would never end, Mr. Merry came back, covered with dust, but with the +required paper in his hand. + +“A lawyer should never destroy a paper,” said Mr. Merry, “and I am glad +to say this firm never does. Here is a letter your father wrote to your +grandfather nearly thirty years ago, and is dated from Mason's Corner. +Take it, and the bill of exchange with you. I hope you can solve the +mystery, and let's pray it will turn out to mean that you are Quincy +Adams Sawyer, Junior; but, my boy,” and Harry put his hand on Quincy's +shoulder, “do not build too many air castles on it. If you do, I am +afraid you have a bitter disappointment before you.” + +Quincy immediately called on Mary Dana, and had a long talk with her +about the matter. He told her all his conversation with Harry Merry and +showed her the bill of exchange, and the signature of his father's which +he knew to be genuine. After examining them both Mary said, + +“In many ways, this looks like a very clever forgery. The characters +are all made the same as in the signature to the letter,--notice the +peculiar little twist to the S in the word Adams, but your father wrote +a very firm, strong hand, and the writing on the bill of exchange is +weaker and a little shaky. That is undoubtedly due partly to the fact +that the signature on the bill of exchange is written with a very fine +steel pen, while that in the letter was written with a quill. But, what +makes me doubt the genuineness of the signature is this,--although the +characters are practically the same on the two pieces of paper, your +father's name in the letter is the writing of an educated man, that on +the bill of exchange looks like the efforts of a man unaccustomed to +write, probably through ignorance, but perhaps due to the fact that he +has not held a pen for a long time.” + +“But, Mary,” asked Quincy, “how are we going to find out about it, how +can we learn who did sign it?” + +“There are the endorsements on the back. They are the only clues. Below +your father's name appears that of Jonathan Drake; then that of Agostino +Tombini, and, below that, Macquay Hooker. There is also the stamp of the +London bank. Where the bill of exchange was cashed does not appear. +It is evident, however, that the last person who signed it before it +reached the bank in London was Macquay Hooker. We will cable London now, +and in the morning will have an answer. Be in to see me early, but, if +I were you, I would hold myself in readiness to leave for Europe at a +moment's notice. Is your work all finished at Cambridge?” + +“Yes, I had my last examination yesterday, and I should leave for the +summer in a few days. Class Day is all that keeps me now, but I am +perfectly willing to recall the invitations I have sent out, and can +leave at any time.” + +On his return to his rooms Quincy told Tom what had happened. + +“I had been intending to speak about our going abroad anyway this +summer,” said Quincy. “It's the style for college boys after being +graduated to go to Europe. I want to see my mother and aunt, too. To be +sure, I have had nice long, loving letters from them, and I've kept them +fully posted as to my doings, but that doesn't quite come up to seeing +them. Now, with this mystery on my hands, with all it may mean to me, I +must go anyway. Will you come along with me?” + +“If dad don't mind, I'll go.” + +“We'll run down to Fernborough for a day or two to say good-bye, if +there is time, and you can see your father about it.” + +At ten o'clock the next morning, Quincy entered the office of the Isburn +Detective Bureau. + +“I have good news for you, Quincy,” said Mary. “I have found out from +London that Macquay Hooker is a banker in Rome, and I have cabled him, +asking who the other two endorsers are. We should receive a reply by +noon at the latest.” + +A good half hour before noon a messenger boy came in and handed Mary +an envelope. She scanned the cablegram quickly, and handed it over +to Quincy. It read, “Tombini banker, Drake American consul, Palermo, +Sicily.” + +“You see,” said Mary, with a smile, “matters are simplifying themselves +considerably. I shall cable now to Drake at Palermo, and find out what +I can about the original signer of the bill of exchange. This is +Wednesday. The Gallia sails from here to England on Saturday. You had +better engage passage, and make arrangements to go then. Come back late +this afternoon, and I will tell you what has developed in the meantime.” + +After engaging a stateroom for Saturday, Quincy returned to Cambridge, +packed what things he needed for a couple of days, and with Tom came +back to Boston, intending to go to Fernborough on the late train in the +evening. + +“The answer has just come,” said Mary, when Quincy saw her later in the +day, “but, I am sorry it is not as satisfactory as I could wish. Mr. +Drake is away from Palermo at present, and beyond the fact that a Quincy +Adams Sawyer had registered at the consulate about a month ago and has +since left the town, they seem to know nothing about the matter.” + +“Well,” said Quincy, “we have a starting point anyway, and more than +we had in Bob Wood's case in the beginning. I shall go directly to +Fernborough Hall to see my mother for a day or so, but I think I will +not mention the real reason for my trip abroad until I have found out +more. I will tell her that Tom and I are anxious to get to the continent +as soon as possible, and that we will return to England later on. Then +we will go down through Italy to Sicily, and start in there tracing the +signer of that bill of exchange.” + +“I think that is the best plan,” said Mary. “In the meantime I will keep +in close touch with Mr. Merry here, and if another one of those bills of +exchange comes in I will cable you, care of your bankers in London, the +names of the endorsers.” + +“Mary,” said Quincy as he took her hand at parting, and held it perhaps +a little longer than was really necessary, “I can't thank you for all +you have done for me. I am truly grateful, and wish there were some way +in which I could show you my true appreciation.” + +“Your thanks are all I want. Besides, you may be the means of bringing +a very clever criminal to justice,” and the smile left her face as she +said it, “for I am afraid that is all you will find. You must not hope +too much for what seems the impossible.” + +On their way to Fernborough that evening, Quincy and Tom decided it +would be best not to mention the real object of their going to Europe, +so Mr. Chripp thought it was only a pleasure trip. He did not object +to his son going,--but he made one condition, that Tom should visit the +village in old England in which he was born and bring him back a picture +of the little thatched cottage in which Mr. Chripp had lived until the +tales of high wages and better prospects in America had drawn him from +his native land. + +Quincy had said good-bye to all his relatives, friends, and +acquaintances except Mr. Obadiah Strout. That gentleman should have no +reason to say he had been snubbed. + +When Quincy entered the store Mr. Strout was weighing some butter. +Quincy noticed that the wooden plate and a sheet of thick paper were put +on the scales before the butter was cut from the tub. + +“Well, what can I do for you, Master Sawyer?” said Strout when the +customer who had paid thirty cents a pound for butter including wood and +paper had departed. + +“I came to say good-bye. I am going to Europe.” + +“I s'pose you'll like England with its 'ristocrats and kings so well +that you won't come back to these ordinary United States.” + +Quincy knew that Mr. Strout wished he would stay in England, so he +replied, + +“Oh, no. I'm coming back sure. I know a little about weighing groceries +and I've decided to come back and go into business.” + +“What good will your book larnin' do you then?” + +“For one thing, they teach something besides dead languages in colleges +nowadays. I studied moral philosophy, which points out the difference +between right and wrong, between honesty and dishonesty, between fifteen +ounces of butter and one ounce of wood and paper, and sixteen ounces of +butter to the pound.” + +With this parting shot, Quincy joined Tom in front of the store and they +started for Boston, from which port the _Gallia_ was to sail two days +later. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +ALICE'S DREAM + + +“Do you believe in dreams, Aunt Ella?” + +“No, Alice, I do not.” + +“Not if they come true?” + +“Only a coincidence. If they don't come true are you willing to +acknowledge that all are unreliable? Or, if some prove true do you +consider them all reliable? You can have either horn of the dilemma.” + +“What causes dreams, Aunt Ella?” + +“Usually what's on your mind. Your brain doesn't wake up all at once and +dreams flit through it until it gets full control.” + +“What if a person dreams the same thing three nights in succession?” + +“That proves nothing. When my first husband died I dreamed for a month +or more that he was still alive and that I must wake him at a certain +time because the morning he died he was to take a train at an early +hour. You make your own dreams.” + +“But supposing you see something in your dreams that you never saw +before--that you never knew existed until you viewed it when asleep?” + +“What have you been dreaming, Alice?” + +“You won't laugh at me?” + +“I promise not to laugh, but I won't promise to believe.” + +“If my husband is dead,” said Alice, “he is dead and I shall never see +him again in this world; if he is still living, he is somewhere in this +world, and it's my duty to find him.” + +“I will agree to that,” assented her hearer, “but you know that I have +no faith that he is alive. Just think, twenty-three years have passed +away and you have had no word from him. Out of deference to your +feelings, Alice, I had put off making my will since Sir Stuart died +until yesterday. It is now signed and in my lawyer's hands. It is no +secret, I have left all I possess to your son Quincy.” + +“Why did you do that?” + +“I promised his father that he should have it, but as I think he will +never come to claim it, I gave it to his son, as he or you would do if +it was yours. Now, your dreams have put some idea into your head. Where +do you think your husband is?” + +“I don't know what country it is, but, in my dreams, thrice repeated, I +have seen him standing in a grove of trees filled with fruit--lemons and +oranges they appeared to be.” + +“Did he speak to you or you to him?” + +“He looked at me but gave no sign of recognition. I called his name, but +he did not answer me.” + +“That proves what I said. You are always thinking about him, and your +mind made up your dream.” + +“Where do lemons and oranges grow?” + +“In so many countries that you would have to go round the world to visit +them all.” She thought to herself, “they don't grow in the ocean.” + +“You speak of twenty-three years having passed. That's not so long. I +have read of sailors being away longer than that and finally returning +home. Men have stayed in prison longer than that and have come out into +the world again. Why, Quincy is only fifty-three now.” + +“And I'm seventy--an old woman some think me, and others call me so, but +if I were sure that by living I could see Quincy again, I'd manage some +way to keep alive until he came.” + +“You are just lovely, Aunt Ella, and I love you more than ever for those +words. I believe that Quincy wants me to come to him--and I am going!” + +“My dear Alice, I'm sure the only way you will ever see Quincy is by +going to him, for he can never come to you.” + +The next day Alice spent in studying the cyclopedias and maps. She +estimated the cost of a six months' trip to the citron groves of Europe +and America. For a week she pondered over the matter. + +Then something occurred that led her to make up her mind definitely. She +had the same dream for the fourth time. She awoke screaming, and shaking +with terror. Her aunt was awakened and ran to her room. + +“What is it, Alice? Dreaming again?” + +“Yes, the same and yet different. I saw a big man raise a club and +strike Quincy on the head. He fell and I awoke.” + +Aunt Ella grew cynical. “Why didn't you wait long enough to see the +effect of the blow?” + +“Oh, Auntie,” and Alice burst into tears. “What shall I do?” + +“I know what I'm going to do. I shall send for Dr. Parshefield and have +him give you a sleeping potion.” + +The next day Alice began making preparations for her journey. Aunt +Ella's arguments and appeals were in vain. + +“I must go,” said Alice. “Where, I do not know, but God will direct me.” + +“God won't do anything of the kind,” exclaimed Aunt Ella. + +Her patience was exhausted. Then her manner changed. She accepted the +inevitable, and did all she could to help her niece. One thing she +insisted upon, and that was that Alice should have a companion. One who +could speak French and German was found and Alice started upon her quest +into, to her, unknown lands. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +“BY THE BEAUTIFUL BLUE DANUBE” + + +Alice did not tell Aunt Ella where she was going. To have done so would +have led her aunt to say that it was foolish to go there, for although +she aided Alice in getting ready for her journey she was decidedly +opposed to it. In fact, in her own mind she called it “a wild goose +chase.” But she had learned that Alice had an indomitable will and she +fully realized that further argument and opposition were useless. + +Alice went on board the boat at Dover with some foreboding. She had +read and had been told of the rigours of the Channel passage and her +experience was equal to the descriptions. Had it not been for the +presence of Babette, the maid so wisely provided by her aunt, her +journey might have ended at Calais, or even before. She had a horror +of the water and it was with a sense of great mental and physical +satisfaction that her feet touched solid ground again. + +They went to Paris, but spent no time in the gay city. Their objective +point was the south of Italy, and then the island of Sicily. Did not the +guide books say that Sicily was the home of the orange and the lemon? + +They would stop a short time in each important town. Carriages were +taken from day to day and inquiry was made at the principal groves in +the near vicinity of the towns. Then trips were made into the country, +but everywhere Alice's questions were answered in the negative. She was +allowed to talk to the labourers, by the aid of an interpreter, but none +had any remembrance or had heard of any such man as she described. + +At only one grove, near Palermo, was she refused admittance. The +proprietor, Silvio Matrosa, said he had no authority to admit strangers. +Besides, two of the men had been fighting and one was so seriously +injured by a blow upon his head by a club, that he had been sent to the +hospital and it was thought he would die. Under the circumstances “Would +the ladies excuse him?” and Alice was obliged to give up her search in +that direction. + +She had been so impressed with the reality of her dreams that she had +thought she could easily recognize her husband's surroundings, but she +confessed to Babette, who was sympathetic and engaged eagerly in the +search, that she had seen no place that resembled the scene of her +dreams. + +More weary wandering without result followed, and so intent was she on +the object of her search that the beauties of “Sunny Italy” were lost +upon her. The weather was hot and enervating and Babette suggested that +her mistress should go to Switzerland and rest before continuing her +search. Alice consented, but when they reached Vienna she was too ill +to proceed farther. Babette was at home in Vienna for she could speak +German, and she soon learned that the Hospital of St. Stephen's would +give her mistress the rest and medical treatment that her condition +required--for she was on the verge of nervous prostration. The +discomfort of travelling was not the cause of her physical break-down +for Aunt Ella had told her “that nothing was too good for a traveller” + and every comfort and convenience that money could supply had been hers. +Her mental disquietude had produced the physical relapse. She had been +so confident of the truth of her dreams, and that some power, she +knew not what, but which she trusted implicitly, would lead her to her +husband, that her disappointment was more than her strained nervous +system could bear. + +After a week's rest, although unable to rise, she called Babette to her +bedside. “I wish to send word to my aunt in England but I do not feel +able to sit up and write. I will dictate, you can write, and I will sign +it.” + +Then Babette wrote: + +“MY DEAR AUNT ELLA: Confession, they say, is good for the soul. My body +is weak to-day and so Babette is writing my confession. I have been to +Sicily and all over the southern part of Italy, but no success has come +to me. If Quincy had been in one of those orange or lemon groves he +could not have lived there for so many years; the work is too hard, +and he was never used to manual labour. So, as soon as I am able, I am +coming home. I will never trouble you with any more dreams. I believe, +as you do, that they are products of imagination. I am not sick, only +tired out, and naturally, at first, very much disheartened. I shall be +with you very soon, never more to leave you.” ALICE. + +“P. S. As soon as I am able to take a drive I am going to view the +attractions of this city--which Babette says is even more beautiful than +Paris. I must see 'The Beautiful Blue Danube,' and I must hear Johann +Strauss's orchestra. They will be the only happy memories of my +fruitless journey.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +“WE THREE” + + +Nothing marred the pleasure of the trip on the _Gallia_ and young +Quincy and Tom could not have been happier than they were when the great +steamer made its way up the Mersey towards its Liverpool pier. + +A few hours only in the great bustling city and then they were off to +find the house in which Tom's father was born and lived. It was near +Chester, that modernized reminder of the old Roman days, and on their +way to Fernborough Hall. + + +They found it uninhabited. The thatched roof was full of holes and the +interior showed the devastation that wind and water had worked. Tall +weeds filled the little garden and the general effect was dismal indeed. + +“It won't do to take Dad a picture of this old shanty,” said Tom. + +“Perhaps we can find a house that looks like it,” Quincy suggested. + +They had no difficulty in doing that, for the same architectural plan, +if the design be worthy the name, had plainly been followed in the +construction of many cottages. They found one with the roof covered with +moss and a garden full of old-fashioned flowers, and several views were +taken with Quincy's camera. + +“It's cheating in one way,” said Tom, “but it would break Dad's heart to +see a picture of his old home as it really is--so we'll show him one as +it ought to be.” + +“And as it shall be,” said Quincy. “It won't cost much to fix it up, all +but the moss, and that will come on it in time. You get a man, Tom, find +out the cost of renovating the house, and I'll pay the bill. So will the +sense of untruthfulness be removed from our sensitive feelings.” + This was quickly arranged, for work, with the pay in advance, was a +delectable possession in those parts. + +When they reached Fernborough Hall, and Quincy was told of the search +on which his mother had started out, he pretended to agree with his aunt +that it was useless, and the height of folly, but from that moment hope +sprang up within him, that, by some miracle, his father was still alive. +He did not confide his hopes to Aunt Ella, and gave her no inkling of +the real reason for his trip to Europe. + +“It would make me very happy to know that my father was living,” he +said, “but after so long a time it seems foolish to think it, does it +not? When do you expect mother home, Aunt Ella?” + +“The letter was written a month ago from Vienna, but, unfortunately, she +did not give her address. If she were well, she should have been here +before this. I have an idea that she may have gone to Switzerland on her +way home, and charmed by its scenery, or forced by her weak condition, +has remained there. Stay here for a week with your friend, and perhaps +some word will come.” + +“No, Auntie,” said Quincy, “Tom and I will run over to Vienna, and if we +don't find her we will push on to William Tell's republic. We will write +you often--Tom one day and I the next.” + +“I have often wondered,” said Quincy to Tom two days later as they were +on the cars speeding to Vienna--“I have often wondered,” he repeated, +“how my mother could let me go away and stay away from her for fourteen +long years. That she loves me, her letters show plainly. She says often +that I am all she has in the world, but she never sent for me to come +and see her nor did she ever come to see me. How do you explain it, +Tom?” + +“Very easily. That disaster at sea and the loss of your father has given +her a horror of the ocean which she cannot overcome. She fears to +trust herself or one she loves to its mercies again. Perhaps we can't +understand her feelings, but you must respect them.” + +“I do,” replied Quincy. “I have never doubted her love for me, and +your theory, perhaps, explains her failure to manifest her love more +forcibly.” + +On the train they made a most agreeable acquaintance and regretted their +inability to accept his invitation to visit him. His name was Louis +Wallingford. He was an American, born in Missouri. He had been a +reporter, then editor. His passion was music and he had forsaken a +literary life for that of a musician. He had joined an orchestra much in +demand at private parties given by the wealthy residents of St. Louis. +At one of these, he had become infatuated with the daughter of a +railroad magnate who counted his wealth by millions. A poor violinist, +he knew it was useless to ask her father for his daughter's hand. The +young lady's mother was dead. The father died suddenly of apoplexy, +and Miss Edith Winser came into possession of the millions. Then he had +spoken and been accepted. Conscious that her husband, talented as he +was, would not be accepted, without a hard struggle, by the upper class, +they decided to live in Europe. + +He had found a deserted chateau on the borders of Lake Maggiore. Money +bought it, and money had transformed it into an earthly Paradise. The +building, of white marble, was adapted for classic treatment, and Greek +and Roman art were symbolized therein. + +The chateau contained a large music room and a miniature theatre in +which Mr. Wallingford's musical compositions and operas were performed. + +“I have just come from Paris,” said Mr. Wallingford, “where I have made +arrangements for six concerts by my orchestra which will play many of my +own pieces. Can you not be in Paris in a month and hear them?” + +“Tell him your story,” whispered Tom to Quincy, and he did so. + +Mr. Wallingford was deeply interested. + +“If you find both your father and mother, they deserve another +honeymoon. Bring them to Vertano and in the joys of the present we will +make them forget the sorrows of the past.” + +“I am afraid,” said Quincy, “that such good fortune would be more than +miraculous.” + +“Come with your mother and friend then,” said Mr. Wallingford as he left +them to change cars. + +They went to the Hotel Metropole in Vienna. Quincy consulted his guide +book. + +“Everybody lives in apartment houses in Vienna, so this book says. The +question is, in which one shall we find my mother and her maid?” + +“All we can do,” said Tom, “is to plug away every day. Keep a-going, +keep asking questions, keep our eyes and ears open, and keep up our +courage.” + +“Your plan is certainly 'for keeps,' as we children used to say. Come +along. Your plan is adopted. Have you written Lady Fernborough? 'Tis +your turn.” + +Many days of fruitless travel and the young men began to despair of +success. Quincy was debating with himself whether it would not be better +to give up the search for his mother, and follow up the clue about his +father. He felt that every day was precious. + +“I have an idea, Quincy,” Tom said one morning. “Perhaps your mother is +quite sick and has gone to a public hospital or a private one of some +kind.” + +“That's a fine idea, Tom. We'll begin on them after breakfast.” + +The sharp reports of gun shots and the softer cracking of pistols were +heard. + +“What's that?” cried Quincy. + +“Some men are on a strike. They had trouble with the police last night +and this morning's paper says the strikers have thrown up barricades. +Probably the police and soldiers are trying to dislodge them.” + +The firing continued, and from their windows the soldiers and people +could be seen moving towards the scene of disturbance. + +“Let's go out and see what is going on,” said Quincy. + +“Let's stay in and keep out of trouble,” was Tom's reply. “It is the +innocent bystander who always gets shot.” + +“I'm going down to the office to find out about it,” and Quincy took his +hat and left the room. + +Tom was suspicious of his intentions and followed him. Quincy had left +the hotel and was walking rapidly towards the scene of disturbance. Tom +ran after him, and kept him in sight, but did not speak to him. At first +he felt offended that Quincy had not asked him to go with him. Then he +reflected: “I virtually told him in advance that I wouldn't go. He's his +own master.” + +They were nearing a street from which came the sounds of conflict--loud +cries, curses, and the reports of firearms. Tom ram forward to prevent +Quincy from turning into the street. He was too late--Quincy had turned +the corner. Tom, regardless of danger, followed him. He started back +with a cry of horror. Quincy had been shot and was lying upon the +sidewalk, the blood streaming from a gun-shot wound in his right arm. +Tom took him up in his arms, as though he had been a child, and returned +to the safety of the unexposed street. + +As he lay Quincy upon the sidewalk and took out his handkerchief to +make a tourniquet with which to stanch the flow of blood, he cried: “Oh, +Quincy, why did you walk right into danger?” + +As he uttered the words, a man who was standing nearby, whose dress +and swarthy face proclaimed him to be a foreigner, stepped forward and +grasped Tom roughly by the arm. + +“What did you call that young man,” asked the stranger, his voice +trembling, perceptibly. + +“I called him by his name--Quincy.” + +“Quincy what? Pardon me, but I have a reason for asking.” + +“His name is no secret,” said Tom, as he twisted the handkerchief +tightly above the wound. “I can't understand your interest in him, but +his name is Quincy Adams Sawyer.” + +“Thank Heaven,” exclaimed the man. “And thank you,” he added, grasping +Tom's hand--“Is he English?” + +“No, we're both Yankees, from Fernborough, Massachusetts.” + +The man knelt beside Quincy and gazed at him earnestly. He looked up at +Tom. + +“I could bless the man who fired that shot. My name is Quincy Adams +Sawyer and this young man is my son!” + +Tom's surmise had been correct. Alice did not improve and a long stay +at the Hospital became necessary before the return to England would be +possible. + +“What's that noise, Babette?” asked Alice. + +“There must be a riot somewhere,” was the reply. “The soldiers are +marching past. They are fighting in a street nearby.” + +Alice said no more. What had she to do with fighting and bloodshed? Her +suffering was greater than any bullet could inflict. She fell into a +doze from which she was awakened by a loud cry from Babette. + +“Oh, Madame, a carriage has just stopped here, and they are bringing +a wounded man into the Hospital. There are two men with him--one looks +like an Englishman or American.” + +“Go down, Babette, and see if you can find out who they are. I should be +glad if I could be of help to one of my own countrymen.” + +It seemed a very long time before the maid returned. When she did, the +usually self-confident Babette seemed dazed. She did not speak until her +mistress asked: + +“Did you find out anything?” + +“Yes, Madame.” + +“What?” + +“They are all Americans, Madame. A young man and his friend; the older +man is the father.” + +“The companion's?” + +“No, the young man's.” + +“Did you learn their names or where they are from?” + +Babette sank upon her knees by the bedside. + +“Oh, Madame, I am so happy.” + +Alice regarded her with astonishment. + +“Happy! Happy because a young man has been shot. You must have a +bloodthirsty nature, Babette.” + +“It isn't the shooting, Madame. It's the name.” + +“The name? What name? You are nervous, Babette. You must lie down and +rest. I keep you up too late nights reading and writing.” + +“Oh, Madame, how can I say it? Can you bear it?” + +“I have borne suspense for twenty-three years. I can bear much. What is +it you would tell me?” + +“You know, Madame, I said the older man was the young man's father. They +both have the same name.” + +“That's not uncommon, especially in America. The young man is called +Junior. Sometimes when they are very proud of a family name they number +them. Supposing my husband were living, and my son had a son, named +after himself, the little boy would be Quincy Adams Sawyer 3rd.” + +“Madame, I must tell you. The father and the son bear the name of Quincy +Adams Sawyer!” + +Alice regarded her as if affrighted. Then she leaped from the bed and +cried: “Bring me my clothes, Babette. My husband and son! We three, +brought together by the hand of God once more.” + +The revulsion was too great. The pent-up agony of twenty-three years +dissolved in a moment. Alice fainted and fell into Babette's arms. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +A PERIOD OF TWENTY-THREE YEARS + + +It took hours for the overjoyed wife and mother and the long-lost +husband and father to tell their stories. Alice's was told first, and +was followed by young Quincy's recital of his life at Fernborough, his +four years at Harvard, and the story of the returned bill of exchange +leading him to Europe, and his search for his mother in Vienna which +ended with such happiness for all. Finally, the father began: + +“On the night of the collision, after seeing you safely started in the +life-boat with the last of the passengers, Captain Hawkins thought of +a small boat on the upper deck which had been overlooked in the general +scramble to get away from the doomed _Altonia_. Shouting to me to follow +him, the Captain rushed up the ladder to the railing, and together we +started to lower the boat. It was raised about three feet above the +deck, being held in position by two supports shaped like a letter X. I +had already loosened the ropes on my side, and then tried to kick out +the support nearest me. It stuck, and finally I got down on my hands and +knees thinking I could force it out better in that position. The water +was steadily pouring in at the ship's side, and it was only a question +of a few minutes before the _Altonia_ would founder. Finally I gave one +mighty push, the support gave away, the boat came down upon me like a +ton weight,--and that was the last I knew until I awoke in a large room +full of single beds, and a kindly faced old priest told me I was in the +Hospital of San Marco, Palermo, Sicily. + +“My God, the shock when I found that my sleep,--for such it was to +me,--had lasted over twenty-three years! What thoughts went through +my mind! Had you, Alice, been saved or lost? If saved, were you still +living, and my son, whom I had never seen, was he living? Were Aunt Ella +and my father and mother and my sisters still alive? I was roused from +my revery by the good Father Paolo. + +“He told me that the week before he had been summoned to the death-bed +of an old seaman, Captain Vando, who had confessed that over twenty +years before, while sailing from Boston to Palermo, two days after a +very bad fog, he had picked up at sea a small open boat in which were +two men, both of whom at first seemed dead. One, it was Captain Hawkins, +was beyond all help; he was frozen to death,--frozen to death, Alice, +in an effort to save my life, for, besides my own coat, his was found +tucked around me. + +“After hours of work, I was brought back to life,--but a life worse than +death. The Captain told Father Paolo that my mind was a blank, I could +remember nothing of my past, I did not know my name. Then temptation +came to Captain Vando. He took from me my belt, in which I had some +English gold, a few English bank-notes, and the five bills of exchange, +each for a thousand pounds. The latter he did not dare to dispose of, +but the money he appropriated to his own use. He soon found I could be +of no use to him on ship-board, so, on his arrival at Palermo, he sold +me to a rich planter, for a hundred lire, and I was put to work in the +orange groves. + +“Captain Vando in his confession told Father Paolo that he still had my +belt containing the bills of exchange, and before his death he delivered +these over to the priest. After the Captain's death, Father Paolo went +to Signor Matrosa, who, when confronted with the facts, admitted I had +been sold to him, and that I was known under the name of Alessandro +Nondra, but he told him that I had been mixed up in a fight, and had +received such a bad wound that I had been sent to the hospital. One of +his managers, an Italian, had married an English girl, and they had a +daughter with light hair, and blue eyes. It seems I had been sent to his +house one day with a message, and when I saw his daughter, I cried +out, 'Alice, Alice,' and caught the girl in my arms. Her father was so +enraged that he picked up a gun lying near at hand, and gave me such +a terrific blow on the head that I was knocked senseless. I remember +nothing of it, but mistaking Anita for you was, undoubtedly, my first +approach to my former consciousness. That scene was probably the one +which you saw in your dream, Alice, and to think that afterwards you +should be so near me in Palermo, and neither of us know it! + +“At the hospital the doctors found that the blow on my head had caused +but a comparatively unimportant scalp wound, but, in dressing it, +they found that at some earlier time my skull had been crushed. They +performed the delicate operation of trepanning the skull, and when I +came out from the effects of the ether, my mind was in the same state as +it had been twenty-three years before. + +“After that my recovery was rapid. Father Paolo made Signor Matrosa pay +me thirty-three hundred lire as my wages for the many years I had worked +for him, and I gave a thousand of it to the manager's daughter, to whom, +in a way, I owed my return to my natural self. The rest I gave to Father +Paolo for the use of his church. + +“Luckily, in my belt that Captain Vando had appropriated was my +passport. I went to the United States consul at Palermo, Mr. Drake, had +the passport viséd, and got him to cash one of the bills of exchange for +me. Suddenly, one day, the thought came into my mind, had you, Alice, +thinking me dead, married again? I decided to find out before the +announcement of my return to the land of the living could be spread +broadcast, and I persuaded Mr. Drake to keep back the information +from his official report for a while, at least. This he was able to do +easily, as he was on the point of going away for a vacation of a few +months, and the other members of the consulate knew very little of my +case. + +“I decided to continue bearing the name of Alessandro Nondra for a +while, at least, and I knew I could make a living in some way when my +present funds were exhausted. How I regretted the cashing of that bill +of exchange, because I knew it would eventually lead to my discovery; +but I was so changed, with my iron-gray hair, and Van Dyke beard, that I +felt I could escape detection until I knew whether my wife still waited +for me or not. + +“I decided to make my way north to Ostend, and would cross from there to +England, where I felt sure I could find some news of you, or Aunt Ella. +I stopped off here in Vienna for a day or two. When I heard my son +called by name this morning I could not resist, and instead of finding +my son alone, I have also found his mother, my wife.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +“CATESSA” + + +Quincy gloried in his wife's faith and constancy. Alice, while she +rejoiced in her husband's return bewailed his lost opportunities. + +“Think what you have lost, Quincy. You might have been President.” + +“If I have escaped that I shall not regret my long imprisonment.” + +“Why, Quincy, would you have refused a nomination?” + +“Many are called, but few are chosen. I have never cherished any such +ambition. I am not in love with politics and I detest the average +politician. Our country produces few statesmen and it never will until +the civil service law is made applicable to legislators and to high +officials. We have much to learn from China in this respect.” + +Telegrams had been sent to Aunt Ella and Mr. Wallingford apprising them +of the happy reunion. From the latter came a message extending a hearty +invitation to come to Vertano. + +Young Quincy's wound though painful, and particularly uncomfortable, was +not serious. Tom was his constant companion and attendant while Quincy +passed nearly all his time with his wife. She improved rapidly and their +departure was delayed only until young Quincy's wound was healed. + +“You now have a longer name than ever,” his mother said to him one day. + +“How's that? It's too long now. What must be added?” + +“Why, now that your father is alive, you are Quincy Adams Sawyer, +Junior.” + +“I am more than willing to make the addition, mother, and hope it will +be many years before I am obliged to shorten it.” + +When they reached Vertano but three days remained before the departure +of Mr. Wallingford and his orchestra for Paris, but during that time +there were drives through the beautiful country, boat rides upon the +lake, rehearsals by the orchestra and the performance of an operetta +written by Mr. Wallingford in which he, his wife, and seven children +took part. + +“Shall we go to Paris?” asked Alice. + +“Certainly,” said Quincy. “We owe Mr. Wallingford the return courtesy of +our attendance at his six concerts.” + +The trip across the channel did not possess so many terrors for Alice +with her husband and son for company, but she was glad when they stepped +upon land at Dover. + +“I shall never love the water,” she said. + +They reached London in the afternoon too late to take the train for +Heathfield in which town Fernborough Hall was situated. A telegram was +sent to Aunt Ella informing her of their safe arrival in London, and +that they would be with her the next day. + +“What can I do to amuse you this evening, Alice?” + +“Sit down and let me look at you, I have so much time to make up.” + +“They give _Martha_ at the opera to-night--it is my favourite--full of +the sweetest melodies in which I substitute Alice for Martha. Quincy and +Tom would like to go, and I have another reason which I will tell you +after the first act.” + +Alice's curiosity was aroused and she expressed her desire to go. After +the first act, Alice turned an inquisitive face to her husband. + +“What was your other reason for coming here to-night?” + +“Don't you think Catessa is a fine tenor?” + +“He has the most beautiful voice I ever heard,” Alice replied. + +“I know him. He is an old friend of mine. I'm going behind the scenes to +congratulate him personally.” + +“Did you meet him in Italy?” + +“No--in Fernborough, Massachusetts.” + +“Why, Quincy, what _do_ you mean? There were no Italians in +Fernborough.” + +“He is not an Italian. He's a Yankee. Look at his name.” + +“That's Italian surely.” + +“It's only his Yankee name transposed. Aren't you good on anagrams?” + +“Certainly, I'm not. Please tell me.” + +“Do you remember a young man in Fernborough with consumption whom I sent +to a sanatorium in New York?” + +“Yes, Mr. Scates.” + +“You've hit it. Mr. Arthur Scates, or A. Scates for short. Now look at +that Italian name again.” + +“I am doing so, and it looks just as foreign as ever.” + +“Agreed, but Catessa contains just the same letters as A. Scates, only +they are arranged differently.” + +After the second act, Quincy visited Mr. Scates in his dressing room. +The tenor insisted on Quincy and his party taking supper with him at +his hotel after the opera. He offered to repay the cost of his treatment +with interest. + +“No,” said Quincy, “I do not need it, and will not take it. Use it to +help some poor artist.” + +It was one o'clock when Quincy and his party reached their hotel. + +“Did you enjoy yourself, Alice?” + +“I had a delightful evening. But how happy you must feel to know that +your money saved such a precious life.” + +“I do,” said he. “Good deeds always bring their reward. See what I +got--twenty-three years hard labour in an orange grove.” + +“Hush, Quincy. There is no possible connection between the two events.” + +“I disagree with you. I think I am the connection, but I don't really +think one caused the other.” + +“I should say not. You are not often cynical.” + +“I am not, dear. Only when one does a good deed he must not expect to be +repaid in exactly his own coin.” + +“Did Mr. Scates offer to repay you?” + +“He did, and I told him to give it to some poor fellow who needed it.” + +“Quincy, I don't know which to admire most. Your good heartedness, or +your ability to make one sum of money perform many good actions.” + +The home coming to Fernborough Hall was a sad contrast to the pleasure +of the evening before. They found Aunt Ella in bed with two doctors in +attendance. Though weak, and failing fast there was no diminution of her +mental powers. She expressed a wish to see Quincy alone. + +“Quincy, your wife's faith has made a new woman of me. I have always +wished to live for ever, I had such a fear of death and uncertainty as +to the future. My fears are all gone. + +“The same Power that put me in this world and has given me so many +blessings, with some sorrows, so that I would properly appreciate the +blessings, will take care of me in the next. I have never been a wicked +woman, but often a foolish one. The most foolish thing I have ever done +was to doubt the faith your wife had that you were still alive. She's an +angel. + +“Give me a sup of that wine, Quincy,” she continued, “I haven't smoked +a cigarette since I promised Alice I wouldn't. Wasn't that self-denial? +Now, there's a very important matter that needs attention. I told you +when you married Alice that when I died you should have everything. +Don't interrupt me. Believing you were dead I made a new will and left +everything to your son.” + +She drew a paper from under the bedclothes. + +“Here it is. Burn it up. The other one is in the hands of my solicitor +in London.” + +Quincy laid the will upon the bed. + +“Aunt Ella, I shall not burn the will nor destroy it. I am satisfied +with the disposition of your fortune. I should have been equally well +satisfied if you had possessed other heirs. But, did you leave your +property to Quincy Adams Sawyer Junior?” + +Aunt Ella's eyes snapped with some of their old fire. + +“I've got it right. I have described my heir so carefully that there can +be no mistake. Don't you imagine that there is a chance for you to break +my will.” + +There was a smile on her face as she spoke, and Quincy smiled to show +that he did not misunderstand her pleasantry. As he turned to go, Aunt +Ella called: + +“Quincy!” + +He approached the bed again. + +“Another sip of that wine. I always liked wine--but not too much of it.” + +She beckoned to him to come nearer. “Quincy, I want you, before you go +away to have the fish cleared out of the lake. Stuart wouldn't let me +do it, and since he died I have kept them as a tribute to his memory. +He said to me, when the name dies out, let the fish die too. The name is +near death, and the fish must go. Now, send Alice to me.” + +When she came, she bent over and kissed her aunt tenderly. + +“Alice, I wish you were going with me. You know what I mean, dear. I +hope you will have long life and great happiness to make up for what +you've gone through. You have your husband back again. I am going to +mine, Robert and Stuart. There is no marriage or giving in marriage +there--only love. Quincy is going to look after the fish in the lake.” + +Aunt Ella lingered for a week, then passed quietly away while asleep. +She was laid beside Sir Stuart in the family vault, and the name +Fernborough lived only as that of a little country town in New England. + +At the funeral Quincy met his sister Florence who looked upon him as one +raised from the dead. + +“I did not forget you, Quincy, for my first-born bears your name.” + +Linda, Countess of Sussex, came with her husband the Earl, and her +daughter, the Lady Alice Hastings, a tall, statuesque blonde, in her +twenty-eighth year. + +“I've something wonderful to tell you,” said the Countess to Quincy and +his wife. “My daughter is soon to be married, but not to one of our +set. Her choice has fallen upon Mr. John Langdon, an American. He's very +wealthy, and is coming to England to live. Isn't that romantic--so out +of the usual.” + +“America loses every time,” said Quincy. “First our girls and their +father's money, and now our men and their money. In time, England will +form part of the great American nation.” + +“You mean,” said the Countess, “the great English-speaking nation,” and +Quincy bowed in acceptance of the amendment. + +The probating of the will, making arrangement for the sale of +Fernborough Hall, and providing for the payment of the proceeds and +annual income to Quincy Jr. caused a long delay, for English law +moves but little faster than it did when Jarndyce brought suit against +Jarndyce. + +Quincy Jr. and Tom were thrown on their own resources during the long +wait. London was their resort, and, to them, Scotland Yard and its +detectives, the most interesting part of the city. + +When the party finally embarked, by a coincidence, it was on the +_Gallia_ which had brought young Quincy and his companion to England +seven months before. + +No storms or heavy fogs were met upon the way, and the party was landed +safely in New York. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +O. STROUT. FINE GROCERIES + + +During the summer that the foregoing events were happening in Europe, +Mr. Hiram Maxwell, in the little New England town of Fernborough had +a serious accident happen to himself the effects of which were far +reaching, and finally affected many people. + +In unloading a barrel of sugar from a wagon, it slipped from the skid +and fell upon his leg causing a compound fracture. He was taken home, +but when the doctor was called he advised his immediate removal to the +Isaac Pettingill Free Hospital for he was afraid an amputation would be +necessary. Unfortunately, his fears proved to be true, and Hiram's right +leg was amputated just below the knee. + +“That Hiram's an unlucky cuss,” said Mr. Strout to his hearers one +evening at the grocery. “But think of me. This is our busy season and +with everything piled onto me I'm just about tuckered out. What help +will he be stumbling around on crutches?” + +“Can't he have a wooden leg?” asked Abner Stiles. + +“Yes, of course he can. An' if you lost your head and got a wooden one +in its place you'd be just as well off as you are now.” + +This remark caused a laugh at Abner which he took good-naturedly. When +Mr. Strout was out of sorts he always vented his spleen on somebody. + +“Well,” said Benoni Hill, “I'm awful sorry for Hiram with a wife and +children to support. Of course his pay will go right on, bein' as he's a +partner.” + +“I don't know about that,” said Strout. “That's for the trustees to +decide, and I've got to decide whether I'll do two men's work for one +man's pay.” + +“He would for you,” Abner blurted out. + +“If you think so much of him, why don't you come in and do his work for +him?” said Strout. + +“When you were going to buy this store, and Mr. Sawyer got ahead of yer, +yer promised me a job here as pay for some special nosin' round I'd +done fer yer--but when yer got in the saddle you forgot the feller who'd +boosted yer up. When a man breaks his word to me onct he don't do it a +second time. That's why,” and Abner went out and slammed the door after +him. + +Mr. Strout was angry, and when in that state of mind he was often +lacking in prudence in speech. + +“That comes of turning a place of business into a resort for loafers. +If I owned this store outright there'd be a big sign up somewhere--'When +you've transacted your business, think of Home Sweet Home.'” + +“I reckon that's a hint,” said Benoni Hill, as he arose and put on his +hat. “You won't be troubled with me or my trade in futur'. There are +stores in Cottonton jus' as good as this, and the proprietors are +gentlemen.” + +He left the store, and one by one the “loafers” followed him as no one +had the courage to break the silence that fell upon the company after +old Mr. Hill's departure. + +Mr. Strout, left alone to close up the store, was more angry than ever. + +“What cussed fools. I was hitting back at Abner and they thought the +coat fit and put it on. They'll come round again. They won't enjoy +tramping over to Cottonton for kerosene and molasses.” + +The store was lighted by kerosene lamps resting on brackets. It was Mr. +Strout's custom to take them down, blow them out, and replace them +on the brackets. One was always left burning, as Mr. Strout said “so +burglars could see their way round.” + +Mr. Strout's anger rose higher and higher and there was no one present +upon whom he could expend it. He grasped one of the lamps, but his hold +on the glass handle was insecure and it fell to the floor, the lamp +breaking, while the burning oil was thrown in every direction. He wished +then that some of the “loafers” were present to help him put the fire +out. There was no water nearer than the pump in the back yard. He +grabbed a pail and started to get some water. He forgot the back-steps +and fell headlong. For some minutes he was so dazed that he could do +nothing. The glare of the fire lighted up the yard, or he would have had +difficulty in filling the pail. When he returned, he saw that the fire +was beyond his control. He could not go through the store, so he climbed +the back yard fence and made his way to the front of the store crying +“Fire” at the top of his voice. + +It seemed an age to him, before anyone responded. He felt then the need +of friends, neighbours--even “loafers” would have been acceptable. + +A bucket brigade formed, but their efforts were unavailing. As the other +lamps were exploded by the heat new inflammable material was thrown +about. In a quarter of an hour the whole interior was in flames, and in +an hour only a grim, black skeleton, lighted up by occasional flashes of +flame, remained of Strout and Maxwell's grocery store. + +Next morning comment was rife. Mr. Strout had told how the fire was +caused but there were unbelievers. + +“I think the cuss set it on fire himself,” said Abner Stiles to his +employer, Mr. Ezekiel Pettingill. + +“Be careful, Abner,” was the caution given him. “It don't do to accuse a +man of anything 'less you have proof, an' your thinkin' so ain't +proof.” Mr. Strout went to Boston to see the trustees. The insurance was +adjusted and Mr. Strout was authorized to proceed with the re-building +at once. During the interim orders were filled from the Montrose store. +Fortunately, the stable and wagon shed were some distance from the +store, and had not been in danger. + +The new store was larger than the old one, and many improvements, in Mr. +Strout's opinion, were incorporated in the new structure. He ordered the +new sign. When it was put up, the whole town, including the “loafers” + were present. “I s'pose he fixed it with the trustees” said Benoni Hill +to Abner Stiles. + +“Danged if I think so,” was the reply. “He's allers been meaner'n dirt +to Hiram, an' has allers wanted to git him out. Burnin' up the store +giv' him his chance.” + +“You mean the store burnin' up,” corrected Benoni. + +“I dunno. The Bible says God works in a mysterious way his wonders to +perform, an' so do some individooals.” + +One noon after dinner, Mr. Strout said to his wife. “Bessie, put on your +things an' come down to the new store. I want to show you somethin'.” + +“And leave the dishes?” + +“You can bring 'em with you if you want to,” her husband replied. + +When they reached the store, upon which the painters were at work, he +pointed to the new sign. + +“See that? Read it out loud.” + +Mrs. Strout complied: + +“O. STROUT. FINE GROCERIES.” + +“What did I tell yer?” was his only comment. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE HOME COMING + + +Quincy desired to have his return to America unheralded by items in +the newspapers of stories of his wonderful rescue, captivity, and final +recovery of his reason, so when he booked for passage on the _Gallia_ he +gave the name of Mr. S. Adams, wife and son. + +During the homeward voyage the father and son had an opportunity to +become acquainted. The father told the story of his life at Mason's +Corner; first going back to his college days. He told his son how he had +opposed his father's wish that he would become a lawyer and sustain the +reputation of the old firm of Sawyer, Crowninshield, and Lawrence; about +his health breaking down and his visit to Mason's Corner; about the +blind girl whom he had made his wife, and how he had secured medical +assistance and her sight had been restored. Once again he lived over his +life in the country town, and told about his friends and foes--Obadiah +Strout and Bob Wood--who were enemies no longer, and honest, +good-hearted 'Zeke Pettingill, and his sweet wife, little Huldah Mason. +And Hiram who stammered so and Mandy who didn't. Nearly all the people +mentioned in their long talks were well known to young Quincy and after +his father had finished his reminiscences the young man supplied the +sequel. + +“What do you think of Mr. Strout?” asked the father. + +“Think? I know he's a dishonest man. You say that you parted friends. He +is no friend of yours or mine.” + +Then he told of his encounter with young Bob Wood. + +“I had some trouble with his father many years ago,” said Quincy. “What +did he do to you?” + +“Nothing to me. He insulted a young lady, and I took her part. Tom was +going to help me but I arranged to handle him, in a very unscientific +way though.” + +“It was a rough and tumble of the worst sort,” interjected Tom. “I was +afraid they'd bite each other before they got through.” + +“Quincy,” said his father, “you must take boxing lessons. When occasion +requires, it is the gentleman's weapon.” + +The mention of Mary Dana naturally led to a rehearsal of the Wood case, +and all Mary had done in helping Quincy at the beginning of the search +for his father. + +“I think I see which way the wind blows,” laughed his father, while +Quincy blushed to the roots of his hair, “and I want to meet the young +lady who did so much to bring us all together again.” + +Alice was proud of her son. He resembled her, having light hair and blue +eyes; a decided contrast to his father whose skin had been darkened by +Italian suns, who had dark eyes, dark hair frosted at the ends, and a +heavy beard, cut in Van Dyke fashion. Few, if any, would have recognized +in him the young man who more than twenty-three years before had taken +passage on the _Altonia_, looking forward to a pleasant trip and an +early return to his native land. + +Alice explained to her son her apparent lack of affection for him in +allowing him to be separated from her so long. + +“I knew you were with your relatives and good friends, Quincy. In my +nervous, depressed state I was poor company for a young, healthy boy. +Then, I had such a fear of the ocean I dared not go to you and was +afraid to have you come to me. Can you forgive me?” + +“My darling mother,” said young Quincy, “what you did turned out for the +best. I have been educated as an American and that fully atones for my +apparent neglect. Your beautiful letters kept you always in my mind, and +I used to take great pleasure in telling my schoolmates what a pretty +mother I had.” + +Alice, despite her years, blushed. + +“Quincy, you are like your father in praising those you love.” + +Tom gave Quincy's father graphic descriptions of the changes in +Fernborough and fully endorsed his friend's opinion of Mr. Strout. + +“He's a snake in the grass,” said Tom. “He'd pat you on the back with +one hand and cut your throat, figuratively speaking, with the other.” + +“Do you think he'd recognize me?” asked Quincy. + +“I think not,” said Tom. “His perceptive powers are not strong. He's +sub-acute rather than 'cute.” + +Quincy and Alice sat for hours looking out upon the wide expanse of +ocean, and at the blue sky above them. It did not seem possible that +so many years had passed since they were together. Memory is a great +friend. It bridged the great gap in their lives. They were lovers as of +yore, and would be always. They did not hesitate to talk of the cruel +past--not sadly, for were they not in the happy present? + +Said Alice one morning, “While you were gone I was in a terribly nervous +condition. Aunt Ella said that I must have something to employ my +mind--and I wrote, or tried to write. I couldn't keep my mind on one +thing long enough to write a story, but I have collected the material +for one, and now that I am happy once more, when we have settled down, I +am going to write it.” + +“What's the title, or, rather, the subject?” her husband inquired. + +“Oh, it opens with a ship-wreck--not a collision but a fire was +the cause. Among the passengers are many children--of high and low +degree--and they get mixed up--fall into wrong persons' hands,--fathers +and mothers are lost and cannot claim them, and their future lives have +supplied me with the strongest and most intricate and exciting plot that +I have ever constructed.” + +“Which is the 'star' child?” + +“He is the son of a Russian Grand Duke--the offspring of a morganatic +marriage--his mother is driven from the country by order of the Czar. +The title is _The Son of Sergius_.” + +They did not remain in New York but took the first train for Boston. +They were driven to the Mount Vernon Street house. + +“I knew you were coming,” cried Maude, as she ran eagerly down the steps +to meet them. + +“Who has turned traitor? I pledged them all to secrecy,” cried Quincy. + +“Harry told me, and I had a cablegram from Florence.” + +“Did she use my name? If so, we are undone and the reporters will swarm +like bees.” + +“You are safe,” said Maude. “The message read: Brother found. Keep +quiet.” + +Tom was prevailed upon to remain in Boston until Quincy could go to +Fernborough. At supper they were introduced to Maude's family. + +“Six of them,” said Quincy. “I am uncle to a numerous extent. Maude, +what are all their names--the girls first.” + +“This is Sarah, named after mother; Ella for Aunt Ella, and little Maude +for her mother.” + +“Good! Now the boys.” + +“Stuart--the old gentleman was so nice to Harry and me when we were on +our wedding tour--Nat for father, and Harry--” + +“Thank Heaven--no Quincy. That name was becoming contagious. I am glad, +Maude, that you were wise and kept the epidemic out of your family.” + +That evening Quincy and Mr. Merry talked about business matters. Harry +told of Hiram's accident and the destruction of the store by fire. + +“There's something funny about it,” said Harry. “We authorized Mr. +Strout to rebuild and restock at once, and we hear that he has done so, +but he has not called on us for a dollar, nor has he sent up any bills +for payment.” + +“I wish you would send a telegram to Mr. Ezekiel Pettingill the first +thing to-morrow morning asking him to come to the city--say important +business.” + +About three o'clock Ezekiel arrived at the office of Sawyer, +Crowninshield, Lawrence and Merry. He was shown into what had been the +late Hon. Nathaniel's private office, and came face to face with Quincy. + +“I'm heartily glad to see you again,” he exclaimed as he wrung Quincy's +helpless hand after the first surprise of the meeting. “Huldy'll be +delighted too. You must come down and tell us all about it. Just to +think--more'n twenty years--but you're looking well.” + +Quincy assured him that his health was never better. + +“What I wanted to see you about are affairs in Fernborough. What is +Strout up to?” + +“You've used just the right word. He's up to something. He's got up a +sign--O. Strout, Fine Groceries--an' says Hiram's out of the firm, and +that he owns the whole business.” + +Quincy smiled. “So, I've got to fight it out with him again, have I? +Well it will be the final conflict. To use Mr. Strout's words, one +or the other of us will have to leave town. You aren't going back +to-night?” + +“Oh, I must.” + +“Well, come up to the house first and see Alice and the boy. Well go +down to-morrow.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE FINAL CONFLICT + + +When Tom Chripp showed his father the photograph of the house in which +he was born, he burst into tears. + +“Just as pretty as ever,” he exclaimed. “The roof's been mended, beent +it, and just the same flowers all around it as when I was a boy. Tom, +I'm glad to see you back safe and sound--but that picter--Tom, when I +die, you just put that picter in the coffin with me, won't you? I want +your grandfather to see that the old place was looked after when he was +gone.” + +Tom promised. + +A dark featured, dark haired man entered Mr. Strout's store. The +proprietor knew he was a stranger--perhaps just moved into town, and a +prospective customer. + +“What can I do for you?” he inquired blandly, for he was capable of +being affable. + +“I am looking for Mr. Hiram Maxwell.” + +“He ain't here no more.” + +“But he's your partner, isn't he?” + +“Didn't you read my sign? There ain't no partner on it.” + +“There ought to be.” + +Mr. Strout looked at the stranger with astonishment. Then he laughed, +and, with a remembrance of Mr. Richard Ricker, asked sneeringly: + +“What asylum did you come from?” + +“I beg your pardon,” said the stranger. “I used to know Mr. Maxwell, and +they told me in the city that he was a member of the firm of Strout and +Maxwell.” + +“Who told ye?” + +“The trustees of the estate of Mr. Sawyer. Mr. Quincy Adams Sawyer. Did +you know him?” + +“I never knew any good of him. So they told yer, did they? That shows +how much attention they give to business. The old store was burned up +and that busted the firm. This store's mine from cellar to chimney.” + +“The old firm must have paid you well.” + +“Pretty well--but I made my money in State Street, speculating and I'm +well fixed.” + +“I'm glad to hear that you've prospered. I wish my friend Maxwell had +been as fortunate. What became of his interest and Mr. Sawyer's in the +store?” + +“Went up in smoke, didn't I tell yer?” + +“I beg your pardon,” said the stranger again. “But doesn't your store +stand on land belonging to the old firm?” + +Strout squinted at the stranger. “I guess you're a lawyer lookin' for +points, but you're on the wrong track. You won't get 'em.” + +“I'm not a lawyer, Mr. Strout. I only inquired thinking my friend Mr. +Maxwell might--” + +“Well, he won't,” said Strout. “Mr. Quincy Adams Sawyer cheated me out +of one store but he can't drive me out of this. He thought he was awful +smart, but when he bought the store he didn't buy the land. It belonged +to the town. I'm one of the selectmen, and one of the assessors found it +out and told me, and I bought it--an' this store an' way up to the sky, +and the land way down to China belongs to O. Strout.” + +“I am much obliged, Mr. Strout, for your courtesy--only one more +question and then I'll try and find my friend Mr. Maxwell--if somebody +will be kind enough to tell me where he is.” + +“You didn't ask where he was. If you want to know he's up to the +Hospital. He's had his leg off, an'll have to walk on crutches.” + +“So bad as that,--I'm _very_ sorry,” said the stranger. + +“I've got to put up some orders--see that sign?” and he pointed to one +which read: + +“When You've transacted your Business, Think of Home, Sweet Home.” + +“I beg your pardon, Mr. Strout, for taking so much of your valuable +time. Do you know whether Mr. Quincy Adams Sawyer is in town?” + +Strout laughed scornfully. “In town? That's good. Why, man, he's been +dead more'n twenty years--food for fishes, if they'd eat him, which I +doubt. He's left a boy, same name, that used to go to school here, but, +thank Heaven, he's got lots of money, and probably won't trouble us any +more. Perhaps he's the one you want.” + +“Are you sure the boy's father is dead? I saw him in Boston yesterday.” + +“I don't take any stock in any such nonsense. This ain't the days of +miracles.” + +“I saw him in this town this morning.” + +“Where?” gasped Strout. + +“Right here. That's my name, Quincy Adams Sawyer. Do you want me to +identify myself?” He stepped back, puckered up his mouth, and began +whistling “Listen to the Mocking Bird.” + +Strout was both startled and mad. “Just like you to come spyin' round. +You allers was a meddler, an' underhanded. But now you know the truth, +what are you going to do about it?” + +Quincy walked to the door. “Well, Mr. Strout, I'm going to put it about +as you did when I first came to Mason's Corner, Either you or I have got +to leave town. This is our last fight, and I'm going to win.” + +He left the store quickly and made his way to where Ezekiel was waiting +for him with the carryall. + +“Now, 'Zeke, we'll go to the Hospital and see poor Hiram.” + +They found him hobbling about on crutches in the grounds of the +Hospital. + +“How long have you been here, Hiram?” was Quincy's first question. + +“About twelve weeks. You see, besides breaking my leg I cracked my knee +pan an' that's made it wuss.” + +“We'll fix you up very soon. I'll get you an artificial leg from New +York. You'll be able to walk all right but you mustn't do any heavy +lifting.” + +“Guess I shan't have no chance to lift anything now Strout's got the +store.” + +“Don't worry about that, Hiram. There are towns that have two stores in +them. How's Mandy?” + +[Illustration: “'JUST LIKE YOU TO COME SPYIN' ROUND. YOU ALLERS WAS A +MEDDLER.'”] + +“Gettin' along all right. Mr. Pettingill, there, sends a man over to +help her, and Mrs. Crowley is as good as two any day.” + +“Don't worry, Hiram. You'll come out on top yet” + +“If I do, 'twill be because you'll put me there, I reckon.” + +As they were driving back 'Zekiel asked Quincy if he knew Mrs. Hawkins +was going to sell out. + +“No, why. Getting too old?” + +“No, she's as spry as a cat, and she's seventy odd. That ain't the +reason. Jonas is dead.” + +“What was the matter?” + +“Chickens.” + +“What--overeating?” + +“No, somebody stole his chickens. So he arranged a gun with a spring and +he must have forgotten it.” + +“He didn't 'kalkilate' on its hitting him?” + +“Guess not. Mrs. Hawkins says she's too old to marry agin, and she can't +run the house without a man she can trust.” + +“Let's stop and see her.” + +When they entered, Mrs. Hawkins threw up her hands. “Lord a Massy! I +heerd at the store all about you comin' back, but where on airth _did_ +you come from? They said you was dead an' here you are as handsome as +ever. How's your wife, an' that boy o' yourn?” + +“Both well, I'm happy to say. 'Zeke tells me you want to sell out.” + +“Yes. Now Jonas has gone there's nobody to take care of the chickens, +an' a hotel 'thout chickens an' fresh eggs is no home for a hungry man.” + +“What will you take for the place just as it stands?” + +“Well, I've figured up an' I should lose money ef I took less'n four +thousand dollars, an' I ought to have five.” + +“I'll take the refusal of it for forty-eight hours at five thousand. Is +it agreed?” + +“I'd hold it a month for you, Mister Sawyer, but I want to go and help +Mandy soon's I can now that Hiram's laid up for nobody knows how long.” + +“We'll have Hiram on his feet again very soon, Mrs. Hawkins. I'll be +down again in a few days.” + +“Give my love to Alice,” she called after them as they were driving +away. + +The next evening Quincy asked his son to come to the library with him. + +“Quincy, I want to borrow fifty thousand dollars. Can you spare it?” + +“Twice as much if you need it. I'll give it to you. It's yours anyway.” + +“No, I want to borrow it at six per cent.” + +“Are you going into business?” + +“Yes.” Then Quincy told him of his conversation with Mr. Strout. + +“How are you going to beat him?” asked young Quincy. + +“I'll tell you. I'm going to buy the Hawkins House. I shall have it +lifted up and another story put underneath. There will be room for a +store twice as large as Strout's, and a hotel entrance and office on the +ground floor. I'll put Hiram Maxwell in charge of the store.” + +“Who'll run the hotel?” + +“'Zeke says Sam Hill is the man for the place, and his wife Tilly will +be the housekeeper, chief cook, etc.” + +“Do you mean to run Mr. Strout out of town?” + +“That is my present intention. Not for personal vengeance but for the +ultimate good of the community.” + +“I'd like to help, but the work isn't in my line.” + +“Seriously speaking, Quincy, what is your line--the law?” + +“No.” + +“Business?” + +“No.” + +“What then?” + +“Don't know. Am thinking it over.” + +“Have you seen that Miss Dana yet?” + +“No. Mr. Isburn told me she is out West now on an important case.” + +“We'll get her to find Strout after he leaves Fernborough. Give me that +check to-morrow early. I'm going to Fernborough with an architect to +have plans made for the alterations.” + +Mr. Strout could look from his window and see what was going on at the +Hawkins House. + +“Who's bought the hotel, Abner?” + +“Well, Mr. Strout, they do say it's Mr. Quincy Adams Sawyer, an' that +Sam Hill and his wife Tilly are going to run it.” + +“I won't sell them a darned thing.” + +Mr. Stiles grinned. “Can't they buy in Cottonton, or Montrose, or +Eastborough? Mr. Sawyer's got stores there.” + +“Well they'll want things in a hurry, but they won't get them from me.” + +A month later Abner rushed into the store. + +“Say, Strout, they're putting up a new sign on the Hawkins House. Come +and see it.” + +Mr. Strout walked leisurely to the window and put up his hand to shade +his eyes. Great white letters on a blue ground. + +THE SAWYER GROCERY COMPANY + +“By George, Strout, there's going to be another grocery.” + +Mr. Strout did not speak, but walked back behind the counter. Abner went +to see the sign raising. + +Mr. Strout soliloquized: “So, he's going to fight me, is he? Well, I'll +spend every dollar I have, and borrow some more, before I'll give in. +He'll cut prices--so will I.” + +Then a troubled look came into his face. + +“Confound it. My commission as postmaster runs out in a month, but our +Congressman is a good friend of mine.” + +Opening night came at the new store, Saturday being selected. Over the +doorway was an electric sign-- + +WELCOME TO ALL + +Mr. Strout's store was nearly deserted. About ten o'clock Abner came in. + +“I say, Strout, it's just scrumptious. They got three times as many +goods as you have. An' there's a smoking room back of the store with +a sign over the door _'Exclusively for Loafers. Loaf and Enjoy Your +Soul.'_ They say a poet feller named Whitman writ that last part. +Saturday morning is to be bargain day and everything is to be sold +at half price. And, say, isn't the hotel fine? Everybody was invited +upstairs, an' there was a free lunch spread out.” + +“Abner, you've talked enough. You'd better go home.” + +The warfare continued for three months. At the end of the first, Hiram +Maxwell, an old soldier, was appointed postmaster, _vice_ Obadiah +Strout. At the end of the second month Mr. Strout resigned his position +as organist and the gentleman who led the orchestra that played during +the evening at the hotel was chosen in his stead. At the end of the +third month a red flag was seen hanging at the door of Mr. Strout's +store and Mr. Beers the auctioneer whose once rotund voice had now +become thin and quavering, sold off the remaining stock and the +fixtures. Then the curtains were pulled down and the door locked. The +next day Mr. and Mrs. Strout and family left town. + +“What's become of Strout?” Quincy asked his son, who had just returned +from Fernborough. Another month had passed since the auction sale. + +“I heard he was seen on State Street a few days ago, and he said the +best move he ever made was leaving that one-horse country town; that he +could make more money in a day in State Street than he could in a month +in the grocery business. It seems he has become what they call a curb +broker or speculator.” + +“I am glad,” said Quincy, “that Mr. Strout has found a more profitable +and congenial field. It must have been very dull for him the last three +months of his stay in that one-horse town.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +TOM, JACK AND NED + + +Quincy decided to have his company incorporated. This necessitated +visits to the Secretary of the Commonwealth and the Tax Commissioner. +The amount paid in cash capital was $200,000. Besides the four stores +doing business, sixteen more were contemplated in Boston, Cambridge, +Lowell, Lawrence, Fall River, New Bedford, and other small cities and +large towns. + +The design was not to form a trust with a view of controlling certain +food products and raising prices, but to establish a line of stores in +which the best grade at the lowest cash price should be the rule. This +price was to be fixed for the Boston store and was to be the same in all +the stores. + +“Whom shall I put in charge of the Boston store, Quincy?” his father +asked. “He will have to be general manager for the whole circuit.” + +“I know a man,” said young Quincy, “who is honest, conscientious, and a +perfect tiger for work, but he knows nothing about the grocery business. +He has adaptability, that valuable quality, but, while learning, he +might make some costly mistakes.” + +“I want you to act as Treasurer for the company. It's your money, and +you should handle it.” + +“I've no objection to drawing checks. We sha'n't have to borrow any +money for there's half a million available any time. Why didn't you have +a larger capital, father?” + +“Because the State taxes it so heavily; but there's no tax on borrowed +money. The fellow who lends pays that.” + +“If I loan money do I have to pay taxes on it when I haven't got it?” + +“Certainly, and you pay just the same if there's no prospect of its ever +being repaid.” + +“That's funny.” + +“Funny! Why, our Massachusetts tax laws are funnier than a comic +almanac, and about as sensible.” + +Quincy took up a pen and began writing. + +“What are you writing, father?” + +“I'll show you in a few minutes.” + +“How will that do?” + +Quincy read: + + QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER, _President_. QUINCY + ADAMS SAWYER, Jr., _Treasurer_. THOMAS CHRIPP, + _General Manager_. Cash Capital, $200,000. + + Cable, _Vienna_. 20 _Stores_. + + THE SAWYER GROCERY COMPANY, INC. + + Wholesale and Retail. + +“Just the man I had in mind, father. You can depend upon him every time, +and he'll keep his subordinates right up to the mark.” + +Upon his return to his native state Quincy had found many of his old +friends still in office. The governor and higher officials were only +annuals--some not very hardy at that--while the minor officials, in +many cases, were hardy perennials, whom no political hot weather or cold +storm could wither or destroy. + +A presidential campaign was on, and speakers, for there were few +orators, were in demand. Quincy's visits to so many cities inspecting +the Company's stores had brought him in contact with hundreds of local +politicians. One day there came a call from the State Committee to come +in and see the Secretary. + +“Do you want to do something for the party?” asked Mr. Thwing, the +Secretary. + +“I have already subscribed,” said Quincy. “Do you need more?” + +“Money talks,” said Mr. Thwing, “and so do you. I have a score of +letters from different cities asking me to add you to our list of +speakers, and to be sure and let the writers hear you.” + +“I had no intention--” Quincy began. + +“You're an ex-governor, and know all the State. Aren't you in the +grocery business in a big way?” + +“Rather.” + +“'Twill boom your business in great style. Better even for groceries +than boots and shoes, for food is a daily consumption.” + +“I wouldn't go on the stump just to advertise my business.” + +“Of course not. You would take just what the gods provided and ask no +questions, and make no comments. Shall we put you down for, say, twenty +nights?” + +Quincy consented, but he stipulated that he was not to be placed in any +city or town where he had a store. + +Mr. Thwing vehemently objected. “Why, the men who want you to come live +where the stores are.” + +“I can't help it. Put me in the next town, and if they're so anxious to +hear me they'll come.” + +After the campaign was over, the votes cast, and the victory won, Mr. +Thwing said, “That was a good business idea of yours, Governor, about +your not going into the towns where your stores were. Of course you +instructed your general manager.” + +“I don't know what you mean,” said Quincy. + +“Didn't you know when you spoke in places adjoining those in which you +had stores that your Mr. Chripp, I think that's the name--just flooded +the towns with circulars announcing that you were to speak and that +you were the President of the grocery company doing business in +the adjoining city, that your goods were the best, your prices the +lowest--and that your teams would deliver goods free of charge in all +places within five miles?” + +Mr. Thwing stopped to take breath, and Quincy nearly lost his in +astonishment. + +“Great business idea, Mr. Sawyer.” + +“I knew nothing about it. I should have stopped it had I known.” + +“Why so? You got a double ad. Bright man that Chripp. You'll have to +raise his salary.” + +Quincy did not reply. The deed was done, and a public explanation would +do no good. Chripp surely had his employer's interests at heart, even if +he had mixed politics and business rather too openly. The next month's +statement showed a great increase in trade. Mr. Chripp was not called +to account, but his salary was materially increased at the suggestion of +young Quincy. + +The new President had been inaugurated, the Cabinet nominees confirmed, +and the distribution of political “plums” began. Quincy felt that the +lightning had struck in the wrong place when he was approached and +sounded as to whether he would accept a foreign mission. He talked the +matter over with his wife. + +“Quincy,” said she, “I would go, if I were you.” + +“Are you not happy here?” + +“Yes, and no. Happy to be near my son, and relatives and friends; no, +because your business takes you away so much that I see little of you. +If you take the mission, I shall have you with me all the time. I am +selfish, I know, but it is my love for you that makes me so.” + +The Hon. Quincy Adams Sawyer was nominated and confirmed as Ambassador +to Austria-Hungary. Alice had made the selection. + +“Let us go to Vienna, Quincy. It was there we met after our long +separation--and, this is purely a personal matter, I wish to study the +scenes of my story, 'The Son of Sergius,' at close range.” + +Before Quincy's departure it had been decided to lease the Beacon Street +house for four years. Maude was given her choice but preferred the house +in Mount Vernon Street where she had lived since her marriage. + +Young Quincy was obliged to take bachelor quarters which he found at +Norumbega Chambers. + +His suite consisted of a sitting-room, two sleeping rooms each with +bath, and a small room intended for a library or study, and which was +utilized by him as an office. + +Quincy went down the harbour with his father and mother on the ocean +liner, returning on the tug with Tom. On the way back young Quincy took +a small envelope from his pocket and extracted a short note which he +had read at least a dozen times since its receipt. It was from Miss +Mary Dana and informed him that she had returned to Boston and would +be pleased to see him, the next day, at her office with the Isburn +Detective Bureau. + +It was a cold, raw day in the early part of April and when they reached +the city Quincy was taken with a chill. When they reached Norumbega +Chambers the chill had turned to a fever, and Tom suggested sending for +a doctor. Quincy stoutly protested against any such action being taken, +but Tom summoned one despite his objections. In this way, Quincy became +acquainted with John Loring Bannister, M. D. + +Dr. Bannister was unknown to his patient when he paid his first visit, +and was professionally non-communicative, but he told him afterwards, +when their acquaintance had ripened to such an extent that the names +Quincy and Jack took the place of more formal designations, that it +had always seemed a wonder to him that he had survived. Quincy, with no +intention of indulging in flattery, replied that if a certain physician +had not been called in he, probably, would not have done so. + +Quincy's condition on the second day was so low, indeed, that Dr. +Bannister told Tom if his friend had not made a will he had better do +so. Tom's first thought was to send for Mr. Merry, but he decided that +might lead to a charge of family influence, and he appealed to the +doctor. + +Dr. Bannister told Tom he was well acquainted with a young lawyer +and that he would send him up to see Mr. Sawyer. Quincy was in such a +condition when Lawyer Edward Everett Colbert made his first visit, that +if he had been asked the name of the principal beneficiary he would +probably have told the lawyer to let it go to the Devil. The second time +that Mr. Colbert called, Quincy's physical will had resumed control and +he had no need of any other. + +When convalescing Quincy said to Tom, when the nurse was absent, “If +you thought I was going to die, why didn't you send for Aunt Maude, +and--and--you know whom I mean--Miss Dana?” + +“I saw them every day, but you were too weak to see them, but if--they +would have been summoned.” + +“Tom, your head is so level that a plane couldn't make a shaving.” + +Tom was obliged to be away daytimes, the buying for twenty stores +requiring much travel. + +Dr. Bannister and Lawyer Colbert were occasional visitors and Quincy +received a manifest mental exhilaration from his intercourse with them. +His sickness had led him to think about the future. Was he to live and +die as the treasurer of a grocery company? Had he no higher ideal? + +A story told by Jack and Ned, which they knew to be true, because they +were the principal actors therein, led Quincy to give himself up to some +mighty thinking. + +The story was related one evening in the sitting-room when Tom was +present. + +“What I'm going to tell,” began Ned, “will include much more than I saw +or knew myself, but it all comes from authentic sources. I shall omit +names, since they are unessential. + +“Among my clients was an old gentleman, over seventy years of age, but +still erect and vigorous. One morning I received a letter requesting me +to call at his house. I found him in bed feeling all tired out. He said +he had never had a doctor in his life. + +“The doctor, here, assures me that those people who never need a +doctor until they are well advanced in life are not likely to require +a physician's services more than once. The next call is for the +undertaker.” + +“That's so,” broke in Jack; “it's the person who is continually calling +upon a doctor for every little ailment who lives to an old age, +for instead of letting disease creep upon him, he calls for medical +assistance as soon as he experiences any derangement of his physical +system. If all the people would follow this plan, it would increase the +longevity of the human race.” + +“And materially increase the income of the medical profession,” added +Quincy. + +“It proved to be the old gentleman's first and last sickness. In order +that you may fully understand the wonderful event which took place the +night he died, I shall have to give you a history of his family.” + +Quincy consulted his watch. “It is now but a few minutes past seven. I +will give you until midnight, my usual time for retiring.” + +“I have an engagement at ten or thereabouts,” said Jack, “but it's a +matter of life instead of death.” + +Ned continued: “My client had a son and daughter, both married. They +were good children and loved their father on the American plan. The son +had married an avaricious woman, while the daughter was married to a man +who was not so avaricious as his sister-in-law. The old gentleman was +very wealthy and like all good children they were thinking of the time +when the property would be divided.” + +“I see signs of a family squabble,” remarked Quincy. + +“It came to pass,” said Ned. “The French have a maxim which says it +is advisable to search for the woman in all mysterious cases. In this +instance, the woman did not wait to be searched for but came of her own +accord. She insisted upon having the card bearing the name of Mrs. James +Bliss sent up to the sick man; when he saw it he, in turn, insisted upon +seeing the woman. The family wished to be present at the interview but +my client demanded a private conversation which lasted for an hour. + +“Jack had been in daily attendance as a physician, but I was not sent +for until the day following Mrs. Bliss's visit. He had told his son that +he wished to make his will, and the son told the other members of the +family. They wished him to make a will, of course, but they were afraid +that woman had exercised undue influence. As the son expressed it, the +better way would be to let the law make the decision. + +“My client insisted upon seeing me alone. He told me the woman's story. +Many years before, when my client was a poor man, her father had set him +up in business. He had told his daughter of the loan before his death, +and her visit was to ask for payment as she was a widow and poor, with +three children to support. + +“My client directed me to put her in the will for fifty thousand +dollars, saying the original loan at six per cent, would amount to fully +that amount. + +“The son, when told the story by me made no objection to the bequest +but the son's wife and the son-in-law declared that the note she had +was outlawed and that she shouldn't have a cent. The son-in-law put a +private detective on her track who learned that Mrs. Bliss was a test +and trance medium, and that she gave materialization séances at private +houses. The whole family then declared her to be a fraud and impostor, +and declared their intention of breaking the will if it was signed. + +“Now we are getting to the lively part of the story. The will was ready +for signing. It was about five minutes past six when I was admitted and +I went right up to my client's room. I had been there about five minutes +when Jack came in. He was followed by the entire family, the son-in-law +having been chosen to prevent the signing of the will. + +“Then occurred a sensational episode. Mrs. Bliss came to inquire about +my client's condition and the unsuspecting nurse admitted her. She came +directly to the room where we were all assembled.” + +“A strong situation for a play,” remarked Quincy. + +“They played it,” said Ned. “The son-in-law took Mrs. Bliss into an +adjoining room and ordered her to stay there. Then he returned. This was +to be a Waterloo but he was the Wellington. + +“My client was propped up in bed, a pen placed in his hand, while the +document rested on a large book which Jack held. + +“The son-in-law began the oratory. 'I protest,' he screamed. 'This +sacrilege, this injustice shall not be done with my consent.' What was +it you said to him, Jack?” + +“I told him unless he stopped talking in such an excited manner, +and made less noise, it would have a very prejudicial effect upon my +patient's health. + +“The son-in-law then denounced Mrs. Bliss as an adventuress, and that +she had no legal claim upon his father-in-law. His loud voice and +violent gestures were too much for the invalid. The pen dropped from +his nerveless fingers and he fell back exhausted. I think you had better +take it up now, Ned.” + +“All right. You gave me a chance to rest my voice. Yes, thank you,” as +Tom passed him a glass of water. + +Ned resumed, “The door was opened and Mrs. Bliss looked in. 'Has he +signed?' she asked. + +“'No, he hasn't,' yelled the son-in-law, 'and while I live he never +shall' Now you come in again, Jack.” + +“'Ladies and gentlemen.' said I, 'this excitement must stop. As medical +adviser I order you all to leave the room.' They objected, but I told +them if they didn't, I should resign charge of the case and refuse to +give a death certificate unless there was an inquest. That frightened +them, and they all went out, the son-in-law escorting Mrs. Bliss.” + +“We propped up the patient again, and I gave him some brandy. He said, +'I must sign.' He took the pen and made a ragged, disjointed capital +'T.' + +“The pen dropped from his hand and he fell back upon the pillow. Ned put +the unsigned will in his pocket. I found that the end was very near and +I told Ned to call the family. Now, it's your turn, Ned.” + +“I told the family they had better go to their father's room at once. +Mrs. Bliss arose with the intention of following them but I told her she +was not one of the family; that she could remain with me as my services +were no longer needed. She turned to me and asked: 'Was it signed?' I +shook my head. Without a word she sank upon the nearest chair and buried +her face in her arms. + +“I stood irresolute. The spectacle of this silent woman, speechless +because she was to be deprived of what was justly due her, was a +situation with which I did not know how to deal. I was saved the +necessity of saying or doing anything by the sudden entrance of Jack who +cried: 'Ned, it's all over; he's dead.'” + +“Now comes the wonderful, inexplainable, part of the story. There was a +single gas-burner alight in the room. It was turned down low; faces were +discernible, but the room was only half lighted. Hearing a movement, +Jack and I turned towards Mrs. Bliss. She had lifted her head from the +table and was gazing directly at us. Her eyes were open, but they had +a glassy look. Then it seemed as though the room was gradually becoming +darker and darker, until the darkness became intense. + +“My first thought was that Mrs. Bliss had put out the gas. Before I had +time to question her, Jack and I caught sight of a white spot that was +approaching us from the corner of the room nearest the doorway which led +into the hallway. This light, which was no larger than a man's hand at +first, increased in size and intensity until it covered a space at least +two feet wide and six feet high. I must admit that my hair was inclined +to stand on end.” + +“And mine too,” exclaimed Jack. + +“Suddenly,” said Ned, “the light, which was nebulous, began to fall away +in places and assume a shape like the form of a man. Then the portion +where a man's head ought to be, assumed the appearance of one. Jack and +I clasped hands and retreated to the farther corner of the room. This +act on our part was purely voluntary. If I had possessed a Remington +rifle, six Colt's revolvers, and a dynamite bomb, I should have backed +out just the same. + +“We could not remove our eyes from the glittering, moving, thing; and +now a most surprising change took place. The light seemed to leave the +figure, so that it was not visible as a light, and yet it filled the +room with a radiant glow. + +“Who was that who stood before us? Could we believe our eyes? Were they +playing us a trick? Were we the victims of a too active imagination? No, +there could be no mistake. The form that stood before us was that of the +man who lay dead in the next room. + +“Turning towards us, from the form came the words distinctly spoken--'It +must be signed!' The figure pointed to the table near which Mrs. Bliss +still sat in an apparently unconscious state. I took the will from +my pocket, opened it, advanced to the table, and laid it thereon. The +figure reached out its right hand and beckoned. The thought came to +me that he wanted a pen. There was none in the room. Jack divined the +situation as quickly as I did and took his stylographic pen from his +visiting book, fitted it for use, and laid it on the table beside the +will. The form advanced, took up the pen, joined a small letter to the +capital 'T' already written, and finished out the name in full. + +“The form then laid the pen upon the table and pointed to the places set +apart for witnesses. I wrote my name, Edward Everett Colbert, and Jack +put his,--John Loring Bannister, under mine.” + +“Did the form sit down?” asked Quincy. + +“No. The only chair near the table was the one in which Mrs. Bliss sat. +I could not resist the inclination to whisper in Jack's ear: 'What do +you think of that?' We both turned with the intention of taking another +look at 'That,' but it had disappeared and the gas was burning at about +half-light. + +“Mrs. Bliss arose from her seat with a pleasant smile on her face. 'You +said that he had signed it--I understood you to say so, did I not?' +I said nothing, but drew the will from my pocket and pointed to the +signatures. Then Jack said it was his duty to see the sorrowing family +and for me to escort Mrs. Bliss to a car. + +“Jack and I took dinner together in a private room at Young's the next +day. We decided that it was my duty to present the will for probate. +Although it is presumed by the statutes of this Commonwealth that a +will is signed by a living man, I was unable to find anything in said +statutes to prevent a dead man, if he were so disposed and able, or +enabled, doing so.” + +“Of course the will was presented for probate,” said Quincy. + +“It was,” replied Ned, “and despite the energetic efforts of the +avaricious son-in-law, was admitted. His lawyer brought up the point +that the will should have had three witnesses, but I showed him the +note, told him Mrs. Bliss's story, and declared that I would fight the +case up to the Supreme Court if necessary. + +“There was no doubt in the mind of the registrar as to the authenticity +of the will for was it not duly signed and witnessed by Dr. Bannister, +a physician of the highest repute, and Lawyer Colbert, a bright and +shining light of the legal profession?” + +“Your story taxes my credulity,” said Quincy, “but I will not allow it +to break our friendship. Tom, kindly ring for that supper to be sent +up.” He looked at his watch. “Doctor, you've time to spare. 'Tis only +nine-thirty.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +THE GREAT ISBURN RUBY + + +Mr. Irving Isburn, the proprietor of the great detective bureau was over +seventy years of age, and, although he still had a general supervision +over the business, and was in his office for a short time anyway, nearly +every day, he was leaving the details more and more to his subordinates. +From the very beginning Mary Dana had made wonderful improvement in her +detective work, and the results of her last case, on which she had been +kept in the West for several months, were so satisfactory that she was +given practically the entire management of the Bureau. + +One day, shortly after her return from the West, Mr. Isburn called +her into his private office. He took great interest in electrical +inventions, and had one in his office of a decidedly novel design. Back +of his office chair, standing against the wall, just behind the door +that led into the hallway, was a mahogany bookcase fully seven feet +in height. Upon the top were several valuable statuettes, but the +most noticeable object was a rosy-cheeked apple. It was not really an +apple--only an imitation of one--made of brass. Using the stem as a +handle, the upper portion of the apple could be lifted off, forming a +cover. The apple was fastened firmly to the top of the bookcase. + +While talking over the case in hand with her employer, Miss Dana chanced +to fix her eyes upon the brass apple. + +“Mr. Isburn, why do you keep that peculiar ornament on the top of your +bookcase?” + +“Oh, you mean the apple. It contains something that is very valuable. +The method of opening it is a secret, but as somebody may succeed in +doing so some day I will show you its contents, for otherwise I might be +unable to prove that it contained anything.” + +He opened a secret drawer in his desk, inserted his forefinger and, +apparently, pressed a button. The doors of the bookcase flew open as +if by magic, and, at the same time, a bell inside the bookcase rang +sharply. Miss Dana watched each motion of her employer intently. + +“That is all done by electricity,” said he. “But it does something +else--opens the apple.” + +He reached up and lifted the cover. Then he removed something from the +apple and placed it in Miss Dana's hand. + +“Oh, how lovely!” she exclaimed. + +It was a ring made of the finest gold and containing an immense ruby. + +“That,” said her employer, “I call the Isburn Ruby. It belonged to my +mother, and it is precious to me, both on account of its great intrinsic +value, and as an heirloom.” + +He dropped it into the brass apple, replaced the cover, and shut the +doors of the bookcase. + +“That cover can only be removed when the bookcase doors are open; they +can only be opened by touching the button in the secret drawer in my +desk, and, even then, a notice of the opening is given by the electric +bell. I think the ruby is well protected, but if anybody steals it I +shall call upon you to find the thief.” + +Miss Dana said, laughingly, that she feared she would never have a +chance to distinguish herself in that direction. + +About a fortnight later, Mr. Isburn sat at his desk one morning opening +his mail. He was so preoccupied with an interesting letter containing an +account of the very mysterious disappearance of a young woman, that +he was not aware, for some time, of the presence of a person who stood +beside his desk. + +He looked up, suddenly, and saw a pretty girl, dressed in picturesque +Italian costume, holding a basket filled with roses, pinks, and other +cut flowers. Mr. Isburn was passionately fond of flowers and kept a vase +filled with them upon his desk. He selected a large bunch of flowers +made up of the different kinds. + +At that moment the door was opened and a clerk appeared: “Mr. Isburn, +there is a call for you on the long distance telephone.” + +“I will be back in a moment,” he said to the flower girl, as he went +into an adjoining room. The telephone bell was being rung continuously, +and he called “Hello” several times before the tintinnabulation ceased. + +The call was from a town some fifty miles away. The operator informed +him that No. 42 wished her to tell him that she had a valuable clue in +case T 697 and would not return for several days. Mr. Isburn knew that +No. 42 was Miss Dana. + +He returned to his office. The young Italian girl still stood by his +desk holding the basket of flowers. He gave her more than the amount she +asked for, and, bowing low and smiling, she left the office: Referring +to his call index, he found that T 697 was that of a young man, +Tarleton, belonging to a wealthy family, who was the buyer for a +manufactory of electrical machines. In their construction, a large +quantity of platinum was used, a metal more valuable, weight for weight, +than gold. His purchases had been very heavy, but a checking up of stock +used showed that not half of it had been applied to actual construction. +The question was--“What had become of the missing metal?” and that +question it was No. 42's business to answer. + +Mr. Isburn was a frequenter of clubs and social functions, partly +because he enjoyed them, but, principally, because many valuable clues +had been run across while attending them. + +He had been invited to be a guest at a reception tendered to an Indian +Maharajah. He knew that the East Indian princes were profuse in their +use of gems and he decided to wear the ruby, for it was a beautiful +stone and would be sure to attract the Maharajah's attention. On opening +the brass apple he found, to his astonishment, that the ring was gone. +Three days later Miss Dana returned and made her report on the Tarleton +case. The young man had stolen the platinum, sold it, and lost the money +in speculation. His rich father had made good the company's loss, and +there would be no prosecution. + +“He'll be a bigger criminal some day,” remarked Mr. Isburn. + +“Money saved him,” said Miss Dana. “While I was in the town a workman +stole a pound of brass screws--he is a poor inventor and needed them to +complete a model, and he got six months in jail.” + +“Miss Dana, what punishment would be adequate for the thief who stole my +ruby?” + +She laughed, and said: “Anybody smart enough to do it, should have a +reward.” + +“The reward,” said he, “will go to the one who finds and returns it.” + +“You are joking, Mr. Isburn.” + +“I wish I were. No, it is gone. I cannot imagine how it was possible for +any one to get possession of that ring. Only you and I knew how to open +the bookcase doors, and I would as soon suspect myself as you.” + +“I am glad that you have that opinion,” said Miss Dana. “I have thought +several times that I was sorry that you told me about it, for I have +felt that if anything happened I should be an object of suspicion.” + +“Oh, no,” cried Mr. Isburn. “No such suspicion ever entered my mind. I +could not be so mean and ungenerous as to think such a thing. The +only person I suspect is an Italian girl who came in here to sell some +flowers. It was the day I received the long distance telephone message +from you in regard to the Tarleton case. I was only out of the room a +few minutes, and when I came back she was standing just where I left +her.” + +“It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack to find that girl,” + said Miss Dana. + +“Yes, those Italian girls look very much alike. She was one of medium +height, as a great many women are. You are of medium height, Miss Dana, +so that is a very poor clue to work upon. She had dark hair.” + +“Mine is light,” remarked Miss Dana. + +“I did not notice the colour of her eyes--probably black.” + +“Mine are blue.” + +“Her complexion was dark.” + +“Well, I surely have not a dark complexion.” + +“What do you mean?” asked Mr. Isburn. + +“You talk as though you were, in some way, connected with this affair.” + +“But I am.” + +“How so?” and Mr. Isburn's voice betrayed his astonishment. + +“Don't you remember saying if the ring was lost or stolen that you +should call upon me to recover it?” + +“Why, yes, I do remember. If you find it, you shall have a big reward. +If found, I am going to give the ring to a young lady.” + +“Who is she? Pardon my hasty inquisitiveness.” + +“My niece, Rose Isburn. She is my only brother's daughter. He has just +died and left her in my charge. Nothing has happened since I began my +professional career that has so puzzled and disgusted me as the loss +of that ring. I thought myself acute, and I am outwitted by a chit of a +girl. I think I'll sell out, take my niece to Europe and marry her off +to a Prince or a Duke.” + +“Don't do it!” laughed Miss Dana. “Leave her your money, and let her +choose some honest, clean, young American.” + +“Well, I think you are right,” answered Mr. Isburn, laughing at Mary's +half serious, half comic air, “but I must first sell my business. Will +you find me a purchaser? I want to travel, and loaf the rest of my life. +I've had my fill of adventure and excitement.” + +“Perhaps you can find a purchaser while I'm finding the ring. As you +say, your description of her is very meagre. But she was a flower girl +and that is one point gained.” + +“But she may be selling oranges or dragging a hand-organ to-day.” + +“True,” replied Miss Dana, “and she may be selling flowers again +to-morrow,” and the conversation dropped. + +About a week later, Miss Dana entered Mr. Isburn's private office. There +was a smile upon her face, as she cried: + +“I have been successful!” + +“You usually are,” Mr. Isburn remarked, not comprehending to what she +alluded. + +“You will be somewhat surprised, no doubt, when I tell you--that I have +recovered the ruby!” + +Mr. Isburn sprang to his feet. + +“I know that you are a truthful young woman, Miss Dana, but, pardon me, +I shall disbelieve your statement, until the ruby is once more in my +hands.” + +“I have not only recovered the ruby, but I have induced the Italian girl +who took it--” + +“By George!” cried Isburn, “I always suspected her.” + +“I have induced the culprit, Mr. Isburn, to come here and place it in +your hands.” + +“Well, you're a wonder, Miss Dana. You should give up being a detective +and become a teacher of morals.” + +Miss Dana ignored his suggestion. “I have her in my office and the door +is locked. You see, I have the key here,” and she held it up for his +inspection. + +“She is quite overcome at being discovered. I am going to talk with her +for a few minutes. You may come, say, in ten minutes. The door will be +unlocked if she is ready. I shall be with her to witness the restitution +of your property.” + +Never did ten minutes pass so slowly as did those to Mr. Isburn. He +placed his watch upon his desk and watched each minute as it slowly +ticked away. When the time was up, he went to the door of Miss Dana's +office. He turned the knob--the door opened at a slight pressure, and +he entered. In a chair by the window, with her head bowed, sat a young +Italian girl. As Isburn approached her; he glanced about the room, but +Miss Dana was not present. + +“Signorita,” he said, “I am informed that you have come to restore the +ring which you took from me.” Then he noticed by her side was the same +basket in which she had brought the flowers, but this time it was empty. + +She rose to her feet and looked into his eyes with a glance of mute +appeal. She took up the basket, and walked towards the door, beckoning +to him to follow. Without resenting the incongruity of the situation, he +did so. They passed through the hallway and into his private office. + +She lifted the cover of one side of the basket and took from it a small +parcel. She removed the tissue paper disclosing a bunch of cotton wool. +From this she extracted the jewel that he prized so highly. + +He reached forward to take it, but she drew back. She first shut down +the cover of the basket. Then she went to the desk, opened the private +drawer and pressed the button. The bookcase doors flew open. Her next +move was to place the basket in front of the bookcase. Stepping upon it, +which enabled her to reach the apple, she removed the cover, and dropped +the ring into its receptacle, replaced the cover, stepped down and took +up her basket, then closed the bookcase doors. + +“And that's how you did it,” ejaculated Isburn, greatly astonished at +her coolness and audacity. “But how did you find out how to open the +bookcase doors?” + +“You told me,” said the girl in good English, the first words she had +spoken. + +“I told you?” he cried. + +The Italian girl had a fit of uncontrollable laughter. + +“Have you forgotten the old adage, Mr. Isburn, that it is a good plan to +set a thief to catch a thief?” + +Isburn sank into a chair. “Can I believe my ears? Miss Dana?” + +“Exactly,” said the young woman. “This is one of my make-ups. This is +what I wore when I discovered the clue that led to the arrest of Corona +in that Italian murder case.” + +“But I don't understand yet,” cried Isburn. “How could you be here as an +Italian flower girl when you telephoned me from a place more than fifty +miles away?” + +“Money will do a great deal,” replied Miss Dana, “but you must tell your +subordinates what to do for the money. I induced the operator in that +little country town to give you to understand that I was still there. +The fact was, I left the noon before, located young Tarleton, turned +him over to the police, and was in the city by 8 o'clock. I told the +operator to keep on ringing until you came for you were very deaf. +Pardon me for that, but I was afraid you would hear the bell when the +bookcase doors opened. Now, you know all, and I await my discharge.” + +Mr. Isburn looked serious. “Miss Dana, I see but one matter to be +arranged now, and that is your half-interest in the business. You know I +told you that if you found the ruby I would take you as a partner.” + +“Oh, that's all a joke,” cried Miss Dana. “What I did was for fun. I +only wished to show you how the thing could be done, and I beg your +pardon for causing you so many hours of uneasiness on account of the +supposed loss of your valuable ring.” + +“Yes,” said Mr. Isburn, “I feel as though you should make some atonement +for the disquietude you have caused me. I shall insist upon going to +Europe with Rose, and you must manage the business while we are gone, as +full partner.” + +“The staff won't take orders from a woman.” + +“Yes, they will, if you tell them how you fooled me. If they object +then, call for their resignations and engage a new force.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +“IT WAS SO SUDDEN” + + +The Hotel Cawthorne was, in some respects, a correct designation but in +others a misnomer. It had rooms to let, or rather suites, and it had a +clerk. So far, a hostelry. It had no dining room, no bar, no billiard +room, no news-stand, no barber shop, no boot-black, no laundry--and in +these respects, at least, it belied its name. + +Some childless couples, some aged ones with married children, many young +men, a few confirmed old bachelors, and a few unmarried women roomed +therein. On stormy days, or when their inclinations so prompted, the +tenants could have meals served in their rooms at a marked increase over +hotel rates. + +But the “Cawthorne” was exclusive, and for that reason, principally, +Miss Dana had chosen it as her city domicile. Tenants were not +introduced to each other, and one could live a year within its walls +without being obliged to say good morning to any one, with the possible +exceptions of the housekeeper, or the elevator man, but that was not +compulsory, but depended upon the tenant's initiative. + +Every hotel has an “out”; at the “Cawthorne” it was an “in.” The “in” + was Mr. Lorenzo Cass, the clerk and general _factotum_. His besetting +sin was inordinate curiosity, but it was this oftentime disagreeable +quality which particularly commended him to the ex-Rev. Arthur +Borrowscale, the owner of the “Cawthorne.” + +Mr. Borrowscale had not given up the ministry on account of advanced +age, for he was only forty; nor on account of physical infirmity, for +he was a rugged specimen of manhood and enjoyed the best of health. His +critics, and all successful men have them, declared that he had forsaken +the service of God for that of Mammon. While officiating, he had +received a large salary. Being a bachelor, he had lived economically and +invested his savings in real estate. He was the owner of six tenement +houses--models of their kind, and the “Cawthorne.” Before leaving +college, he had loved a young girl named Edith Cawthorne. She had died, +and at her grave he had parted with her,--and love of women, but, +that sentiment was not wholly dead within him, the name of his hotel +attested. + +He had another attribute; he was intensely moral. The “Cawthorne” was +his pride, but he had a constant fear that some undesirable--that is, +immoral--person would find lodgment in his caravansary. For certain +reasons, Mr. Cass was indispensable. He had been a “high roller” until +he came under the Rev. Mr. Borrowscale's tutelage. + +“Mr. Cass, you know the bad when you see it--I do not. The reputation of +my house must be like Caesar's ghost--above suspicion.” + +He had said “ghost.” He had seen but two plays--“Hamlet” and “Julius +Caesar,” and for that reason his dramatic inaccuracy may be excused. + +So Mr. Cass became a moral sleuth, and woe betide an applicant for +rooms, and occasional board, who could not produce unimpeachable +references, and point to an unsullied record in the past. + +Miss Dana's respectability and social standing had been abundantly +vouched for, and her financial responsibility had been demonstrated by +monthly payments in advance. + +It was the first evening Quincy had been out since his illness. + +“Is Miss Dana in?” asked Quincy as he presented his card to Mr. Cass. + +“I am quite positive she is. I am strengthened in this belief by the +fact that she had her supper sent up to her room. A fine specimen of +womanhood, and a remarkable appetite for so lovely a creature.” + +Quincy had an inclination to brain him with the telephone stand, but +restrained his murderous impulse. + +“Will you please send up my card?” was his interrogatory protest against +further enumeration of Miss Dana's charms and gastronomic ability. “No +need to do so, Mr. Sawyer,” for he had inspected the card carefully. “We +have a private telephone in each room. Will you await her in the public +parlour?” + +“Hasn't she more than one room?” + +“Oh, yes; a three room suite, sitting-room, boudoir, which I am sure she +uses more as a study, a chamber--and private bath.” + +Quincy said, “I would prefer to see her in her sitting-room.” + +“Oh, certainly,” replied Mr. Cass. “Our rules are only prohibitive in +the case of single chambers or alcove suites, when the caller and tenant +are of opposite sexes. The proprietor--he was formerly a clergyman--is +tenacious on certain points.” + +“And so am I,” was Quincy's response, for his temper was rising, +“and you will oblige me by communicating with Miss Dana at once, and +informing her of my desire to see her.” + +“Oh, certainly,” replied Mr. Cass, “but my employer, who, as I have +said, was formerly a clergyman, is tenacious on another point; all +tenants who receive visitors in their rooms must have their names +entered in a book prescribed for the purpose, and also the names of +their callers.” + +Quincy's murderous instinct was again aroused, but Mr. Cass was +unmindful of his danger and made the required entry. The humourous side +of the affair then struck Quincy, and taking a memorandum book from his +pocket, he said: + +“I, too, am tenacious on one point. I never visit a hotel for the first +time without writing down the name of the clerk. Will you oblige me?” + +“Oh, certainly. Cass, Mr. Lorenzo Cass.” + +“Do you spell it with a 'C'?” asked Quincy, innocently, as he pretended +to write. + +“Oh, certainly. C-a-s-s-.” + +“Thank you,” said Quincy. + +“We make it a rule, or rather my employer does, that tenants and their +callers shall be treated with civility and their wants attended to +promptly.” + +Again Quincy eyed the telephone stand with a view to its use as a +weapon. + +“Ting-a-ling! Ting-a-ling! Miss Dana--yes, Mr. Cass--Mr. Quincy Adams +Sawyer, Junior, wishes to call upon you in your sitting-room. Is it +agreeable to you? Very well, he will come right up.” + +Mr. Cass replaced the receiver with deliberation, first unwinding a +tangled coil in the cord. + +“Take the elevator--third floor--number 42--she insisted upon taking +that suite for some personal reason--” + +Quincy waited to hear no more but started for the elevator. Mr. Cass +reached it as soon as he did, and motioned for the elevator man to +postpone the ascent until he had finished his remarks. + +“The outside door is locked at eleven, Mr. Sawyer, but you have only to +turn the upper handle to insure an exit.” + +“Your clerk is quite loquacious,” remarked Quincy as they slowly mounted +upward. + +“What's that?” + +“He has a sore tongue,” said Quincy, as the elevator door was closed +behind him. + +After cordial greetings on both sides, for they had not seen each other +for nearly a year, Quincy exclaimed, as he sank into a proffered easy +chair: “Mary, I am a murderer at heart.” + +“That is not strange, Quincy. I have read that the friends of police +officers and detectives often imbibe, or rather absorb, criminal +propensities. Who is the intended victim, and how do you expect to +escape arrest, conviction, and punishment, after incriminating yourself +by a confession to a licensed detective?” + +“If I had killed your hotel clerk it would have been due to +emotional insanity, and I should expect an acquittal--and, perhaps, a +testimonial.” + +“I got a testimonial to-day from Mr. Isburn. He said I was a wonder.” + +“I agree with him.” + +Miss Dana flushed perceptibly. + +“He had what he considered a good reason for his compliment. I am afraid +yours rests on unsupported grounds.” + +“Not at all. Have I not known you since you were a child? Can he say as +much? Did I not work with you on Bob Wood's case? The help you were to +me in trying to solve the mystery of the return of my father's bill +of exchange I will never forget,” and for a long time Quincy and Mary +talked over the miraculous return of his father. + +Finally Quincy said, “I interrupted you. You said that Mr. Isburn +considered he had good reasons for complimenting you. Will you tell me +what they were?” + +“It is a long story.” + +“I'm all attention.” + +“Then I'll begin at once. If you need a stimulant at any stage of the +narrative, just signify your want and I'll ring for it.” + +“Is there a bar?” + +“No, but there's a cellar.” + +“I may need some Apollinaris,” said Quincy, as he settled himself more +comfortably in the easy chair; “as my flesh is again strong, I always +take my spirit very weak.” + +Mary had that sweetest of woman's charm--a low-pitched voice, and as +she told the story of the loss of the great Isburn ruby and its recovery +Quincy's thoughts were less on the words that he heard than the woman +who uttered them. In his mind he was building a castle in which he was +the Lord and the story-teller was the Lady. + +He was awakened from his dream by Mary's query: + +“Didn't I fool him nicely?” + +“You certainly did. And so he's going to give you a half-interest in the +business. If he keeps his word”-- + +“Which I very much doubt,” interrupted Mary. + +“I'll buy the other half and we'll be partners.” + +He came near adding “for life,” but decided that such a declaration +would be inopportune. “Why should you engage in business, Quincy? You +are not obliged to work.” + +“That's the unfortunate part of it. I wish I were. I have so much money +that I don't know what to do with it, except let it grow. But, speaking +seriously, I've no intention of remaining a do-nothing. I'm treasurer +of my father's grocery company but I have no liking for mercantile +business. I can give away, but can neither buy nor sell--to advantage. I +heard a story not long ago that set me thinking.” + +“I told you my story, Quincy, why not tell me yours?” + +“I will. It's a mystery--unsolved, and, I think, unsolvable. But I +feel that my vocation will be the solving of mysteries. My mother wrote +detective stories and I must have inherited a mania for mysteries and +criminal problems. But I'll tell you what set me thinking.” + +Then he related the story that had been told him by Jack and Ned. As he +concluded, he asked: “Do you think it was signed?” + +“Of course it was, but not by the dead man.” + +“By whom, then?” + +“By Mrs. Bliss. She materialized the form by her mediumistic prowess, +but she signed the will.” + +“But Jack and Ned saw the form, as they called it, take the pen and +write his name.” + +“They thought they did. She hypnotized them so they saw whatever she +impressed upon their minds.” + +“Can sensible, highly educated people be so influenced?” + +“The bigger the brain the more easily influenced. She couldn't have so +impressed an idiot, or an illiterate, unreceptive man. Let me tell you +how a hundred people were fooled lately.” + +“I should be delighted to hear you tell it.” + +“You should have sympathy for them, after your spiritualistic +experience,” said Mary with a smile. + +“There is a married couple in this city whom we will call Mr. and Mrs. +Cartwright, because those are not their names. They have been married +less than two years. He is 68 and she 28, so you see it was what they +call a December and May union. It was worse. He is a bank president +and his god is money--his diversion sitting in his elegant library and +reading _de luxe_ editions of the world's literary masterpieces. She is +young, and beautiful, and craves society, attention, admiration. + +“She didn't get the last two at home, but society furnished them. He +attended her to parties and receptions and then went back to his library +until it was time to escort her home. + +“One night when he went for her she could not be found. No one had seen +her leave--she had mysteriously disappeared. Mr. Isburn gave me the +case. I'll make the story short for it is eleven o'clock.” + +“I know how to get out. Mr. Cass told me.” + +“Your knowledge of a method of egress does not warrant an extension of +your visit to midnight, does it?” asked Mary laughingly. + +“Considering the attractions presented, I think they do,” replied +Quincy, banteringly. + +She resumed her story. + +“There was a man in the case, young, handsome, and wealthy. Just such a +man as she should have married. They had planned an elopement to Europe. +Not together. She was to go to Liverpool, he was to follow later to +Paris, and there meet her. Quite ingenious, wasn't it? Our agent at +Liverpool was called to locate her and prevent her inamorata from +communicating with her, at the same time using his influence to induce +her to return to Boston without meeting her lover. His powers of +persuasion, I mean our agent's, must have been great, for she consented. + +“A month later she attended a reception next door to the house from +which she disappeared, and silenced the tongue of scandal by saying that +she had been hastily summoned to the bedside of a sick friend, her chum +at Wellesley, and had returned home only the day previous. Her last +statement was true. Good detective work by a good detective, and a +great, big white lie fooled her friends and acquaintances, but if I were +her husband she would not lack attention or admiration in the future, +and I would furnish it.” + +“When I get married, I will bear your admonition in mind.” + +“I have another admonition. If you meet Mr. Cass when you go down, be +nice to him. Why, when you know him, he is a treasure. I can bear his +inquisitiveness, for it shields me from others. This is my sanctuary, +and Mr. Cass protects me from the literary wolves--the reporters. He +thinks I am a writer because I have so many books, and, to him, an +author is next to an angel. Was he rude to you? You must forgive him, +for he is my Saint George who protects me from the Dragon.” + +Quincy was mollified to a certain extent. “Do I look like a Dragon? If +I am one, history came near being reversed, for at one time your Saint +George's hold on life was frail.” + +Late in the afternoon of the next day Quincy made another call on Mary. +He had telephoned and learned that she was in her room. Mr. Cass +was temporarily absent from his desk and Quincy went at once to the +elevator. + +“I axed Mr. Cass about his tongue,” said the elevator man. + +“Was it better?” asked Quincy. + +“He said I was labourin' under a misapprihinsion. What's that?” + +“He meant that it was improving,” said Quincy, as he hurried from the +elevator. + +“How did you get home last night?” was Mary's salutation as he entered. + +“I groped my way down two flights of stairs in the dark. When I opened +the front door by the upper handle as Mr. Cass had kindly instructed me +to do, I found that gentleman on the steps. 'Quite late,' said he. 'Not +for me,' said I. At that moment my auto drew up at the curb.” + +“A narrow escape from a Cass-trophe,” exclaimed Miss Dana. “Pardon the +pun, but sometimes he is insufferably loquacious.” + +Quincy smiled grimly. “He wasn't through with me. He followed me. 'My +employer.' he began, 'is very tenacious on several points, and one of +them is the acceleration of matrimonial preliminaries, commonly called +courting, in the house which he owns and successfully conducts with my +humble assistance. Will you allow me to ask you a question?' + +“Alexander had opened the auto door, and I stood with one foot on the +step.” + +Quincy was silent for a moment. Miss Dana's curiosity was excited. + +“What did he ask you to do?” + +“His question was--'are you going to marry Miss Dana?'” + +“Preposterous!” cried Miss Dana. “I shall leave the 'Cawthorne' +to-morrow. What answer did you give to so impertinent a question?” + +“I said, not to-night. Not until to-morrow. Then I jumped in, slammed +the door, and off we went leaving Mr. Cass fully informed as to my +intentions.” + +Mary thought, under the circumstances, that a change of subjects was +necessary. + +“I am working on the Harrison case. I don't believe he poisoned his +wife. I think the law killed an innocent man.” + +“Another Robert Wood affair? Have you seen your little namesake, Mary +Wood?” + +“Yes. I am going to spend to-morrow in the laboratory making toxic +analyses.” + +“I've been very busy to-day.” + +“Not working?” + +“No, getting ready to. I've bought out an established business.” + +“You said you disliked business.” + +“Not this kind. You were right about Isburn. He didn't mean what he said +about giving you a half-interest in the agency.” + +“I'm not disappointed. I didn't think he did. Why should he pay me for +returning what I took from him as a professional joke?” + +“Well I fixed it up with him, and he will sail for Europe with his niece +as soon as we can take charge.” + +“We? Why, what _do_ you mean, Mr. Sawyer?” + +“I mean that I've engaged to pay Mr. Isburn one hundred thousand dollars +for his agency, a one-half interest to become mine and the other half to +be transferred to my wife as soon as I am married, which will be soon.” + +“Then you will be my employer,” and Mary's blue eyes were opened as wide +as they could be. + +“Within a week, I shall be Mr. Isburn. I shall not use my own name.” + +His manner changed instantly. + +“This morning I met an old college friend. He was doing the historical +points of old Boston with his father and his father's friend, a Rev. Mr. +Dysart of Yonkers, New York.” + +Miss Dana started, and exclaimed, involuntarily, “Mr. Dysart--not Mr. +Octavius Dysart?” + +“Yes, that was the name. Why, do you know him? I'll be honest, I know +you do.” + +“My mother was born in Yonkers, and Mr. Dysart was the clergyman who +officiated at my father's wedding. He used to call on us whenever he +came to Boston. But how did he know that you knew me?” + +“He said he was going to Fernborough to see your father, and I availed +myself of the opportunity to mention my acquaintance with you. He wished +you could come and see him.” + +“Where is he? Of course I will go.” + +“He is staying with Mr. Larned, my college mate's father, who lives +in Jamaica Plain, but he will not be there until this evening. He's +attending a religious conference this afternoon and goes to Fernborough +early to-morrow.” + +“Then I can't see him.” + +“Why not? I'm going out this evening--small party invited--entirely +informal--half my auto is at your service.” + +“Will you get me back to the hotel before the doors are closed? I shall +pack up to-morrow.” + +“I promise,” said Quincy. “I will come for you at seven sharp.” + +Punctually at seven, a closed auto stopped before the “Cawthorne” and +Quincy alighted. Mary stepped from the elevator, wearing a new spring +costume and a marvellous aggregation of flowers upon her hat, walked to +the door without looking at Mr. Cass, and before he could frame one of +his employer's tenacious points and follow her, she had been handed into +the auto and whirled swiftly away. + +“Is Alexander driving?” she asked. “No. He's asleep--up too late last +night. We have a strange _chauffeur_. I selected him for that reason.” + +“Why, what do you mean?” + +“I didn't wish anybody to know where we had gone.” + +“Why not, pray?” + +“I mean, what we'd gone for.” + +“Nonsense. Why, a friendly call--what more?” + +“Are your gloves on?” + +“No, I didn't have time. I'll put them on now.” + +“No hurry--plenty of time. You are agitated. Allow me to feel your +pulse.” + +“You are funny to-night, Quincy.” + +“Not funny--just happy.” + +Quincy took forcible possession of her half-resisting hand and slipped a +diamond solitaire on the proper finger. + +“Why, what are you doing? Isn't it a beauty? Is this the great Sawyer +diamond? Whose is it?” + +“It's yours. It is an engagement ring. It's the first step towards +keeping my promise to Mr. Cass, and he's tenacious, you know. I told you +all about it when I called this afternoon. So, please don't say 'this is +so sudden.'” + +“Are you crazy, Quincy?” + +“No, sane. Delightfully so. I told Mr. Cass I couldn't marry you until +to-day. I got the license this noon.” + +They were passing through a dimly-lighted street, but, occasionally, the +street lamps threw flashes across two earnest faces. She endeavoured to +remove the ring. + +“Mary,” said Quincy, “if you allow the ring to remain, I shall be a very +happy man, dear,--for I love you. I have loved you ever since the day +that I thrashed Bob Wood, and when I lay exhausted, you looked down at +me with those beautiful blue eyes and said 'all for me!' I am all for +you,--are you for me?” + +He put his arm about her and drew her towards him; their lips met. +A bright light shone in the auto windows--but they were sitting +erect--they even looked primly. + +“It is a long ride,” she ventured. + +“Too short,” he replied, “and yet, I wish we were there.” + +Again she spoke: “This is a most unprecedented affair. Can it be real, +or are we actors?” + +“We are detectives, and they always do unexpected and unprecedented +things.” + +“What will your father say--you a multimillionaire and I a poor girl who +works for a living?” + +“My mother was poor and blind when my father married her.” + +“Yes, I know; but she wrote a book and became famous.” + +“You're a 'wonder' now, and you will become famous.” + +“What will your friends say?” + +“If they wish to remain my friends they will either say nothing, or +congratulate me. How shall we be married--in church? I'll spend a +hundred thousand on our wedding, if you say so.” + +“No. As little publicity as possible. Use the money to help those +poor creatures who are sick with the disease called crime; that is +the symptom. The cause is often bad environment, and the poverty which +prevents improvement.” + +“What a philosopher you are. That simple ceremony suits me exactly, +Mary. What a sweet name you have. Why not have Mr. Dysart perform the +ceremony? We'll be married with a ring.” + +Mary laughed: “Where will you get yours?” + +“Detectives are always prepared for emergencies. I bought them this +noon, after I procured the license. They seemed to go together.” + +“Well, Quincy, I think you are the most presumptuous mortal in +existence. How dared you do such a thing--so many things, I mean?” + +“Was not the prize worth even more of an endeavour? I have always +thought _Young Lochinvar_ was a model lover. But here we are.” + +The Rev. Mr. Dysart received them with pleasant words of welcome, and +reminiscences of life in Yonkers, and memories of Mary's mother, +held Cupid in abeyance for an hour. Quincy passed the license to the +clergyman who read it and looked up inquiringly. + +“It's all right, isn't it?” Quincy asked. + +“Why yes,--but--I never supposed--why, of course--but when?” + +“Now, at once,” said Quincy. “We must be home by eleven, for they lock +the doors.” + +The simple ceremony was soon over. + +“Can you give Mrs. Sawyer a certificate, Mr. Dysart?” + +“Fortunately, yes. I bought some to-day, for I needed them.” + +He went into an adjoining room to fill it out. + +“Mary, my darling, I am a rich man--richer than I deserve to be, for I +have created nothing--but I would give every dollar of my fortune rather +than lose you. Does your wedding ring fit? Mine is all right.” + +“It ought to be--you had a chance to try yours on.” + +“I am a designing villain, Mary. While you were telling that story last +night, you will remember that I walked about the room. One of your rings +was on the mantelpiece and I tried it on.” + +When the clergyman handed Mrs. Sawyer the certificate, Quincy passed him +his fee. + +“You've made a mistake, Mr. Sawyer. This is a hundred dollar bill.” + +“It ought to be a thousand. I'll send you a check for the difference +to-morrow--for yourself, or your church, as you prefer.” + +As they descended the steps, the clergyman raised his hands. + +“I wish you both long life and prosperity, and may Heaven's blessing +fall upon you.” + +“Back to the 'Cawthorne,'” said Quincy, as he pressed a small roll of +paper into the _chauffeur's_ hand--which roll of paper a friendly street +light showed to be a five dollar bill. + +“What will that horrid Mr. Cass say?” + +“I'll fix him,” replied Quincy. “Just await developments, patiently, my +dear.” + +It was a quarter of eleven when they reached the hotel. Mr. Cass was at +his desk, the light turned down in anticipation of the closing hour. + +“The certificate, darling,” Quincy whispered. + +“Please turn up the light, Mr. Cass, and read that.” + +Mr. Cass adjusted his _pince-nez_. Quincy was relentless. His turn had +come. + +“Is that in proper form, Mr. Cass? I know your rules are strict, and +that your employer holds you to them tenaciously,” and there was a +strong accent on the last word. + +“Would your reverend employer object to your harbouring a newly-married +couple for one night? Show him your wedding ring, Mrs. Sawyer. We must +satisfy his moral scruples.” + +Mr. Cass regarded them attentively. Then he said, slowly: “I anticipated +such a result, but wasn't it rather sudden?” + +“We shall lose the elevator,” cried Mary. “It shuts down at eleven.” + +“Shall we go on a tour?” asked Quincy the next morning. + +“I can't leave the Harrison case. I must follow a clue this morning.” + +“Where shall we live, Mary? In grandfather's house on Beacon Street, or +shall I build a new one? I'll make it a palace, if you say so.” + +“Well, I sha'n't say so--but let's live anywhere but here.” + +“We'll bid Mr. Cass a long farewell--but I admire his tenacity. He's a +sort of moral bull-dog. I might use him in my business.” + +“Our business, Quincy.” + +“That's so--we are partners professionally, and lovers ever.” + +As she disengaged herself from his embrace, Mary exclaimed: “I've +planned a model honeymoon for us, Quincy. You must go over the Harrison +case with me. I'm sure _we_ can prove that he was an innocent man, +and--” + +“We'll find the real criminal, Mary, and bring him to justice.” + +“It will be a long and tedious investigation. I may have to visit every +drug store in the city.” + +“That's easy. I'll buy you a touring car--I will act as _chauffeur_--” + +“Why a touring car--why not a runabout just for two?” + +“As you say, my dear. Your word is law--or the next thing to it. By the +way, Mary, we must live on Beacon Street.” + +“Why, must?” + +“Because Mr. Strout has bought a house on Commonwealth Avenue, and +we must keep the line drawn sharp between the old families and the +_nou-veaux riches!_” + +THE END. + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Further Adventures of Quincy Adams +Sawyer and Mason's Corner Folks, by Charles Felton Pidgin + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER *** + +***** This file should be named 7497-0.txt or 7497-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/4/9/7497/ + +Produced by Charles Franks + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/7497-0.zip b/7497-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d3eea30 --- /dev/null +++ b/7497-0.zip diff --git a/7497-8.txt b/7497-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..78e9622 --- /dev/null +++ b/7497-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10226 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Further Adventures of Quincy Adams +Sawyer and Mason's Corner Folks, by Charles Felton Pidgin + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Further Adventures of Quincy Adams Sawyer and Mason's Corner Folks + +Author: Charles Felton Pidgin + + +Release Date: February, 2005 [EBook #7497] +This file was first posted on May 11, 2003 +Last Updated: May 20, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Franks + + + + + + + + +THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER AND MASON'S CORNER FOLKS + + +By Charles Felton Pidgin + +Author of "Quincy Adams Sawyer," "Blennerhassett," "Stephen Holton," +etc. + +Illustrated by Henry Roth + + +[Illustration: "HE LOOKED UP, SUDDENLY, AND SAW A PRETTY GIRL, DRESSED +IN PICTURESQUE ITALIAN COSTUME."] + + +1909 + + + +To My Daughter Dora + + + + +PREFACE + +Eight years ago, "Quincy Adams Sawyer and Mason's Corner Folks" was +published, being heralded, truthfully, as the work of an "unknown +author." It met with favour from reviewers and the reading public. My +pleasantest souvenirs are hundreds of letters, from personally unknown +correspondents, wishing to know more about "Quincy" and the other +characters in my first story. + +I know that few, if any, "sequels" are considered as interesting as +the original work, and an author, to a certain extent, tempts fate in +writing one. But if we visit friends and have a pleasant time there +seems to be no reason why another invitation should not be accepted. So, +if a book pleases its readers, and the characters therein become +their friends, why should not these readers be invited to renew their +acquaintance? + +They may not enjoy themselves as much as at their first visit, but that +is the unavoidable result of repetition. The human mind craves novelty, +and, perhaps, the reader will find it, after all, within these pages. + +C. F. P. + +WIDEVIEW FARM, BELMONT, MASS. August, 1908. + + + + +CONTENTS + +PREFACE + + I. THE GOVERNOR'S SPEECH + II. A DAY WITH THE GOVERNOR + III. A VACATION AT FERNBOROUGH + IV. THE HAWKINS HOUSE + V. 'ZEKE PETTINGILL'S FARM + VI. "JUST LIKE OLD TIMES" + VII. STROUT AND MAXWELL'S GROCERY + VIII. UNCLE IKE AND OTHERS + IX. A "STORY" SERMON + X. THE RAISED CHECK + XL. THE WRECK OF THE _ALTONIA_ + XII. FERNBOROUGH HALL + XIII. "HORNABY HOOK" + XIV. AN AMERICAN HEIRESS + XV. AN ELOPEMENT + XVI. YOUNG QUINCY + XVII. HIS FATHER'S FRIENDS + XVIII. AN OLD STRIFE RENEWED + XIX. BOYHOOD TO MANHOOD + XX. MARY DANA + XXI. AT HARVARD + XXII. ALICE'S DREAM + XXIII. "BY THE BEAUTIFUL BLUE DANUBE" + XXIV. "WE THREE" + XXV. A PERIOD OF TWENTY-THREE YEARS + XXVI. "CATESSA" + XXVII. O. STROUT. FINE GROCIERIES +XXVIII. THE HOME COMING XXIX. THE FINAL CONFLICT + XXX. TOM, JACK AND NED + XXXI. THE GREAT ISBURN RUBY + XXXII. "IT WAS SO SUDDEN" + + + + +The Further Adventures of Quincy Adams Sawyer and Mason's Corner Folks + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE GOVERNOR'S SPEECH + + +When the applause had subsided, Governor Sawyer began to speak. + +"My Friends and Fellow Citizens: When I stood before the representatives +chosen by the people, and an audience composed of the most eminent men +and women in the State, and took the oath to support the constitution of +my native State and that of my country, my heart was filled with what +I deemed an honest pride. My fellow citizens had chosen me to fill the +most exalted position in their power to bestow, and when the Secretary +of the Commonwealth uttered the well-known words which your toastmaster +has just repeated--God save the Commonwealth of Massachusetts--I felt in +every fibre of my body that I would be true to my oath and to the people +who had shown their confidence in me. + +"But the satisfaction I felt on that occasion was no greater than that +which I experience to-night. I came among you entirely unknown. I have +heard that some wondered whether I was a city swell, what my business +was, what led me to choose your town for a vacation, and how long that +vacation was to be, especially as I came in the winter when country life +is popularly, but erroneously, supposed to be dull. + +"By some I was welcomed,--others--I don't blame them--refused to extend +to me the hand of fellowship. But, I liked some of your people so +well--and one in particular"--all eyes were turned towards his wife, who +bore the scrutiny bravely--"that I determined to stay--and I did." + +Hiram Maxwell could not forget past events in which he had figured +prominently and cried, "Three cheers for Quincy Adams Sawyer," which +were given with a will, and accompanied by many expressions of approval +in the shape of clapping of hands, pounding of canes, and stamping of +thick-soled boots. The Governor continued his remarks. + +"I staid so long that I might have become a voter. I did not, but +besides my native city of Boston, I shall always render my allegiance to +this town, which turned the current of my life into such happy channels. + +"I will not weary you with a long speech." + +Cries of "Go on," "We can stand it," came from all parts of the hall, +and Mrs. Hawkins said to Olive Green, "He's a beautiful speaker. I +could listen to him all night if it wa'n't for gettin' breakfast for my +boarders. My bread didn't ris worth a cent, and I've got to git up airly +and make biscuits." + +His Excellency went on, "I want you to make Fernborough, the Mason's +Corner of five years ago, a beautiful town--more beautiful than it is +now." Make good, wide roads, don't call them streets, and have wide +tires on your wagons to preserve them. Plant trees both for grateful +shade and natural beauty. Support your Village Improvement Society +by suggestions and contributions. Attend town meeting regularly, be +economical but not stingy in your appropriations, pay good salaries +and wages for honest service. Be partisans if you wish, in State and +National elections, but in choosing your town servants, get the best men +regardless of politics. + +"Support and constantly aim to elevate the standard of education in your +schools, and remember that the mother and the teacher are the makers of +those who are to rule in the future. + +"Do these things, and you will make Fernborough a worthy member of +that galaxy of communities which represents the civic virtues and +possibilities in the highest degree--our New England towns, in which the +government is by the people, of the people, and for the people, and may +God grant that these bulwarks of our freedom may ever be preserved." + +It was decided by the committee to have a reception in the Selectmen's +room. It was conveniently arranged for such a purpose, having a door at +either end, besides the double one near the middle. At the request of +Selectman and Toastmaster Strout, the Governor and his wife and the +Countess of Sussex, formerly Lindy Putnam, stood in line to greet the +citizens of Fernborough. + +First came Benoni Hill, who had increased in rotundity since selling his +grocery store and giving up an active life. + +"How much is flour a barrel?" asked Quincy as he shook hands with him. + +"When I kept the store myself everything I wanted I got at wholesale, +but now your partners charge me full price." + +"That's right," said Quincy. "You got a good price for the store, and +now we're trying to get some of it back," and he laughed heartily as he +extended his hand to young Samuel Hill. His wife, the former Miss Tilly +James, was with him. + +"I am pleased to meet a lion-tamer," said Tilly. + +"I never saw a live one," said Quincy, somewhat puzzled by the remark. + +"Oh, yes, you have. Our local lion, Obadiah Strout, is as tame as a +dove, and we owe it to you." + +"If I remember aright, a certain Miss Tilly James aided me when I gave +the first lesson." + +"Oh! you mean the time you whistled 'Listen to the Mocking Bird.' I wish +you had repeated it to-night." + +Cobb's Twins, William and James, with their wives, were next in line. + +"How's farming?" asked Quincy. + +"Bill and I," said James, "spend most of our time on our own places, but +we help 'Zeke and Hiram out on their hayin' an' potato diggin'." + +"Samantha," said Quincy, addressing Mrs. James Cobb, "do you remember +the first time I came to see Miss Putnam?" + +"Oh, yes, I'd heard about you goin' round with Huldy Mason. Didn't I +laugh when I showed you into Aunt Heppy's room? She did the hearin' for +both of 'em, for you remember her husband, Silas, was as deaf as a stone +post." + +"Mrs. Putnam found out all about me before I got away. I shall never +forget what she told me about her husband sitting on the ridge pole of +the barn, blowing his horn, and waiting for Gabriel to come for him." + +As Robert Wood came up, Quincy stepped from the line to greet him. + +"Your hand ain't quite as hard as it was five years ago," said Robert. + +"No, I'm out of practice. You could handle me now." + +"It cost me two dollars to get my watch fixed," said Robert, +irrelevantly. + +"I was on time in that affair," said Quincy, conscious, when too +late, that he had wasted a pun on an obtuse individual. "Are you still +carpentering?" + +"Yes. Lots of new houses going up, and Ben Bates and me have all we can +handle. Here, Ben, come here. The Governor's askin' 'bout you." + +Benjamin Bates was rather diffident, and had been holding back, but at +Bob's invitation came forward. + +"How d'ye do, Governor?" was his salutation. Diffidence when forced to +action often verges on forwardness. + +"Glad to meet you again," said Quincy. "Robert says they keep you busy." + +"Yes, we don't have so many resting spells now they use donkey engines +as we did when Pat or Mike had to climb the ladder." + +"The march of improvement forces us all into line," said Quincy as he +greeted Miss Seraphina Cotton. + +"Teaching school, now, Miss Cotton?" + +"No, your Excellency, I am fortunately relieved from what became, near +the end of my long years of service, an intolerable drudgery. Teaching +American children to talk English is one thing, but teaching French +Canadians, Poles, Germans, Russians, Italians, and Greeks was quite a +different proposition." + +"And yet it is a most important work," said Quincy--"making good +citizens from these various nationalities. America, to-day, is like a +large garden, with a great variety of flowers from foreign stalks." + +Miss Cotton smiled somewhat satirically. "I'm afraid, your Excellency, +if you'd ever been a school teacher, you'd have found many weeds in the +garden." + +"But how did you gain your freedom?" asked Quincy. "Did they pension +you?" + +"Oh, no. An uncle died out West and left me enough with which to buy an +annuity. I board with the Reverend Mr. Howe. You remember him?" + +"Why, certainly, I do. And here's his son, Emmanuel--have I got the name +right?" + +"Yes, Governor, just right as to sound. I spell it with an 'E' and two +M's," said young Mr. Howe, as Miss Cotton moved on to tell of her good +fortune to Alice and Linda. + +"How's your father, now? Does he preach every Sunday?" + +"Reg'lar as clock work. Of course I couldn't tell everybody, but I +reckon he's using some old sermons that he wrote forty years ago, but +the young ones never heard them, and the old ones have forgotten." +Quincy laughed. Ministers' sons are seldom appalled by worldly ways and, +quite often, adopt them. + +"This is Arthur Scates," said Mr. Strout, as he presented a young +man with sunken cheeks, hollow eyes, and an emaciated body. "He ain't +enjoyin' the best of health." + +"Ah, I remember," said Quincy. "You are the young man who was to sing +at the concert when I first came here. I took your place, and that act +turned out to be the most important one in my life. I owe much of my +present happiness to you. What is your trouble?" + +"My lungs are affected. I have lost my voice and cannot sing. I had +counted on becoming an opera singer." + +"Why do you not go to one of the out-door hospitals for treatment?" + +The young man's face flushed, and he remained silent. + +"Pardon me," said Quincy. "I understand. Come to Boston next week, to +the State House, and I will see that you have the best of treatment." + +"Wall, Mr. Sawyer, it does one's eyes good to set 'em on you again. This +is Olive Green,--you remember her sister Betsey worked for me when you +was one of my boarders." The woman's voice was loud and strident, and +filled the room. + +"Mrs. Hawkins, I shall never forget you and Miss Betsey Green, and how +you both tried to make my stay with you a pleasant one." + +"You've put on consid'rable flesh since I saw yer last. Guess you've +been taking your meals reg'lar, which you never did when you lived with +me. But your market's made now, and that makes the difference. They say +folks in love have poor appetites." She laughed loudly, and stopped only +when Olive put a restraining hand on her arm. "I hope Alice is a good +cook, but she never had much chance to learn." + +Quincy thought it was time to change the subject. "How's Mr. Hawkins?" + +"I tell him he's just as lazy as ever. He's kalkerlatin' on getting +three good broods of chickens. He's gone on chickens. He wanted to come +tonight, but we've lots of boarders, and they're allus wantin' ice water +or somethin' else, and so I told him he'd got to stay to home. You'll +have plenty of time to see him to-morrer." + +Many others greeted the Governor and his right hand felt the effect of +so many hearty grips, some of them of the horny-handed variety. + +The Cottonton Brass Band was now stationed in the hall, and a short +concert closed the evening's entertainment, which was allowed, by all, +to be the most high-toned affair ever given in the town. + +As Quincy laid his head upon his pillow that night, his mind reverted to +his first arrival at Mason's Corner, and the events that had taken place +since. + +"Alice, five years ago, could your wildest imagination have conjured up +such an evening as this?" + +"No, Quincy. What has taken place in our lives is truly wonderful. My +daily prayer is that these happy days may last." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +A DAY WITH THE GOVERNOR + + +Governor Sawyer sat in the Executive Chamber at the State House. It was +eleven o'clock on the morning following the festivities at Fernborough. +Quincy and Alice had staid over night at the Hawkins' House, and Ezekiel +in the morning urged them strongly to wait a day and see what great +improvements he had made on the old farm which had been so neglected +during the last years of Mrs. Putnam's life. But Quincy said his +presence in Boston was imperative, that certain matters required his +attention, and so the earliest train brought him and his wife to the +city. Quincy left the carriage under the arch at the State House. + +Alice was driven to the well-known house on Mount Vernon Street, in +which Aunt Ella had lived so long, but which had lost much of its +cheerfulness, and all of its Bohemianism since that lady had gone to +England and become Lady Fernborough. + +The Executive Chamber was a large room, and simply furnished with a flat +top desk of wine-red mahogany, a bookcase, and a few chairs. A door +to the left led to the office of the private secretary; the one to the +right to a short and narrow corridor across which was the door of the +Council Chamber--a room occupied by that last link between democratic +and aristocratic government. It must not be inferred that the members +of the Council are aristocrats--far from it, but with the +lieutenant-governor they form a "house of lords" which may or may +not agree with the policies of the chief magistrate. They can aid him +greatly, or they can "clip his wings" and materially curb his freedom of +action. The Council is a relic of the old provincial and colonial days, +its inherited aristocratic body clothed in democratic garments. As its +duties could be performed by the Senate without loss of dignity, and +with pecuniary saving, its retention as a part of the body politic is +due to the "let well enough alone" policy of the American citizen which +has supplanted the militant, progressive democracy of his forefathers. + +At the end of the short corridor was the office of the Executive +Secretary and his stenographer from which, through an opening hung with +portires, one passed into the general reception room where the +faithful messenger stood guard, authorized to learn the business of each +new-comer. + +The private secretary had opened the mail and had assorted it as +"ordinary," "important," and "most important." For an hour the Governor +dictated steadily, and it would take several hours' clicking of +the typewriter before the letters and documents were ready for his +signature. + +The waiting-room was now filled with persons desiring audience with his +Excellency. A well-known city lawyer and ward politician was the first +to enter. + +"Good-morning, Guv'nor." + +The Governor arose, came forward, and extended his hand. "Good-morning, +Mr. Nutting." + +"Are you going to send in the names of the Industrial Expansion +Committee to-day?" + +"I have intended to do so." + +"Well, I want to say a good word for Mr. Collingwood. He is promoting a +company to develop water power on the Upper Connecticut above Holyoke. +He is a client of mine, and I can vouch for his business ability and his +desire to improve and increase our manufacturing facilities." + +The Governor was silent for a time. He was busily thinking. No doubt +this Mr. Collingwood was concerned financially, indirectly if not +directly, in the proposed company he was promoting, and perhaps Mr. +Nutting himself would profit far beyond his normal legal fee if Mr. +Collingwood was named on the commission. Mr. Nutting noticed the delay +of his Excellency in replying. + +"It will be all right if you send his name in. There will be no doubt of +his confirmation." + +Again the Governor thought. The four wheels of the executive coach +were in good order, but, apparently, the fifth wheel had been put in +condition for use, if it became necessary. + +"Here are Mr. Collingwood's endorsements," said Mr. Nutting, as he +placed a large packet of papers on the governor's desk. + +"Thank you, Mr. Nutting. I will give them consideration." + +Mr. Nutting withdrew, and the lieutenant-governor, who had arrived late, +was given precedence over the others in the reception room. After the +customary salutations, the lieutenant-governor seated himself in the +governor's chair, which Quincy had temporarily vacated, and lighted a +cigar. + +"Are you going to send in Venton's name?" + +"He is inexperienced." + +"I know it, but he'll learn. If, following precedent, I become your +successor, he will be of great help to me in certain lines." + +There was a slight frown on the governor's face. "Mr. Williams, the +present head of the department, has held it for many years, is a most +efficient man, and I have heard no complaints." + +"I know that," said his Honour, David Evans, "but he's getting old, and +rotation in office is one of the principles of our Bill of Rights." + +"I am well aware of that," said the governor, "but retention in office +for good and efficient service is one of the principles of our civil +service law." + +Mr. Evans arose and flicked the ashes from his cigar upon the rich +carpet which covered the floor. + +"Am I to understand then that you will renominate Williams? Let me say +now that there is strong opposition to him in the Council and he may +fail of confirmation. Will you send Venton's name in then?" + +"I think I should send Mr. Williams' name in again." + +"But, suppose he is turned down the second time?" asked Mr. Evans. + +"I think I should continue sending in his name until good and sufficient +reasons were given for his rejection. This is not a voting contest +between two nominees. I am convinced Mr. Williams is the best man for +the place. Such being my opinion, to withdraw his name, would be a +self-stultification, and, to speak plainly,"--and his jaw was firmly +set,--"an acknowledgment that the Council is a stronger arm of the +government than the Chief Executive." + +Mr. Evans was evidently indignant. "Well, Mr. Venton is backed by men +who contribute heartily for campaign expenses. If you can get along +without their aid this fall have your man Williams," and Mr. Evans +strode from the room with a curt "Good-morning." + +The private secretary laid some papers on the governor's desk. The +first one that he examined conferred certain valuable privileges, in +perpetuity, upon a corporation without requiring any compensation for +the franchise. The property thus alienated from public use had been paid +for by the people's money. In response to a vigorous push on an electric +button, the private secretary appeared. + +"Send for Senator Downing. I must see him immediately." + +His Excellency thought, "How can the people's so-called representatives +give away the property of the people so indiscriminately? It would not +do to mention it, without proof, but I am convinced that all such public +robberies are for private gain. Ah, good-morning, Senator." + +Senator Downing was a short, heavily-built man, with dark hair, black +eyes, and a jaw and chin indicative of bull-dog pertinacity. + +"In your bill, Senate 513, I notice that the railroad Company is not +called upon to pay for the great privilege conferred." + +"Why should they? It simply gives them a quick connection with +tide-water, and reduced transportation charges means lower prices." + +"How will prices be regulated?" was the Governor's query. + +"As they always have been," replied the Senator brusquely. "Supply and +demand--" + +"And by combinations called trusts," added the Governor. "Cannot some +provision be made by which the Company will pay a yearly rental? It will +reduce the burden of taxation just so much." + +"Perhaps if you recommend it, some attention will be given it, but I +should not care to prejudice my political standing by endorsing such an +amendment." + +"I will consider the question carefully," said Quincy, wearily, as he +laid down the bill, and Senator Downing departed. + +The next bill was what was called "a labour measure." It gave members of +trade unions a right demanded by them, called "peaceful picketing;" in +other words, during a strike, the right to use argument, persuasion, in +fact any rightful inducement to keep a non-union man from working for +the "struck" firm or corporation. The bill had been passed by a majority +of 48 in the House, and by the narrow margin of one vote in the Senate. +A tie had been expected when the President of the Senate, who was +a prominent manufacturer was counted upon to kill the bill. If the +Governor vetoed it, the Senate would probably sustain the veto, throwing +the greater responsibility upon him, each member voting against the bill +sheltering himself behind the veto. Thus do partisans play politics +with the head of their party. While he was reading the bill the +lieutenant-governor was ushered in again. + +"Downing has been talking with me about his bill. He says you are going +to veto it." + +"I did not say so. I asked him his reasons for turning over public +property for private use and gain, and he did not seem well-prepared to +answer me." + +Mr. Evans replied, "The best reason, to my mind is, that the heaviest +tax payers, members of our party, are all in favour of the bill." + +"Are they numerous enough to elect a governor who will do their +bidding?" + +"Perhaps not, but their money is powerful enough to do it"--he +paused--"if it becomes necessary." + +The Governor arose, and Mr. Evans, influenced by the action, did the +same. The two men faced each other. + +"Mr. Evans," and the Governor seemed to increase in stature, "I fully +understand your last remark--if it becomes necessary. You shall have an +open field. I prize the great honour that has been conferred upon me by +placing me here, but I must confess I dislike the duties, circumscribed +as they are by personal and political influences. I can understand, now, +why a ruler wishes to be an autocrat. It is the only way in which he can +make his personality a part of his body. I shall not be a candidate for +re-election this autumn. I wish my personal freedom of action, and I +prize it more than fame or power." + +"May I mention your decision to the leaders of the party?" + +"If you so desire. From this moment I am to be untrammelled except by my +official oath." + +Mr. Evans took his leave, evidently pleased with a part of what he had +heard, and in a short time was closeted with some leading politicians in +a private room of a prominent hotel. + +The Governor resumed his reading of the labour bill, but was aroused +from his contemplation of its provisions by the entrance of Mr. Amos +Acton. Mr. Acton was secretary of a manufacturer's association. He +was tall and spare. His hair was sandy in hue, and his mouth twitched +nervously. + +"Your Excellency, I came to see you about that picketing bill. If it +becomes a law our manufacturers will be driven from the State. They are +now seriously handicapped by the vigorous provisions of existing laws. I +trust your Excellency will not add to our present burdens." + +"I have read the bill, Mr. Acton. It seems conservative, with full +provision for the protection of life and property." + +"That's not the question. When Union men strike we must have the +Non-Union men to fill their places; but this bill says the Non-Union man +shan't work." + +"It says the Union man may persuade him, peacefully, not to work." + +"We all know what that means. If he does work, he will be called a +'scab' and his family will be ostracized in every possible way." + +"It is hard to draw the line," said the governor. "You say, or imply, +that every man has a right to work for whoever will employ him. Granted. +But do you always give him work when he wants it? Do you pay him what he +asks, or do you not fix the rate of wage? You must realize the fact that +collective bargaining has superseded dealing with the individual." + +"Some of us do not allow that," said Mr. Acton. + +"I know it, and that causes the difficulty. Your relations with your +employees should be based upon trade agreements, legalized and strongly +adhered to by both sides." + +"I have just come from a meeting of leading manufacturers," said Mr. +Acton, "and they wished me to express to you their urgent request, I may +say solicitation, that you will veto this bill." + +After Mr. Acton's departure, Quincy rang for his secretary, to whom he +delivered the papers containing his official decisions. + +Mr. Williams was renominated for the position that he had so long and so +ably filled. + +As members of "The Industrial Expansion Commission" nine manufacturers +were named, one for each of the leading industries of the State, +chosen independent of known or presumed political affiliations; Mr. +Collingwood's name was not among them. + +A vigorous veto of the bill giving a private corporation control of +public property was sent to the Senate. + +The "peaceful picketing" bill was signed. + +The door opened, and a pretty face looked in. + +"Come in, Maude--I've just finished." As the secretary withdrew, keeping +his eyes fixed on the governor's youngest sister, she advanced slowly +into the room. The door closed automatically and Maude tip-toed to her +brother's side, returning his welcoming kiss. + +"What's his name?" she asked, pointing towards the self-closing door. + +"My secretary? Harry Merry," said Quincy, "but the press boys all call +him Sober Harry." + +"I think he's just splendid," said the impulsive Maude--"such beautiful +eyes! But that isn't what I came for. I went up to your house and just +brought Alice down to ours, and she told me all about the fine time you +had and your speech. Will it be printed?" + +"Mr. Sylvester Chisholm, editor of the Fernborough Gazette was there and +a faithful transcript of my feeble remarks will, no doubt, appear in his +paper." + +"Feeble!" said Maude contemptuously. "Have you been doing feeble things +since you came back?" + +"No, Maude, I have done some very strenuous things, and I shall be glad +to get home to my family." + +Maude repeated, seriously, + + "To make a happy fireside clime + For weans and wife + Is the true pathos, and sublime, + Of human life. + +"But you are not going home," she continued,--"you are invited to dinner +with your respected pa and ma and your two young--" + +"And beautiful sisters," added Quincy with a laugh. "I'll come, but you +must play the latest popular songs for me, and Alice will sing 'Sweet, +Sweet Home,' and perhaps I can forget the cares of State--until +to-morrow, anyway." + +Maude flounced out of the door tossing a kiss from the tips of her +fingers, to the astonishment of Sober Harry who had just entered, and +who wished, from the bottom of his heart, that the flying salutation had +been for him. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A VACATION AT FERNBOROUGH + + +The Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer did not dine at home that evening. +Quincy's mother said that he had gone to Salem but would return later. +After dinner the little company of five repaired to the parlour. Maude +sang negro melodies despite the protests of her mother, and her sister +Florence's assertion that they were only sung at cheap variety shows. + +"How do you know that?" cried Maude. "Did Reginald tell you?" + +"Who is Reginald?" asked Quincy. + +"Oh," said Maude, tossing her head, "he's Florence's latest. She met him +night before last--" + +"Maude!" Her sister's voice was full of angry protest. "Don't say +another word." + +"Such matters," said her mother mildly, "are not suitable subjects for +general conversation. There is a privacy about them which should be +respected." + +"We'll leave Florence out of it, then," said Maude. "I met him at Mrs. +Dulton's reception. His name is Capt. Reginald Hornaby, and he's +the fourth son of Sir Wilfred Hornaby, of Hornaby Hook, Hornaby, +England--don't you know," and she winked spitefully at Florence. + +"He told me all that himself," she continued, "so I know it must be so. +Won't it be nice to have a place in England where we can make ourselves +at home?" + +"Aunt Ella will be glad to see you at any time," remarked Quincy. "Why +don't you go back with her? She'd be delighted." + +"I would but for one thing," replied Maude. "I'm afraid I might fall in +love with an Englishman, and one title in the family is enough." + +Alice interposed: "Aunt Ella has an English husband with a title." + +"Yes," said Maude, "but he _has_ his title, while Reggie is four blocks +away from the fire." + +"You're as big a tease as ever," and Quincy drew his favourite sister +towards him. "Don't plague Flossie any more. Think of your possible +fate. You may marry a Jap." + +"I know a lovely little Jap, now. His name is Hioshato Konuka. Oh, +Alice, won't you stay all night? When are you going on your vacation, +Quincy?" + +"In about ten days, if the legislature is prorogued by that time." + +"Where are you going?" asked his mother. + +"Alice wishes to go to Fernborough for a week or two, and then we shall +go to Nantucket." + +"Will the Earl and Sir Stuart pay us a visit?" was the next question. + +"I invited them in your name, mother, but Linda and Aunt Ella were +anxious to get back to their yacht at Nantucket. They will sail from +there to New York and take the steamer home next week." + +"Is the Countess of Sussex' sister-in-law, the Lady Elfrida, married +yet?" asked Florence. + +"I understand she is engaged," Quincy replied. + +Maude was incorrigible. "Reggie told me she was practising deep +breathing, owing to the length of the Episcopal marriage service." + +"Maude," said her mother sharply, "if you were not of age I should send +you to bed." + +"I'm going. Alice, while Quincy runs up to the house to say that you are +not coming home, you come to my room. I've some pretty things to show +you." + +As Quincy walked up Walnut Street, he saw a bright light in Dr. Culver's +window. He rang the bell, and the doctor himself came to the door. + +"Is that you, Quincy? Come in." + +"Paul, how are you?" + +"Fine as silk. Business is good, but I'm doing my best to keep the +undertakers out of a job. Have you read the evening papers?" + +"I seldom do. I prefer to wait until morning." + +"The papers are rapping you hard for signing that picketing bill, but +the labour men are delighted. You'll run ahead of your ticket sure next +fall." + +"I'm not going to run. One year is enough." + +"Will Evans get the nomination? I won't vote for him. How are your +wife's eyes?" + +"All right. She has better vision, now, than I have. We owe you a great +debt of gratitude for sending us to Dr. Tillotson." + +"He's a wonder. He told me the other day that he is going to cure what +is called split retina, which has never been done." + +Quincy bethought himself of the message he had to deliver and made a +hurried departure, first inviting the Doctor to dine with him the next +day. On his return to the Beacon Street house, he found his father at +home reading an evening paper. + +"Quincy, I see that you vetoed that railroad bill." + +"Yes, I did. I saw no reason why public property should be given to a +private corporation without compensation." + +"The public would be compensated indirectly. I am a large stockholder +in the railroad, and, to speak plainly, I drew that bill myself. I met +Senator Downing and he says the bill will be passed over your veto." + +"I cannot help that, father. I did my duty as I saw it. If the bill +becomes a law without my signature, I cannot be blamed for future +developments." + +The Hon. Nathaniel dropped the subject. "Quincy, I have purchased a +house in the country and shall go there in a few days. Won't you and +your wife pay us a short visit?" + +"Certainly, we will. We are going to Fernborough for a few days and then +will drop in on you, before we go to Nantucket." + +By the look on his father's face Quincy knew that he was disappointed. +The Hon. Nathaniel never liked "to play second fiddle." Quincy hastened +to rectify his mistake. "We can put it the other way round, just as +well. We'll come and see you before we go to Fernborough." + +"That will please me better, but, of course, you must not do it if your +wife objects." + +"She will not object. She is upstairs, now, with Maude. Of course, the +girls are going." + +"Yes, and I have invited Captain Hornaby, a very fine young man. But, I +must retire. I have a case in court to-morrow." + +Quincy found both commendation and criticism in the morning papers. His +face wore its usual genial expression as he entered the elevator, and +Robert's "good morning" was particularly cheerful. + +The Governor's first caller was Mr. Acton. + +"You see," he began, "that your approval of the picketing bill is +receiving universal condemnation." + +"Hardly," was the reply. "Two papers and the Governor sustain it and the +labour press and unions are yet to be heard from." + +"We shall endeavour to secure a repeal of the bill next year. In the +meantime, we shall carry the matter to the courts." + +"May the cause of truth and justice prevail in the end" was Quincy's +comment, and Mr. Acton took his departure in an uncomfortable state of +mind. + +The day wore away. At three o'clock a vote was taken in the Senate and +the so-called Downing bill was passed over the veto. Not so, in the +House, for one newspaper, read by nearly all the working men, had so +strongly pointed out the nature of the "grab" proposed by the bill, +that the State House was besieged by its opponents, and the veto was +sustained by a narrow margin. + +About five o'clock, Mr. Evans and Senator Downing were dining in a +private room at a hotel. "So, the Governor won't run again," said the +Senator. + +"He so informed me yesterday. He may change his mind." + +"You're not satisfied with things as they are," remarked the Senator. + +"No," replied the lieutenant-governor, "I'm disgusted with the Williams +matter. When I'm governor, I'll request his resignation." + +"And when you're governor, we'll put my bill through. Do you know the +Governor's father is one of our heaviest stockholders? We'll have our +way yet." + +Within a week the legislature was prorogued. The House had a mock +session, during which partisanship, and private victories and defeats +were forgotten, for the time at least, and the fun was jolly and hearty. + +Ben Ropes, the funny man of the House, but a member of the minority, +convulsed all by announcing his candidacy for the governorship, with the +understanding that no money was to be spent, no speakers engaged, the +question to be settled by joint debates between the opposing candidates. +Every member of the House arose, and amid wild cheers, pledged him their +support. + +The Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer's estate at Redford comprised some +eighty acres. Within five minutes' walk of the house was a sheet of +water covering fully fifty acres known as Simmons' Pond. On the farther +side of the pond were a few cottages and near them a tent indicating the +presence of a camping party. + +"Next year," said the Hon. Nathaniel to Quincy as they stood on the +shore of the pond, "I am going to buy some twenty acres on the other +side of the pond. Then I shall own all the land surrounding it, and my +estate will be worthy of the name which I have given it--Wideview--for +nobody's else property will obstruct my view in any direction. I shall +name this," and he pointed to the pond, "Florence Lake after my eldest +daughter. What do you think of Captain Hornaby?" + +Quincy hesitated--"He's a typical Englishman--healthy, hearty, but with +that English conceit that always grates on my nerves." + +"Are we Americans free from it?" his father asked. "To my mind, conceit +is often but the indication of self-conscious power. Its possessors +never acknowledge defeat I have always had that feeling in my law +practice." + +Quincy changed the subject, "What have you in the boat house?" + +"Canoes--three canoes. I have ordered a large row-boat but it is not +ready yet. When I own the 'lake' and the land beyond, my residence will +stand in the centre of my estate. I shall retire from practice in a few +years, and spend my last days here. We all have to go back to the soil +and I am going to make my progress gradual." + +"Won't you find it rather dull here after so long an active life in the +city?" + +"Not dull, but quiet," was the dignified response. "I shall pass my time +surveying the beauties of Nature to which, to my discredit, I have +been so long oblivious; then, I shall commune with the great minds in +literature, and read the latest law reports." + +Quincy wondered whether Nature, literature, or law would be his father's +most appreciated relaxation, but inclined to the latter. + +The next morning Maude exclaimed: "Let's have some fun. What shall we +do?" + +"There are three canoes in the boat house," said Quincy, "why not a row +on the pond?" + +"Fine!" cried Maude. "Quincy, you are a man of ideas." + +Captain Hornaby had asked Florence to go with him and she had willingly +consented. This emboldened Harry Merry, who had come down from the State +House with the Governor's correspondence, and he, rather bashfully, +requested Maude's company in the third canoe. + +"Can you swim?" she asked. + +"I learned when a boy," said Harry. + +"All right. I don't believe the style has changed much since then. I +wouldn't go with you unless you could swim. It would be too great a +responsibility." + +Harry thought to himself that he would be willing to swim ashore with +such a "responsibility" in his arms. + +Maude turned to the Captain: "Can you swim, Captain Hornaby?" + +"Of course, Miss Maude. We Englishmen are all sea dogs, don't you know?" + +"But Englishmen are drowned sometimes," said Maude. "How about Admiral +Kempenfelt and the Royal George? See Fourth Class Reader for full +particulars in verse." + +The three couples were soon afloat--Quincy and Alice, Captain Hornaby +and Florence, Harry and Maude. + +"Let's have a race," cried Maude. "To that big white rock down there," +and she pointed to the farther end of the pond. Harry took the lead with +short, swift strokes, but the long, steady paddling of Captain Hornaby +gained on him steadily, and to Maude's disgust the Captain reached the +rock first, Harry being a close second, and Quincy a late third. + +Maude was excited. "Let's race back to the boat house. A prize for the +first one who reaches it." + +"What will be the prize?" asked the Captain. + +Maude saw that Harry needed encouragement. + +"I haven't anything with me but kisses and only one of them to spare." + +Harry shut his teeth with a snap. He was going to win that race. + +As they were nearing the boat house Harry was in the lead, the Captain +close behind, with Quincy following leisurely. This was a young people's +race--married men barred. For some unexplainable reason Captain Hornaby +tried to cross Harry's bow. The project was ill-timed and unsuccessful. +Harry had just made a spurt and his canoe went forward so fast that the +Captain's boat, instead of clearing his, struck it full in the side and +Harry and Maude were thrown into the water. Florence, who really loved +her sister despite their many quarrels, gave a loud scream and stood up +in the boat. Her action was fatal to its equilibrium, and the Captain +and she were soon in the water's embrace. + +The accident occurred about two hundred feet from the shore where the +water was deep. Captain Hornaby grasped Florence and struck out for the +boat house float. She had fainted and did not impede him by struggling. + +Harry had essayed to bear Maude ashore, but she broke away from him and +swam vigorously towards land, Harry in pursuit. + +"Don't worry, Alice," said Quincy. "They are not in danger." + +"But, Quincy, suppose it had been our boat." + +"If it had been," said he, "you would be as safe in my arms as Florence +is in those of the Captain, providing you did not struggle." + +Harry exerted his full strength and skill to overtake Maude, but she, +flushed with the excitement, her thin costume clinging close to her +form, reached the bank some twenty feet ahead of him. + +"I had to do it," she cried, "and I suppose I must deliver the prize by +kissing myself." + +Then her exuberant nature gave way, and she sank helpless to the ground. +Harry did not envy the Captain who was carrying Florence in his arms, +for was not Maude in his? + +In the evening as they sat upon the veranda watching the dying glories +of the sun, Quincy said to Maude, "Why didn't you let Harry bring you +ashore?" + +"The idea of it," she exclaimed. "And be under obligations to him--not +on your life. Think of poor Florence. If that Captain asks her to marry +him she must accept because he saved her life." + +Later, when the sun had set, and the moonbeams silvered the surface of +the pond, Harry mustered up courage to ask Maude what she meant when she +said it was too great a responsibility to go out canoeing with a man who +couldn't swim. + +"Why, I meant if you couldn't swim it might be a great job for me to get +you ashore. I knew I could take care of myself all right." + +At the other end of the veranda the Hon. Nathaniel and Captain Hornaby +were engaged in conversation. The Captain was not asking the Hon. +Nathaniel for the hand of his daughter Florence but, instead, for a +loan, giving as his reason that when he threw off his coat his letters +of credit to the value of five hundred pounds went to the bottom of the +pond. + +"I shall have to write home to my brother, the Earl, for other letters, +and it will take some time for them to reach me." + +[Illustration: "'IF YOU WILL GIVE ME YOUR NOTE AT THIRTY DAYS I WILL LET +YOU HAVE THE FIVE HUNDRED.'"] + +"You are at liberty to remain here until you receive word," said the +cautious Hon. Nathaniel. + +"I appreciate your great kindness," said the Captain, "but I must visit +New York and Chicago at an early day." + +"How much will supply your present need?" asked the lawyer. + +"I had expected my trip would cost me at least five hundred dollars." + +"If you will give me your note at thirty days I will let you have the +five hundred. I will bring it down to-morrow night." + +On the second day following, the Captain took an apparently very +reluctant departure. + +A week later Quincy and Alice were in Boston making preparations for +their trip to Fernborough. + +"I am going to buy the tickets this morning, Alice--we must have seats +in a parlour car. How shall we go--to Cottonton or Eastborough Centre?" + +"To Eastborough surely," said Alice. "We will drive over the old road. +Do you remember the day that you took me to see Aunt Heppy Putnam after +her husband died?" + +"Alice, every day I passed at Mason's Corner near you was like Heaven to +me, and, now, for a week or more I mean to live in Paradise again. What +a joy it will be to see the old scenes and faces, hear the familiar +voices, and remember the happy days we have had there." + +"I'm afraid, Quincy, some of the charm has departed. Things have +changed, and, in spite of our resolves, we change with them." + +When they alighted at Eastborough Centre, Ellis Smith stood there with +his carriage. + +"How do you do, Ellis, and how's your brother Abbott? Will you take us +to the Hawkins House?" said Quincy. Turning to his wife, he added, +"Mrs. Rawkins is a good cook--her rooms are large and clean. We can go a +visiting during the day and have quiet times by ourselves when we wish." +His wife nodded her acquiescence with the plan proposed. + +"Ellis, can you handle those two big trunks alone?" + +"Yes, Guv'nor. I'm a leetle bit heavier built than Abbott." + +Quincy drew Alice's attention to the Eagle Hotel. + +"There's where we hatched the plot that downed Mr. Obadiah Strout, when +he was an enemy of mine. Say, Ellis, drive up by the Poor House, through +the Willows, and then back down the Centre Road to Mason Street. That +will carry us by some of the old landmarks." + +As they passed the Poor House they saw "pussy" Mr. Waters, sitting on +the piazza and Sam standing in the barn doorway. + +"There's where my Uncle James died," said Quincy. "Did I ever tell you, +Alice, that he left some money and it went to found the Sawyer Public +Library? He made me promise not to tell that he left any, and it has +always troubled me to receive a credit that really was not my due." + +"But you could have kept the money, couldn't you?" + +"Oh, yes. He gave it to me outright." + +"Then I think you are entitled to full credit for the good use you made +of it." + +"Looking at it that way, perhaps you are right, Alice. Here are the +Willows." + +"What a lonely place." + +"You didn't think so, Alice, when we used to drive through here." + +"I was blind then and couldn't see except with your eyes. You didn't say +it was lonesome." + +"How could I say so, when I was with you?" + +Alice squeezed his hand lovingly. + +As they turned into Mason Street, Quincy exclaimed: "There's where Uncle +Ike's chicken coop stood until he set it on fire." + +"Did he set it on fire?" cried Alice. + +"Now I've let out another promised secret. Can you see 'Zeke's house +ahead?" + +"Yes, how inviting the old place looks. I'm glad Hiram Maxwell has it, +for we can sit in the old parlour and sing duets as we used to." + +"Now we're going up Obed's Hill," said Quincy. "Deacon Mason's house +looks as neat as ever." + +"Do you remember when Huldah Mason broke her arm, Quincy?" + +"Do not remind me of that, Alice. I was never in love with her, but no +one could help liking her. There's the grocery store in which I am a +silent partner"--he paused a moment--"and here we are at the Hawkins +House." + +As Ellis Smith reined up, the front door was opened and Mrs. Hawkins +came out to meet her guests. "I got your letter, an' I know'd it was +you. How be ye both? Seems like old times. Come right in the parlour. +I've got the curtains down so as to keep it cool," and the delighted +woman led the way into the house. In the hallway, she screamed, "Jonas! +Jonas! Hurry up and pick those chickens. Guv'nor Sawyer and Alice are +here." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE HAWKINS HOUSE + + +The converting of Mrs. Hawkins' boarding house into a hotel had been due +to two causes: First, the thrift and economy of the lady herself, which +had enabled her to put by a good sum in the bank. This she expended in +building an ell with extra sleeping rooms, painting the structure cream +colour with brown trimmings, and replacing old furniture with that +of modern make. This latter, she confessed within a year, was a great +mistake, for the new chairs became rickety, the castors would not hold +in the bed posts, the bureau drawers became unmanageable, and the rooms, +as she expressed it, had a "second-hand" appearance. Then it was that +the old mahogany furniture, that had been relegated to the attic, was +brought down, furbished up, and restored to its original place. When +Quincy entered the room which he had formerly occupied, it did not seem +possible that five years had elapsed. + +The second cause that had led Mrs. Hawkins to change the small and +modest sign--"Rooms and Board"--which had been in the front window +for years, for a large swinging sign over the front door--"Hawkins +House"--having large gold letters on a blue ground--was the rapid growth +of the town. Many new mills had been erected in the neighbouring city of +Cottonton. The operatives being unable to obtain suitable accommodations +in the city, had come to Fernborough to live, where they could have +gardens, fresh air, and playgrounds for their children. Fernborough +became to Cottonton what Methuen is to Lawrence. Mrs. Hawkins was +democratic, but shirt-sleeves and Prince Albert coats did not look +well together, so she had turned what had been her sitting room into +a private dining room, and it was here that what she called her "star +boarders" were served. + +By the time Quincy and Alice had opened their trunks, and distributed +the contents in the capacious closet and deep, roomy bureau drawers, the +cheerful tones of the dinner bell were heard, and they descended to the +private room. + +They were its only occupants. + +"I thought as how you might be hungry after so long a ride an' so I just +hurried Jonas up so you could begin afore the crowd came in. I don't +introduce folks now I run a hotel. If they gets acquainted it's their +lookout not mine," and Mrs. Hawkins and Olive brought in the fare from +the adjoining kitchen. + +Such a meal for hungry people! Lamb broth, roast chicken, yeast biscuit, +potatoes, string beans, cucumbers, lettuce, berry pie, blackberries, +currants, frosted cake, with tea, coffee, or cocoa. + +"What does she charge?" asked Alice in a whisper when they were alone. + +"A dollar a day for room and board--three square meals for board." + +After dinner they went into the parlour, where Mrs. Hawkins joined them. + +"I jest told Jonas he must help Olive wash the dishes to-day, for I +hain't seen ye for so long I'm just dyin' to have a talk with yer, +'cause I s'pose you'll eat and run while yer here, you know so many +folks." + +"We haven't much to tell about ourselves," said Quincy. "What we want to +know is how Fernborough folks are getting along." + + +"Wall, I s'pos'd you'd like to hear what's goin' on 'round here, an' +p'raps I can tell yer some things that other folks mightn't mention, +'cause they'd forgot it, or p'raps wouldn't want to tell. Is that cheer +comfortable, Alice? I s'pose I ought to say Misses Guv'nor Sawyer, but +it don't come nat'ral, I've known yer so long." + +"I shall always be Alice to my good friend Mrs. Hawkins and her daughter +Mandy." + +"Speakin' o' Mandy, you know she's got two little boys--twins, one named +after Deacon Mason, and t'other after your husband's friend Obadiah +Strout, ther perfesser--and she's got a little girl, nigh on ter two +years old named Marthy after me--but they don't call her Marthy--it's +allus Mattie. These new-fangled names fuss me all up. If Mary and Marthy +were good enough for the Lord's friends, I don't know what he'd think to +hear 'em called Mamie and Mattie. + +"Speakin' o' names, there's my Jonas, which is same as Jonah I s'pose. +Anyway it fits him to a T, for he's a reg'lar Jonah if there ever +was one, which our minister, Mr. Gay, you'll meet him at dinner-time +to-morrow, says he's doubtful about. + +"If a whale swallowed my Jonas it couldn't keep him down, for he's just +_satirated_ with tobacco smoke--he says he has to puff it on the hens +and chickens to kill the varmints, and I should think it would. Do you +smoke, Mr. Sawyer?" + +"Cigars, occasionally. I am not an habitual smoker." + +"Well, old Mr. Trask told me as how pipe smoke wouldn't colour lace +curtains same as cigars do. Now you jes' smoke all you want to up in +your room an' I'll see if it washes out." + +"Alice dislikes smoke, and I never use tobacco in her presence--so your +lace curtains won't suffer." + +"Wall, I'm kinder sorry for I wanted to see if Doctor Trask knew what he +was talkin' about. When I'm rich I'll have three doctors and two on 'em +will have to agree afore I'll take any of their pizen. I jes' remembered +that the new minister, Mr. Gay, smokes. I'll put some lace curtains up +in his room. You ain't seen him yet. He parts his hair in the middle. +The gals are all crazy 'bout him. I like his preachin' putty well, but +he don't use near as much brimstone as old Mr. Howe does." + +"Is Mr. Howe's son going to be a clergyman?" Alice asked. + +Mrs. Hawkins laughed raucously. + +"The Lord save us, I guess not! Why Emmanuel has gone and married a play +actress--and isn't she some? She rides a hoss just like a man does, and +the way she jumps fences and rides hur-rah-ti-cut down the street would +jes' make your hair stand on end. She's away now--I wish you could see +her. Of course you're goin' over to the store." + +"Why, certainly," said Quincy. "I'm a special partner, you know. I shall +call on Mrs. Strout. You remember the party at Deacon Mason's, Alice--I +danced with Miss Bessie Chisholm--" + +Mrs. Hawkins couldn't wait, "Yes, an' she made the perfesser just the +kind of wife he needed. She bosses the house... for I heard her tell him +one day that if he didn't like her cookin' he might have his meals at +the store--an' she goes to dances with her brother Sylvester. Some folks +think she's a high-flyer--but I don't blame her seein' as how she has +that old blowhard for a husband--which is true, if he is your pardner." + +Alice asked if the Strouts had any children. + +"Yes, they've got a little boy, an' he's a chip of the old block. His +father brought him here one day and he pulled the cloth of'n that table +there and broke a chiny vase that I paid fifty cents for, and his father +never said a word about buyin' me another." + +"I hope that Mr. Strout and Hiram get along together well," said Quincy. + +"Hiram's a good feller. Mandy did well when she got him, but she has you +to thank for it, Mr. Sawyer. If you hadn't set him up in that grocery +store I'm afraid he'd be chorin' now. You remember Mrs. Crowley? She +jes' loves them children, but Mandy's afeerd she's going to lose her. +She's got a beau--a feller named Dan Sweeney, and his hair is so red you +could light a match by techin' it. He works for your brother 'Zeke. He's +a good enuf feller, but he and Strout don't hitch horses. You see he was +in the same regiment with the Perfesser an' he knows all about him, same +as you found out, and Strout don't talk big afore him. The fact is, the +Perfesser hain't many friends. There was Abner Stiles. They two used to +be as thick as molasses, but since Strout wouldn't give him the job in +the grocery that he'd promised him, Abner's gone back on him." + +"Does Uncle Ike board with Mandy now?" Alice knew that he did, but +wished Mrs. Hawkins' view of the strange doings of her uncle. + +"Yes, he's there--goin' on eighty-two and chipper as a squirrel. He's +got religion Mandy says, and so many kinds that she don't know which one +he's got the most of." + +Quincy looked at his watch. "Mrs. Hawkins, we're going up to Ezekiel's +house. We shall stay to supper, but will get back before you lock +up--ten o'clock, isn't it?" + +"No such hours in a hotel. We're allus open till twelve, and sometimes +all night--when it pays. It's a hard life, but you know what's goin' on +an' that's considruble for a woman who's tied up in the house as I am." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +'ZEKE PETTINGILL'S FARM + + +Quincy had intended to drive to his brother-in-law's house, but Alice +preferred to walk as the distance was so short. The Hawkins House was on +Mason Street. A short walk brought them to Mason Square. In plain view +were the Town Hall and the Chessman Free Public Library. + +"I always thought it was foolishness to name these streets after me," +said Quincy, as they stood on the corner of Sawyer Street. "There's +Adams Street back of the Town Hall and Quincy Street on the other side." + +"I don't agree with you," said Alice. "I would rather have a street +named after me than a monument erected to my memory." + +At Putnam Square they turned to the left into Pettingill Street and soon +reached her brother's house. Huldah saw them coming and ran down the +path to meet them. + +"Why, when did you come, and where are your things? You are surely going +to stay with us." + +"Our headquarters are at the Hawkins House," said Quincy. "We have been +in town but a few hours and you have the first visit." + +"I am so disappointed you aren't to be with us," and Huldah's face +showed the feeling she had expressed. + +"You won't be when I give you our reasons," Quincy replied. "Mrs. Putnam +died in this house, and Alice has such a vivid recollection of her last +day on earth--" + +"I understand," said Huldah, "but you must come and see us every day." + +"Where's Ezekiel?" asked Alice. + +"Getting in his last load of hay--about sixty tons this year. We only +had thirty a year ago." + +"Where's my namesake--Quincy Adams Pettingill?" + +"He goes every day to see his grandpa and grandma. Abner will be here +with him soon." + +When they reached the piazza, Quincy took a good view of the farm. +What a contrast to the condition it had been in, when occupied by the +Putnams! Then everything had been neglected--now garden, field, +and orchard showed a high state of cultivation, and the house and +outbuildings were in good repair and freshly painted. Inside, the +careful attention of a competent housekeeper was apparent. Huldah +Pettingill was a finer looking woman than Huldah Mason had been, but +Quincy had never forgotten how pretty she looked the day she lay in bed +with the plaster cast on her broken arm--the result of the accident for +which he had taken the blame belonging to another. + +They had just sat down in the little parlour when cries of "Mamma" were +heard outside and four year old Quincy Adams Pettingill burst into the +room followed closely by Abner Stiles. + +"He don't mind me no more'n a woodchuck would," said Abner--then his +eyes fell on Quincy, who rose to greet him. + +"Why, if it ain't"--but words failed him as Quincy gave his hand a +hearty grasp. + +"This is the first time I ever shook hands with a guv'nor," said Abner. +"I didn't know you was going to shake hands all round the night of the +show an' I went home." He looked at his right hand, rubbed it softly +with his left, and then remarked: "I sha'n't wash that hand for a couple +o' days if I can help it." + +His hearers laughed, for his words were accentuated by the old-time grin +that had pleased Obadiah Strout on some occasions, but on others had +raised his ire to an explosive point. + +"Are father and mother at home?" asked Huldah. + +"Yes, both on 'em. Susie Barker's been helpin' her to-day, and the +Dekin's wife thinks o' keepin' her reg'lar." + +"I'll have them come to supper," said Huldah. "Abner, hitch up the black +mare into the low phaeton and bring them up here. Don't tell them who's +here, but tell them that I say they must come." + +"Well, I declare!" All looked up and saw Ezekiel standing in the +doorway. He wore overalls and thick boots, his sleeves were rolled +up, showing his brawny arms with muscles like whip-cords. His face was +brown, but his beard was neatly trimmed, and his eyes bright. He was +a picture of robust, healthy manhood, and showed what he was,--a +hard-working, independent New England farmer. Alice sprang into his arms +and received a resounding smack. One hand grasped Quincy's while the +other encircled his dainty wife's waist, and he drew her towards him. + +"You have a fine farm," said Quincy. + +"About as good as they make them," 'Zeke replied. "I've a good market +for all I can raise. Strout and Maxwell buy a great deal of garden +truck, and I sell considerable to Mrs. Hawkins direct. What I have left +we eat or give away." + +Alice had taken young Quincy on her lap. He became communicative. "I've +got a grandpa and grandma and Uncle Abner." + +"Abner isn't your uncle," said Alice. "I'm your Aunt Alice, and that is +your Uncle Quincy." + +Ezekiel laughed. "You can't convince him but that Abner's his uncle. +Abner comes after him every afternoon and takes him down to the Deacon's +house and that gives Huldy a good chance to do my mending." + +The sound of carriage wheels indicated new arrivals, and Huldah went to +the door to meet her father and mother. + +"Have you got callers?" asked Mrs. Mason. "I don't think I'll go in. I +didn't dress up, but came just as I was." + +"And I never saw you looking better," said Quincy, stepping into the +entry to meet them. + +"I'm glad to see you again, Mr. Sawyer," and the Deacon's grasp was a +firm one. "I didn't get up to the Town Hall that night, for I didn't +feel first-rate and Sophia didn't want to go alone, but Abner told me +what you did and said, and I reckon added a little on his own account." + +Abner appeared in the doorway. "I've put up the mare, Mr. Pettingill. +Want me for anything more, Dekin?" + +"You can go home and help Susie," said Mrs. Mason. + +When Abner had gone, the Deacon chuckled and said, "Nothing could please +Abner better than to take supper with Susie and pass the evening in her +company. He's more'n forty and she's only twenty, but such hitch-ups +ain't uncommon nowadays." + +"That is what they call a December and May marriage," remarked Alice. + +"Not quite as bad as that," said the Deacon. "I should say about October +and March." + +It was a jolly company that sat down to a well-filled table that +evening. Quincy's first coming to town, and his exciting experiences +during his four months' residence at Mason's Corner, formed the +principal topics of conversation, and Alice appreciated more fully than +ever her husband's persistency, which had shown itself as strongly in +doing good to others as it had in manifesting love for herself. + +When they reached the Hawkins House Mrs. Hawkins was on the watch for +them. + +"There's a young man here to see you, Mr. Sawyer. He came on the train +to Cottonton and my man Andrew brought him over. I told him you wouldn't +be home till late and I sent him off to bed. Was that all right?" + +"I can tell better," said Quincy, "when I find out who he is and what he +wants." + +"He said his name was Gerry or Ferry or something like that. He's kind +of bashful, I 'magine." + +"It's Merry," Quincy exclaimed. "Something has turned up at the State +House, but it will keep till morning." + +As they were ascending the stairs, Mrs. Hawkins called out, "Oh, Mr. +Sawyer, there was a letter came for you. It's up in your room." + +It was from Maude. "Let us see what that volatile sister of mine has to +say. Something very important or she wouldn't write." As he opened the +note sheet, he turned to his wife. "Shall I read it aloud?" + +"I should love to hear it." + +Quincy read: + + * * * * * * * + +"MY ABSENT RELATIVE: You will be delighted to hear that I have found +Captain Hornaby's missing coat and wallet. I was out in the new boat +when I saw something on the bottom of the pond. You know the water is +as clear as glass. It wasn't very deep and I fished the coat up with +an oar. I gave it to father and he examined the wallet with apparently +great interest. Perhaps he thought there was some money in it, but there +wasn't. There were some visiting cards bearing the name Col. Arthur +Spencer, but nary a red. Father is trying to find out who the Colonel +is. I think father loaned the Captain some money--don't you? Now that +we have a real live boat, no more slippery canoes for me. I hope you and +Alice are having a fine time--of course you will on your old stamping +ground. + +"I don't find any fault, because I'm so young and of so little +importance, but it seems funny that nobody ever invited me to visit +Fernborough. Please don't consider this a bid for an invite, for I won't +come. Your neglected sister, + +"MAUDE." + + * * * * * * * + +"Is it possible?" cried Alice, "that Maude has never been here?" + +"It is a lamentable fact." + +"She won't come now." + +"I'll fetch her,--hand-cuffed, if necessary." + +Quincy was up early to learn Merry's errand. A request had come from the +Governor of Colorado for the extradition of a Pole named Ivan Wolaski, +who was accused of being concerned in a dynamite explosion in a Colorado +mine. + +"Have you looked into the case, Harry?" + +"Somewhat. I think it is part of a political feud." + +Quincy made preparation for an immediate departure. + +"Mrs. Hawkins, I must go to Boston at once with Mr. Merry. Will you have +Andrew get a team ready for me? I will leave it at the Eagle Hotel. I +know the way home." + +"You ought to," said she. "You've druv it times enough." + +"What will you do with yourself all day, Alice? I must go to the State +House on business, but I'll be back by six o'clock." + +"If I were home I'd have my horse saddled and have a ride out to the +Arboretum or Chestnut Hill." + +"They've no saddle horses here, unfortunately. I'll tell you what to do. +After dinner go down to Mandy Maxwell's and see her and the children, +and have a talk with Uncle Ike. I'll be there in time for supper, tell +Mandy." + +When Quincy went down stairs he found that Mrs. Hawkins had gone out to +the stable to give Andrew directions about the team. + +Quincy said in a low tone: "Mrs. Hawkins, have you some spare stalls in +your stable that I can use while here?" + +"You can have the old barn all to yourself. It's a leetle further from +the house, but it's in first-rate order." + +As they drove towards Eastborough Centre, Quincy pointed out the objects +of interest to Mr. Merry, who thought Fernborough a beautiful town. + +"Come down next Saturday afternoon, Harry, and stay over Sunday. Bring +down any important letters. Perhaps my sister Maude will come back with +me." + +Mr. Merry accepted the invitation with polite outward thanks, but with +an inward sense of intense gratification. Love is blind. If he had +reflected, he would have come to the conclusion that the daughter of +the Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer, the millionaire, was not for him, an +unfledged lawyer with a mother to support. + +When they reached Eastborough Centre, Quincy found he was too late for +the train. He had nearly an hour at his disposal. His first visit was to +the Eagle Hotel, where he put up the horse. Mr. Parsons, the proprietor, +was greatly pleased to meet him. + +"You haven't forgotten how we railroaded Strout out of office, have +you?" + +"That was long ago," said Quincy. "Strout and I are good friends now. +He's one of my partners in the Fernborough store.' + +"So I've been told." + +Quincy took Mr. Parsons aside and had an animated conversation with him. + +"I can get you just what you want, Guv'nor. Kind and gentle but some go +in them when needed." + +"Send them to the Hawkins House and don't forget the saddles." + +They crossed the square to the telegraph office, where Quincy sent this +message. + +"Miss MAUDE SAWYER, + +"Wideview, Redford, Mass. + +"Meet me at State House by two o'clock. Leave your trunk at station. +Something important. + +"QUINCY." + + +As they were leaving the office Quincy met Tobias Smith, father of +Abbott and Ellis Smith, and Wallace Stackpole. + +"Glad to see you, Guv'nor," said 'Bias. "You remember Mr. Stackpole that +we gave Strout's job of tax-collector to--he's held it ever since. We're +mighty glad Strout lives in Fernborough. We don't have circuses at town +meetings now he's gone." + +Quincy's next visit was to the office of the _Fernborough Gazette_, +which was published in Eastborough, as the editor and proprietor, Mr. +Sylvester Chisholm, Mr. Strout's brother-in-law, could not get printers +in Fernborough, and, being an Eastborough-born boy, his paper had a +large circulation in that town and in Westvale, its principal village. + +Quincy obtained some copies of the paper containing his speech at the +Town Hall. On looking it over he was astonished to find it reported +_verbatim_. + +"How did you manage it, Mr. Chisholm? My address was extemporaneous." + +Sylvester smiled. "Well, the fact is, Mr. Sawyer, while I was working on +the _Eastborough Express_, when you were here five years ago, I studied +short-hand, and it came in handy that night." + +The train was express to Boston and Quincy was in his chair in the +Executive Chamber by half-past eleven. After a careful examination +of the case of Ivan Wolaski, he decided to refuse the request for +extradition, and the Governor of Colorado was so notified in a +communication which from moral, legal, political, and humanitarian +points of view was unanswerable. It was nearly two o'clock when the last +official letter was signed. + +The door was opened by the messenger. Quincy expected Maude to enter, +but it was Mr. Acton, the energetic opponent of the "peaceful picketing" +law. + +"I heard, Mr. Governor, that you were here, and I thought it only fair +to inform you that we shall apply for injunctions just the same as if +that bill you signed had not become a law, and, in that way, test its +constitutionality." + +"You have a legal right to do that," said the governor, "but I question +your moral right." + +"How so?" asked Mr. Acton. + +"Supposing I had applied for an injunction to prevent you and a score of +others from trying to influence me to veto the bill?" + +"That would have been foolish. No judge would have granted it." + +"And why not?" said the governor sternly. "Were not all of you engaged +in 'peaceful picketing'? Why should not the working man have the same +right to persuade his fellows that you exerted to influence me?" + +Mr. Acton had not exhausted his argument: "But the probable destruction +of property and possible loss of life?" + +"Matters fully covered by law," the Governor replied. "They are under +the jurisdiction of the police, the sheriff, and, if need be, the +militia." + +Mr. Acton, despite the argument advanced, "was of the same opinion +still." + +Quincy rang for the messenger, who appeared. + +"I am going now. Does any one wish to see me?" + +"There's a young lady outside. She's been waiting some time." + +Quincy looked at his watch. It was quarter past two. + +"Admit her, at once." + +Maude began the conversation. "I received your astonishing telegram, +Quincy, and was here _on time_," and she emphasized the final words. + +"What does it mean? Is Alice sick?" + +Quincy took the cue. "Not exactly sick, but she wants to see you very +much, and I felt so sure you would come to please her, that I ignored +your refusal to accept an invitation from me. Come, we'll have lunch at +Young's, and then a carriage to the station,--is your trunk there?" + +Maude nodded. She felt that Quincy had played a trick on her and she was +in a rebellious mood. + +She ate her lunch in silence. Not a word was spoken during the drive to +the station. When the train was under way Quincy remarked, casually, "I +invited Mr. Merry to come down next Saturday and stay over Sunday." + +From that moment until they reached Eastborough Centre, Quincy could not +have desired a more talkative or vivacious companion. As they stepped +upon the platform, Mr. Parsons came up. + +"They're there, safe and sound. I went up with them myself, so's to be +sure." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +"JUST LIKE OLD TIMES" + + +Alice had a delightful day at Mandy Maxwell's. The twins, Abraham Mason +and Obadiah Strout, sturdy little fellows of the same age as Ezekiel's +boy, were full of fun and frolic. Swiss, Uncle Ike's dog, had grown old +in the past five years, but the antics of the youngsters overcame at +times both age and its accompanying dignity, or love of repose, and he +was often as frisky as in his younger days. + +Mrs. Crowley told Alice, in confidence, that she "was most dead" with +the noise of them, and that, some day, she would be "kilt intirely" by +falling over them. + +Alice held the little girl for hours, and, remembering Mrs. Hawkins' +complaint, called her "Martha" instead of "Mattie." + +After the death of Capt. Obed Putnam, his companion, Uncle Ike came down +from his attic and had the room that Quincy occupied when he boarded +with Ezekiel Pettingill. He was now eighty-one years of age, and too +feeble to go up and down stairs, so his meals were taken to his room. + +He was greatly pleased to see Alice and to learn that there had been no +return of the trouble with her eyes. + +"If we had known as much then as we do now, you wouldn't have needed any +doctor, Alice." + +"Why, how's that?" she asked. + +"Because the mind governs the body; as we think we are--we are." + +"Well, Uncle Ike, why don't you think you are able to go down stairs and +walk back again?" + +"I was referring to disease, not the infirmities of old age." + +"What's the difference, Uncle?" + +"I can't explain it, but there's a mighty sight of difference. I've been +trying to get Mandy to let me live on sour milk, because a great doctor +in Europe says we'll live longer if we do." + +"How long would you care to live?" + +"As long as I could. I've been reading up on all the religions and all +the substitutes, and it's going to take me some time to decide which is +best--for me, I mean. I don't presume to dictate to others." + +"Which do you favour so far?" + +"I was brought up on theology--great, big doses of it. I was taught +that God was everything and man was nothing. Now I'm willing to give the +Almighty credit for all his wonderful works, but I can't help thinking +that _man_ deserves some credit for his thousands of years of labour. +There's a man out in Chicago who has got up a religion that he calls +Manology. There's some good points in it, but he goes too far to suit +me. I've read about ghosts and spirits, but I've got to see one before I +take stock in them." + +"I understand how you feel, Uncle. You have lost the two anchors which +make this life bearable. They are Faith and Hope. For them you have +substituted Reason--not the reason of others, or of the ages, but your +own personal opinion. Until you are satisfied, every one else is wrong." + +"Perhaps you're right, Alice. I can see now that my life has been +misspent. I should have remained at home and made my wife and children +happy. Instead, I became, virtually, a hermit, and for more than twenty +years I have thought only of myself and done nothing for humanity, that +has done everything for me." + +Alice was deeply touched by her Uncle's self-accusation. He had been +good to her, and not unkind to others. But he was drifting in a sea of +doubt, and really wishing to live his life over again. She felt sorry, +but what could she say to give his mind peace? She would begin on the +material plane. + +"Uncle, how much money have you?" + +"That's what troubles me, Alice. When I left home"--his voice lingered +on the word--"I gave my wife and children two-thirds of what I had. The +rest I put into an annuity, which dies with me. That will do nothing for +those I love and who love me." + +To Alice, the case seemed almost hopeless. Here was a man who, owning +his past life had been self-reliant, independent, impatient as regarded +advice and control--was now weaker than a child, for, in youth, Faith is +triumphant. + +"You must have a talk with Quincy, Uncle. Perhaps he can help you." She +went down stairs with a sinking heart. She loved her uncle, but love, +powerful as it is, cannot always cast out unbelief. + +"Where can your husband be, Alice?" asked Mandy. "Half-past six, and +supper's ready. I remember how I used to call out 'supper's ready' +when you and he were in the parlour singing. I hope you'll sing some +to-night." + +Mrs. Crowley rushed into the dining room. "He's coming, but he's got a +woman with him." + +"Who can she be?" thought Alice as they followed Mrs. Crowley to the +front door. + +"Hello, Alice," cried Maude. "I've brought him back with me." + +Quincy told Ambrose, Mandy's boy-of-all-work, to drive the team to the +Hawkins' House and tell Mrs. Hawkins that he wished a room that night +for his sister. Ambrose's hand clutched the half-dollar tightly as +he repeated the message to Quincy's satisfaction. Mrs. Crowley gazed +admiringly at the Governor until he disappeared from view. Alone, in the +kitchen, she gave vent to her feelings. + +"The foine gintleman that he is. 'How do you do, Mrs. Crowley.' sez he, +and he shakes me hand as jintly as if I was a born lady. And the pretty +sister that he has, an' the beautiful wife. An' he's the President of +the State, an' sez he, 'Mrs. Crowley, how do you do, an' it's delighted +I am to see you again.'" + +Mrs. Crowley wiped her eyes with her apron and resumed her household +duties, occasionally repeating, "'How do you do, Mrs. Crowley.' When Dan +comes to-night I'll tell him what the Governor said." + +Hiram soon joined the party, it being his night off. As of old, he +stammered, or stuttered, when excited, and the sight of Quincy and Alice +was enough to entirely disorganize his speaking apparatus. + +"Ain't this jolly?" said he. "Just like old times. I heerd you was at +Miss Hawkinses, but I didn't think as how you'd git round here so quick. +But we're mighty glad to see 'em, ain't we, Mandy? I hope you're all as +hungry as I am." He went to the kitchen door and called, "Mrs. Crowley, +we're waiting for the supper." + +"How I wish Uncle Ike could be with us," said Alice. + +"Why can't you call him?" asked Quincy. + +"He's too weak in his legs to come down," said Mandy. + +"I'll fetch him," and Quincy bounded up stairs, while Mandy got a place +ready for him. + +Quincy soon returned with Uncle Ike in his arms and placed him in a big +arm-chair at the head of the table. + +Alice looked up and smiled at her husband. + +"Now it is much more like old times," she said, softly. + +Maude, who had been an interested listener and spectator, finally +exclaimed, "I'm not surprised that you stayed down here four months, +Quincy, but we used to wonder, until we saw Alice, what the great +attraction was." + +Maude's explosive remark caused a general laugh in which Uncle Ike +joined. Alice, feeling that all eyes were fixed upon her, blushed +prettily, "As my husband's residence here brought good to others as well +as to myself, I am glad that a poor, blind girl, such as I was, proved +an attraction strong enough to keep him here." + +She stopped, somewhat abashed at making so long a speech, which Maude +might think indicated that she was offended at her sister-in-law's +reference to herself. + +"Bravo, Alice," cried Uncle Ike, "so say we all of us." + +After supper all adjourned to the parlour. Quincy offered to carry Uncle +Ike. + +"No, young man. I'm all right on an even floor. It's these up and +down stairs that tire my loose joints"--and he made his way, without +assistance, to an easy chair in a farther corner. Quincy looked about +the room. Five years had made little change. The old square piano was +in its accustomed place, as well as the music stand. He looked over the +pieces--the same ones that he and Alice had sung together years ago. + +"Let's have some music," said Hiram. "We haven't heard any singers, +except Dan, since you folks went away. Guess that pianner's out of tune +by this time." + +It certainly was, but their hearts were in tune, and it mattered little +if some of the keys refused to move, or the sounds emitted were more +discordant than melodious. + +"Is this Dan a good singer?" asked Quincy. + +"Fine!" exclaimed Hiram. "He's great on Irish songs." + +"They are always humourous or pathetic," remarked Alice. "Some of them +remind me of a person trying to laugh with a heart full of sorrow, and +their love songs are so sweet." + +"Can't we have him in?" asked Maude. + +"I'll go and see if he's come," said Mandy. "He often drops in and helps +Mrs. Crowley clear up after supper." + +Maude laughed. "A sure sign he's in love. I hope I'll get such a helpful +husband." + +"Your life will be on different lines," remarked Uncle Ike. "You will +not be obliged to do your own housework." + +"I don't know about that. I've loafed all my life and I'd really like to +know what work is." + +Mandy came back with smiling face. "Yes, he's there, and they're putting +the dishes in the closet. He's coming in, and, of course, Mrs. Crowley +will come too." + +"While we are waiting, play something, Maude," said Quincy. + +"I only took three quarters," she said roguishly, as she seated herself +and dashed off "Waves of Ocean" in strident style. + +"I always liked that," said Hiram. + +"So do I, with my bathing-dress on," and Maude acknowledged the applause +that greeted her efforts with a low bow. + +The door was opened, and Mrs. Crowley entered followed by Mr. Daniel +Sweeney. Mrs. Crowley with her neat calico dress and white apron, did +not look her forty-five years, and Mr. Sweeney, although five years her +senior, was a young appearing man. + +"I haven't the music with me," said Mr. Sweeney to Maude, who offered to +play the accompaniment. + + "Give me the key--I guess I can vamp it." + +Mr. Sweeney struck a note. + +"What's the title?" asked Maude. + +"Widow Mahan's Pig." + +"Oh, I know that," said Maude. "It's one of my favourites. I often sing +it to my sister Florence. She just adores it." + +"Why, Maude," cried Alice, "how can you tell such stories?" But Quincy +was laughing quietly. But few people understood Maude as he did. + +Mr. Sweeney had a fine baritone voice; he sang with great expression, +and, what is particularly desirable in a comic song, the words could be +heard and understood. + +I. + + Young Widow Mahan had an iligant pig, + In the garden it loved for to wallow and dig; + On potatoes it lived, and on fresh buttermilk, + And its back was as smooth as fine satin or silk. + Now Peter McCarthy, a graceless young scamp, + Who niver would work, such a lazy young tramp, + He laid eye on the pig, as he passed by one day, + And the thafe of the world, he stole it away! + + _Chorus_ + + An iligant pig in every way, + Young Widow Mahan used often to say: + "Faith, when it's full grown, I'll go to the fair, + A mighty foine price I'll get for it there." + +As Mr. Sweeney started to repeat the four lines of the chorus, a soprano +voice rose above his own, and, as the last note died away, Maude came +in for her share of the applause. Mrs. Crowley was delighted, and showed +her appreciation by laughing until she cried. + + II + + He drove the poor piggy to Ballyporeen, + And the price of it soon he did spend in poteen, + He got into a fight and was cracked on the head, + Then to jail he was carried and taken for dead. + The constable then for the Father did send, + For he thought that McCarthy was quite near his end; + He confessed to the priest, did this penitent youth, + About the pig stealing he told the whole truth. + +Maude improvised a short symphony before the third and last stanza. + + III + + Then to young McCarthy, the Father did say: + "Now what will you do at the great Judgment Day? + For you will be there, at the bar you will stan' + The pig as a witness, and Widow Mahan." + "Faith, what will I do?" young McCarthy did say. + "An' the pig will be there at the great Judgment Day? + Begorre! I'll say to the Widow, 'Asthore, + Take back your old pig, for I want it no more' + + "'An iligant pig in ivery way, + Schwate Widow Mahan, plaze take it away. + Faith, now it's full grown, just go to the fair, + A mighty foine price you'll git for it there.'" + +"Yes," said Uncle Ike, "that's what the rich man will say. After +cheating the poor, buncoing the credulous, and 'cornering' his fellows, +he will say he is willing to give it back, for he has no further use +for it. There's a good moral in that song, Mr. Sweeney, and some of our +sordid millionaires ought to hear it." + +Quincy looked at his watch. "The hour is late--for the country, but, +fortunately, our hotel keeps open all night." + +Quincy carried Uncle Ike up stairs to his room and told him he would +come some day and have a good old-fashioned talk with him. + +They walked home slowly, Maude admiring the moonlight night and the +cool, scented air. When they reached their own room, after seeing Maude +to hers, Alice repeated to her husband her conversation with Uncle Ike. + +"You must do something to cheer him up, Quincy. Promise me, won't you?" + +"Yes, I promise. I hope I won't forget to perform it as I have in one +instance." + +"Why--what?" + +"Do you remember that young man at the Town Hall--Arthur Scates? He's in +consumption. I told him to come to the State House and I would see that +he had proper treatment. He hasn't been--or perhaps he has since I've +been away, but I will see him to-morrow." + +Alice looked up at him approvingly. "Quincy, I agree with you that the +real value of money is found in the good that can be done with it." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +STROUT AND MAXWELL'S GROCERY + + +The next morning, after breakfast, Quincy asked his wife and Maude to +accompany him to Mrs. Hawkins' barn. + +"I wish I had my saddle horse here," said Alice. + +"So do I," added Maude. "I did think of bringing him." + +Alice laughed, "Do you know, Maude, sometimes you say the most +ridiculous things? How could you bring a horse with you?" + +"Easy enough--on a cattle car. Besides, I could have ridden down here if +Quincy hadn't been in such a hurry." + +"Alone?" + +"No, with Bobby. What better protector can a woman have than a good +horse? I shall never remain in danger long if my heels or my horse's +will get me away from it." + +"Maude, you're a strange girl," said Alice. Then she put her arm about +her and added--"but one of the best girls in the world." + +By this time they had reached the barn. Two stalls were occupied. Quincy +pointed to two side-saddles hanging on the wall. + +"As I knew you were both good horse-women, I had these sent up with your +riding habits from Eastborough Centre yesterday. I am going to be busy +at the store this morning, and I thought you might enjoy a ride." + +Maude threw her arms about his neck and kissed him. + +"You are the bestest brother in the world." + +"And the most thoughtful husband," said Alice as he drew her close to +him. + +"Well, I'll saddle them and see you mounted." + +A quarter of an hour later Quincy led the horses to the street. + +"Don't go down Obed's Hill--it is very steep. Ride along Pettingill +Street to the Centre Road, which will bring you to Mason Street, and +when you've walked your horses up hill you'll be near the grocery store, +where you'll find me." + +They waved a good-bye as they rode off, and Quincy made his way to the +grocery store. Mr. Strout came from behind the counter to meet him. +Hiram was busy putting order baskets in the gaudily painted wagon. + +"I heard as how you were in town, and Hiram said you were at his house +last night, but I ain't one of the kind that gits mad if I'm waited on +last at table. In music you know we usually begin down low and finish +off up high, and visitin' is considerable like music, especially when +there's three children and one of 'em a baby." + +His closing words were intended to refer to Hiram's family, but Quincy +made no reply. + +Mr. Strout was never at a loss for words: "How do you like being +Governor?" + +"So well that one term is enough. I'm going to Europe later." + +"I mean to go some day. I've heard so many foreigners blow about what +they've got over there, I'm kinder anxious to see for myself. If they've +got a better grocery store than this, I'll introduce improvements as +soon as I get back." + +Hiram having finished his work and dispatched the team, the three +partners went into the private office, which was monopolized by Mr. +Strout. It contained one desk and two chairs. Hiram brought in an empty +nail keg and closed the door. + +"We've done twenty per cent. more business this month than same time +last year." Mr. Strout opened a desk drawer. "Will you smoke, Guv'nor?" + +Quincy accepted the cigar, and Strout, without offering one to Hiram, +was returning the box to the drawer when Hiram, by a quick movement, +gained possession of it, and taking out half-a-dozen put them in his +pocket. + +"That'll even matters up a little, I guess," he said. Mr. Strout +scowled, but catching Quincy's eye, said nothing. + +"Would you like to look over the books? I'll have them brought in." + +"Don't trouble yourself to do that," said Quincy. "I'll examine them at +the bookkeeper's desk." + +"Oh, very well," said Strout. "You'll find them O. K. But now's you're +here there's one thing I want to say. Hiram don't agree with me, but he +ain't progressive. There's no _crescendo_ to him. He wants to play in +one key all the time. He's--" + +Quincy interrupted, "What did you wish to say about the business? We'll +drop personalities for the present, at least." + +"Well, our business is growing, but we can do ten times as much with +more capital. What I want to do is to start branch stores in Cottonton, +Montrose, and Eastborough Centre. We send our teams to all these places, +but if we had stores there we'd soon cut the other fellers out, for +buying in such large quantities, we could undersell them every time." + +"I'm rather in favour of the branches, but don't go to cutting prices. +The other fellow has the same right to a living that we have." + +"Why not let him have what he's got then and not interfere with him?" +said Mr. Strout, chewing his cigar vigorously. + +"For the reason," said Quincy, "that we don't keep store to please our +competitors, but to serve the public. I believe in low prices in sugar, +tea, and coffee, to draw trade. But general cuts in prices are ruinous +in the end, for our competitors will cut too, and we shall all lose +money." + +"I ain't agin the new stores," said Hiram, "but I'm teetotally agin +chopping prices down on everything and tryin' to beat the other feller." + +"How much money will it require?" asked Quincy. "Have you estimated on +rent, fixtures, stock, horses and wagons, stabling, wages and salaries, +and sundry expenses?" + +"Yes, I've got it all down in black and white, it's in the safe. My +estimate, and it is as close as the bark to a tree, is six thousand +dollars spot cash." + +"I'll look over your figures," said Quincy, "and if they seem all right, +I'll advance the money on the usual terms, eight per cent., but I must +have a four thousand dollar mortgage to cover your two-thirds, for I +don't suppose you can put up two thousand apiece." + +"Not this year," said Strout, as he proceeded to relight his cigar. + +The door was thrown open violently and Alice rushed in. + +"Oh, Quincy, Maude's horse has run away with her and I'm afraid she's +thrown and perhaps killed. I tried to catch up with her but I could not, +and I saw nothing else to do but to come and let you know." + +"Which way has she gone?" cried Quincy. "How did it happen?" + +"We stopped at 'Zekiel's and had a talk with Huldah, who came down to +the gate. Then we went on until we came to the Centre Road. When Maude +saw the long straight stretch ahead she cried, 'Let's have a race!' +Before I could remonstrate, she gave her horse a sharp cut with the +whip. He took the bit in his teeth and bolted. I rode on as fast as I +dared to, but when I reached Mason Street she was not in sight." + +"If she had come this way we should have seen or heard her," said +Quincy. "She must have gone towards Eastborough Centre. Come, Alice, I +will get the carryall. If she is hurt she will not be able to ride her +horse." + +Leading her horse, Quincy and Alice went to the Hawkins House. + +"He takes it pretty cool," said Strout to Hiram. "If she was my sister +I'd ring the church hell, make up a party, and go in search of her dead +body, for that's what they'll come back with." + +"I don't take no stock in that," remarked Hiram. "She's used to horses, +and she's a mighty bright, independent girl. She'll come home all +right." + +"No doubt she's independent enough," retorted Strout. "That runs in +the family. But the horse, it seems, was independent too. Perhaps the +Guv'nor will have a boxing match with him for his independence to a +Sawyer." + +As Hiram went back into the store he said to himself: "That Strout's +only a half-converted sinner anyway. He'll never forget the thrashing +that Mr. Sawyer gave his man, Bob Wood." + +Quincy had Alice go to her room, for she was agitated and extremely +nervous, and he asked Mrs. Hawkins to look out for her until his return. + +With Andrew's help, the carryall was soon ready and Quincy drove to the +store. What was his surprise to find Maude there, still on her horse, +and apparently uninjured. With her, also on horseback was an attractive +girl, a stranger to Quincy. + +"I'm all right, Quincy," Maude cried as he alighted, "but there would +have been a funeral but for this young lady." + +Quincy, with hat in hand, bowed to the stranger. "I am deeply grateful +for your valuable service, madam. To whom are we indebted for my +sister's rescue from death?" + +The young lady smiled, showing a set of even, white teeth. "Not so great +a service after all. Your sister is a good horsewoman. If she hadn't +been, she would have been thrown long before I reached her." + +"But your name, Madam," persisted Quincy. "Her father will wish to know, +and to thank you." + +"My name when in Fernborough is Mrs. Emmanuel Howe. When I'm on the +stage, it is Dixie Schaffer. I was born in the South. My father was Col. +Hugh Schaffer of Pasquotank County, North Carolina." + +"My father and all of us will feel under great obligations to you." + +"I hope he will not. I have no objections to receiving his thanks in +writing, if he is disposed to send them, which I think unnecessary as +you are his representative. But kindly caution him not to suggest or +send any reward, for it will be returned." She bowed to Quincy, turned +her horse's head and rode away. + +As Strout entered the store he said to himself, "Bully for her. She +don't bow down to money. She's got brains." + +A few days later, however, Miss Dixie Schaffer was the recipient from +the Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer of a beautiful gold pendant in the shape +of a horseshoe, set with pearls. If one could have glanced at a stub +in the lawyer's check book, he would have found the name of a prominent +jeweller, and the figures $300. It is needless to add that the gift was +not returned to the donor. When Alice saw that Maude had escaped without +injury, she soon recovered her equanimity. + +"How did it happen, Maude?" asked Quincy. "Alice says you gave the horse +a sharp blow." + +"I must have hit her harder than I intended--but I was thinking of the +race more than of her. Didn't she run, hurrah-ti-cut, as Mrs. Hawkins +says? I was bound I'd keep on her back unless she fell down or ran into +something, and I did. I wasn't foolish enough to jump and land on my +head. + +"When we got to the main road, I didn't know which way to turn--I mean +I couldn't think. She settled the matter by turning to the right, which +was very fortunate, but I didn't know I was on the road to Dixie." + +"Maude, you're incorrigible," laughed Alice. + +"No, I'm a sensation. I was full of them as I dashed on. But she was a +well-bred horse and kept in the middle of the road. Then, to my joy, I +saw Dixie ahead. As I went by her I yelled--yes, yelled--'she's running +away.' + +"Dixie yelled--yes, yelled--'Hold on, I'll catch you.' She did, but we +ran more than a mile before she got even with me, grasped my horse's +bridle, and pulled her round so quickly that I came near landing in the +bushes. And here I am." + +"You must not ride her again," said Alice. + +"That's just what I am going to do. I'm not going to deprive that horse +of my company, when it was all my fault. No more whip, she needs only +the voice--and little of that." + +"Alice," said Quincy, "Mr. Strout has invited us to dinner. He will be +offended unless his invitation is accepted." + +"I don't feel equal to meeting that man in his own house. I cannot bear +him even at long range. Take Maude." + +"I'll go, Quincy. I love these odd characters." + +"He's married and has a little boy," said Alice. + +"Then my love for the father will be invisible--I'll shower my affection +upon his offspring." + +Quincy, after introducing his sister to Mr. Strout and his wife, +expressed his regret that his wife was so unnerved by the runaway that +she was unable to accompany him. Mr. Strout, in turn, expressed his +regrets, as did Mrs. Strout, then he added: "Miss Sawyer, we'll have to +pay you a commission. The store has been full of folks asking about you, +and after I told them all about the runaway and how you were rescued, +they had to talk it over, and I sold more than forty cigars and ten +plugs of tobacco." + +"How did you know how I was rescued?" asked Maude. + +"Well, I heard part and imagined the rest. I had to tell 'em something +or lose the trade." + +Mrs. Strout was a very good cook and the dinner was a success. + +Strout leaned far back in his chair and Maude assumed a similar +position. Quincy looked at her reprovingly, but she did not change her +attitude. To her brother's astonishment, she addressed Mr. Strout. + +"I suppose you have travelled a great deal, Mr. Strout." + +"Well, yes, I have. Since I got back from the war I've taught music, and +as my pupils were too lazy to come to me, I went to them. But speaking +of travelling, I was in a runaway once. It had been snowing for about +four days without a break and the roads were blocked up. I had to go to +Eastborough Centre and I hired a horse I'd never driven before." + +"Didn't you have to put snow-shoes on him?" asked Maude. + +"Oh, no, because I waited until the roads were broken out." + +"That's one on me," acknowledged Maude. + +"Well, I nearly tipped over a dozen times, but I got to the Centre where +the roads had been cleared. But my sleigh went into a gully and came +down on the horse's heels. My, wasn't she off in a jiffy! I held her in +the road, the men, and women, and children, and dogs and hens getting +out of the way as fast as they could. She was a going lickety-split, and +although I wasn't frightened, I decided she'd got to stop. + +"I saw a house with an ell, and in the corner the snow was packed up ten +feet high. I had an idea. I put all my strength on to one rein, turned +her head, and she went into that snow bank out of sight, all but her +tail. I got out of the sleigh, sat down on the snow, and laughed till I +thought I'd die." + +"And the horse?" queried Maude. + +"It took half an hour to dig her out. They say horses are intelligent, +but I don't think they know any more than hens." + +"I thought hens were bright," said Maude. "They say they hide their eggs +so we can't poach and boil them." + +"Well, you can judge. When we moved into this house all the doors had +glass knobs. I took them off, put them in a box and set them out in the +barn. I saw a hen setting, but didn't notice her particularly until one +day she got off the nest while I was in the barn, and true as I live, +that fool hen had been trying to hatch out those knobs." + +"They said you have a little boy, Mr. Strout," Maude looked at him +inquiringly. "I hope he isn't sick." + +"No, he's all right. But we never let him come to the table when we have +company, because he talks too much." + +"What's his name?" + +"That's the funny part of it. My wife has lots of relations, and some +wanted him named this, and some wanted him named that. So I went to the +library and looked at all the names in the dictionary." + +Maude's curiosity was excited. "What did you finally decide upon?" + +"Well, we haven't named him yet. We call him No. 3, I being No. 1, and +my wife No. 2." + +After their guests had departed, Mrs. Strout asked, "Why didn't you tell +Miss Sawyer that our boy's name was same as yours?" + +"Why didn't I?" snapped her husband. "Because she was so blamed anxious +for me to tell her. Them Sawyers are 'ristocrats. They look down on us +common people." + +Mrs. Strout remonstrated. "I thought he was real nice, and she's +a lovely girl. Besides, he set you up in business and made you +postmaster." + +"And what did he do it for? Just to show the power of money. What did he +want of a grocery store except to beat me out of it?" + +"But you owned up in your speech at the Town Hall that you'd treated him +mean, and that you were his friend." + +"That was official. Do you suppose he means all he says? No! No more +than I do. When I get enough money, there won't be but one partner in +that grocery store, and his name will be O. Strout." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +UNCLE IKE AND OTHERS + + +At the breakfast table next morning, Maude sat with her head bent over +her plate. All were awaiting Olive's advent with the fruit. + +"At your devotions, Maude?" asked Alice. + +"Yes, I am thanking the Lord that my life was saved by a woman. _She_ +can't ask me to marry her." + +A trio of "good mornings" greeted the Rev. Mr. Gay as he entered and +took his accustomed place at the head of the table. He bowed his head +and asked a blessing. + +"Why do you ask a blessing, Mr. Gay?" + +Mr. Gay looked up, but there was no levity in Maude's eyes. + +"It is our duty to thank the Almighty for his goodness in providing for +our physical ends." + +"But," said Maude, "with the exception of the fruit all our food is +prepared by man. We couldn't eat it just as it grows." + +"God has given us the necessary intelligence to properly utilize his +blessings." + +"But some people starve to death," said Maude, forsaking the main +argument. + +"Unfortunately, yes, owing to man's lack of brotherly feeling, or +rather, a hap-hazard method of distributing his blessings. It is not +God's will that any of his creatures should lack food or raiment." + +"Do you really believe, Mr. Gay, that God takes a personal interest in +us? That he sent Mrs. Howe yesterday to save my life?" + +"I certainly do, Miss Sawyer." + +"I can't understand it," said Maude. "I looked upon it simply as a lucky +coincidence. But supposing the horse had turned to the left, and stopped +of his own accord when he reached that steep hill. What would that +prove?" + +Quincy and Alice who had listened to the discussion, looked at the +clergyman, who hesitated before answering. At last, a smile lighted up +his face and he replied: "It would prove that, in that particular case, +you did not need the intervention of Heavenly power." + +"I'm not convinced yet," said Maude. "I am coming to hear you preach +to-morrow. Do make it plain to me, please." + +"With God's help, I will try to," the clergyman answered. + +Quincy passed the morning at the grocery, making arrangements for the +establishment of the branch stores, Mr. Strout's plans being approved +with some material modifications. Strout told his wife that Mr. Sawyer +had fixed it so he couldn't get control of the business, but that he +would put a flea in his ear some fine day. + +"I can't see through it," said Bessie Strout. "Why have your feelings +towards Mr. Sawyer changed so? I think he is a perfect gentleman." + +"So he is. So am I. But we grew on different bushes." Feeling that he +did not wish to confess that jealousy of others' attainments was the +real foundation of his hostility, Mr. Strout took his departure. Two +hours later Mrs. Strout was delighted at receiving a call from Miss +Maude Sawyer and the Governor's wife. + +Quincy wished to have a talk with 'Zekiel about Uncle Ike, so he walked +over to the old Putnam house. He had asked his wife to accompany him, +but she declined. + +"That house gives me the shivers," she had said. "I never can forget the +ordeal I went through the day that Aunt Heppy died. I gave the house to +'Zekiel because I never could have lived in it. Maude and I are going to +call on Mrs. Strout." + +Quincy found 'Zekiel in the barn, and broached the matter on his mind at +once. + +"I'm glad you spoke of it," said 'Zekiel. "I was over to Mandy's +yesterday and Uncle Ike wants to come and live with us. Not that he's +dissatisfied where he is, for he likes Mandy and the children, and they +do everything to make him comfortable--but it's the stairs. He wants to +eat with the others; he says he feels like a prisoner cooped up in one +room. We have a spare room on the ground floor that old Silas Putnam +used to sleep in. I'm only afraid of one thing--'twill be too much care +for Huldah. If I could get some one to help her with the work, she'd be +glad and willing to look after Uncle Ike." "We must find some way out of +it," said Quincy, as they parted. + +His next visit was to the home of Arthur Scates. He found the young man +in bed and in a very weak condition. + +"He's had two o' them bleedin' spells," said his grandmother, "an' las' +night I thought sure he was a goner. But I giv him some speerits of +ammony and he perked up a little. Yer see, Mr. Sawyer, we're poor, an' +it's no use tryin' to cover it up, an' I can't give Arthur the kind +of vittles he ought to have. He wants nourishin' things an'"--The old +lady's feelings overcame her and she began to cry. "I'm ashamed of +myself, but I can't help it. He's my only son's boy, and he's an orphan, +an' wuss. I'm sixty years old, but I can do a day's work with any of the +young ones, but I can't leave him alone. I should have a conniption fit +if I did." + +Quincy thought it advisable to allow the old lady to have her say out +before replying. + +"Mrs. Scates, I think there are brighter days coming for you." + +"The Lord knows I have prayed hard enough for 'em." Quincy spoke to +Arthur. "I expected to see you in Boston, but I suppose you were in too +poor health to come." + +"Tell him the whole truth, Arthur," said his grandmother--"his health +was too poor an' we hadn't any money." + +"Arthur," said Quincy, "I am going to find a home for you in a +sanatorium where you will have the treatment you need and the proper +food to build you up. One of these days, if you can repay me, well and +good. If not, I can afford to give it. Your voice may make your fortune +some day. And, now, Mrs. Scates, I've got some work for you. Mrs. +'Zekiel Pettingill--" + +"She that was Huldy Mason," broke in Mrs. Scates, "she was just the +nicest girl in town." + +"Yes," assented Quincy, "she's going to have an addition to her +family--" + +"You don't say," again interrupted Mrs. Scates. "Well, I've nussed a +good many--" + +"You misunderstand me," said Quincy quickly. "Her Uncle Ike is coming to +live with her, and she needs assistance in her work. You must go and see +her at once." + +While she was gone, Quincy explained to Arthur the nature of his coming +treatment; how he would have to virtually live out of doors daytimes and +sleep with windows and doors open at night. "I will see that you have +good warm clothes. I will pay for your board and treatment for a year, +and give you money for such things as you may need." + +"I'll try hard to get well so I can repay you," said Arthur. + +"She says she'll take me," cried Mrs. Scates, as she entered the +room--"just as soon as I can come, and here's a big basket of apples and +peaches, she sent you, and--" the poor woman was quite out of breath. +"I met that minister, Mr. Gay, and he said he was coming up to see you, +Arthur." + +"Did you ever go to Mr. Gay's church?" Quincy asked Mrs. Scates. + +"Jus' onct, and that was enough. He'll have to leave here sooner or +later." + +"What for?" + +"Why, he don't believe in no divil--an' ye can't make folks good unless +they knows there's a divil." + +Quincy recalled the story of the Scotch woman, a stern Presbyterian, who +thought if ten thousand were saved at the final judgment that it would +be "muckle many," and who, when asked if she expected to be one of the +elect, replied "Sartainly." He felt that a theological discussion with +Grandma Scates would end in his discomfiture and he wisely refrained. + +Quincy reached Mandy Maxwell's just in time for dinner, and, at his +request, it was served in Uncle Ike's room. + +"This is more cheerful," said he to Quincy. "I once thought that being +alone was the height of enjoyment--and I did enjoy myself very selfishly +for a good many years. Has Alice told you of our conversation?" + +Quincy nodded. + +"I've been thinking about it since and I decided my first move would be +to live, if I could, with my own flesh and blood. But while they've got +a down-stairs room, it will be too much work for Huldah." + +"That's provided for," said Quincy. "Mrs. Scates is going to help +Huldah." + +"What's to become of her grandson--he's consumptive they tell me." + +"He's going to a sanatorium to get cured." + +"And you are going to pay the bills?" + +Quincy nodded again. + +"I get a lesson very often. You are using your money to help others, +while I've hoarded mine." + +Quincy looked at the speaker inquiringly. Alice had given him to +understand that her uncle had used his income for himself. + +"I know what you're thinking, Mr. Sawyer. I did tell Alice I had +an annuity, but I haven't spent one-tenth of what's coming to me. I +arranged to have it put in a savings bank, and I've drawn just as little +as I could and get along. I bought a fifty thousand dollar annuity +at sixty. I got nine per cent, on my money, besides the savings bank +interest. As near as I can figure it out I'm worth about two hundred +thousand dollars. I've beat the insurance company bad, and I ain't dead +yet. I have all this money, but what good has it done anybody?" + +"It can do good in the future, Uncle." + +"I want to leave something to Mandy's boys--not too much--for I'm afraid +they'd squander it, and become do-nothings. What shall I do with it?" + +"Do you wish me to suggest a public use for your fortune?" + +"That's what I've been telling you about it for. You've a good knack of +disposing of your own and other folks' money, and I thought you could +help me out." + +Quincy did not speak for some time. Finally he said, "Uncle Ike, the +Town Hall in Fernborough is but one mile from the centre of the city of +Cottonton. That city is peopled, principally, with low-paid cotton mill +operatives. Their employers, as a rule, are more intent on dividends +than the moral or physical condition of their help. Accidents are common +in the mills, many are broken down in health by overwork, and those +who become mothers are forced by necessity to resume work in the mills +before their strength is restored." + +Uncle Ike shut his teeth with a snap. "That's worse than hoarding money +as I've done. Mine may, as you say, do good in the future, but theirs is +degrading human beings at the present. I wish I could do something for +them, especially the mothers. It's a shame _they_ have to suffer." + +"You can do something, Uncle Ike. My suggestion is, that you leave the +bulk of your fortune to build a hospital in Fernborough, but provide +in your will that the mill operatives of Cottonton, or all its poorer +inhabitants, if you so wish it, shall be entitled to free treatment +therein." + +"I'll do it," cried Uncle Ike. "As soon as I get settled at 'Zeke's, +I'll send for Squire Rundlett to come and make out my will. You've taken +a big load off my mind, Mr. Sawyer." + +As Quincy was mounting Obed's Hill slowly, for it was very steep, he +thought to himself--"Getting Uncle Ike to do something practical towards +helping others was much better than talking theoretical religion to +him." + +When he reached the Hawkins House, Andrew was getting ready to drive to +Cottonton to meet the three o'clock express from Boston. + +"There's a friend of ours coming down on that train, Andrew--a young man +named Merry." He took out his note book, wrote a few lines, and passed +the slip with some money to Andrew. + +"You get that--have it covered up so no one can see what it is, and +leave it in the barn when you get back." + +Quincy told his wife about Arthur Scates and Uncle Ike. + +"I'm going to take Uncle Ike to Mr. Gay's church to-morrow," he added, +"but I didn't say anything about it to-day. I'm not going to give him +time to invent excuses." + +Maude did not conceal her pleasure at meeting Harry again. She was a +companionable girl, and Mr. Merry was too sensible to think, because a +young lady was sociable, that it was any indication that she was falling +in love with him. + +"Are you going riding this evening, Alice?" Quincy walked to the window. +"The sunset is just glorious. There's a purple cloud in the west, the +edges of which is bordered with gold. There are rifts in it, through +which the sun shows--and now, come quickly, Alice, the sun, a ball of +fire, has just sunk below the cloud which seems resting upon it." + +When they turned away from the window, Alice said: + +"I don't think I will ride any more. Maude must take the horse I had--he +is so gentle. What a pity Mr. Merry cannot go with her for a ride." + +"He can. I sent Andrew for a saddle for him to use." + +"Quincy, you are the most thoughtful man in the world." + +In less than half an hour Maude, with Harry riding the mare, were on +their way towards the Centre Road. When they returned, an hour later, +there had been no runaway, unless Harry's heart had undergone one. +Maude's countenance did not, however, indicate that she had participated +in any rescue. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +A "STORY" SERMON + + +The influx of mill operatives and mechanics from Cottonton in search of +a breathing place after a hard day's work, had led to the building up +of the territory north of Pettingill Street and east of Montrose Avenue. +This fact had led to the erection of the Rev. Mr. Gay's church in the +extreme northern part of the town, but near to both Montrose town and +Cottonton city. + +"We are all coming to your church this morning, Mr. Gay," said Quincy at +breakfast. + +"I shall be glad to see you, but you must not expect a city service. The +majority, in fact all, of my parishioners are common people, and I use +plain language to them." + +"I think simplicity in devotional exercises much more effective than an +ornate service," said Alice. + +"Do you have a choir?" asked Maude. + +"We can't afford one, but we have good congregational singing." + +"I'm glad of that," said Maude. "I hate these paid choirs with their +names and portraits in the Sunday papers." + +"I shall take the carryall and go for Uncle Ike. It is a beautiful +morning and you will all enjoy the walk," Quincy added. + +Uncle Ike, at first, gave a decided negative. "I haven't been inside a +church for many a year and it's too late to begin now." + +"That's no argument at all," said Quincy. "But my principal reason for +wishing you to go is so you can see the people that your hospital is +going to benefit one of these days." + +"But these preachers use such highfalutin' language, and so many +'firstlies' and 'secondlies' I lose my hold on the text." + +"Mr. Gay is a common, everyday sort of man, does not pose when out of +his pulpit, and never talks over the heads of his audience." + +"How do you know all that?" + +"I sit with him at table, and I've studied him. Then he told us not +to expect a city sermon for he used simple language, and they have +congregational singing." + +"Well, I'll go--this once," said Uncle Ike, and Quincy assisted him +in making his preparations. On their way to the church they passed two +couples--Alice and Mrs. Hawkins, and Maude and Mr. Merry. Mr. Jonas +Hawkins could not leave home for he was afraid the cats would carry off +his last brood of chickens. Some fifty had been hatched out, but only a +dozen had survived the hot weather, heavy rains, and the many diseases +prevalent among chickens. + +When Mr. Gay arose to give out the first hymn, Maude said to Mr. Merry, +"Why, he looks like a different man. His red hair is a beautiful brown." + +"It's the light from the coloured glass windows," commented Mr. Merry. + +"Then it must be the curtains in Mrs. Hawkins' dining room that colour +his hair at home," retorted Maude. + +How grandly rose the volume of tone from scores of throats! Even Uncle +Ike's quavering voice joined in. + + "All hail the power of Jesus' name, + Let nations prostrate fall; + Bring forth the royal diadem, + And crown Him Lord of all." + +The organ creaked and wheezed somewhat, but so many fresh, young voices +softened its discordant tones. + +A short prayer, and Mr. Gay began his sermon, if such it can be called. + +"MY BRETHREN: My text, to-day is, 'The fool hath said in his heart, +There is no God.' All nations have a God, even if all the people do not +believe in him. The majority in each nation does believe in a God. Are +those who do not believe all fools? Unhappily, no. There are many highly +educated men and women who deny the existence of God. They claim man is +a part of Nature, and Nature is all. They forget the poet who wrote + + "'Man is but part of a stupendous whole, + Whose body Nature is, and God the soul.' + +"Remember, God is the Soul. Each of you has a soul, a spark of the +Divinity. + +"I can best support my argument by a story--a true one. + +"I once knew a young man whom we will call Richard. He had a well-to-do +father and was sent to college. When he graduated, his father, a pious +man, wished him to study for the ministry. He objected, saying his +health was poor. He wished to go into the mountains, he lived in the +West, and his father consented. + +"He drifted into a mining camp and whatever regard he may have had for +religion, soon disappeared. He was not a fool, but, in his heart, he +said there was no God. + +"With another young man, whom we will call Thomas, he formed a +partnership, and they went prospecting for gold,--gold that the God whom +they would not acknowledge had placed in the earth. + +"They were attacked by Indians and Thomas was killed. Richard was +obliged to flee for his life. His food was soon exhausted, he had no +water, he had no God to whom he could pray for help. + +"He came to a hole in the ground, near a foothill. He got upon his knees +and looked down--yes, there was water--not much, but enough for his +needs--but it was beyond his reach. He leaned over the edge to gaze upon +the life-giving fluid that God has given us, and his hat fell into the +well. In his hat was his gold-dust--his fortune--so useless to him then. +He forgot his thirst for water in his thirst for gold. + +"There was a stout branch of a tree near by. He placed it across the top +of the hole. He would drop down into the well, and recover his hat, get +a drink of water and draw himself up again. The well did not seem more +than six feet deep, and with his arms extended he could easily reach the +branch and draw himself up to safety. He dropped into the well, found +his hat with its precious gold, drank some of the muddy water which, +really, was then more precious to him than the metal, and looked up. +He extended his arms but they fell short some six feet of reaching the +branch. He had under-estimated the depth of the well--it was fifteen +instead of six feet. + +"He would clamber up the sides, he would cut steps with his knife and +make a ladder. The earth was soft, and crumbled beneath his weight. That +mode of escape was impossible. He was a prisoner in a hole with only +muddy water to sustain life for a short time, and no prospect of escape. + +"Night came on. He looked up at the stars. They seemed no farther away +than the top of the well. + +"When a child he had been taught to say 'Our Father who art in Heaven,' +Did he have a Father in Heaven? Was Heaven where those stars were? Was +that Father in Heaven the Being that folks called God? + +"He fell into a deep sleep. When he awoke the stars were still shining, +but no nearer than before. + +"In his loneliness, in his despair, he cried, 'Oh, God, help me!' He +covered his face with his hands and wept. He had forsaken the belief of +a lifetime. He had acknowledged that there was a God! + +"There was a rustling sound above him, and a heavy body fell to the +bottom of the well. Some wild animal! He was unarmed with the exception +of his hunting-knife. That was slight protection against a savage beast, +but he would defend himself to the last. + +"He listened. The animal, whatever it was, was breathing, but it did +not move. Perhaps it was stunned by the fall, but would soon revive. +He would kill it. A few firm blows and the beast was dead. It did not +breathe. Its body was losing its warmth. He was safe from that danger. + +"He slept again. When he awoke the sun was high. Beside him was the dead +body of a mountain lion. + +"He drank some more of the muddy water. He was so hungry. Was there no +means of escape? Must he die there with that dead lion for a companion? + +"He had an inspiration. With his knife he cut the lion's hide into +strips. He tied these together until he had a rope. He threw it over the +branch and drew himself up. The Earth looked so bright and cheerful. He +threw himself upon his knees and thanked God for his deliverance. He +was an educated 'fool' no longer. He had found God in that pool of muddy +water, and God had sent a lion to deliver him. + +"How do I know that the story I have told you is true? Richard returned +to his father's home. He went back to college and entered the divinity +school. He became a clergyman, and he has preached to you, to-day, from +the text, 'The Fool hath said in his heart that there is no God!'" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE RAISED CHECK + + +The Rev. Mr. Gay's parishioners looked at him in astonishment. He had +disbelieved in God but had been converted in what seemed a miraculous +manner. And yet, perhaps, after all, it was only a coincidence. Alice +felt sure that Uncle Ike would be of that opinion. + +The pastor, as soon as he had made his sensational declaration, said +"Let us pray." His appeal was for those who doubted--that God would open +their eyes--but not as his had been--to acknowledge his power and mercy. + +Then followed "Old Hundred." + + "Praise God from whom all blessings flow, + Praise Him all creatures here below." + +A benediction, and the service was over. + +There were seats for four in the carryall. Maude preferred to walk and +Mr. Merry was of the same mind. Mrs. Hawkins sat with Quincy on the +front seat, and Alice with Uncle Ike. + +"What did you think of the sermon, Uncle Ike?" Alice asked. + +"A thrilling personal experience. The fear of death has a peculiar +effect on some people--it kills their will power. Did Mr. Gay know that +I was to attend his church?" + +Alice flushed. "Quincy mentioned it at the breakfast table." + +"Was he informed of my opinions on religious matters?" + +"They were not mentioned before him." + +"Another coincidence"--and Uncle Ike relapsed into silence. + +As they were nearing the Maxwell house, Alice asked, "Uncle Ike, are you +willing to have Mr. Gay call upon you?" + +"I have no objection, if he will let me choose the subjects for +conversation," was the reply. + +In the evening Maude and Mr. Merry walked to the Willows and back. + +"Have you become a matchmaker?" Alice asked her husband. + +"What prompts the question?" + +"Maude and Mr. Merry have been thrown together very much. You approve of +you would prevent their intimacy." + +Quincy laughed. "Maude undoubtedly has a heart, but she doesn't know +where it is. Mr. Merry is too sensible a fellow to imagine Maude will +fall in love with him, or that he could support her if she did." + +"Poor logic, Quincy. Such marriages take place often, but unless they +are followed with parental blessings,--and financial backing,--seldom +prove successful. + +"Well, the intimacy will end to-morrow morning. He will return to the +city, and, probably, never see her again." + +"I've no objection to Mr. Merry. I consider him a very fine young man. I +was thinking of Maude's happiness." + +Mr. Merry did return to Boston early the next morning, and, to all +appearances, Miss Sawyer looked upon his action as a very natural one, +and one in which she was not particularly interested. If she had any +secret thoughts concerning him they were driven from her mind by the +receipt of a telegram just as they sat down to dinner. + + "REDFORD, MASS., July 2, 187--. + "MAUDE SAWYER, Care of Q. A. Sawyer, + "Fernborough, via Cottonton. + "Do please come home at once. Something terrible + has happened. FLORENCE." + +"What can it be? What do you think is the matter? The message is so +inexplicit." + +Her brother replied, "Florence evidently is living, unless some one +used her name in the telegram. If father or mother were sick or dead she +certainly would have said so." + +"Perhaps not," said Maude. "She might wish to break the news gently, in +person." + +"I am willing to wager," said Quincy, "that the trouble affects her more +than any one else. But you must go, Maude, and Alice and I will go with +you, by the first train to-morrow morning." + +Quincy had Andrew get the carryall ready and he and Alice went round to +say good-bye. He told Arthur Scates he would come or send for him soon, +and that his grandmother could go and help Mrs. Pettingill. + +Andrew was told to return the saddle to Cottonton, and Quincy decided +that they would go to Boston by way of Eastborough Centre, so Mr. +Parsons could be informed that they were through with the saddle +horses. They found Uncle Ike fully committed to the idea of founding the +hospital. He had seen Squire Rundlett, who was drawing up his will. The +goodbye seemed more like a farewell in Uncle Ike's case, for he had aged +much in the last year and was really very feeble. Alice told him that +Mr. Gay had promised to call upon him in a few days. + +When they reached Boston, Quincy said: + +"Maude, you must take the train at once for Redford and see what the +trouble is. I will leave Alice at home and run down to see you this +afternoon." + +Maude found Florence in her room, her nose red and her eyes filled with +tears. + +"Now, Florence, what is it all about?" + +"Oh, it is horrible," and there was a fresh flood of tears. + +"Are you sick? Mother says she is well and so is father." + +"It's all about Reggie." + +"Capt. Hornaby? Is he dead?" + +"Worse. I wish he was. No, I don't mean that. But the disgrace." + +Maude was getting impatient. "What has he done? Married somebody else? +But he never proposed to you, did he?" + +Florence wiped away her tears. "No, not exactly. But we understood each +other." + +"Well, I can't understand you. Why don't you tell me what he's done?" + +"Well, you know that father loaned him some money when he lost his +pocketbook in the pond." + +Maude sniffed. "I imagined he did--nobody told me so." + +"Father gave him a check for five hundred dollars." + +"And the Captain's run away and won't pay. Those foreign fellows often +do that. What an appropriate name Hornaby Hook is." + +"He has paid. He sent father the money and said he was going back to +England at once." + +"So, ho! I understand now. My sister has been deserted, jilted, snubbed, +and her Sawyer pride is hurt. If you'd written me that I'd be in +Fernborough now, and so would Quincy and Alice. Florence, it was mean of +you to send such a bloodcurdling telegram for so simple a thing." + +"But that isn't all," cried Florence. "When the check for five hundred +dollars that father gave him came back it had been raised to five +thousand, and father has lost all that money. Oh, it is all over, and I +shall never see him again." + +Another paroxysm of sobs, and a flood of tears. Maude's sisterly +sympathy was, at last, aroused. + +"Don't take on so, Flossie. Perhaps he didn't do it after all." + +"But father is so indignant. Think of his being paid back with his own +money." + +Maude could not help laughing. "That was rather nervy, I'll admit. But +that very fact makes me think he's innocent." + +She didn't really think so, but Florence was likely to go into hysterics +and something must be done. + +"You know his address. You had better write to him and see what he has +to say for himself." + +"I can't. Father says if I have any further communication with him, +directly, or indirectly, he'll disown me." + +"Well, wait awhile. Father'll calm down in time. Cheer up, Flossie, dry +your eyes, and do put some powder on your nose. It's as red as a beet." + + * * * * * * * + +A little later in the season, Quincy and Alice started for their summer +home at Nantucket, where they spent a pleasant two months, Quincy going +up to Boston when needed at the State House. As autumn approached, and +the time for the state election drew near, great influence was brought +to bear on Quincy to make him rescind his decision, and run for governor +a second time, but his mind was fully made up, and in spite of the +urgings of the leaders of his own party, as well as those of the public +at large, he remained firm in his resolve. + +Mr. Evans worked hard for the nomination, but his predilections were +well known among the labouring classes, and he failed to receive the +necessary votes. Benjamin Ropes, a man respected by all, was elected +governor, and in January Quincy retired from public life, and settled +down to what he thought would be a period of rest and quiet with his +wife in the Mount Vernon Street home. + +About the middle of the month, however, a letter came from Aunt Ella. + + * * * * * * * + +"FERNBOROUGH HALL, "HEATHFIELD, SUSSEX. + +"MY DEAR QUINCY AND ALICE: I was going to write nephew and niece, but +you both seem nearer and dearer to me than those formal titles express. +I see that Quincy is now out of politics, and I know that he needs a +change. Your rooms are all ready for you here, and I want you both to +come, just as soon as you can. It will be the best for you, too, Alice, +as you will escape the very bad winter that Boston always has. I +was delighted to hear the news, and I do hope and pray it will be a +boy,--then we shall have a Quincy Adams Sawyer, Junior. + +"I wish Maude could come with you. I could introduce her to society +here, and, I have found--don't think me conceited--that there is nothing +that improves an English gentleman so much as having an American wife. +If some of your nice young American gentlemen would marry some English +girls and transplant them to American soil, I think the English-speaking +race would benefit thereby. + + "Sir Stuart is well, and so is + "Your loving aunt, + "ELLA." + + * * * * * * * + +"The same Aunt Ella as of old," said Quincy, "always full of new ideas +and quaint suggestions. It would be a good thing for you to go, I think, +Alice, and I should really relish the change myself. What do you say, a +steamer sails next week from here; shall we go?" + +"Why, Quincy, it is rather sudden, but I should be glad to see Aunt Ella +and Linda again, and I really see no reason why we should not go." + +"Well, we will call that settled, then. And Maude, do you think she +would join us?" + +"Not unless you take Mr. Merry with you," replied Alice with a good +natured laugh. + +Quincy called at the Beacon Street house that afternoon, and had a talk +with Maude about going to Europe with them. He read her Aunt Ella's +letter, and added, + +"You see, she wishes you to come with us." + +"Well, I won't go. She wants to marry me off to some Englishman with +a title and no funds. If I ever get married, my husband will be an +American. No, take Florence, and let her hunt up Captain Hornaby, her +recreant lover,--if he was one. She says they 'understood' each +other, but it's evident none of us comprehended--I came near saying +apprehended--him." + +"I will speak to father about it," said Quincy. "Please tell him that +I'll call at his office to-morrow morning. Give my love to Florence. I +won't trouble her about it until I've seen father." + +Alice thought Florence's substitution for Maude, as regarded the trip to +England, was advisable, and certainly showed Maude's good-heartedness. + +When Quincy saw his father he made no mention of the Hornaby incident in +connection with Florence joining them on their trip abroad, but in spite +of this the Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer was, at first, strongly opposed +to the idea of his daughter going away from home. Quincy knew his father +too well to argue the matter, and turned the conversation to other +subjects. + +"I have brought my will, father, and wish you would put it in your safe. +I have left everything to Alice to do with as she pleases. I have named +you and Dr. Paul Culver as my executors. Have you any objection to +serving?" + +"You will be more likely to act as my executor than I as yours, but I +accept the trust, feeling sure that I shall have no duties to perform." + +"There's another matter, father, I wish to speak about. My former +private secretary, Mr. Merry, is studying law. When my term expired he, +of course, lost his position, for my successor, naturally, wished one of +his own friends in the place. If I were a lawyer, I would take him into +my office, but--" + +"You can't use him in your grocery store," interrupted the Hon. +Nathaniel. Quincy took the sarcasm good-naturedly, and laughed. That his +father had, to some extent, overcome his displeasure at his son becoming +a tradesman, was shown by his next words. + +"Our law business is increasing daily, and perhaps I can make an opening +for him in the near future. I will bear him in mind." + +The Hon. Nathaniel reserved his decision in relation to Florence's trip +until he had discussed the matter with his wife, but the next day Maude +saw Alice and told her that her father had consented, on one condition, +and that was that Quincy would bring her back with him when he returned +to America. The Hon. Nathaniel was still suspicious of Aunt Ella, and +evidently thought that she wished to get control of his daughter as she +had of his son. + +Quincy gave his father the required promise. Florence must have time to +prepare for such a long journey, so Quincy was obliged to give up +the plan of sailing from Boston on a certain date as he had intended. +Besides, he wanted, personally, to see how Arthur Scates was getting +along at the Sanatorium which was at Lyndon in the Adirondacks, and so +he booked passage on the steamer _Altonia_, to sail from New York in +three weeks. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE WRECK OF THE _ALTONIA_ + + +"Florence will be ready to start to-morrow," said Alice. This was +welcome intelligence to Quincy, who wished several days to spare in New +York before sailing. + +As soon as his wife and sister were located at a hotel in New York, +he made the trip to Lyndon in the Adirondacks to see Arthur Scates. He +found him greatly improved, and he told Quincy that he had not felt +so well in years. The doctors, too, were more than pleased with his +condition, and said that it was only a question of a few months when he +would be entirely well again. + +When he returned to New York he found that Alice had been to visit Mrs. +Ernst in West 41st Street. Madame Archimbault lived with them and still +carried on the millinery establishment on Broadway, in which Quincy had +accidentally discovered the long-sought Linda Putnam masquerading under +the name of Celeste. How that discovery had operated to change the lives +of many people came forcibly to Quincy as he sought Leopold Ernst in his +down-town office. + +Leopold was almost hidden behind piles of manuscripts and newspapers +when Quincy entered his room. + +"Up to your neck, Leopold?" + +As soon as Leopold saw who had addressed him, he jumped up, pushed a +pile of manuscripts from his desk to the floor, and grasped Quincy's +extended hand in both of his. + +"Let me help you pick up your papers," said Quincy. + +"No, they're in their proper places. They're rejected. I have accepted +two out of fifty or more. The American author sends tons to the literary +mill, but it grinds out but a few pounds. But the novices are improving. +They will yet lead the world, for we have a new country full of God's +wonderful works, and a composite population whose loves and hates +reproduce in new scenes all the passions of the Old World. They are +the same pictures of human goodness and frailty in new frames--and my +business is to judge the workmanship of the frames." + +They talked about old times, particularly the success of Alice's first +romance. + +"Marriage is often fatal to literary activity. Is your wife to write +another book?" + +"I think not. We expect an addition--not edition--to our family library +soon after our return from England." + +"That settles it. Literature takes a back seat when Maternity becomes +its competitor. It is well. Otherwise, how could we keep up our supply +of authors?" + +The evening before the sailing of the _Altonia_, a happy party assembled +in a private dining room at Quincy's hotel. Toasts were drunk. Alice and +Rosa sang and Florence accompanied and played classic selections upon +the piano. + +"Bon voyage," cried Leopold, as they separated. "Make notes of something +really new, make a book of up-to-date travels, and our house will +publish it for you, for I'll recommend it no matter how bad it is. We +have to do that often for friends of the firm,--why not for our own?" + + A foggy night on the ocean. The barometer ranged low. An upward +glance disclosed a black mist--no sign of moon or stars. A bad night on +land, when trains of cars crash into others laden with humanity--some +dying mercifully without knowing the cause; others cruelly, by slow +cremation, with willing hands nearby powerless to help. + +A bad night off shore, when freight-laden craft, deceived by beacon +lights, are beached upon the treacherous sand or dashed against +jagged rocks. The life-savers, with rocket, and gun and line, and +breeches-buoys, try in vain, and, as a last resort, grasp the oars +of the life-boat and bring to safety one or two of a crew of ten. Sad +hearts in homes when the news comes; but it is only one of the scenes in +the drama of life. + +A bad night at sea--with a great ocean liner, its iron heart pulsating, +plunging through the black waves into dense mountains of fog. + +Despite the darkness and chill of the winter night, Quincy, Alice, and +Florence were on the deck of the _Altonia_. Alice shuddered and Quincy +drew her wrap more closely about her. + +"Shall we go down into the cabin?" + +"Not yet. There is nothing enjoyable about this Cimmerian gloom, and yet +it has its attractions. Florence, what is it that Tom Hood wrote about +London fog?" + +"I only remember one line, and I'm not sure I can quote that correctly. +I think it reads: 'No sun, no moon,' I should add 'no stars, no proper +time of day.'" + +During the two days since leaving New York, Florence had been a creature +of moods: sad, when she brooded over her trouble due, she felt sure, to +another's act; light-hearted when she thought of the prospect of again +meeting Reginald and having him prove his innocence. + +She had been spared newspaper publicity. Not for ten times the sum he +had lost would the Hon. Nathaniel have had his daughter's name in the +public prints. He was a lawyer, but it was his business to get other +people out of trouble, and not to get his own family into it--which +shows that great lawyers are not exempt from that very common human +frailty, selfishness. + +Sounds of applause were borne to their ears. "Let us go in," said +Florence, "some one has been singing." + +In the main saloon, all was merriment. Each passenger had faith in Capt. +Robert Haskins, who had crossed the Atlantic hundreds of times. The +_Altonia_ belonged to a lucky line, the luck that follows careful +foresight as regards every detail, the luck that brings safety and +success from constant vigilance. + +In the first cabin were more than two hundred souls--young and old, +maids and matrons, young and middle-aged men, and a few beyond the +allotted three score years and ten. + +Mlle. Carenta, a member of a troupe of grand opera singers, whom many +had heard during the company's engagement in New York, arose from the +piano amid cries of "bravo," for her superb vocalism. She had sung +Gounod's _Ave Maria_. + +"How sweetly she sang," said Alice, as she touched her husband's arm to +more fully draw his attention from the beautiful vocalist. "Don't you +think so, Quincy?" + +"Divine," was the reply. "One can almost fancy the doors of Heaven are +open." + +The cabin was warm--in reality, hot,--but Alice shuddered as she had +when chilled by the mist and cold. She caught quickly at her husband's +arm. + +"I wish we were safe at Fernborough Hall with Aunt Ella." + +"And so do I, my dear, but the walking is poor, and we must put up with +our present method of locomotion for a few days longer. Think of the +good times we have had and those in store for us." + +Alice reassured by the words and the accompanying pressure of Quincy's +hand exclaimed: "How delightful it was in the country, and how I enjoyed +our visits. I shall always love Mason's Corner as it was called when--" + +"I met my fate," her husband added. "My line fell in a pleasant place--" + +"Don't call me a fish," said his wife, as she smiled half reprovingly. + +"Well, we're on the water; if we were in it, we all might wish to be +fish--or rather whales." + +The next moment all was confusion. Faces that were white became +red--those that were red turned white--even through the colour that art +had given to niggardly nature. Fully half the occupants of the saloon +were thrown violently to the floor in a promiscuous heap. Others saved +themselves from falling by grasping frantically at the nearest object. +Many of the lights went out. Some of the women swooned, while men who +had deemed themselves brave shook like palsied creatures. + +A man half ran, half fell, down the stairway that led into the saloon +and stood before the affrighted passengers. No tongue could form a +question, but each eager face asked, + +"What is it? What has happened?" + +His voice came, thin and husky, "We've been struck by another ship in +the fog!" + +At sea, at night, and that a night of winter chill--and the fog! Such +the thought. The fact--ten thousand tons of steel and wood, the product +of man's industry, fashioned by his brain, and blood, and bone, crushed +and useless, and half a thousand human beings--looking forward to years +of happiness--doomed to a terrific struggle with the elements. Strong, +courageous, creative man--now a weak, fear-stricken, helpless creature! + +"_To the boats!_" came the cry from above, and it was echoed by hundreds +of voices. In those three words were a gleam of hope: they opened a +path, but through what and to what would it lead? The other ship, +a tramp steamer, which had collided with the _Altonia_ was already +sinking, and in a few minutes went down, bow foremost, only a few of the +crew having escaped in their own boats. + +Quincy had been an athlete in his college days. In time of danger, +whether the man be ignorant or educated, one feeling--the instinct of +self-preservation--is paramount. Alice and Florence had stood mute, +helpless. Quincy put an arm about each and sprang to the narrow +doorway. It was blocked by two stout men who fought frantically to gain +precedence. + +Quincy placed his wife in front of him, and, with the hand thus +temporarily freed, he grasped one of the men by the collar and threw +him back into the saloon where he was trampled upon by the frenzied +passengers. + +Regardless of the consequence of his act, Quincy mounted the stairs +quickly and gained the deck. The boats were being filled rapidly. He +placed his wife and sister in one of them. + +Alice cried, "Come, Quincy, there is room here." + +"No, Alice, not yet. The women must go first." + +"I will not go without you." + +"Yes, you will, Alice--and you know why." + +The mighty craft was filling rapidly. Captain Haskins feared that like +the tramp steamer it would founder before the passengers could get into +the boats--their frail hope for safety. For himself, he asked no place. +He had the spirit of the soldier who expires beside his dying horse, +looking fondly at the animal that has borne him so many times in safety, +and now gives up his life with his master's. + +"For God's sake, come, Quincy!" cried Alice. "For our sake!" and +Florence added her entreaties. + +Quincy turned and saw a woman with a child by her side. She had made +her way from the steerage. She was being deported, for she suffered from +trachoma. She had been refused permission to land and join her husband +who had stood outside the "pen" and gazed at her and the child. Quincy +placed the woman in the boat beside his wife and put the child in its +mother's arms. + +"Lower away!" came a shrill cry. + +"Oh, Quincy, must we part thus?" + +Captain Haskins grasped Quincy by the arm. + +"Get into the boat, Mr. Sawyer." + +Quincy saw that the boat, filled with women, was already over-loaded. + +He turned to the Captain and said: "There is more room here with you." + + Nature's ways are mysterious but effective. A brisk breeze broke the +fog, and the rays of the noonday sun fell upon a placid sea. The boat +containing Alice and Florence was picked up by the _Macedonian_ of +a rival line and the rescued made comfortable. For hours the steamer +cruised about rescuing hundreds of the _Altonia_'s passengers, but some +of the boats were never heard from. + +Alice and many others had hoped that the wrecked vessel was still +afloat, but the _Altonia_ had disappeared,--was far below in hundreds of +fathoms of water. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +FERNBOROUGH HALL + + +Fernborough Hall,--not a hall in the town of Fernborough in the +Commonwealth of Massachusetts, but a rambling, old-fashioned brick +building in the County of Sussex in "Merrie England;" a stately home +set in the middle of hundreds of acres of upland, lowland, and woodland. +Wings had been added as required, and a tower from which, on a clear +day, the English Channel could be seen with the naked eye, while a +field-glass brought into view the myriad craft, bound east and west, +north and south, on the peaceful missions of trade. + +There was no terrace upon which gaudy peacocks strutted back and forth, +but in front of the Hall was a small artificial lake in which some +transplanted fish led the lives of prisoners. Lady Fernborough begged +the Baronet to end their miserable existence, but, to him, innovation +was folly and destruction bordered on criminality. + +"When I am gone, Ella," he would say, "you may introduce your American +ideas, for everything will be yours. When the Fernborough name dies, let +the fish die too." + +The long search for his lost daughter had made him misanthropic. His +knowledge of her sad death had been accompanied, it is true, by +the pleasing intelligence that his daughter's child lived, but that +grand-daughter, though of his blood and British born, had not been +educated according to British ideas. To be sure, she was now a Countess, +but she had been transplanted to her native soil, and had not grown +there. + +It might be asked, if he was so insular in his ideas, why had he taken +an American wife, and she a widow? He had been charmed by her vivacity. +She lifted him out of the gloom in which he had lived so long. If she +had been tame and prosaic, she would have worn the weeds of widowhood +again in a short time. She made him comfortable; she surrounded him with +the brightest people she could find; he was not allowed to mope indoors, +and Sir Stuart Fernborough and his sprightly American wife attended all +the important social functions of the County, and many in London, and +at the houses of their friends. And now a great joy was to come to Lady +Fernborough. She expected visitors from the United States, and what she +considered needful preparations kept her in a flutter of excitement. + +"How soon do you expect them?" asked Sir Stuart at breakfast. + +"To-morrow, or next day. They sailed on the tenth; to-morrow is the +seventeenth, but they may rest for a day in Liverpool--" + +"Or stay a day or two in London," suggested Sir Stuart. + +"I hope not, for my guests will be impatient to see a real live American +ex-governor. Quincy's political advancement has been very rapid." + +"America is a rapid country, my dear," was Sir Stuart's comment. + +When Lady Fernborough reached her boudoir, she seated herself at her +writing desk and wrote rapidly for nearly an hour. + +"I don't wish too many guests," she soliloquized as she sealed the last +invitation. "Now, I must write to Linda." + +"My dear Linda, + +"I have a great surprise for you. You must forgive me for keeping +a secret. I do it so seldom, I wished the experience. I am like the +penniless suitor who proposed to an heiress, who, he knew, would reject +him, just to see how it would make him feel to lose a fortune. I think +I saw that in Punch, but it fits my case exactly. They will be here, +_sure_, day after to-morrow. I mean Quincy and Alice, and, I hope, +Maude. Come and bring all the children. I suppose Algernon is in London +helping to make laws for unruly Britishers, but we will make merry and +defy the constables. Despite my marital patronymic, and my armorial +bearings, I am still, your loving aunt Ella." + +Alice was not to tell the sad news to Lady Fernborough. The telegraph +outstrips the ocean liner, and a newspaper, with tidings of the great +calamity, was in Aunt Ella's hands long before the arrival of the +broken-hearted wife and disconsolate sister. The invitations were +countermanded, and days of sorrow followed instead of the anticipated +time of joyfulness. + +Alice and Florence told the story of the tragedy over and over again to +sympathizing listeners. + +"That was just like Quincy to give his place to that poor woman and her +child," said Aunt Ella. "Like Bayard he was without fear and he died +without reproach." + +Alice would not abandon hope. She racked her brain for possibilities and +probabilities. Perhaps there had been another boat in which her husband +and the Captain escaped. They might have been discovered and rescued by +some vessel bound to America, or, perhaps, some faraway foreign country. +He would let them know as soon as he reached land. + +Aunt Ella, though naturally optimistic, did not, in her own heart, share +Alice's hopeful anticipations. Perhaps Florence's somewhat extravagant +account of the collision and the events which followed it led her to +form the opinion that her nephew's escape from death was impossible. + +Hope takes good root, but it is a flower that, too often, has no +blossom. A month passed--two--three--four--five--six--and then despair +filled the young wife's heart. She could bear up no longer, and Dr. +Parshefield made frequent visits. + +Aunt Ella pressed the fatherless infant to her breast. + +"What shall you name him, Alice?" + +"There can be but one name for him. God sent us two little girls, but +took them back again. We both wished for a son, and Heaven has sent one, +but has taken the father from us." + +"And you will name him--" + +"Quincy Adams Sawyer, Junior," was the answer. "It is his birthright." + +"But," said Aunt Ella, "they never add Junior to a boy's name unless his +father is living." + +Alice sat up in bed, and her eyes flashed as she said, + +"My heart has renewed its hope with this young life. I believe my +husband still lives, and, until I have conclusive proofs of his death, +our son's name will be Quincy Adams Sawyer, Junior." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +"HORNABY HOOK" + + +Time, it is said, will dull the deepest sorrow. There are some who put +out of sight everything to remind them of the lost one, while others +treasure every memento, and never tire of recalling the virtues of the +departed. + +In Alice's case the presence of her little boy was a constant reminder +of her husband. In Aunt Ella she found a willing listener, and talking +of her past happy married life aided greatly in restoring her nerve +power and improving her general health. + +She said one day, "Aunt Ella, don't you think it better to face your +troubles bravely than to fly away from them?" + +"I certainly do. You are following the right course, Alice; the same as +I did when Robert died. Your parting with Quincy was sad, inexpressibly +so, but imagine my feelings to awake and find my husband dead in the bed +beside me. Did I try to forget him? You remember his rooms in the Mount +Vernon Street house. They became my Mecca--the place to which I went +when I had a 'blue fit,' or was depressed in any way. God has sent you +a child to keep your husband's memory fresh. I repeat, Alice, you are +doing the right thing." + +"I do it," said Alice, "for two reasons. One is that it makes me happy. +The other is, that believing that my husband still lives, I wish to +bring up his son so that he will be proud of him." + +Florence, after awhile, made a confidante of Aunt Ella and told her +about Captain Hornaby. She confessed her interest in him and said that +notwithstanding his crime she loved him, but that her father would never +forgive him. + +"What part of England did he come from?" asked Aunt Ella. + +"He said from Hornaby--that the place was named after his family. Their +home was called Hornaby Hook, because, as he said, it was built upon a +promontory in the form of a hook." + +"What is his father's name?" + +"Sir Wilfred, and Reginald is the fourth son." + +"No chance of his ever getting the title," remarked Aunt Ella. + +"I wonder where Hornaby Hook is," said Florence. + +"That's easily found out. Linda has _Burke's Peerage_ and I'll write to +her to-day." + +Lady Fernborough more than kept her promise, for in her letter she +told the Countess Florence's unhappy love story besides asking for +information about the Hornaby family. + +Linda's reply was a revelation. + +"MY DEAR AUNT ELLA, + +"I was very sorry to hear that Quincy's sister has been so unfortunate +in her love affair, and astonished to find that Captain Hornaby is +the cause of it. You will be surprised to learn that Algernon is well +acquainted with Sir Wilfred who is an old-fashioned English gentleman +and the soul of honour. He has met the Captain and thought him a fine +young fellow. Hornaby Hook is on the Sussex coast about ten miles from +us. Come and see us and bring Florence with you. Perhaps there is an +explanation of the affair which the Captain can give. He should not +be condemned without a hearing. Give my love to Alice and tell her I'm +coming to see that baby very soon. With love, ever yours, LINDA." + +Aunt Ella was now in her element. There was a mystery to be explained +and she held the key. She told Florence where Hornaby Hook was, and that +the Hornaby family was a fine one, and that Sir Wilfred was held in the +highest respect by everybody, but did not mention Linda's suggestion +of a visit, and a possible explanation. She knew Florence would not +accompany her if there was any possibility of her meeting the Captain. +It would appear as though she was running after him, and no American +girl, especially a Sawyer, would do that. + +Sir Stuart was greatly interested in young Quincy, and Mrs. Villiers, +the housekeeper, thought him the handsomest and best baby she had ever +seen. Thus the way was paved for the first step in Aunt Ella's plot. + +"Alice, do you think you would be very lonesome if I went away for a +week?" + +"Why no, Aunt Ella. Why should I be? I have the baby, and Sir Stuart and +Mrs. Villiers are both goodness itself to me." + +"Florence is not looking very well. Don't you think a week at the +seashore would do her good?" + +"I wish she could go, poor girl. When I think of her, I say to myself +that I have no right to be unhappy. If Quincy is dead, he died nobly, +to save others. But the shame connected with Captain Hornaby is what +Florence feels so deeply." + +That same day Aunt Ella wrote to Linda that she was coming with +Florence, and that Algernon and she must arrange in some way to bring +about that "explanation." + +Algernon, Earl of Sussex, and the Countess Linda lived at Ellersleigh +in the County of Sussex, not many miles from historic Hastings. To +Aunt Ella and Florence they extended a warm and heartfelt welcome, and +Florence, used as she was to the luxuries of life, could not but marvel +at the beauty and even splendour that surrounded the Countess--once an +American country girl named Linda Putnam. + +"I have sent out cards for a dinner party next Thursday," said Linda to +Aunt Ella. "There will be an opportunity for that 'explanation,' but you +must assume the responsibility if there should be a tragic ending." + +"We must hope for the best," replied Aunt Ella. "I will gather up the +fragments after the explosion." + +From the expression on Florence's face, when Sir Wilfred Hornaby and +Captain Reginald Hornaby were announced as guests, the explosion seemed +imminent. + +In her mind, she had looked forward to such a meeting with a sensation +of delight. Now that it had come her pride was up in arms. She had +been tricked into coming. The Countess and Aunt Ella had arranged this +meeting. Perhaps he had been told that she would be present. Well, if +they did meet, he would have to do the talking. She had no explanation +to make. If he had one, he must introduce the subject. + +At the dinner Florence sat next to Sir Wilfred, but the Captain was far +removed on the other side of the long table. Sir Wilfred was politely +attentive. Did he know of his son's crime? Evidently not--but, if he +did, he had condoned the offence. But how could he if he was the man of +honour that the Countess had pictured him in her letter to Aunt Ella? +No, the son had deceived _his_ father as he had _her_ father. Did she +really love him? Had she forgiven him? If he had proposed when Florence +was in that state of uncertainty, his rejection would have been swift +and positive. + +When the dinner was over, the Captain, apparently unconscious of guilt, +approached Florence. He offered his arm. + +"Will you come with me, Miss Sawyer? I have a very important question to +ask you." + +Should she go? He was going to ask her a question. She had many to ask +him. This unpleasant uncertainty must end--now, was the accepted time. + +She took his arm, and he made his way to the conservatory--that haven of +confidences, where so many lovers have been made happy, or unhappy. + +"Why have you not answered my letters?" he said. + +"I never received them." Her voice was cold, and she removed her hand +from his arm. + +"I sent them in your father's care." + +"That is probably the reason why I did not get them." + +"Why should he refuse to give them to you? I borrowed money from him but +I repaid him before I left America." + +He thought she was not acquainted with his perfidy. She would undeceive +him. + +"Did you tell him the truth when you borrowed it?" + +His face flushed. How could she know? But she did. He would be honest +with her. + +"No, I did not." + +"I knew it. My sister Maude recovered your coat, but there was no money +or bills of exchange in your pocket book--only a few visiting cards +bearing the name of Col. Arthur Spencer." + +The young man bowed his head. He was guilty. She would leave him +without another word. She turned to go. He caught her hand, which she, +indignantly, withdrew from his grasp. + +"I will explain, Miss Sawyer." Was he going to tell the truth, or invent +another story? + +"Arthur Spencer was the Colonel of the first regiment with which I +was connected. I do not belong to it now. He is a poor man, and an +inveterate gambler. I had not seen him for two years, when we met in New +York just before I went to Boston. You are tired, Miss Sawyer." + +He pointed to a seat beneath some palms, and led her, unresistingly, to +it. + +"He asked me to dinner with him, and I went. Then he suggested a game of +cards while we smoked and I foolishly consented. The stakes, at first, +were small, and he won rapidly. He increased his bets and I was forced, +against my will, to meet them. When we stopped playing, he had not only +won all my money, but had my 'I O U' for three hundred dollars. I had to +borrow money from him to pay my hotel bill and fare to Boston." + +Florence nodded. She could not speak. + +"I had letters of introduction to Boston families--among them, your own. +When that accident happened--" she looked up at him inquiringly-- + +[Illustration: "You have acknowledged that you are a gambler] + +"No, don't think that of me--it was not intentional on my part--I was +without money--the Colonel must be paid--my allowance was not due for +ten days--I invented the story that I told your father." + +"It was a lie!" Florence choked as she uttered the accusing words. + +"Yes, it was a lie, and one for which I have sincerely repented, I told +my father, and he forgave me, but said, as the coat was gone, to let the +matter drop, that nothing would be gained by confessing to your father +as he had been paid, and had met with no loss." + +Florence sprang to her feet. "No loss!" she cried. "How can you say +that? You have acknowledged that you are a gambler and a liar--why not +finish the story and confess your crime?" + +"Crime, Florence! What do you mean?" + +Her lips curled + +"You do not know what I mean?" + +"No, as God hears me, I do not. You accuse me--of what?" + +She felt that the crux was reached. "Did you not know when the check +for five hundred dollars came back to my father's bank that it had been +raised to five thousand dollars?" + +The Captain reeled, and came near falling. He clutched at the palm tree +which sustained him until he regained his footing. + +"My God! And you have thought me the thief!" + +"What else could I think?" + +"I can't understand.... I met Col. Spencer in Boston--those birds of +prey always follow their victims, and gave him the check, receiving two +hundred dollars in return. He must have--and yet I cannot believe he +would do such a thing. He is in London now. To-morrow I will go and find +him." + +"But if he denies it--how can you prove him guilty?" + +"Unless he frees my name from such a charge--I will challenge him--and +kill him!" + +Florence could no longer act as accuser. Her heart plead for the young +Englishman who had confessed his error, but who so strenuously denied +his participation in a crime. "Miss Sawyer, will you mercifully suspend +judgment until my return from London?" + +She did not reply in words, but gave him her hand. + +When they rejoined the company both Linda and Aunt Ella noticed +Florence's heightened colour and the brightness of her eyes. + +"He must have explained," said Linda, "when an occasion offered." + +"I hope so," was Aunt Ella's reply, and she felicitated herself upon the +success of their joint plot. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +AN AMERICAN HEIRESS + + +For some time after rejoining the company, Florence was so busy with her +thoughts that she paid little attention to what was going on about her. +She was aroused from her abstraction by a sharp voice: + +"Don't you think Captain Hornaby is a very handsome young man?" Florence +looked and found that her questioner was Lady Elfrida Hastings, the only +sister of the Earl. When that lady had visited them at Nahant, she had +considered her the embodiment of all the female virtues. She recalled +her statuesque repose, and her aristocratic manner which had so pleased +her father. She also remembered the morning when she was discovered by +Maude practising the Lady Elfrida's poses, and her sister's inquiry as +to whether she had a chill and wanted the quinine pills. + +Feeling the necessity of saying something, she replied: "I haven't +noticed him particularly." + +The Lady Elfrida, perfect gentlewoman that she was, said severely, +for her, "Your failure to do so, certainly was not due to lack of +opportunity." + +So, her long absence in his company had been noticed. She was at a loss +for a reply, when to her great relief the Earl approached and asked if +she would play a certain piece which he had admired very much when in +America. + +"What was its name?" + +"I can't remember," said the Earl. "It ran something like this," and he +hummed a few measures. + +"Oh," cried Florence, "Old Folks at Home." The scene through which she +had gone with the Captain had awakened deep emotions, and her voice was +in the temperamental condition to give a sadly-weird effect to the lines +of the chorus. When she sang + + "Oh, my heart is sad and weary" + +the Lady Elfrida turned to Mrs. Ellice, the Rector's wife, and remarked, +"There was a rumour that Captain Hornaby was greatly interested in Miss +Sawyer, but from something she told me to-night I do not think it will +be a match." + +"Why, what did she say?" asked Mrs. Ellice with natural feminine +curiosity as regards love affairs. + +"I hardly feel warranted in repeating it," said the Lady Elfrida, "as it +was given to me in confidence." + +Later in the evening the Lady Elfrida sought Captain Hornaby. "My dear +Captain, don't you think Miss Sawyer sings divinely?" + +The Captain, with his mind on Col. Spencer and the tenfold check, +replied, rather brusquely, "I'm not a great lover of negro melodies." + +The Lady Elfrida felt sure that Captain Hornaby was still an "eligible," +but she reflected that he was a fourth son and dependent upon the bounty +of his father and elder brother, and that her dowry must come from her +brother who, in her opinion, had a very extravagant wife--but none of +those American girls had any idea of economy. + +The next morning, Captain Hornaby went to London in search of Colonel +Spencer. He visited his clubs, and, because it was necessary, many of +the gambling places, but his quest was fruitless. As a last resort he +went to the War Office and learned that the Colonel had sailed the day +before to join his regiment in India. + +The Captain reported the failure of his mission to Florence. + +"I have been talking the matter over with Aunt Ella. She advises me to +send a cable message to father asking what bank the check was deposited +in and by whom." + +"He may have cashed it at your father's bank," said the Captain. + +"Then Aunt Ella says my father can see the bank officers and make sure +that the Colonel got the money." + +"I will go back to London to-morrow and send the message in your name." + +"The story deepens," said the Captain, when he returned with the reply +from the Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer. It read, + +"State National. Deposited five hundred. Revere House. Interviewed my +bank." + +"What does it mean?" asked Florence. "So many words are omitted. I can't +make sense of it." + +"It means," said the Captain, "that Col. Spencer is innocent. He was +staying at the Revere House when I paid him his three hundred dollars. +He must have cashed your father's check at the hotel, they paying him +five hundred dollars only, and they, I mean the hotel proprietors, +deposited it in their bank, the State National." + +"But what do the last three words mean?" + +"They mean that some one in your father's bank raised the check and he +has seen the bank officers about it." + +"I'm so glad," cried Florence. "You must come and explain it all to Aunt +Ella." + +She was greatly pleased to learn that Captain Hornaby was innocent of +any complicity in the embezzlement, and said to Florence: "You will get +a letter from your father telling you who the real criminal is," and +turning to the Captain, continued, "We go back to Fernborough Hall +to-morrow, Captain Hornaby, but when that letter comes we will send for +you." + +"I can bear the suspense now that Colonel Spencer and myself are free +from any charge of criminality, but I greatly regret, Miss Sawyer, that +your father has met with such a heavy loss." + +"Don't worry, yet, Captain," said Aunt Ella. "Florence's father won't +be out any money if there's any legal way of making the bank bear the +loss." + +When Aunt Ella and Florence returned to Fernborough Hall they told Alice +the wonderful story. + +"I am so glad for your sake, Florence, and the Captain's too. I think +Aunt Ella's suggestion about sending the cablegram to your father was an +excellent one." + +The story was told, also, to Sir Stuart. He was gratified to learn that +two officers of Her Majesty's army had been freed from the charge of +embezzlement, but deplored the fact that gambling was so prevalent among +them. + +"I am an Englishman born and bred," said he, "but I think the law of +primogeniture is, as a general rule, a bad one. Driving, as it does, +the younger sons into the army, the navy, the church, and the law may be +beneficial, for the branches of our national defence and the professions +must be recruited from a stratum of intelligent men; the lack of money +may be a spur to ambition in many instances, but it often leads +to devious practices, and--" he saw that he had three interested +listeners--"the whole system is contrary to your countrymen's idea that +all men are created free and equal. While I cannot accept that doctrine +_in toto_, I do believe that the bestowal of titles and fortune upon the +eldest son is attended with grave evils, not only among our nobility, +but in our royal successions. The Almighty does not follow such a law +in endowing his children, and it is contrary to Nature's _dictum_ 'the +survival of the fittest.'" + +Sir Stuart had expressed such opinions during his term in Parliament. +The path of the political pioneer is strewn with temporary defeats, but +all reforms, based upon truth, are ultimately successful, or life would +be a stagnant pool instead of a river of progress. + +A letter from Maude contained a solution of the mystery. + +"DEAR AUNT ELLA AND SISTER FLO:--What a rumpus there has been about that +raised check. Father was as dumb as an oyster about the affair until he +had it all settled, then he told ma and me. + +"How you two feminines must have suffered--one from hopeless love--and +the other from helpless sympathy. But it is all over now, and the +probity of two, presumably, gallant officers is vindicated, while +the paying teller of father's bank is behind the bars with a certain +prospect of years of manual labour for bed and board. Why will men be so +foolish? Easily answered. The love of gold, not made in an honest way, +but by speculating with other folks' money. Mr. Barr, the aforesaid +teller, is a nice young fellow with a wife and two children, but his +life is wrecked. Of course she will get a divorce and try to find a +better man. We are all well, including Mr. Merry. He intended to take +the place in father's office that Quincy spoke about, but Harry--there, +I've written it, so will let it go--had a better position offered him +by Mr. Curtis Carter, one of Quincy's old friends, and he's doing +splendidly Mr. Carter told me. + +"I am heartbroken about Quincy. I trust Alice's hopes may be realized +and most of the time I share them. + +"How's that nephew of mine? Send him over and we'll bring him up a +Yankee boy. He's no Englishman. + +"We are all well, and everybody sends love to everybody. MAUDE. + +"P. S. Father didn't lose anything on the check. The bank paid the money +back to him." + + * * * * * * * + +Aunt Ella kept her promise to the Captain and the part of Maude's letter +which concerned the check was read to him. He improved his opportunity +by asking Florence to be his wife. + +"My father was greatly pleased with you and will welcome you as a +daughter." + +"Whether my father will welcome you as a son is the question," said +Florence. "My father is a very wealthy man. I know the conventionalities +and requirements of English life, and although my love for you is not +dependent upon your having or not having a fortune, I cannot become a +burden to you, or dependent upon your family, as I might become if my +father refused his consent." + +"You American girls are intensely practical." + +"Are not Englishmen equally so when they pay court to American +heiresses? I don't mean you, of course." + +"My father and brothers will allow me twenty-five hundred pounds a year, +about twelve thousand dollars of your money." + +"Could we live, as we have both lived, on that income, Reginald?" + +"To be honest, Florence, I don't think we could have a town house, a +place in the country, and entertain much." + +"Certainly not, Reginald. If my father gives his consent, I will be your +wife whenever you say. If he refuses, we must wait." + +The next mail brought a short letter for Florence from her sister. + +"DEAR FLO:--I didn't want to put what I'm going to write now in my other +letter. I suppose Reggie will propose now. Don't you accept him until +Father is told. You love money and style, and the first enables you to +indulge in the second. + +"I don't blame Reggie for borrowing if he was hard up, but knew he could +pay. But most men are deceitful creatures, anyway. Don't let Aunt Ella +write to father. He was always sore about her influence over Quincy, and +he mustn't think Aunt Ella made this match. If the Countess would write +him, puffing up Reggie's ancestors, and his blue blood and ancestral +home, and a hint (I hope it is so) that the Hornaby's are a very wealthy +family and related (distantly of course) to royalty, Pater may say +'yes,' and give you his blessing. I do, if that will help any. Your +loving sister, + +"MAUDE." + + * * * * * * * + +Florence had to make confidantes of Aunt Ella and Alice. She repeated +her conversation with Reginald and allowed them to read Maude's letter. + +"Maude has a level head," was Aunt Ella's comment. "I'll go and have a +talk with Linda. If she will write your father in the Captain's behalf, +I think things will come out all right." + +Linda was not only willing to assure the Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer +that Capt. Hornaby belonged to an old and honourable family, but also +that he did not seek his daughter's hand because her father was a +wealthy man, for the Hornaby estate was a large one, and the rentals +sufficient to allow the Captain an adequate income, although there were +other brothers to share the patrimony. + +The Hon. Nathaniel deliberated before answering. Florence had always +been a dutiful daughter and the fact that she would not become engaged +without his consent was an acknowledgment of his parental influence +which was vastly pleasing to his vanity. He had been tricked into +accepting Alice as his son's wife, and he knew that Maude, when she +made up her mind to marry would be guided little, if any, by his advice. +Filial love and respect deserved their reward. + +He wrote the Countess giving his consent to the marriage, and, what was +most important, declared his intention of allowing Mrs. Captain Hornaby +an income of fifteen thousand dollars annually, and a liberal provision +at his death. He was very sorry, but pressing legal duties would prevent +his attendance at the wedding if it took place in England. + +The Countess insisted upon the wedding taking place at Ellersleigh. She +had obtained the, otherwise, obdurate father's consent, and demanded +compensation for her services. + +So many weddings have been described that novelty in that line is +impossible. Sufficient to say that the Countess fulfilled expectations +and more, and the event was the year's sensation in Sussex, the echoes +of which reached imperial London, and far off democratic America. + +The Lady Elfrida Hastings was present at the wedding. She congratulated +the Captain and his bride, but took occasion to say to the latter,-- + +"My dear, don't sing those sentimental American songs any more. That +night you looked so _triste_ I was afraid the present delightful affair +would never become a reality." + +Florence did not confess that, on the evening in question, she had +misgivings herself. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +AN ELOPEMENT + + +The Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer sat in his library reading a ponderous +legal document. It was full of knotty points requiring deep thinking, +and the Hon. Nathaniel was breathing deeply and thinking deeply when +the door was opened quietly and a young girl looked in. She stood for a +moment regarding the reader. + +"Father, are you very busy?" + +The man finished reading the page before noticing the speaker. + +"I am always busy, Maude, except when asleep, and I sometimes think my +subliminal consciousness is active then." + +Maude's inclination was to say "Oh, my!" but she repressed the +ejaculation. + +"I can give you a few minutes, Maude, if the subject is an important +one. Come in." + +Maude entered, seated herself, folded her hands in her lap and regarded +her father as a disobedient pupil would a teacher. + +"Father--" + +The Hon. Nathaniel was listening attentively. + +"Father--" + +"Repetition is effective if not indulged in to excess. I often use it in +my arguments before juries." + +Maude flushed. She was particularly sensitive to sarcasm, but could +stand any amount of good-natured raillery. + +"Father, I'm going to be married." + +The Hon. Nathaniel readjusted his glasses and regarded the speaker. + +"It must be a clandestine attachment. I am not aware of meeting any +gentleman who declared any desire to make you his wife. At whose house +have you met your intended? I have no reason to suspect your Aunt Ella +owing to her absence in Europe." + +"I've never been to anybody's house. I've walked with him on the Common +and in the Public Garden." + +"Ah, two parks frequented by the elite of the city." + +Maude resented his last remark. "Just as good people as I am go there." + +"Do you mean that you are no better than those who go there?" + +His voice was stern. Maude saw that she had made a mistake. "Some of +them," she said in a low voice. + +"Who is the favoured gentleman? Have I the honour of his acquaintance?" + +"Why, yes, you've met him. It's Harry, I mean Mr. Merry." + +"The young man who was Quincy's private secretary. Quincy wished me to +take him into my office, but he never appeared in person." + +"He's with Mr. Curtis Carter on Tremont Street. Mr. Carter was one of +Quincy's most intimate friends." + +"And Mr. Merry preferred going to one of Quincy's friends, than to me, +and criminal cases rather than civil procedure. Mr. Carter revels in +murder trials. But why has this young man failed to consult me on +a matter so greatly affecting your future? Why have you assumed the +initiative? This is not leap year." + +Maude was ready to cry, but she choked down her rising temper. + +"I think he's afraid to." + +"What has he done that he should fear me?" + +Maude made another mistake. "He never borrowed any money of you." + +The Hon. Nathaniel disliked any reference to that raised check. "If he +marries you, perhaps he will find it difficult to support you without +borrowing money--but I shall not loan him any." + +"He says he can support me as well as I wish, and I am going to marry +him." + +This was flat-footed defiance, and the Hon. Nathaniel grew red in the +face at being thus bearded in his den. + +"Maude, I am astonished. I command you not to meet this young man again +unless in my presence or that of your mother. When I meet him, I shall +have something to say to him." + +He resumed the reading of the document, and Maude, knowing that it was +useless to say more, left the room. + +The next day at noon, Maude told her mother she was going to make some +purchases on Winter Street. As no objection was made, Maude felt sure +that her father had not mentioned their conversation to her mother. +She met Harry and they walked down the "Long Path" on the Common, made +famous by the genial "Autocrat," not only of one breakfast table, but of +thousands of others. + +"He will never consent," said Maude. + +"I thought so." + +"He was real mean to me--as sarcastic as he could be." + +"Rich fathers are usually indignant when their daughters wish to marry +poor men. He can have no other objection to me." + +"Have you any money saved up, Harry?" + +"Yes, I've got two thousand dollars in the bank to furnish our flat +with." + +"We shall have to go to a justice of the peace, for father will not let +me be married at home. Oh, if Aunt Ella were here." + +"Where is she?" + +"In England. She's the wife of a baronet, and he is rich and so is Aunt +Ella." + +"Maude, let's elope and go to England for our honeymoon." + + * * * * * * * + +Aunt Ella and Alice had been to Ketchley to make some purchases for +young Quincy's wardrobe. As they entered the house a maid said that a +young lady and gentleman were waiting to see them. + +"Both of us?" queried Aunt Ella. + +The maid replied: "They said they wished to see Lady Fernborough and +Mrs. Quincy Adams Sawyer." + +"I will see if baby is all right and join you in a few minutes," said +Alice. + +Aunt Ella passed her hat and wrap to the maid, and entered the drawing +room. + +"Maude Sawyer, what cloud did you drop from? Where did you come from? +Excuse me," said Aunt Ella as she espied Maude's companion, who had kept +in the background. + +"This is my husband, Mr. Harry Merry. We're just from London. We've been +doing the town. What a big noisy place." + +Alice came in and the introduction was repeated. + +"Well, Maude," said Aunt Ella, "we're delighted to see you and your +husband, but your arrival was so unexpected that you must pardon my +evidences of surprise." + +"They're very excusable," said Maude. "I can hardly realize, myself, +that we are here. You and Alice are wondering what brought us, and you +are entitled to an explanation. We just eloped because father would not +give his consent." + +The presence of Mr. Merry made the situation an awkward one, but Aunt +Ella was a woman with opinions and was not afraid to express them. So +she said: + +"I suppose your father will disinherit you. I hope that will not mar +your future happiness." + +"I don't think it will. Harry has a good position, we've got some money +in the bank, and we're going to have a nice little flat in Cambridge or +Roxbury. I want to see my little nephew, Quincy's boy, and then we are +going right back to London." + +"Come with me," said Alice, "and see the baby, but Aunt Ella and I will +never consent to your leaving us so soon. You must pay us a long visit." + +"I would," replied Maude, "but for one thing father said to me. We will +stay over night, for I have so much to tell both of you." + +"Come to the library," said Aunt Ella. "I will introduce your husband to +Sir Stuart, and then we will go to the nursery where we can talk as long +as we wish." + +When they reached the nursery, Maude's first wish was gratified--she +held, and hugged and kissed, and praised her brother's boy. Alice's face +beamed with delight. + +"Now, Maude," exclaimed Aunt Ella, "why this runaway marriage? Tell us +all about it." + +Maude laughed. "It's so funny. I told father I was going to marry Mr. +Merry, and he about the same as said I shouldn't. He told me not to meet +him again unless in his presence or mother's." + +"That was reasonable. Why did you object?" asked Aunt Ella. + +"It wouldn't have done any good. He's opposed to Harry because he isn't +rich. Was Nathaniel Adams Sawyer rich when he married your sister, Aunt +Ella?" + +"I should say not. They began housekeeping in three rooms, but my +brother-in-law is a born money-maker." + +"We're going to have five rooms, and I think Harry has it in him to make +money--at any rate I'm going to give him a chance and help him all I +can." + +"How did you manage to get away?" asked Alice. She remembered that +Quincy married her without his father's consent. But for the fact +that she became famous by writing a popular book, he would never have +welcomed her into the family. In fact, he had been "cornered" and had +to surrender. So, she was full of sympathy for Maude, for her own fate +might have been similar. + +"That's the funny part," said Maude. "I could get away easily enough, +but I wanted my clothes and many things that I prized. I knew it was +wrong, but I deceived my father. I am sorry for that, but I couldn't +give Harry up." + +"What did you do?" asked Aunt Ella. + +"Why, I told father if he wanted to get me away from Harry that he must +let me come to England and see Florence. I didn't say I was coming to +see you--" + +"That wouldn't have appealed to him," interrupted Aunt Ella. + +Maude continued: "Then everything was plain sailing. He gave me money +for an outfit, bought my ticket and return, found me a chaperone, a +brother lawyer and his wife were coming over, and gave me five hundred +dollars to spend. I consider that is my dowry, for I don't expect any +more. Florence gets fifteen thousand a year and I get five hundred all +in a lump. But I am not envious of Florence. She needs the money, and I +don't." + +"Then your father does not know that you are married?" said Alice. + +"Certainly not. Harry was on the same boat, but we never spoke to each +other all the way over. We suspected that father had spoken to Mr. +Harding or his wife about Harry, and so we were very circumspect and +gave no cause for suspicion." + +"Well," said Aunt Ella, "I will go with you to see Florence, but Mr. +Merry--" + +"Please call him Harry, Aunt Ella. Isn't he your nephew--in-law?" + +"Then," Aunt Ella continued, "Harry must stay here. Alice and I will +think out some way of breaking the news to your father. I'm glad +you told me the whole story, for I think I see a way to overcome his +objections." + +The visit to Mrs. Captain Hornaby was paid, and Maude Sawyer was obliged +to kiss and be kissed by her brother-in-law. + +"You didn't win the canoe race," said Maude, "but you were determined +to have that kiss and so you married Florence;" but her sister was not +present when she made the remark. + +"Where is your friend, Colonel Spencer?" + +"In India. I have never seen him since I gave him that check." + +"That paying teller got twenty years in prison for his penmanship," said +Maude. "Father thought you were the bad man until Aunt Ella sent the +message that led father to investigate and find out who deposited the +check. I was awful glad that you got out of it so nicely." + +"So was I," said Reginald. "I hope some day I can help somebody else out +of a bad box just to show my gratitude." + +Maude thought of her "bad box," but Reginald could not help her or +Harry. + +"Are you going to India?" she asked. "How is it that you are not with +the army?" + +"I have sold my captaincy. Florence did not wish me to leave her, and my +eldest brother decided the matter. He hates farming and accounts. I love +both, so I am in charge of the estate. My brother Paul has been given a +living as they call it in the church, and Geoffrey has entered the navy. +My brother Wilfred will inherit the title, so we are all provided for." + +Aunt Ella and Alice had many long confabs about the young couple, and +how to reinstate Maude in her father's good graces when the truth became +known to him. + +"I have an idea," said Alice one morning to Aunt Ella. "Yesterday I had +a letter from Dr. Paul Culver, one of the executors of Quincy's will. He +says his practice is so great that he cannot do justice to my interests, +and asks me to suggest some one to be appointed in his stead." + +"What's your idea? Though perhaps I can guess," said Aunt Ella. + +"I am going to suggest Mr. Merry. I had many talks with him while you +were away with Maude, and I am deeply impressed in his favour. Are you +surprised?" + +"Not so much as you will be when I tell you that Florence and her +husband are going back with Maude. Harry will have to go too, so +something must be done. Now, you know that I gave Quincy an allowance of +five thousand dollars a year when he was married. I am going to give it +to Harry." + +"And why not let them live in the Mount Vernon Street house--until--" +Her voice broke. + +"I know what you were going to say, Alice. It is a good idea--all +furnished and ready for occupancy. I shall never see it again--and you +may not for years--for I can't spare you." + +"When do they sail?" Alice asked. + +"In about a week. I'm going to write a letter to Sarah to-night to pave +the way." + +It was midnight when Aunt Ella completed a letter that seemed to fit the +case. + +"MY DEAR SISTER SARAH:--I write to let you know that Florence and her +husband will sail for America in about a week. This may not be news to +you, for probably Florence has written you, but it will be news when I +tell you that Maude and her husband, Mr. Merry, will sail on the same +steamer. They have visited Florence and are now here with me. + +"I presume Nathaniel will be very angry, and he may say that I am +responsible, as he did in Quincy's case. I did help Quincy and Alice +and I am going to help Maude and Harry. I am going to allow them five +thousand a year and Alice gives them the free use of the Mount Vernon +Street house. She has written Nathaniel about Mr. Merry taking Dr. +Culver's place as one of Quincy's executors. + +"Now, if Nathaniel gets very angry and threatens to disinherit Maude, +just ask him, for me, why it is that all his children have been +married away from home. Has it always been their fault, or is his +home discipline in part, or wholly, the cause? It didn't make so much +difference in Quincy's case, but here in England no girl is married +outside of her father's house, unless it be in church. + +"Your children are now all married, and, I think, well married. Let +Nathaniel make the best of it, and, instead of keeping up a family +warfare, change his tactics and become an indulgent, loving father. + +"Your sister, + +"ELLA. + +"P. S. Let Nathaniel read this letter. It will do him good." + +Aunt Ella read her letter over before sealing it. There was a quiet +smile on her face as she pressed the seal upon the melted wax. Then she +soliloquized: + +"Yes, it will do him good to read that letter. He has no one else to +boss now but Sarah, but she doesn't resist, and ready acquiescence takes +away the pleasure of domineering. The boss wishes to break stout twigs, +not simply press down pliant willows." There came a sharp rap upon the +door--it was thrown open, and Alice entered. + +"Oh, Aunt Ella, Quincy is very sick. He is choked up so he can hardly +breathe. I'm afraid it is the croup." + +"We must send for Dr. Parshefield at once. But who can go? Henry injured +his foot to-day and cannot walk. Lennon, the butler, cannot ride a +horse, and Simon, the stable boy, would be frightened to death so late +at night." + +"Oh, what shall we do?" cried Alice. + +"Do?" exclaimed Aunt Ella. "I'll go myself. It's only two miles to +Ketchley and I can ride back with the Doctor. I'll get Harry to help me +harness the horse. Open the windows to give your boy plenty of air, and +fan him." + +She took up the oil lamp that stood upon her writing table. "This is +whale oil--a nauseous smelling compound. Rub his neck and chest well +with it." + +Alice sought the nursery and followed Aunt Ella's directions. She was +sitting by the crib watching her child's laboured breathing when her +aunt returned. + +"Harry is going on horseback. He knows the road to Ketchley and where +the Doctor lives. Give him some more of the oil." + +It was administered and the child began to choke--he seemed to be +strangling--then the phlegm that had impeded his breathing was thrown +off, and his face resumed its natural colour. When the Doctor arrived an +hour later, he was sleeping quietly. Aunt Ella told what they had done +by way of emergency treatment. + +"Evidently a very effective treatment," said Dr. Parshefield. "I could +not have done better myself." + +"It was so good of you, Harry," said Alice. "I shall never forget your +kindness." + +Then she threw her arms about Aunt Ella's neck. + +"Oh, Auntie, if he had been taken from me, I could not have borne it." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +YOUNG QUINCY + + +It had been arranged while Aunt Ella and Maude were at Ellersleigh that +Florence and her husband should come to Fernborough Hall and make a +visit before their departure for the United States. Owing to Harry's +presence at the Hall it became necessary, when they arrived, to divulge +the well-kept secret of Maude's unconventional marriage. + +Aunt Ella managed the introduction with her usual straightforwardness, +treating it as a matter of course. Florence and her husband were +naturally surprised, but both of them liked Harry Merry. Had Florence +been married at home, with the usual family friends and accessories, she +would have looked with less tolerance on Maude's elopement. To be sure +she had not eloped, but when she looked into her own heart she had to +confess to herself that she would have married Reginald even if her +parents had refused their consent. So, as the intent makes the offence, +she forgave Maude for her escapade, and during their stay at the Hall +they manifested more sisterly regard for each other than they had ever +before shown. + +Reginald and Harry "hitched horses" at once. Men who marry sisters are +united by a stronger tie than the usual brother-in-law bond, and the +Englishman and the American felicitated themselves upon their capture of +the Sawyer sisters. They played billiards on a table where the balls had +not clicked for a generation. They smoked in a room which had been free +from the odour of tobacco for a score of years. They rode horseback upon +steeds whose principal duty, as Harry expressed it, had been to "heat +their 'eads horff." They even fished in the miniature lake and gave +their catch to dogs who knew so little about real sport that they +thought the fish were game. They took long walks together and knew +by name every man, woman, and child on the estate. The conservative +Englishman, if alone, would not have gone so far, but the democratic +American took the lead, and politeness, if not inclination, forced his +companion to follow. + +They often passed an evening with Sir Stuart in his library. The Captain +related incidents in his military life, while Harry, who had been a +great reader, drew on both memory and imagination for tales of the +Great West, with an occasional ghost story, supported by irrefutable +witnesses. The day before their departure, Aunt Ella took Florence +to her boudoir and told her what she had written to _her_ sister, +Nathaniel's wife, about her children's marriages. + +"I hope Sarah will let your father read my letter. I said just what I +thought, and I shall stand by Maude and her husband come what may." + +"And so will I," cried Florence. "You helped Reginald by solving the +mystery of that check, and I will do all I can to help Maude and Harry. +I think he is a fine fellow, and Reggie says they have become like two +brothers." + +"I am glad to hear," said Aunt Ella, "that they are bound by love as +well as by law." + +In about a month there came a long letter from Maude. + +"DEAR AUNT ELLA AND SISTER ALICE:--I have so much to tell you that I +hardly know where to begin. We had a fine trip--no storms--and none of +us missed a meal, which was bad for the company. But they made up their +loss on others who ate a supper on leaving England and a breakfast on +reaching America. + +"Mother was delighted to see us and father was so nice to us all that I +came near fainting. He is a changed man. I wonder what drug he has been +taking." + + * * * * * * * + +"Didn't you tell Maude about your letter to her mother?" asked Alice. + +"No, I told Florence, but thought Maude would appreciate the change +now, _if_ it took place, if she was ignorant of what influence had been +brought to bear on her father." + +Aunt Ella continued the reading. + + * * * * * * * + +"Harry and I have been to Fernborough. Alice's brother sent us word that +Uncle Isaac Pettingill was dead and we went to the funeral. He had no +complaint. He was tired out, so Mrs. Maxwell told us, and went to sleep. +He left each of Mrs. Maxwell's boys five thousand dollars, and the same +amount to Quincy Adams Pettingill. The remainder of his fortune, I don't +know how much, is bequeathed to build a free hospital in Fernborough. + +"There's another good man dead--Deacon Mason,--and his wife has gone +to live with her daughter, Mrs. Pettingill. That funny little man, Mr. +Stiles, has gone there too. + +"I saw Mrs. Hawkins, and she said: 'I mos' cried my eyes out when I +heerd 'bout that collision at sea, an' what it did. I can't see no sense +in them captains bein' so careless and reckless. Tell Miss Alice I wish +she'd come home and bring that boy. I want ter see ef he looks like his +father.' + +"I came near forgetting what to me is the most important part of my +letter. Harry has been appointed as Quincy's executor in place of Dr. +Culver, and, this is the wonderful thing, father has induced Harry to +leave Mr. Carter's office and go into his office. He told Harry that +they were all getting old and they needed young blood in the firm--but +Harry's not in the firm yet. No more this time from your loving, + +"MAUDE MERRY." + +"My letter to Sarah did do some good," said Aunt Ella triumphantly. + +"Poor Uncle Ike, I wish I could have been with him. I wonder if I shall +ever see Fernborough again?" + +Aunt Ella did not answer the question as she would have liked to, and +Alice went to her room to recall those former happy days which would +never come again. + +Nearly nine years had passed since young Quincy's birth, and Alice was +still at Fernborough Hall. She could not leave it now, for Aunt Ella +was again a widow. Her mind was troubled about her boy. He had recurrent +attacks of throat trouble, and was not strong as she wished him to be. + +"It's the damp, foggy weather," said Aunt Ella. "We're too near the +water, and this country, beautiful as it is, is not like our bright +America." + +Dr. Parshefield suggested a trip to the South of France, but Alice +declared that was impossible. + +"Something must be done--now what shall it be?" was Aunt Ella's +declaration and inquiry. Then Alice remembered what Maude had said +in one of her letters--that young Quincy should be brought up as an +American. She spoke to Aunt Ella about the matter, repeating what Maude +had written. + +"Where could we send him?" + +"The _where_ is not so important" Aunt Ella remarked, "as the _to whom_. +Florence and Maude are both out of the question for they have young +children of their own who might, or might not, take to an outsider. +Quincy's mother would be delighted to have him for he is her son's son, +but Boston, with its east winds would be no better than here. Besides, +his grandfather would say that he'd raised one family of disobedient +children and he wanted a quiet life." + +The question remained unsettled that day, but the next morning Aunt Ella +burst into Alice's room with a loud cry-- + +"Eureka! I have it! Why didn't we think of it before?" + +"You say you have it," said Alice, "but what is it? That pattern that +you were looking for?" + +"No, a happy home for this youngster," as she patted his curly head +lovingly. + +"Now, can't you guess?" + +Alice shook her head. + +"Well, I must say, you are not a very thoughtful _sister_," and the last +word was strongly emphasized. + + +"What, do you mean--'Zekiel?" cried Alice. + +"The very man, and Fernborough is the place. You must write to your +brother at once." + +As Alice was writing the thought came to her, "Perhaps if my boy goes +to Fernborough, some day I may go to see him, and the old town, and the +people there, once more." + +In due time a reply came from 'Zekiel. It was short, but to the point. +"Huldy will be delighted to have him. Our boy Quincy is nearly fourteen +years old now and he'll take good care of his little cousin. I'll try +and be a father to him until you come for him." + +The important question, "How was the boy to reach America?" was answered +by one of those happy coincidences which happen often in books and +occasionally in real life, such as is being depicted. The Rev. Mr. Gay, +who had been a constant visitor to Uncle Ike during his last days, paid +a visit to Fernborough Hall on his return from a trip to the Holy Land. + +"Heaven must have sent you," said Alice, and she told him of her desire +to have her boy go to Fernborough. + +Mr. Gay consented to take charge of young Quincy. In a few days the +parting came. The mother's heart was sorely tried. But mother-love is +unselfish, and Alice's only consolation came from the conviction that +her temporary loss was for her son's permanent good. + +Her nights were sleepless, filled with thoughts of accidents, and storms +and collisions at sea, until a welcome letter dispelled her imaginings, +for it brought the intelligence that young Quincy was safe with his +father's friends. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +HIS FATHER'S FRIENDS + + +It is the good fortune of some fatherless or motherless children to be +adopted into good families where the natural love and care that have +been denied them are supplied, as it were, by proxy. With young Quincy +it was so, only much more so. It fell to his lot to be adopted by an +entire town. Its residents had been, with few exceptions, his father's +friends. The sad story of his father's loss at sea was known to all, +and the town's heart warmed towards him; the town's arms were open to +embrace him, and care for him. + +To his Aunt Huldah Pettingill he seemed as though sent from another +world. He was her husband's nephew, and hers--but there was a closer tie +acknowledged within her own heart, and kept there as a precious secret. +He was Quincy Adams Sawyer's son--the son of the man who had taught +her what love was. It had been a bitter lesson, for when her heart +was awakened, it was but to find that the one who had played upon its +sensitive strings did not love her, and that her duty was to another who +did love her. She had been a true and loving wife with no unsatisfied +heart-longings, but-- + + "You may break, you may shatter the vase, if you will, + But the scent of the roses will hang round it still." + +So Huldah Mason still kept within a secret corner of her heart a fond +remembrance of happy days gone by. And now Quincy's son was one of her +family; she could be a mother to him and no one would have a right to +question her manifestations of affection. It is often that the human +heart thus finds solace for past sad experiences or suffering. + +It was only natural that Huldah, after her father's death, should take +her mother to her own home. The old Deacon had acquired enough of this +world's goods to avoid the necessity of hard labour during the last +years of his life. Good books had been his constant companions, and an +old-fashioned cane-bottomed rocking chair his favourite seat upon the +piazza or by the kitchen fire. Abner Stiles had done the necessary farm +work and the household chores. When the Deacon passed away, the town +lost one of its broadest-minded, most honest, most helpful citizens. + +Mrs. Mason, still hale and hearty, assisted her daughter in her +household duties, but allowed Abner to put up the clothes line and take +it in. + +"And this is his son, and his poor father--" The Deacon's good wife +could say no more, but clasped little Quincy close to her motherly +breast. + +"You told me how it happened, Huldy, and I told father, but it don't +seem real even now. His father was such a fine man." + +She stopped, for her daughter had turned her head away, and her mother +knew that it was to brush away some tears that could not be kept back. + +To 'Zekiel Pettingill, the boy was Alice's child. His only sister had +been the apple of his eye, and his great, honest heart welcomed the boy +as if he were his own. + +His own son, Quincy Adams Pettingill, was in his fourteenth year and +upon him devolved the outdoor education of his young cousin. In this +pleasant task he was aided by his sister Sophie who was a year younger +than the newcomer. + +There was a scene of wild excitement when young Quincy paid his first +visit to the old Pettingill place where his mother was born. It was +still the home of Hiram Maxwell and his wife, formerly Mandy Skinner. +The two boys, Abraham Mason Maxwell and Obadiah Strout Maxwell had been +told often the story of Mr. Sawyer's visit to Eastborough, and how he +boarded in that house, and little Mandy was glad to see "Kirwinzee." + +The old dog, Swiss, had, with difficulty, been dragged from the grave of +his former master, Uncle Ike, but no force, or persuasion, could induce +him to leave the old house. Probably the name "Quincy" had a familiar +sound and he wagged his tail slowly as an evidence of recognition and +welcome. + +The most explosive greeting came from Mrs. Crowley. + +"An' it's the foine young man he is, the picter of his feyther." She +would have taken him in her arms and hugged him but for the presence of +others, but, afterwards, when alone with him she patted his curly head +and told him that he would have to be a fine man to be as good as his +father. Everywhere he went his father was talked about and praised, and +his mother had taught him to love his father's memory. Thus early +the ambition to be like his father was instilled in the boy's mind. +Confident as Alice was that her husband was still living, Aunt Ella +had protested effectually against her implanting any such hope in the +child's mind, and he had been brought up with the belief that his father +had died before he was born. There was one place where his father's +praises were faint, and that was at the grocery store. + +[ILLUSTRATION: "'I S'POSE ONE OF THESE DAYS YOU'LL BE WEIGHIN' SUGAR AND +DRAWIN' 'LASSES.'"] + +"Ah, my young man," said Mr. Obadiah Strout, on his first visit, "your +father's money started this business, but I've worked mighty hard to +build it up to what it is now. I s'pose one of these days you'll be +weighin' sugar and drawin' 'lasses." + +"I guess not," exclaimed Hiram. "Rich men's sons don't us'ally take to +their father's business." + +"You're right for once, Hiram," Mr. Strout acknowledged. "They uzally +run through the money, bust the biz'ness and bring up in jail." + +"Well, this young fellow won't," cried Hiram, hotly. "He's goin' to be a +great man like his father, won't you, Bub?" + +"Bub" took a handful of raisins from an open box, and eyed his +questioner wonderingly. + +"There's many a slip 'twixt the cow and the churn," said Mr. Strout as +he took a ten cent cigar from the case and lighted it. Perhaps the +sight of the son recalled a scene in the same shop many years before on +Quincy's first visit to Mason's Corner when a box of cigars had been the +subject of an animated discussion between the boy's father and himself, +followed by a passage-at-arms--or, more correctly speaking--fists. We +humans are only veneered with politeness or good nature; underneath, +man's revengeful nature lies dormant--but not dead. + +Mrs. Hawkins was delighted to see him. "Olive, don't you think he's the +likeness of his father?" + +Olive agreed, because she had found that agreement with her employer's +opinions made life pleasant, and also led to many desirable additions to +her wardrobe. + +Mrs. Hawkins surveyed him again. "I'll never forget what a poor appetite +his father had when he boarded here. He never came to his meals reg'lar. +But he was in love, head over heels an' an extry dip,--an' I don't blame +him, for 'Zeke Pettingill's sister was good enough for any man, even +if he did git to be guv'nor. Have a cookey?" and Quincy's pockets were +filled with cakes that contained raisins and citron. + +"Them's seedless raisins, Quincy. I had a boarder once, a reg'lar +hayseed who came down here from Montrose to work hayin' time, an' he +asked me how I got the stuns out of the raisins. Jes' to fool him, I +said I bit 'em out, an' do you know, that old fool never teched another +bit o' cake while he stopped here." + +Mr. Jonas Hawkins took him out to see the hens and chickens, and told +him that he "kalkilated that mos' on 'em eggs that was bein' sot on +would hatch out." Quincy's great delight was going with Hiram in the +grocery wagon. One day they went over the same road from the Pettingill +farm to Eastborough Centre that his father had travelled so many times. + +The old sign board "Three Miles to Mason's Corner" was still there, +but how changed the other conditions. No consumptive uncle in the +Poor House, no philosophical Uncle Ike living in a chicken coop, no +inquisitive Mrs. Putnam, no mysterious Lindy, no battle royal with the +music teacher, no town meeting to engineer, no grocery store to buy, +no Deacon's daughter to go driving with, no singing school, no surprise +party, no blind girl to comfort and aid--and finally marry. + +There were none of the incidents that had made his father's life at +Mason's Corner so exciting and interesting. Now, there was only a little +boy riding in a red wagon with yellow wheels, inhaling the pure air +and sweetness of the wild flowers, listening to the songs of birds, and +wishing that Uncle Hiram would make the horse go faster. + +It is safe to leave him with his father's friends, for surely his lines +had fallen in a pleasant place. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +AN OLD STRIFE RENEWED + + +It was February and the air was stinging cold. It was one of those +nights such as Lowell wrote about in "The Courtin'." + + "God makes sech nights, all white an' still + Fur'z you can look or listen, + Moonshine an' snow on field an' hill, + All silence an' all glisten." + +In the store of the Strout and Maxwell Company quite a number of the +town's people were gathered about the big air-tight stove which was kept +stuffed full of wood by willing hands and from which came great waves of +almost scorching heat. + +Such congregations of villagers are often said to be composed of loafers +and loungers, but it was not so at Fernborough. The men who represented +the brains and marrow of the town met there. It was the home of the town +debating society and supplied a free forum for the discussion of public +questions. If the advanced ideas in statesmanship and social economy +incubated there could have become the property of the nation, our +country would have grown wiser and better. + +But for the intense cold the company gathered there on the evening in +question would have been much larger. Benoni Hill, the former proprietor +of the store and the richest man in town, did not think his wealth +was any reason why he should hold aloof or consider himself above his +neighbours, whose patronage had been the foundation of his fortune. +He was given an old arm-chair while the others sat upon soap-boxes and +nail-kegs. Cobb's Twins, William and James, were there, Emmanuel Howe, +the minister's son, and Bob Wood who still sang bass in the village +church choir. + +The store door was opened letting in a gust of cold air which made all +draw nearer to the red-hot stove. The newcomer was Samuel Hill, Benoni's +son. + +A chorus of voices cried: "Hello, Sam!" and a place was made for him so +he could thaw out his almost frozen fingers. + +"It's mighty cold, ain't it?" said his father. + +"Well, I should smile," replied Sam. This expression he had heard the +last time he was in the city, and he derived great pleasure from its +repetition. + +"How's Tilly?" asked Bob Wood. + +"Able to be up and have her bed made." + +All laughed at the rejoinder. Smiles and laughter are easily evoked in a +village grocery. + +Mr. Obadiah Strout and Mr. Hiram Maxwell, general partners, were in the +private office, a small room adjoining the post-office. Mr. Strout was +smoking a cigar and reading a letter between the puffs. Hiram, with his +chair tilted back against the wall, was smoking his after-supper pipe, +for it was after seven o'clock in the evening. + +"Mr. Maxwell," said Obadiah, laying down the letter he had been reading, +"this is from the trustees of the estate of the Honourable Quincy +Adams Sawyer, formerly our special partner, and the ex-Governor of this +Commonwealth. I mention the fact of him being our former special partner +first, before I said anything about his political elevation, for I don't +believe, Mr. Maxwell, that he would ever have been Governor if he hadn't +jined in with us." + +Mr. Strout always called Hiram "Mr. Maxwell," when they talked over +business affairs. + +Hiram blew a cloud from his pipe. "Wall, I guess they're putty well +satisfied with what we've been doin', ain't they?" + +Mr. Strout leaned back in his chair with a self-satisfied look on his +face. + +"Wall, they must be a pretty near set if they expect more'n twelve per +cent, on the capital. No, they're all right, 'though one of 'em, that +Mr. Merry, is mighty inquisitive 'bout small things. Marryin' inter the +Sawyer family 'counts for it, I s'pose." + +Hiram was used to hearing covert slurs and open flings at the Sawyer +family, but had found replies only provocative of attacks upon himself, +so he listened in silence. Mr. Strout took up the letter. "I wrote +'em 'bout startin' that new branch over to Westvale, and although they +answered in a kinder top-lofty style--I reckon that young Merry writ the +letter--I 'magine they're in for it, horse, foot, and dragoons. They'll +put up the money. An' the question now is who'll go over and take charge +of it." + +Hiram put his pipe on the table. "There's two folks that don't want to +go, an' that's Mandy an' me. I don't s'pose the children would find any +fault, but they're not old enough to vote on the question." + +Hiram knew that his partner was anxious to get him out of the +Fernborough store, and so he filed his objections at once. + +"Oh," said Strout, "of course I didn't have no sech idee as askin' you +to go, even if you did know who was the best man for the job. The snail +thinks he's travelled a long ways when he goes a foot, an' some men are +jus' like him." + +Hiram ignored the personal application. + +"Well, bein's you didn't want me to go, I s'pose you've somebody in +mind. Suit yourself, as us'al." + +"Well, I've thought it all over, an' I think Billy Ricker's our man. +He'll be over from Montrose to-morrow an' I'll talk it over with him. +We've got that Montrose trade so solid he can be spared from there now. +Guess there ain't any trade tonight or Bob would have called us in afore +this." + +"Ef we sold cord wood we might be doin' somethin'," and, laughing in his +old way at his own joke, Hiram started to follow his partner into the +store. + +"Say, Hiram," called out Strout in a loud voice, "bring in them two +chairs--everything's occupied out here 'cept the counter." + +As the proprietors took their seats, the store door was opened again, +this time admitting Mr. Abner Stiles. His teeth were chattering, and +he stamped his feet upon the floor, and beat his hands against his +shoulders in old-fashioned country style. + +"Moses Williams!" he cried. "I kinder think the North Pole must have +slid down an' come to stop in this 'ere town. I say, Strout, if that +organ of yourn was pumped to-night you'd have to play 'From Greenland's +Icy Mountains,' or some sech tune." + +"Where have you been?" asked Mr. Strout. + +"Hain't been nowhere. Jes' came from the Pettingill house. Young Master +Sawyer wants some brown sugar to make some candy. Give me five pounds." + +"So it's Master Sawyer, is it?" said Strout as he weighed the saccharine +substance. "I thought it was Mister before a man was a Master." + +"I ain't a talkin' about men--he's only a boy, and a mighty smart boy +too." + +"I'm tired hearing about him," said Strout. "Can't you give us something +new?" + +"Yes, I kin," said Abner. "Boys, I've got something funny to tell you. I +went to Cottonton this afternoon and I'd jest got back when they sent me +for the sugar." + +"What ye doin' over there?" asked Benoni. + +Abner scratched his head then winked at Benoni. + +"I went to buy somethin' for an individual who shall be nameless out of +respect--" + +"Go on with your story," shouted Strout. "You'd better hurry home with +that sugar or the 'Master' may make it hot for you." + +This remark caused a laugh at Abner's expense. + +"Jes' go ahead, Abner," said Benoni, "we're all a-waitin'." + +"Well, I met a feller on the train and he buzzed me all the way here. +He wanted to know where I lived, an' when I told him I lived in +Fernborough, that used to be a part of Eastborough, he jest piled me +full of questions. I told him all I knew--" + +"An' added a little something" broke in Strout. + +"No, I jest stuck close to the truth. He wanted to know about Mr. Quincy +Adams Sawyer. I told him he was dead, but he said he wanted to know +about him when he lived here. Then I told him there was a man in town +who could tell him more'n I could about that, an' I jest giv' him your +name, Obadiah." + +This sally turned the laugh on Strout who was about to make a sharp +rejoinder, when the store door opened and a strong current of cold air +caused all to turn. + +"Shut the door!" cried Bob Wood in his gruff voice. + +"I beg your pardon," said the man, as he complied. + +He was very tall,--more than six feet in height. He was dressed in a +suit of shiny black; his coat was buttoned tightly and the collar was +turned up. The most noticeable part of his costume was a broad-brimmed +straw hat. He wore no overcoat and his hands were ungloved. + +"Gentlemen, I must beg pardon for this intrusion, but I used to live in +these parts many years ago, and I am here to inquire whether any of my +family are awaiting the return of a long-lost relative." + +Abner nudged Mr. Strout and said in a whisper: "That's the feller." + +"What might your name be?" asked Mr. Benoni Hill in his genial manner. + +"I have occupied many stations in life, and whether high or low have +always assumed a cognomen to match my position." + +"A cog what?" asked Bill Cobb in a voice so low that he thought only his +brother Jim could hear; but his question reached the stranger's ear. + +"By cognomen I mean a desirable _alias_ or a characteristic +appellation." + +This explanation gave rise to a chorus of "Oh's." + +"Kerzactly," remarked Benoni, and then all laughed. + +"When I left this town thirty years ago, my name was Richard Ricker. On +returning to those paths which my childish feet so often trod--I have +just come from the West Indies where the climate is hotter than that +stove--it seems appropriate that I should assume my family name. It is +done. I am now Richard Ricker." + +Abner nudged Strout again, who resented it, but Mr. Stiles remarked in a +whisper: "He's crazy--mad as a March hare." + +Mr. Ricker did not hear his opinion of his sanity. + +"My father's name was Benjamin, Martha was my mother, and I had a +brother William--that is, I had them all when I ran away to sea at the +age of seventeen years, ten months, and fifteen days. I always remember +my exact age for I wished to know just how long I had been gone when I +got back." + +The villagers looked at the stranger with marked variations in +expression, but no one spoke until Abner remarked: + +"I guess you've struck the right place. There's a young feller named +Billy Ricker that works for Mr. Strout here," and he pointed to that +gentleman. "Billy's father was named Bill, but he's dead; so's Ben and +Marthy. I know'd 'em all." + +"I am glad to learn that I have a nephew in the land of the living. +Where is he?" + +"He lives in Montrose, the next town north of us," said Mr. Strout. "We +have a branch store there an' Billy has charge of it." + +"If he had some capital, I suppose he could become a partner," remarked +Mr. Ricker. + +"Not much," said Strout. "We have all the money we need, and know where +to get more. What we want is men, an' we have a good one in Billy." + +Mr. Ricker removed his unseasonable headgear and moved nearer to the +stove. + +"I have heard of the late Mr. Sawyer and was sorry to hear of his early +demise." He looked at Abner, then at Mr. Strout. + +"Your friend here has told me about his wonderful exploits--how he +thrashed the town bully, and beat the singing-master at his own game." + +Bob Wood and Strout glared at Abner. + +"But his experiences, which I have been told have appeared in print," +the stranger continued, "are trifling compared with the perils and +adventures which have fallen to my lot. I could make your blood run +cold." + +"Ef we open the front door, I guess the weather will do that," said +Hiram, and it was the general opinion, though not verbally expressed, +that Hiram had got one on the stranger. + +Mr. Emmanuel Howe, the clergyman's son, was noted for his extreme +politeness. He had attended one term at a divinity school before he met +Miss Dixie Schaffer. He arose from the nail-keg upon which he had been +sitting, and motioned for the stranger to take his place. + +As he accepted the mute invitation, Mr. Ricker turned to the company and +said: "Gentlemen, shall I intrude upon your time if I relate just one of +my adventures?" + +"Oh, go ahead," said Strout. "It's our rule to let a man talk until we +get enough, and then--" + +He raised his right foot, suddenly. + +"I understand," said Mr. Ricker. "When I was about twenty-two years old +our vessel was wrecked and I, the only one saved, was cast ashore on +a cannibal island--or, to be more correct ethnologically, an island +inhabited by cannibals. I was a handsome young fellow, and it is not +at all surprising that the Queen, who was young, unmarried, and, +fortunately, very pretty, fell in love with me and wished to become my +wife. + +"But the Prime Minister, or Great Panjandrum, as he was called, wished +his son to marry the Queen and become King, so he, and his minions +planned to get rid of me. + +"Lola-Akwa, that was the Queen's name, discovered the plot, and resolved +to save me. + +"You all read your Bibles, and you will remember that in the olden days +there were places that were called 'Cities of Refuge.' On that island +there was a Tree of Refuge. It was at least one hundred feet high and +for two hundred feet from it, in every direction, not a tree or shrub +could be found. This open space gave the pursuers a fine chance for an +arrow shot before the refugee reached the tree. + +"Lola-Akwa told me to climb to the top of that tree and stay there until +she sent word for me to come down. + +"But the Great Panjandrum discovered my hiding place. The Queen declared +that I was protected by all that was sacred in their religion, but the +Great Panjandrum proved by the cannibal Bible that only cannibals were +entitled to its protection. He said they would roast a man, and if I +would eat him and pick his bones I might go free. I declined, for I am +rather particular about my diet. + +"Then the Great Panjandrum seized an axe and struck at the foot of the +tree. Others followed his wicked example and it soon began to totter. +They next tied a rope about the trunk of the tree. The plotters were +sixteen in number--I counted them. They stood in line, tugging at the +rope. + +"Lola-Akwa stood far back awaiting the terrible moment of my death. I +could see that her eyes were filled with tears. The tree fell, and I +went flying through the air--to certain death! + +"When I came to, I found myself clasped in Lola-Akwa's arms. 'Where am +I?' I asked. 'Look' she said. I did, and learned the wonderful truth. + +"The Great Tree had fallen upon the Great Panjandrum and his fifteen +conspirators and killed them all." + +For a moment there was silence, then a chorus of voices exclaimed: "Did +you marry the Queen?" + +The stranger pressed his hand upon his forehead. + +"No. If I remember correctly some one held an ace and took my Queen." + +He rose from the nail-keg. + +"I'm hungry. I would like some supper and a bed for the night. To-morrow +I will embrace my only living relative. Is there a boarding house in +town?" + +"Somethin' better'n that," said Abner. "We've got a Hotel--the Hawkins +House. Mrs. Hawkins keeps it. I'm going along that way and I'll +interduce you. She's a pretty good talker herself," and Abner winked +with both eyes as they went out. + +"Well," said Benoni, as the door closed after them. "The Bible says +Ananias was a pretty good story teller, but that gentleman seems to have +added some modern improvements." + +"He's a cussed liar," said Bob Wood. + +"And if Mrs. Hawkins is smart she'll make him pay in advance." + +The door was thrown open full width and two men rushed in. + +"Have you seen him?" cried one. + +"Seen who?" asked Strout. + +"He's tall--black clothes--had on a straw hat--" + +"Who in thunder is he?" cried Strout. + +"He's a lunatic--just escaped from the asylum. We tracked him to this +town--" + +"He's gone to the hotel," said Bob Wood. "You can nab him easy there. +I'll show you the way." + +The men started on the run, led by Bob Wood, and followed by all who had +been enjoying the hospitality afforded by the soap-boxes, nail-kegs, and +the red-hot stove. + +"What beats me," said Hiram, "is how he knew all about the Ricker +family." + +"Simple enough," said Strout with a sneer, "That ass Abner told him the +whole business. He never could keep his mouth shet. That's the reason I +wouldn't give him a job in this store." + +Mr. Strout extinguished some of the lights, locked the door, and resumed +his seat by the stove. + +"Ain't you going home?" asked Hiram. + +"Not jest yet; I've some thinkin' to do. I don't take much stock in +fightin' but I'd like to punch Abner Stiles' head." + +"What's he been doing?" + +"Why, didn't you hear what he said he said to that crazy fellow about +Sawyer getting the best of me at my own game?" + +"Wall, he told the truth, didn't he, Strout?" + +"Look here, Mr. Hiram Maxwell, I want you to understand that if we are +to continue together as partners in this 'ere grocery business, there +must be mutual respect atween us." + +"Wall," said Hiram, "I s'pose you mean by that, that ef I ain't what you +consider respec'ful to you, you'll get out and leave me the business. +You see, Obadiah, it's not for you or me to say who'll stay in--that's +for the trustees. So, I wouldn't lay down the law too fine, Obadiah." + +"Wall, I hoped," said Strout, "that when that Sawyer married 'Zeke +Pettingill's sister and left this town that we'd be able to have a +little peace round here and run things our own way. Course, I don't want +any man to get drowned, but it wasn't my fault that the ship he was +on ran into another. He was allus runnin' into somethin' that didn't +concern him. But bein' he's gone, and no blame can be laid at my door, I +thought we'd heard the last of him, but since he's died the air's fuller +of Sawyer than it was afore. It makes me sick the way everybody tumbles +over themselves to make of that boy of his'n. I don't think there's much +to him." + +"He's got a big head, an' he's a mighty bright little fellow," said +Hiram. + +"Wall, then he resembles his father in one respect--_he_ had a big +head." + +"I'm surprised, Obadiah, to hear you talk the way you do. I ain't forgot +that meetin' in the Town Hall where you got up and owned up that he was +'bout right, and thet you'd been mean as dirt, but he shook hands with +you, and forgave you like a gentleman as he was, and I thought you were +good friends." + +"I'm good friends with anybody that keeps out of my way," said Strout. +"But that Sawyer was like that _malary_ that the boys got off to war. +It gets into your blood and you can't get it out. Why, he snubbed 'Zeke +Pettingill jest the same as he did me when they had that sleigh ride, +and he didn't have spunk enough to hit back. If 'Zeke had jined in with +me we'd had him out o' town lively. And then the way he butted in at +my concert and turned a high-class musical entertainment inter a nigger +minstrel show by whistling a tune vas enough to make anybody mad clean +through." + +"Wall, you got mad, didn't you?" said Hiram. "What good did it do yer?" + +Mr. Strout's newly aroused wrath was not appeased. + +"Then again, the way he squeezed himself in at that surprise party. +Since I married Bessie Chisholm, I've talked to her a good many times +'bout the way she danced with him that night." + +"Come now, Strout, what did she say? She wasn't engaged to you then. +What did she say? Now be honest." + +Mr. Strout could not restrain a grim smile. + +"Wall, to tell the truth, Hiram, she told me it was none of my business, +an' when I came to think it over I didn't believe it was--but it would +be now." + +Mr. Strout's vials of wrath had not all been emptied. He seemed to be +enjoying a rehearsal of all his past troubles and grievances. + +"I guess that if the folks had known at first that the Jim Sawyer who +died in the Poor House was his uncle, they wouldn't have considered him +such great shucks after all. An' the way he tried to get Huldy Mason to +marry him and throw over 'Zeke Pettingill, who had loved her ever since +she was a baby, was a mighty mean piece of business in my opinion." + +This remark gave Hiram an opportunity which he was not slow in +improving. + +"I heerd as how there was another feller in town who tried to get Huldy +to marry him and throw poor 'Zeke over." + +Mr. Strout puckered up his mouth and there was a strained look on +his face which indicated that the shot had gone home. But his verbal +ammunition was not all expended. + +"You can tell me what you've a mind to, but I know that he tried mighty +hard to get Lindy Putnam to marry him, an' I don't imagine he'd have +taken up with a blind girl if he hadn't heard that Heppy Putnam was +going to leave her all her money. I had him looked up by some friends of +mine in the city. They said he didn't have much himself, but his father +paid his bills. His father jest gave him to understand that if he didn't +marry the right girl, with plenty of dough, he wouldn't get much from +him." + +"Wall, you may be right and you may be wrong, Obadiah. But when a man's +dead I don't think it does you any good to roast him and pick his bones. +It's too much like those _cannibiles_ that crazy feller told us about. +Quincy Adams Sawyer was always a good friend to me, and a better one +to you, Strout, than you deserved, judgin' from the way you've been +talkin'. His money has been the makin' of both on us, and while we do +business together I hope we'll let Mr. Sawyer, as the church folks say, +rest in pieces." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +BOYHOOD TO MANHOOD + + +Until he was fourteen years of age, young Quincy attended the public +schools in Fernborough and Cottonton. While in England he had had a +governess and later a tutor, so that when he reached America he was much +farther advanced than Fernborough boys of his own age. Methods in the +New England town were different, however, and his Uncle Ezekiel +was satisfied to have him keep pace with the others, and not arouse +antagonism by asking for any special promotion. + +Ezekiel's son Quincy had decided to become a farmer, following in his +father's footsteps. But scientific farming was supplanting old methods, +and he had taken the course at the Agricultural College and received his +diploma. + +Young Quincy wished a college education. To obtain admission it was +necessary for him to attend a preparatory school, and, relying upon Mr. +Gay's description of its advantages, Andover was selected. + +While at the Cottonton High School, Quincy's chum had been a boy two +years older than himself, named Thomas Chripp. He was the son of a +weaver at Cottonton. Like Quincy, he had been born in England, but his +father had been drawn to America by the lure of higher wages, nothing +having been said to him, however, about the increased cost of living. + +Thomas's father would not let him become a back-boy in the mill. + +"I've breathed cotton all my life," said Mr. Chripp to Ezekiel, "and I +think too much of my only boy to condemn him to a life in a hot room, +where the only music is the whizzing shuttles. No, my boy Tom shall +breathe God's fresh air and become a big, strong man instead of a +wizened-up little fellow like me. Why, would you believe it, Mr. +Pettingill, I began work in a cotton mill when I was eight years old, +and I've lived in one ever since--forty years! Sundays when I walk out +in the fields I can't get the din out of my ears, and I told Susan, my +old wife, the other day, that if I died before she did to have the lid +screwed down extra tight so I could be sure of a little quiet." + +"My nephew," said 'Zekiel, "thinks a lot of your boy and wants him to go +to college with him." + +"But I haven't got the money to pay his way," said Mr. Chripp. + +"My nephew has plenty of money, and if he's willing to help your boy +along in the world there's nobody to object that I know of." + +So it was arranged that Tom Chripp should go to the preparatory school +and college with Quincy, the latter to pay the expenses of both. "'Twas +a lucky day for Tom that sent that Sawyer boy to school in Cottonton," +said Mr. Chripp to his wife. + +"It'll be the making of Tom," he added, and the happy mother thought so +too. + +When Mr. Strout heard of it, he remarked to his partner Mr. Maxwell, + +"More of the arrogance of wealth. If I was a young man like Tom Chripp +I'd make my own way in the world." + +Hiram swallowed some smoke, coughed, and then replied: "Probably he +will, when he gits his eddikation. Money makes the mare go now as it +always has, Obadiah, an' you an' me can't stop it." + +"Like father, like son, I guess, Hiram. His father used to enjoy +throwing his money away an' the son's goin' to sail in the same boat. +I shouldn't be surprised if he came back to town some day and licked +somebody jest to be like his father." + +"I shouldn't nuther," said Hiram as he began putting up an order for the +Hawkins House. + +While Quincy was attending the public schools, Mrs. Nathaniel Sawyer +made two visits each year to Fernborough to learn of her grandson's +progress. Thanksgiving he passed at his Uncle 'Zekiel's where he had +eagerly watched the growth of the turkey that was destined to grace the +festal board on that day. At Christmas he went to Boston and returned +laden with gifts, many of which were immediately donated to his cousins +and Mandy Maxwell's children. + +Mr. Strout's ire was kindled when Hiram described the presents his +children had received from Quincy. + +"Thank the Lord I've got money enough to buy my children's presents +myself without dependin' on second-hand things that other folks don't +want." + +"So've I," said Hiram, "but what I save that way I puts in the bank, for +I'm bound to own the old Pettingill Place some day." + +"Oh, spend your money, Hiram. Your rich friends will give you the house +some day." He was so pleased with the subtle humour of his last remark +that he tossed a scoop half full of coffee into the sugar barrel, much +to Hiram's amusement. + +During Quincy's first year at Andover he was twice called from his +studies. The Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer after his return home from a +bank directors' banquet was taken with an attack of acute indigestion. +He was in great pain. One of the most prominent physicians in the city +was summoned. He gave a strong hypodermic injection of morphine to +stop the pain, but did nothing to remove the cause. The pain itself +was stopped by the anodyne, but the cause of the pain--the +indigestion--stopped the beating of Mr. Sawyer's heart within an hour. + +By his will, $250,000 were left to his daughter Florence, and $100,000 +to his daughter Maude. To compensate for the $150,000 difference in the +bequests, the Hon. Nathaniel Sawyer's interest in the firm of Sawyer, +Crowninshield, and Lawrence was conveyed to Mr. Harry Merry, provided +that one-third of his share from the income of the law-business was paid +to the trustees of the estate of his grandson Quincy Adams Sawyer. The +remainder of his property, both real and personal, was left to his wife, +Sarah Quincy Sawyer. + +Quincy's grandmother did not live long to enjoy her fortune. Maude +wished her to sell the Beacon Street house and come to Mount Vernon +Street. Her mother wished her to come to Beacon Street. While the +_pros_ and _cons_ were being considered, the old lady died of absolute +inanition. She had been dominated so long by a superior will power, she +had been so dependent upon her late husband in every event of her life, +that without him she was a helpless creature, and so willing to drop her +burden, that she did not cling to life but gave up without the semblance +of a struggle. Her last will and testament was very short, containing +but one clause, which gave all her property to her grandson Quincy Adams +Sawyer. When Aunt Ella heard of her sister's death, she said to Alice: + +"They were not two distinct beings, Nathaniel was one and a half, and +Sarah only a half." + +"That boy will sure go to the devil now," was Mr. Strout's comment. + +"I don't think so," said Hiram. "He's too much like his father." + +"How do you know where his father has gone?" snapped Mr. Strout, who did +not believe, evidently, that good works were a sure passport to future +bliss. + +Quincy's vacation after his first year at Andover was passed at +Fernborough. He was warmly welcomed and congratulated upon the great +fortune that had fallen to him. + +"He's got a big head, sure enough," said Mr. Strout, "but I think he's +a little weak in the legs. He won't disgust the community by fightin' as +his father did." + +"I wish he'd thrash Bob Wood's son--he's too impudent to live," said +Mrs. Amanda Maxwell, to whom Mr. Strout had addressed his remark. + +"No danger o' that," and Mr. Strout laughed gleefully. "Young Bob's as +good with his fists as his father was." + +"He didn't amount to much when Mr. Sawyer tackled him," and with a +scornful laugh Mrs. Maxwell flounced out of the store. + +"Your wife's as bad as the rest on 'em, Hiram." + +"Yes, Obadiah; it seems to be whoopedemic, as the doctors say." + +Quincy's second and third years at Andover passed quickly and again +vacation time had come. + +"Let's go to Fernborough as usual," said Quincy, and Tom, without +argument, seconded the motion. This time, Tom was Quincy's guest. They +were young men now. Quincy was seventeen and Tom nineteen, but the +fields were as green, the fruit as sweet, the vegetables as crisp and +fresh, and their friends as glad to see them as when they were children. + +A year had brought some changes. Mrs. Maxwell mourned the loss of her +son Obadiah, who had been gored by an angry bull and found dead in the +West pasture. For a wonder, Mr. Strout showed some sympathy, perhaps +because the little boy was his namesake. + +The Rev. Caleb Howe had passed away. In his place the church had called +the Rev. Hudson Quarles, a bachelor of forty, whose hobby was fancy +fowls. He joined the Grange and talked on "Poultry Raising" and "A Small +Fortune in Squabs." His hens were the heaviest for their age in the +community, and to prove it he was always willing to "weigh up" at the +grocery store. + +Mr. Strout called him a crank and played a joke on him that led to a +division in the church and came near costing Mr. Strout his position as +organist. + +There were two scales on the long grocery counter. Mr. Strout tampered +with one of them by affixing two pounds of lead to it which he covered +with gold paint to hide the deception. + +Bob Wood's hen was weighed in the fraudulent scales and beat Mr. +Quarles' by a half pound, the clergyman's being really a pound and +a half the heavier. The plot would have been a success but for the +keen-eyed Quincy who examined the scales and discovered the imposition. + +Mr. Strout declared it was all a joke and that he was going to own up +when he got ready to do so. This explanation was accepted by some and +scoffed at by others. Naturally, Mr. Strout looked upon Quincy as a +meddler. + +"By Godfrey!" he exclaimed to Hiram, "either that Sawyer boy or me has +got to leave town." + +"When are yer goin'?" asked Hiram, quietly, but he got no reply. + +Miss Dixie Schaffer retired from the stage and settled down. Her +mother-in-law, being an invalid confined to her room, prevented any +interference in her household affairs, and she was free from suggestions +as to what she should give, and what she shouldn't give her son, who had +been named Hugh after her own father. + +Many new people had moved into the town. Among the newcomers was a +former detective on the Boston police force named Horace Dana. Through +an injury received in making an important arrest, he had become a +cripple, able to get around only slowly and with crutches. He was a +widower with one daughter, about fifteen years of age, named Mary. + +The young lady was as old in appearance as many girls of eighteen, and +her looks so belied her age, that the village beaux paid court to her at +once. Her most persistent suitor was young Bob Wood who had just reached +his majority. + +As she was walking one day in the Center Road, far from any dwelling, +she met Bob. He improved the opportunity by asking her to be his wife. + +"Why, Mr. Wood, I'm too young to marry." + +"But I'm just old enough," said Bob, "and you suit me exactly." + +"Mr. Wood, I'm going to tell you the truth. I'm not yet fifteen years +old. Father says I can't have a beau till I'm eighteen, and I'm sure I +don't want one." + +Bob had learned much street slang during his visits to Cottonton, and +considered its acquisition a benefit and its use an accomplishment. + +"You've said it. Now sneeze it, and dust your brain." + +Mary regarded him with astonishment. "I don't understand such language, +Mr. Wood. What do you mean? I haven't a cold in my head." + +Bob laughed insolently. + +"No, but you've got a cold heart. What I meant by my French was that +you're bluffing. If you ain't eighteen, I'm a primary school boy." + +"Then you don't believe me!" Mary's blue eyes opened to their fullest +extent. + +Bob thought those blue eyes and light brown hair, golden in the +sunlight, those rosy cheeks, and pretty mouth made a most attractive +picture, and, in his rough way, he really loved her. + +"I'm going home," said Mary, "and I shall tell my father you said I lied +to you." + +"No, you don't," cried Bob, and he grasped her arm so tightly that she +winced. "You don't go until you promise me not to say anything to your +father." + +"I won't promise!" Hot tears filled her eyes. + +"Then you don't go," and Bob tightened his grip. + +The next moment a hand clutched his coat collar and he was thrown +violently on his back. + +Bob, who was agile, was quickly on his feet again and faced his +assailant. "Oh, that's you, Sawyer, is it? Why do you interfere with +what's none of your business?" + +"I think it is," said Quincy, calmly. "My, friend and I--" He turned, +and at that moment Tom emerged from behind a clump of bushes at the +roadside. + +"My friend and I," Quincy repeated, "were behind those bushes and +overheard your insulting language to this young lady and your brutal +treatment of her." + +"Hiding to see what you could hear," said Bob, sneeringly. + +"Not at all. We came 'cross lots and were just stepping into the road +when we espied you, and retreated, awaiting your departure." + +"Very prettily said, Master Sawyer, but I don't believe a word of it." + +"You called this young lady a liar and she was powerless to resent it, +but I'm not. Tom, hold my coat." + +"Oh, please don't fight," pleaded Mary. "I'll never speak to him again." + +"Say, Quincy," exclaimed Tom, "he's too heavily built for you. Let me +tackle him." + +"Two to one! I s'pose that's what you city snobs call fair play." + +Bob removed his coat and threw it on the ground. "If you'll come one at +a time, I'll lick you both." + +Quincy addressed Mary. "Don't be distressed. You may pardon his offence +to you if you choose, but I'm going to settle my personal account with +him. He doubted my word. I'm going to make him believe what I said, and +by that time he'll be ready to apologize to you." + +Bob squared off, but Quincy did not raise his hands. + +"Are you 'fraid? Don't you know how to put up your dukes?" + +"I'm not a boxer," said Quincy, "if that's what you mean. I'll look out +for myself, rough and tumble." + +Bob rushed forward and aimed a blow at Quincy's face. It fell short, for +Quincy retreated; then, springing forward, he gave Bob a violent kick +on his left knee. As his opponent threw his right leg over to keep his +balance he was obliged to lean forward; Quincy caught him by the collar +and Bob went sprawling upon the ground. He leaped to his feet, red with +rage. + +"Why don't you fight fair?" he bellowed. + +"You fight your way and I'll fight mine," was Quincy's reply. + +"All right," cried Bob, "I'll try your way." + +He sprang upon Quincy and grabbed him by the collar with both hands and +pulled him forward. This just suited Quincy, for, catching Bob around +the legs, he lifted him high in the air and threw him backwards over his +head. Bob's face was cut and bleeding, when he arose. + +"Time's up," cried Tom. "Three straight falls settle it." + +"The first one don't count," growled Bob. "He sneaked in on me and I had +no show." + +"He's right, Tom," said Quincy. "We'll have one more after this if he +wants it." + +This time Bob profited by having observed his antagonist's tactics. He +caught Quincy around the body and tried to crush him with his brawny, +muscular arms. + +Tom gave a cry of alarm and came close to the wrestlers. + +"Keep back, Tom," cried Quincy. As he spoke he fell backwards, carrying +Bob with him, who gave a yell of exultation as Quincy's shoulders struck +the ground. His hold was relaxed while falling. Quincy doubled his legs +up, put both feet against Bob's stomach, gave him a violent kick, and +Bob was once more upon his back. + +"'Twarn't fair," he yelled. "I had him down first." + +"We weren't playing for points," said Quincy, "and everything's fair in +rough and tumble. If you want some more, I'm ready." + +Bob stood sullenly, but made no move forward. + +"Now, let's talk it over," said Tom. "Do you think this young lady or +my friend lied to you? Before you answer, just remember this is my fight +now, and unless you take back the lie and apologize for what you said +and did to this young lady, I'll thrash you so they'll have to send a +wagon to carry you home." + +Bob did not speak. + +"Quincy," said Tom, "you go along with the young lady, and I'll settle +my account after you're gone. You look a little white around the gills. +You had no right to fight a heavy-weight like him." + +"I wish to thank you both," said Mary, "but I'm a stranger in this +town--I have lived here only a few months, and--I don't know your +names." + +She blushed prettily and the lids modestly covered the blue eyes. The +three had moved along the road a short distance while she was speaking. + +"My name is Quincy Adams Sawyer, and this is my friend and classmate at +Andover, Thomas Chripp." + +The lids were lifted but the blush deepened. "My name is Mary Dana. I +live with my father on Pettingill Street." + +"Why," cried Quincy, "Ezekiel Pettingill is my uncle--I live with him. +I'm going home your way, and, with your permission, I will escort you to +your father's house." + +"All right, Quincy--you go ahead," said Tom. "But you must excuse me. +I've kept Mr. Wood waiting." + +They were around a bend in the road by this time. When Tom returned +to the scene of the encounter, Mr. Wood was not in sight. Mr. Chripp +laughed, and paraphrased an old couplet. + + "He who fights, then runs away, + Will have to fight some other day." + +Quincy walked beside Mary, but said little. He would not acknowledge +it, but the exertion had been too much for him. His knees felt weak, +his sight grew dim, and, before Mary was aware of his condition, he sank +upon the grass by the roadside. + +She knelt beside him, took off his straw hat and fanned him. Then she +lifted his head upon her knee and fanned more vigorously. Her big blue +eyes were gazing at him when he opened his and looked up into her face. +Again, a rosy flush came to her cheeks. + +"I'm better now," said he. "I'm not very strong, but I can walk now." + +He got up with a show of vigour that did not deceive Mary. + +"You rest here, and I'll send your uncle for you with a carriage." + +"By no means, Miss Mary, It was only a momentary feeling. Throwing him +over my head is what did it." + +"I'm so sorry you met Mr. Wood and me." + +"Well, I'm not, Miss Mary. Uncle 'Zeke told me that Bob Wood's father +used to be the town bully, and that my father, when they were both +young, gave him a good thrashing. I've watched Bob--we were in school +together, and he was always impudent and overbearing to me when I was +a little fellow. I've felt that some day we'd have it out together. I'm +glad it's over, and that I had the good fortune to serve you at the same +time." + +Mr. Dana thanked Quincy for his defence of his daughter from further +insult and perhaps injury. + +"I've been in a good many scraps myself, Mr. Sawyer. For seventeen years +I was a member of the detective squad in Boston. I resigned because of +injuries received in a fight with some bank robbers," and he pointed to +the crutches beside his chair, "and although they wanted me to stay at +police headquarters I wouldn't hang onto a job I couldn't do to my own +satisfaction." + +"I hope your daughter will have no further trouble with Mr. Wood." + +"No danger, Mr. Sawyer. She is going to boarding school very soon to +finish her education. Why, Mary, we have been very remiss. Can you not +offer Mr. Sawyer some refreshment?" + +Mary smiled and ran from the room. + +"You'll be lonely without her," remarked Quincy. + +"Yes, certainly, but I shall not be alone. It's a secret as yet, but the +fact is I'm going to marry a young lady who lives in Westvale, part of +Eastborough, you know, and I don't wish to force Mary to live with +a step-mother. I think they would agree all right, but my plan will +prevent any possible unpleasantness. I love them both too well to make +them, and myself, unhappy." + +Some dainty cakes, fruit, and cold well water were served in the dining +room. Quincy ate slowly, but his thoughts were not about the food. He +had shown little interest in the Fernborough girls with the exception of +those in the families of his relatives and closest friends. But he +was nearing the susceptible age, when, to a pure-minded boy, a girl +playmate, by some mysterious transformation, becomes an object of +admiration, and even veneration. That delicious mystery that surrounds +young womanhood was attracting him. Mary was the cause of his +newly-awakened interest, and soon a strong friendship sprang up between +the two. + +When Hiram heard that Quincy had got the best of young Bob Wood he ran +back to the store and told his partner. + +"Say, Strout, you can run the store for an hour or so. I must tell +Mandy. She'll be 'mos' tickled to death." + +Mr. Strout's disgust was shown in both voice and manner when Abner +Stiles came in. + +"Say, Abner, is it true that Sawyer boy licked Bob?" + +"I should say so," said Abner. "He must have got an all-fired trouncing, +for his face looks like a raw beefsteak, an' one of the fellers said +he'd been spittin' blood." + +"Them Sawyers is brutes," was Mr. Strout's comment. "I hope to the +Lord that he is the last one of that brood to come to this town. Their +money's the best part of 'em, but it ain't any better, when you come to +that, than other folkses." + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +MARY DANA + + +Quincy and Tom spent one more year at Andover. When they parted from the +old school it was with feelings of deep regret. + +"I could be happy here for ten years more," said Quincy. + +"So could I," replied Tom. "But, after all, this is only a narrow path +in the world of knowledge. Harvard is but a street and when we get out +into the world I suppose we shall find a boulevard." + +"I'm going to look down upon the world before I investigate its +thoroughfares," remarked Quincy. + +"What do you mean?" + +"I shall visit Fernborough for only a short time this summer, a few days +in which to see the folks, and then I shall go to the White Mountains. +I'm going to stand on the top of Mount Washington, and look down on the +busy hives of men." + +Tom knew Quincy had received a letter from Mary, saying that she and her +aunt intended spending the summer at Fabyans, and he felt that Quincy, +being near Mary, would probably be on a higher pinnacle than any +mountain could supply, and the "eternal hills" would become objects of +secondary importance. But, Tom wisely refrained from mentioning these +thoughts, for lovers do not seek confidants unless help is needed. + +Quincy found Fernborough but little changed, During the fourteen years +that he had been a resident of, or a visitor to, the town there had been +but little to disturb its serenity. Goldsmith's "Deserted Village" could +not have had a better record for unbroken placidity. The wrestling match +between young Quincy and Bob Wood had been an incentive to some animated +conversations at meal times and at the grocery, but the "locals" in the +_Fernborough Gazette_ had never risen above the usual level of, + +Hal Prentiss has bought a Jersey cow, + +Strout and Maxwell have a new wagon, + +William Jones has painted his fence green, + +Sol. Peters cut twenty tons of hay from his lot on the Center Road, + +Mrs. Jerusha May is visiting her daughter Hannah at Westvale, + +And more of the same kind, interesting to a rural community but +considered inconsequential by those conversant with more exciting +intelligence. + +But Fernborough was destined to have its share of important events, +which incidentally interfered with the well laid plans of both Quincy +and Mary for the vacation in the mountains. + +For the first time in the town's history newsboys went through its +streets, calling out "All about the Murder at Cottonton," and offering +for sale copies of the _Cottonton Journal_. The boys held up the papers +so the headlines in large type could be seen. The word "Fernborough" +caught the eyes of those attracted by the word "Murder" and the copies +were soon disposed of, obliging many intending purchasers to share the +news with those who had been fortunate enough to obtain copies. + +Quincy was in Mason Square when the newsboys arrived and he purchased +a paper. He glanced at the headlines and saw a name that caused him to +utter an exclamation of astonishment. He did not stop to discuss the +matter with any of the large crowd that had been collected, but whipping +up his horse soon reached Mary's home. Leaving the animal standing in +the yard he burst into the sitting room crying loudly, "Mary! Mary!" + +"Why, what is the matter, Quincy--are you hurt?" + +"No, but something has happened in Cottonton and they sent newsboys over +here with the papers." + +"Somebody living in Fernborough must be mixed up in the affair," said +Mr. Dana, who was sitting in his rocking chair near the window. + +"I should say there was, decidedly so. Sit down, and I'll read what it +says." + +"THE MURDER AT COTTONTON + +"A YOUNG MAN NAMED ROBERT WOOD, A NATIVE OF FERNBOROUGH, ARRESTED AS THE +CRIMINAL AND LOCKED UP WITHOUT BAIL. ANOTHER CANDIDATE FOR THE ELECTRIC +CHAIR!" + +"Bob Wood, he was the one who insulted you, wasn't he?" + +"Yes, father, but that was a long time ago," said Mary. "Do let Quincy +read the rest of it." + +"A brutal murder was committed last night at the Ellicott Mills," +Quincy continued. "The unfortunate victim was Mr. Samuel Ellicott, the +treasurer and principal owner. He was found sitting at his desk with +his head crushed in. The blood-stained implement of destruction has +been discovered. Robert Wood, Jr., a native of the adjoining town of +Fernborough, has been arrested and held without bail. Young Wood +has been an employee at the mill, but had aspired to the hand of Mr. +Ellicott's only daughter Mabel. Mr. Ellicott was firmly opposed to the +match, and, with the view, probably, of forcing the young man to leave +the city, had discharged him from his employ. Mr. Ellicott was busily +engaged in making preparations for pay day, which occurs to-day, and was +alone in his office at the time. There seems to be no doubt of the guilt +of the accused. His cane was found in Mr. Ellicott's office and must +have been used to inflict the murderous blows which have deprived +Cottonton of one of its most enterprising and respected citizens." + +"What do you think of that, Mary?" asked Quincy. + +"I don't know yet. What do you think, father?" + +"The case has no mystery--no charm for the detective's mind. I was +thinking that naughty boys who plague little girls often become wicked +men. Now, what do you think?" + +Mary did not answer at once. When she did speak it was the result of +deliberation. In a small way she had often tried to help her father out +in solving some of the mysteries that had come up in his line of work, +and now the detective instinct in her was strongly aroused as Quincy +knew it would be. + +"Quincy and I both know the young man,--not pleasurably, I'll admit," +she said, finally. "Everybody thinks him guilty, but we have no right +to join the multitude without cause. He may be innocent. It would be a +double victory to repay an enemy with kindness, and, perhaps, save an +innocent man's life." + +"Just what I thought you would say," cried Quincy. "I feel too that +there is a chance that Wood is not the one. But what can we do?" he +continued. + +"First, you must go and see Bob Wood's father, Quincy, and tell him that +I am going to investigate the affair, with my father's help. But tell +him he must be quiet about it. If we are to accomplish anything, it must +be done without any one knowing we are interested in the matter. Father +and I will look over all the papers that have reports of the trial, +and, perhaps you had better attend the trial yourself, and make careful +notes, for the papers do not always get things just straight. Then, I +want to see Miss Mabel myself, and see what she says." + +"But, why do you wish to do all this, Mary?" said Mr. Dana. "It strikes +me as being a simple case of a very brutal murder, and one in which +there is no doubt that the authorities have got the right man." + +"I don't believe him guilty, that's all." + +"That's an opinion,--not a reason." + +"I know it, but woman's intuition often comes nearer to the truth than +man's judgment." + +She threw her arms about her father's neck, and her eyes looked down +into his, "You'll help all you can, won't you, father?" she pleaded. + +"Well, I have nothing else to do, and this affair awakens my interest. +But from what I know of the case now, I think they have the right man." + +"You're a dear, good father to help," and she gave him another embrace +and a kiss. + +The next day there was a preliminary meeting which Quincy attended at +Mary's request. It was with difficulty that Mary waited until he made +his report. + +"The principal witness was Gustave Pinchot, the night watchman. He heard +loud voices but as Mr. Ellicott was quite deaf he did not attach much +importance to that. Pinchot didn't see anyone come in or go out." + +"Couldn't Bob Wood prove an alibi?" + +"Hardly, for he testified that he went to the office that evening, and +Miss Ellicott said that he told her he was going." + +"No alibi--and no evidence yet," said Mr. Dana. + +"It's coming," said Quincy. "Mrs. Larrabee with whom Wood boarded +testified that he had a heavy oaken staff and that he took it with him +when he went out that evening because he had sprained his ankle." + +"Did Mr. Wood acknowledge that the staff was his?" + +"He did finally. He injured his case by saying, at first, that he didn't +take it with him, but Mrs. Larrabee's testimony knocked that." + +"Is that all the testimony against him?" inquired Mary. + +"Oh, no," continued Quincy. "Wood made a damaging statement that will +make it go hard with him. When he asked Ellicott for his daughter's +hand, the old man got mad and threatened to kick him out. Then the +judge asked Wood what he said when Ellicott threatened him and the young +fellow incriminated himself by saying that he told Ellicott if he did +that he would not live to do it again." + +"Did it appear that he had been kicked out?" inquired Mary. + +"No; and Wood denied it as well." + +"And you saw his father, Quincy? What did he have to say?" + +"He's all broken up, but says that his son is innocent." + +"Of course, that's to be expected," said Mary, and then continued, +"I saw Mabel Ellicott yesterday. She's in love with him, sure, and of +course does not think him guilty. She told me, though, that Bob Wood had +said to her that if she were an orphan there would be no objection to +their marriage." + +"That would probably go against him, if the prosecution calls her at the +trial, and she testifies to that. But, what do you really think about +it, Mr. Dana?" asked Quincy. + +"I have my suspicions, but I am not going to mention them yet. You two +young people are taking hold of the matter in good shape, and I want to +see what you can do about it; but, although, I do not say that Wood +is not guilty, I do say that I doubt if the government has sufficient +evidence to convict him." + + * * * * * * * + +Mary became so interested in the case that she decided not to go to the +White Mountains for the summer, and Quincy also remained in Fernborough, +helping Mary as much as he could. Often they would go off on long tramps +in the surrounding country, and once Quincy went to Boston and was +gone several days. That they procured some evidence was clear from the +satisfied remarks made by Mr. Dana, who approved of the lines on which +they were working. + +Although they had made some headway they were not ready to present +their theories when the time came for Bob Wood's trial. Many thought +him innocent, but the jury were of a different opinion, and brought in a +verdict of murder in the first degree. + +The day after the close of the trial, the district attorney of Normouth +County was sitting in his office opposite the Court House. He was +preparing his address opposing the granting of a new trial, which he +knew would be proposed the next day by the counsel for the defence. + +He had gone over the evidence time and time again. He was a +conscientious man. He felt that the law of the State had been +defied--had been outraged--and yet within his heart was that natural +feeling of sympathy and pity for the unfortunate being for whom but a +few short weeks of life remained, and he could not help regretting the +part he had been obliged to take in convicting the young man. + +At that moment, a clerk entered and said that a young lady wished to see +him. In obedience to the direction given, the clerk withdrew; the door +was opened again, and a blue eyed, fair-haired girl entered. Standing +near the district attorney's desk, she said: + +"Mr. Harlow, as there is no one here to introduce me, I will introduce +myself. My name is Mary Dana. My father is, or rather was, a detective +for seventeen years in Boston, but our present abiding place is the town +of Fernborough. In the city he often used to tell me of the cases on +which he was working, and I would try to solve them with him. Robert +Wood lived in Fernborough, and from the day of his arrest I have been +much interested in the case, and with the help of my father and a friend +of mine, Quincy Adams Sawyer, the son of the former governor, I have +been trying to find the man who murdered Mr. Ellicott,--for I have never +believed that Robert Wood was the guilty person." She smiled, and added, +"Detectives, I believe, are more often interested in strengthening +evidence, and bringing about imprisonment and executions than they are +in trying to prove people innocent." + +"But, my dear young lady," said the district attorney, "the young man +whom you speak of has already been proved guilty by a fair-minded jury. +There seems to be no question of his being innocent, and, after the jury +have returned their verdict it is rather late to still try to prove him +not guilty." + +"What I have to tell you I think is important. Can't you spare me a +little time?" + +"I have a luncheon engagement in half an hour, and can give you twenty +minutes, but it will do no good, I am sure. Won't you sit down?" and Mr. +Harlow placed a chair for her near his desk. + +"Thank you," said Mary, as she seated herself, "I will be as brief as +possible. I have read of many murder cases, but I believe I never knew +of one in which there was more conclusive evidence against the person +accused than in this instance. When I first took up the case, my father +did not think there was a possible loophole of escape for him; but the +truth does not always appear on the surface. Then, jurors get wrong +impressions. Witnesses are often prejudiced. Sometimes the judge is +not impartial. Then there are coincidences which are fatal so far as +appearances go, but which can be satisfactorily explained." + +The district attorney nodded, somewhat impatiently, and fingered his +watch-chain. + +"The day after the murder I called on Mabel Ellicott, primarily to ask +her some questions about Robert Wood, but I also had a chance to see +the body of her father, and to examine the wound upon the murdered man's +head. I decided that Mr. Ellicott had been struck with something else +beside the oaken staff which, covered with blood, was found near his +chair. In fact, I found in the wound certain foreign substances which +could not have formed part of an oaken staff. + +"That was a clue, but I told it only to my father and Mr. Sawyer. It led +us to look for something else. I must confess that a week passed without +our discovering anything to bolster up my opinion. Finally, it occurred +to me that perhaps the foreign substances I had found in the wound +might have been on that part of the cane that comes in contact with the +ground. But we will drop that for the present. + +"Back of the mill is a piece of sunken ground. During the night, after +Mr. Ellicott was murdered, there was a heavy fall of rain, and this +piece of sunken ground was covered with water to the depth of several +inches, in some places, at least six. I do not mean that the rainfall +was so great, but the water ran down from higher elevations until it +made, what appeared to be, quite an extensive pond. + +"Mr. Sawyer and I made several circuits of this temporary pond; why, I +could not exactly tell you. A detective, I have been told, can seldom +tell why he examines certain objects so closely, but something seemed to +draw me towards that improvised lake. + +"While looking at the water, I saw something which projected several +inches above its surface, and I had a curiosity to know what it was. +Mr. Sawyer put on a pair of rubber boots, and waded out to it, lifted +it from the water, and found it to be a large, irregular shaped stone +weighing at least ten pounds, which he brought back to me. He then went +back and splashed round in the pond with the hope of finding something +else of interest, but could discover nothing. + +"I wondered how that stone came to be in the middle of that pond, and +we devoted several days after that to an examination of the surrounding +country. Back from the mill, some four or five hundred feet away, was a +ledge of rock. We, that is Mr. Sawyer and I, for I forgot to tell you my +father is now a cripple and could only help us with his advice at home, +examined its surface very carefully, using a magnifying glass and, to my +great satisfaction, I finally located a place into which the stone found +in the pond fitted nicely. Evidently, then, the stone had been detached +for some purpose, and that purpose having been accomplished, the stone +had been thrown into the pond." + +The district attorney looked at his watch again and betrayed signs of +uneasiness. + +"Pardon me, Mr. Harlow, but would you not rather lose a dinner than send +an innocent man to his death?" + +"You still have ten minutes," was the district attorney's reply, "But, +I cannot see the connection between what you are relating and your idea +that Robert Wood is not guilty." + +Mary continued her narration. + +"I asked Mr. Sawyer to examine the tools and implements in the mill +workshop and he found a pickaxe, one point of which had been subjected +to rather rough treatment. I naturally connected that pickaxe with the +ledge of rock that had been found in the pond. + +"An examination of the night watchman's quarters followed. Mr. Sawyer +could discover nothing until he came to a small cupboard which was +locked. Locks, however, do not keep detectives, or criminals either, +from making further investigations. In the cupboard, he found a coil of +rope. There was a certain peculiarity about that rope of which I will +speak later. + +"After that Mr. Sawyer loafed around the mill quite a good deal in the +evenings and became acquainted with Mr. Pinchot the night watchman. He +is a French Canadian. He told Mr. Sawyer that his parents lived in a +small town near Montreal, that they were both quite old and he was +their only living son, although he had five sisters, all working in the +States. + +"He had saved some money, and as his parents had a farm, and needed +his assistance, he had resigned his position and the day following the +murder was to have been the last one at the mill. He had withdrawn his +resignation when told that the law would require him as a witness, and +has continued in service. + +"Mr. Sawyer then made a trip to Boston and found that Mr. Pinchot had +not intended to go to Canada but had been making inquiries as to when a +steamer would sail for France. He had been told he would have to go to +New York. Am I taking up too much of your time, Mr. Harlow?" + +"It makes no difference now. I am too late for the dinner. Pray +proceed." + +"While in the city Mr. Sawyer called upon the architects who drew the +plans for the Ellicott Mills. I mean the original plan, for many changes +have been made in the interior. He procured a copy of this, and we found +that when the mill was first constructed, the part used by the treasurer +at the time of the murder had been the receiving room for raw materials. +I next made an excuse for us to visit the mills one Sunday and we +investigated the second story of the mill. The floor was covered with +grease and dirt and was black with age. I got upon my hands and knees +and, with my magnifying glass, examined every foot of the floor. + +"For a long time, my search was not rewarded, but, finally, I found a +white place in the wood. A splinter had been detached. With a knife, I +scraped the dirt from the floor. My search was rewarded. I had found +a trap door! Its former use was apparent. On the wall, above the trap +door, was a stout hook. Upon this hook the tackle had been put and goods +lifted from the receiving room to the story above." + +"Well what does all this lead up to?" asked the district attorney. + +"I will show you very soon, now, Mr. Harlow. If you remember, the safe +at the mill was found open the morning after the murder but had been +closed and locked by the superintendent. This was a very foolish thing +to do, as the combination had been known only to the treasurer, and +it was several days before it was opened by an expert sent by the +manufacturers. It was then found that the money drawn by Mr. Ellicott +for the payroll, some three thousand dollars, had disappeared." + +"Yes, I remember," said the district attorney, "the thief was never +found, and with the more important matter of the murder on our hands +little attention was paid to the loss of the money. It was clear from +the start that Robert Wood had nothing to do with it, because revenge, +not robbery was his motive. But, what does all this mean that you are +telling me?" + +"I forgot to state, or, rather postponed saying it, that the coil of +rope that was found in the cupboard had a noose in one end of it, and +that in Mr. Ellicott's wound I found small particles of stone. I summed +up the case thus: Pinchot plotted to steal the money drawn for payday +and to kill Mr. Ellicott if it became necessary. He lifted the trap +door, having thrown the noose in the rope over the hook in the wall. Mr. +Ellicott was quite deaf and did not notice the opening of the trap door +or the man's descent by means of the rope. He used the stone because he +could throw it away and no weapon could be found. The murderer saw the +oaken staff. He knew that Mr. Ellicott had a visitor that evening so +he used the staff to complete his deadly work and left it behind as a +witness against an innocent man. He took the money from the safe, drew +himself up by the rope, closed the trap door, locked up the rope and +threw the stone into the pond. In France he would be safe to spend the +proceeds of his crime. A nice bit of circumstantial evidence, is it +not?" + +"Then you believe in circumstantial evidence, Miss Dana?" + +"In certain cases. But I think it would render the community just as +safe, and be more just to the accused if, in cases of circumstantial +evidence where there is the least doubt, the sentence should be +imprisonment for life with a provision in the law that there should +be no pardon unless the innocence of the life convict was conclusively +proven. When a murderer is taken red-handed, I would not abate one jot +or tittle of the old Mosaic law--an eye for an eye, a tooth for a +tooth, a life for a life. But you know that many murderers of whose +premeditated guilt there could be no doubt have been much more leniently +dealt with by our judges and juries than those caught in the coils of +circumstantial evidence." + +"Where is the watchman now?" asked the district attorney. + +"Here in Cottonton, but he is intending to leave to-night for New York, +I found out this morning. Of course, he was not able to leave before +this as he had to stay in the vicinity, being a witness at the trial, +but his leaving so soon now simply seemed to confirm my suspicions, and +I thought it time to bring the matter to your attention." + +"Miss Dana," said the district attorney, rising, and holding out his +hand to her. "I have done the best I could to convict Robert Wood of the +murder of Samuel Ellicott, because I really believed him guilty, and my +oath of office bound me to do my duty; but, if he is innocent, I believe +it as much my duty to right the wrong done him. You have built up a +careful case, and I myself shall ask for a stay of sentence until after +this new evidence can be presented to the Grand Jury. I believe you have +saved an innocent man, and I feel your future as a great detective is +assured." + +It was unnecessary for Mr. Harlow to apply for stay of sentence in the +case of The Commonwealth of Massachusetts _vs._ Robert Wood. Within an +hour after Mary Dana had left the district attorney's office, Gustave +Pinchot was under arrest, and, sitting in the same chair which Mary had +occupied, was confessing his crime. + +The day that Robert Wood was discharged, with no stain upon his name, +Quincy and Mary took her father to Cottonton. At the prison they met +Robert's father who had come to take his son home. He was profuse in his +thanks to Mr. Dana, for to him he considered his son's escape from death +was due. + +"You are wrong, Mr. Wood," said Mr. Dana. "Your son owes his life not +so much to me as to my daughter here, and to Mr. Sawyer. She practically +worked up the case herself; I made but few suggestions, and it was at +her request that Mr. Sawyer made certain investigations that fitted in +with her own ideas and made success possible." + +"Miss Dana," said young Robert, "a year ago I insulted you, and was +properly treated for my words and actions by Mr. Sawyer. I owe you both +an apology which I now make and ask your forgiveness. But for you, and +Mr. Sawyer, I should have died a felon. You have, indeed, heaped coals +of fire on my head." + +Mary answered, "That was forgiven long ago, but if you wish my +forgiveness you have it freely. How does Miss Ellicott feel now that you +are declared innocent?" + +"She came to see me this morning and we are to be married as soon as +possible, and I am to become the treasurer of the mill. She will own +three-quarters of the stock." + +When Mr. Strout learned that Robert's release was due to the exertions +of Mary and Quincy he sniffed and exclaimed: + +"Folks in love will do all sorts of things. She's gone on that young +Sawyer, and she only started in on the thing so she could have a chance +to traipse around the country with him. He'll come back here for her +some day, and her market'll be made. All I hope is that he'll take her +to Boston, or some other foreign place to live an' we shall see and hear +the last of 'em." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +AT HARVARD + + +The newspapers gave much space to the near approach to miscarriage of +justice in the Wood's case, and many editorials were written on the +fallacy of allowing circumstantial evidence to carry as much weight as +it did. But what was spoken of most was the clever detective work of +Mary Dana. She was the recipient of congratulatory letters for her work +from all parts of the country, and the press could not say too much in +her praise. + +Mary received a most flattering offer to join the Isburn Detective +Bureau in Boston. Mr. Irving Isburn, the proprietor of the world-wide +known agency, had for more than fifty years been engaged in solving +mysteries and apprehending offenders against the law. His success had +been phenomenal, and if his agency had been called "The Scotland Yard +of America" it would have been a derogation rather than a compliment. +He had surrounded himself with the most expert men and women in the +profession, and in a letter to Mr. Dana he said he considered Miss Dana +would be a most important and valuable acquisition to his staff. Mr. +Dana, however, decided that Mary was too young to start business +life, so she was sent to Boston to boarding school for a year. At the +expiration of that time she joined Mr. Is burn's staff, and soon that +gentleman wrote her father that in certain lines of investigation she +was unexcelled. + +With the coming of autumn, after Bob Wood's release, Quincy and Tom +started in on their four years at Harvard. They had passed their +entrance examinations without conditions, so the few days in the last of +September, spent so anxiously by many of the freshman class in trying to +make up conditions given them the spring before, allowed Quincy and Tom +to live in Arcady until the portals of the temple of learning were +ajar. Rooms were engaged at Beck Hall, and the young men began their +inspection of the classic city on the Charles. + +"This city is on the square," remarked Tom. "Lafayette, Central, Putnam, +Harvard, Brattle, and some more on the East side I suppose." + +"The college is on the square too," said Quincy, "as long as Dr. Eliot +is Prexie." + +College life has been depicted many times in books, and Quincy and +Tom's four years probably contained few events that had not had their +counterparts in the lives of other young Harvard men. They joined many +clubs and societies the initiation ceremonies being, in reality, a mild +form of hazing. + +Quincy and his chum were not goody-goody boys, but they had mutually +pledged each other that they would lead temperate lives and refrain from +all dissipation that would prejudice their standing as students. Quincy +saw Mary frequently, and, after she was employed by Mr. Isburn, they +talked over some of the most interesting of Mary's cases. + +In their college life, Tom and Quincy were unsuspecting, and became the +butt of many good-natured and some unkind jokes. On one occasion they +were invited to join a theatre party. It was a variety or vaudeville +show and ended with a pantomime, the closing scene in which was a +skating carnival. + +When the skaters came on, the members of the theatre party rose in their +seats and pelted the performers with paper snowballs made hard by the +liberal use of paste. The police were called in. Quincy and Tom had +taken no part in the snowballing but, as examination showed their +pockets were full of the substitutes for the natural product, they were +adjudged as guilty as the others. + +One evening Quincy and Tom went to the theatre together. During a +pathetic speech by the heroine the clang of a big cow bell was heard. +The audience vented its displeasure in hisses. Again came the clangour +and all eyes were turned towards the unconscious youths, Quincy and Tom. +Again were the policemen called in. Two young men who sat behind Quincy +and his friend were accused of causing the disturbance. They indignantly +denied any knowledge of it and left the theatre threatening a suit for +damages. Further investigation by the minions of the law discovered the +bell fastened to the hat-holder beneath Quincy's seat, while the string +that served as a bell pull was under Tom's foot. Denial of such strong +circumstantial evidence was useless and Quincy and Tom promised to cause +no further annoyance. On their way home in the car they discussed the +situation. + +"It's Dupont and Kidder that put that up on us, and we must get even," +said Tom. + +"But how?" was the question. + +A week later Tom purchased tickets for a whole row of seats at one of +the principal theatres, explaining that they were for a large theatre +party. Dupont and Kidder had been recipients of complimentary tickets +which entitled them to seats in the middle of the row. They expected +that Quincy and Tom and other students would complete the party. Not +so, as events proved. Dupont and Kidder, immaculately dressed, had for +companions two waitresses at a well-known Cambridge caf, two Harvard +Square hairdressers, and a number of individuals whose dress and general +appearance indicated physical strength rather than mental powers. Dupont +and Kidder went out at the end of the first act and did not return. + +The next time that Tom met Fred Dupont he asked, + +"Do you believe in the Declaration of Independence?" + +"My great-grandfather signed it," said Dupont proudly. + +"How does it read?" asked Tom--"something about men being born free and +equal--a barber's as good as a millionaire's son--isn't it?" + +"It's all right," replied Dupont, "Kidder and I only took one bell to +the theatre, but you kindly supplied us with two. Nothing's too good +for us at that caf now, and we've invited Kitty and May to go to the +theatre with us to-morrow night." + +"It's no use, Quincy," said Tom. "Dupont and Kidder took their medicine +as patiently as we did, and they liked it so well they're going to have +more of it." + +Then he told Quincy what Dupont had said. + +"The victory's ours," cried Quincy. "That shows that Americans, rich or +poor, are democratic at heart. All that keeps them apart is the foolish +idea that the possession of money lifts them above their fellows. Put +them on a money equality, and only the very exclusive ones will care +about the colour of their blood. It was a good lesson for Dupont and +Kidder whose fathers are wealthy men, and they have wisely profited by +it." + +"Then you don't believe in social castes?" said Tom. + +"Why should I? My father married a poor girl and I don't expect to find +my wife on Beacon Street or Commonwealth Avenue." + +After Tom had asked his question the thought came to him that if Quincy +had believed in social distinctions on account of wealth he would not +have chosen the son of a cotton weaver as his boon companion, but it was +too late to take back the question, and Quincy had answered it. + +The four years of study were at an end. Quincy was loaded with +scholastic honours while Tom's prowess has been most effectually shown +on the ball team and in the 'Varsity Eight, which came near winning a +trophy for the Crimson. + +Just before Class Day, Quincy went into the office of Sawyer, +Crowninshield, Lawrence & Merry to see Harry Merry about some matters +connected with his income. + +"Quincy, I am glad to see you," exclaimed Mr. Merry. "I was on the +point of sending a messenger out to Cambridge to have you come right +in. Something very strange has happened this morning and it may be a +question which even your friend Miss Dana may find worthy of her skill +in attempting to solve." + +"What is it, Uncle Harry? There is nothing I love like a mystery, and +Miss Dana often talks her cases over with me." + +"This is a mystery in which you and your mother in England may be +greatly concerned; but before letting her know anything about it I think +it better to find out what it really means. For you to understand +the matter clearly, I will have to go back a number of years. In +your father's will your grandfather and Dr. Paul Culver were named as +executors. After a while the doctor wished to resign, and as you know I +was appointed in his place." + +"Yes, and you have always done more than your duty, and I am truly +grateful. But, pardon me for interrupting you. Please go on." + +"To make myself thoroughly familiar with all the details of my trust, I +went over all the old accounts. When your father and mother started on +that unfortunate trip to Europe, your father took with him some English +gold, some bank notes, and, to last him for his further expenses while +abroad, five bills of exchange, each for two hundred pounds, Sterling, a +total of about five thousand dollars. These bills of exchange were +drawn by his bank here in Boston, and in favour of the bank's agents in +London. About six years ago I changed the deposits of your trust account +to another bank. Until then I had always kept that five thousand still +intact, as it was drawing fair interest, and as, you may not know, your +mother has always had an idea that your father was not drowned. But, +when I changed the account, it seemed foolish to leave that money +still there, and as the bills of exchange had never been presented for +payment, I had no trouble in having them cancelled, and receiving the +money. + +"But, and here is where the important part of the matter comes in for +you, one of those bills of exchange, drawn over twenty-three years ago, +has to-day been returned to the bank here in Boston from the London +agents." + +"Why, Uncle Harry," cried Quincy, "what can it mean? Is it possible that +my father is still alive? I can't understand it, I am bewildered," and +strong man as he was he was unnerved. + +"Calm yourself, Quincy," said Harry Merry, "I am afraid that would be +entirely too good news to be true, but at least it must mean that your +father's body was found some time or other, and probably the bill of +exchange got into the hands of some dishonest person who has cashed it." + +"Have you got it here?" + +"Yes," and Mr. Merry handed a paper to him. + +"Is the signature that of my father?" asked Quincy turning the bill +over, and looking at the various endorsements on the back. + +"I am not sure. If I were, there would be one great question solved, for +he would never have put his name to it, of course, until he was ready to +cash it. In a way it looks a little like his writing, but it may be, and +I think it is, a rather bungling forgery. It is more than likely that in +the wallet in which he kept the bills of exchange he may have had some +papers to which he had signed his name, and the signature was copied +from that." + +"I want to show this to Miss Dana," said Quincy, "perhaps she can help +me solve the problem. Have you got any paper with my father's signature +to it?" + +"Wait a few minutes, and I will see if I can find any in the old files." + +After a good quarter of an hour, which to Quincy seemed as though it +would never end, Mr. Merry came back, covered with dust, but with the +required paper in his hand. + +"A lawyer should never destroy a paper," said Mr. Merry, "and I am glad +to say this firm never does. Here is a letter your father wrote to your +grandfather nearly thirty years ago, and is dated from Mason's Corner. +Take it, and the bill of exchange with you. I hope you can solve the +mystery, and let's pray it will turn out to mean that you are Quincy +Adams Sawyer, Junior; but, my boy," and Harry put his hand on Quincy's +shoulder, "do not build too many air castles on it. If you do, I am +afraid you have a bitter disappointment before you." + +Quincy immediately called on Mary Dana, and had a long talk with her +about the matter. He told her all his conversation with Harry Merry and +showed her the bill of exchange, and the signature of his father's which +he knew to be genuine. After examining them both Mary said, + +"In many ways, this looks like a very clever forgery. The characters +are all made the same as in the signature to the letter,--notice the +peculiar little twist to the S in the word Adams, but your father wrote +a very firm, strong hand, and the writing on the bill of exchange is +weaker and a little shaky. That is undoubtedly due partly to the fact +that the signature on the bill of exchange is written with a very fine +steel pen, while that in the letter was written with a quill. But, what +makes me doubt the genuineness of the signature is this,--although the +characters are practically the same on the two pieces of paper, your +father's name in the letter is the writing of an educated man, that on +the bill of exchange looks like the efforts of a man unaccustomed to +write, probably through ignorance, but perhaps due to the fact that he +has not held a pen for a long time." + +"But, Mary," asked Quincy, "how are we going to find out about it, how +can we learn who did sign it?" + +"There are the endorsements on the back. They are the only clues. Below +your father's name appears that of Jonathan Drake; then that of Agostino +Tombini, and, below that, Macquay Hooker. There is also the stamp of the +London bank. Where the bill of exchange was cashed does not appear. +It is evident, however, that the last person who signed it before it +reached the bank in London was Macquay Hooker. We will cable London now, +and in the morning will have an answer. Be in to see me early, but, if +I were you, I would hold myself in readiness to leave for Europe at a +moment's notice. Is your work all finished at Cambridge?" + +"Yes, I had my last examination yesterday, and I should leave for the +summer in a few days. Class Day is all that keeps me now, but I am +perfectly willing to recall the invitations I have sent out, and can +leave at any time." + +On his return to his rooms Quincy told Tom what had happened. + +"I had been intending to speak about our going abroad anyway this +summer," said Quincy. "It's the style for college boys after being +graduated to go to Europe. I want to see my mother and aunt, too. To be +sure, I have had nice long, loving letters from them, and I've kept them +fully posted as to my doings, but that doesn't quite come up to seeing +them. Now, with this mystery on my hands, with all it may mean to me, I +must go anyway. Will you come along with me?" + +"If dad don't mind, I'll go." + +"We'll run down to Fernborough for a day or two to say good-bye, if +there is time, and you can see your father about it." + +At ten o'clock the next morning, Quincy entered the office of the Isburn +Detective Bureau. + +"I have good news for you, Quincy," said Mary. "I have found out from +London that Macquay Hooker is a banker in Rome, and I have cabled him, +asking who the other two endorsers are. We should receive a reply by +noon at the latest." + +A good half hour before noon a messenger boy came in and handed Mary +an envelope. She scanned the cablegram quickly, and handed it over +to Quincy. It read, "Tombini banker, Drake American consul, Palermo, +Sicily." + +"You see," said Mary, with a smile, "matters are simplifying themselves +considerably. I shall cable now to Drake at Palermo, and find out what +I can about the original signer of the bill of exchange. This is +Wednesday. The Gallia sails from here to England on Saturday. You had +better engage passage, and make arrangements to go then. Come back late +this afternoon, and I will tell you what has developed in the meantime." + +After engaging a stateroom for Saturday, Quincy returned to Cambridge, +packed what things he needed for a couple of days, and with Tom came +back to Boston, intending to go to Fernborough on the late train in the +evening. + +"The answer has just come," said Mary, when Quincy saw her later in the +day, "but, I am sorry it is not as satisfactory as I could wish. Mr. +Drake is away from Palermo at present, and beyond the fact that a Quincy +Adams Sawyer had registered at the consulate about a month ago and has +since left the town, they seem to know nothing about the matter." + +"Well," said Quincy, "we have a starting point anyway, and more than +we had in Bob Wood's case in the beginning. I shall go directly to +Fernborough Hall to see my mother for a day or so, but I think I will +not mention the real reason for my trip abroad until I have found out +more. I will tell her that Tom and I are anxious to get to the continent +as soon as possible, and that we will return to England later on. Then +we will go down through Italy to Sicily, and start in there tracing the +signer of that bill of exchange." + +"I think that is the best plan," said Mary. "In the meantime I will keep +in close touch with Mr. Merry here, and if another one of those bills of +exchange comes in I will cable you, care of your bankers in London, the +names of the endorsers." + +"Mary," said Quincy as he took her hand at parting, and held it perhaps +a little longer than was really necessary, "I can't thank you for all +you have done for me. I am truly grateful, and wish there were some way +in which I could show you my true appreciation." + +"Your thanks are all I want. Besides, you may be the means of bringing +a very clever criminal to justice," and the smile left her face as she +said it, "for I am afraid that is all you will find. You must not hope +too much for what seems the impossible." + +On their way to Fernborough that evening, Quincy and Tom decided it +would be best not to mention the real object of their going to Europe, +so Mr. Chripp thought it was only a pleasure trip. He did not object +to his son going,--but he made one condition, that Tom should visit the +village in old England in which he was born and bring him back a picture +of the little thatched cottage in which Mr. Chripp had lived until the +tales of high wages and better prospects in America had drawn him from +his native land. + +Quincy had said good-bye to all his relatives, friends, and +acquaintances except Mr. Obadiah Strout. That gentleman should have no +reason to say he had been snubbed. + +When Quincy entered the store Mr. Strout was weighing some butter. +Quincy noticed that the wooden plate and a sheet of thick paper were put +on the scales before the butter was cut from the tub. + +"Well, what can I do for you, Master Sawyer?" said Strout when the +customer who had paid thirty cents a pound for butter including wood and +paper had departed. + +"I came to say good-bye. I am going to Europe." + +"I s'pose you'll like England with its 'ristocrats and kings so well +that you won't come back to these ordinary United States." + +Quincy knew that Mr. Strout wished he would stay in England, so he +replied, + +"Oh, no. I'm coming back sure. I know a little about weighing groceries +and I've decided to come back and go into business." + +"What good will your book larnin' do you then?" + +"For one thing, they teach something besides dead languages in colleges +nowadays. I studied moral philosophy, which points out the difference +between right and wrong, between honesty and dishonesty, between fifteen +ounces of butter and one ounce of wood and paper, and sixteen ounces of +butter to the pound." + +With this parting shot, Quincy joined Tom in front of the store and they +started for Boston, from which port the _Gallia_ was to sail two days +later. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +ALICE'S DREAM + + +"Do you believe in dreams, Aunt Ella?" + +"No, Alice, I do not." + +"Not if they come true?" + +"Only a coincidence. If they don't come true are you willing to +acknowledge that all are unreliable? Or, if some prove true do you +consider them all reliable? You can have either horn of the dilemma." + +"What causes dreams, Aunt Ella?" + +"Usually what's on your mind. Your brain doesn't wake up all at once and +dreams flit through it until it gets full control." + +"What if a person dreams the same thing three nights in succession?" + +"That proves nothing. When my first husband died I dreamed for a month +or more that he was still alive and that I must wake him at a certain +time because the morning he died he was to take a train at an early +hour. You make your own dreams." + +"But supposing you see something in your dreams that you never saw +before--that you never knew existed until you viewed it when asleep?" + +"What have you been dreaming, Alice?" + +"You won't laugh at me?" + +"I promise not to laugh, but I won't promise to believe." + +"If my husband is dead," said Alice, "he is dead and I shall never see +him again in this world; if he is still living, he is somewhere in this +world, and it's my duty to find him." + +"I will agree to that," assented her hearer, "but you know that I have +no faith that he is alive. Just think, twenty-three years have passed +away and you have had no word from him. Out of deference to your +feelings, Alice, I had put off making my will since Sir Stuart died +until yesterday. It is now signed and in my lawyer's hands. It is no +secret, I have left all I possess to your son Quincy." + +"Why did you do that?" + +"I promised his father that he should have it, but as I think he will +never come to claim it, I gave it to his son, as he or you would do if +it was yours. Now, your dreams have put some idea into your head. Where +do you think your husband is?" + +"I don't know what country it is, but, in my dreams, thrice repeated, I +have seen him standing in a grove of trees filled with fruit--lemons and +oranges they appeared to be." + +"Did he speak to you or you to him?" + +"He looked at me but gave no sign of recognition. I called his name, but +he did not answer me." + +"That proves what I said. You are always thinking about him, and your +mind made up your dream." + +"Where do lemons and oranges grow?" + +"In so many countries that you would have to go round the world to visit +them all." She thought to herself, "they don't grow in the ocean." + +"You speak of twenty-three years having passed. That's not so long. I +have read of sailors being away longer than that and finally returning +home. Men have stayed in prison longer than that and have come out into +the world again. Why, Quincy is only fifty-three now." + +"And I'm seventy--an old woman some think me, and others call me so, but +if I were sure that by living I could see Quincy again, I'd manage some +way to keep alive until he came." + +"You are just lovely, Aunt Ella, and I love you more than ever for those +words. I believe that Quincy wants me to come to him--and I am going!" + +"My dear Alice, I'm sure the only way you will ever see Quincy is by +going to him, for he can never come to you." + +The next day Alice spent in studying the cyclopedias and maps. She +estimated the cost of a six months' trip to the citron groves of Europe +and America. For a week she pondered over the matter. + +Then something occurred that led her to make up her mind definitely. She +had the same dream for the fourth time. She awoke screaming, and shaking +with terror. Her aunt was awakened and ran to her room. + +"What is it, Alice? Dreaming again?" + +"Yes, the same and yet different. I saw a big man raise a club and +strike Quincy on the head. He fell and I awoke." + +Aunt Ella grew cynical. "Why didn't you wait long enough to see the +effect of the blow?" + +"Oh, Auntie," and Alice burst into tears. "What shall I do?" + +"I know what I'm going to do. I shall send for Dr. Parshefield and have +him give you a sleeping potion." + +The next day Alice began making preparations for her journey. Aunt +Ella's arguments and appeals were in vain. + +"I must go," said Alice. "Where, I do not know, but God will direct me." + +"God won't do anything of the kind," exclaimed Aunt Ella. + +Her patience was exhausted. Then her manner changed. She accepted the +inevitable, and did all she could to help her niece. One thing she +insisted upon, and that was that Alice should have a companion. One who +could speak French and German was found and Alice started upon her quest +into, to her, unknown lands. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +"BY THE BEAUTIFUL BLUE DANUBE" + + +Alice did not tell Aunt Ella where she was going. To have done so would +have led her aunt to say that it was foolish to go there, for although +she aided Alice in getting ready for her journey she was decidedly +opposed to it. In fact, in her own mind she called it "a wild goose +chase." But she had learned that Alice had an indomitable will and she +fully realized that further argument and opposition were useless. + +Alice went on board the boat at Dover with some foreboding. She had +read and had been told of the rigours of the Channel passage and her +experience was equal to the descriptions. Had it not been for the +presence of Babette, the maid so wisely provided by her aunt, her +journey might have ended at Calais, or even before. She had a horror +of the water and it was with a sense of great mental and physical +satisfaction that her feet touched solid ground again. + +They went to Paris, but spent no time in the gay city. Their objective +point was the south of Italy, and then the island of Sicily. Did not the +guide books say that Sicily was the home of the orange and the lemon? + +They would stop a short time in each important town. Carriages were +taken from day to day and inquiry was made at the principal groves in +the near vicinity of the towns. Then trips were made into the country, +but everywhere Alice's questions were answered in the negative. She was +allowed to talk to the labourers, by the aid of an interpreter, but none +had any remembrance or had heard of any such man as she described. + +At only one grove, near Palermo, was she refused admittance. The +proprietor, Silvio Matrosa, said he had no authority to admit strangers. +Besides, two of the men had been fighting and one was so seriously +injured by a blow upon his head by a club, that he had been sent to the +hospital and it was thought he would die. Under the circumstances "Would +the ladies excuse him?" and Alice was obliged to give up her search in +that direction. + +She had been so impressed with the reality of her dreams that she had +thought she could easily recognize her husband's surroundings, but she +confessed to Babette, who was sympathetic and engaged eagerly in the +search, that she had seen no place that resembled the scene of her +dreams. + +More weary wandering without result followed, and so intent was she on +the object of her search that the beauties of "Sunny Italy" were lost +upon her. The weather was hot and enervating and Babette suggested that +her mistress should go to Switzerland and rest before continuing her +search. Alice consented, but when they reached Vienna she was too ill +to proceed farther. Babette was at home in Vienna for she could speak +German, and she soon learned that the Hospital of St. Stephen's would +give her mistress the rest and medical treatment that her condition +required--for she was on the verge of nervous prostration. The +discomfort of travelling was not the cause of her physical break-down +for Aunt Ella had told her "that nothing was too good for a traveller" +and every comfort and convenience that money could supply had been hers. +Her mental disquietude had produced the physical relapse. She had been +so confident of the truth of her dreams, and that some power, she +knew not what, but which she trusted implicitly, would lead her to her +husband, that her disappointment was more than her strained nervous +system could bear. + +After a week's rest, although unable to rise, she called Babette to her +bedside. "I wish to send word to my aunt in England but I do not feel +able to sit up and write. I will dictate, you can write, and I will sign +it." + +Then Babette wrote: + +"MY DEAR AUNT ELLA: Confession, they say, is good for the soul. My body +is weak to-day and so Babette is writing my confession. I have been to +Sicily and all over the southern part of Italy, but no success has come +to me. If Quincy had been in one of those orange or lemon groves he +could not have lived there for so many years; the work is too hard, +and he was never used to manual labour. So, as soon as I am able, I am +coming home. I will never trouble you with any more dreams. I believe, +as you do, that they are products of imagination. I am not sick, only +tired out, and naturally, at first, very much disheartened. I shall be +with you very soon, never more to leave you." ALICE. + +"P. S. As soon as I am able to take a drive I am going to view the +attractions of this city--which Babette says is even more beautiful than +Paris. I must see 'The Beautiful Blue Danube,' and I must hear Johann +Strauss's orchestra. They will be the only happy memories of my +fruitless journey." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +"WE THREE" + + +Nothing marred the pleasure of the trip on the _Gallia_ and young +Quincy and Tom could not have been happier than they were when the great +steamer made its way up the Mersey towards its Liverpool pier. + +A few hours only in the great bustling city and then they were off to +find the house in which Tom's father was born and lived. It was near +Chester, that modernized reminder of the old Roman days, and on their +way to Fernborough Hall. + + +They found it uninhabited. The thatched roof was full of holes and the +interior showed the devastation that wind and water had worked. Tall +weeds filled the little garden and the general effect was dismal indeed. + +"It won't do to take Dad a picture of this old shanty," said Tom. + +"Perhaps we can find a house that looks like it," Quincy suggested. + +They had no difficulty in doing that, for the same architectural plan, +if the design be worthy the name, had plainly been followed in the +construction of many cottages. They found one with the roof covered with +moss and a garden full of old-fashioned flowers, and several views were +taken with Quincy's camera. + +"It's cheating in one way," said Tom, "but it would break Dad's heart to +see a picture of his old home as it really is--so we'll show him one as +it ought to be." + +"And as it shall be," said Quincy. "It won't cost much to fix it up, all +but the moss, and that will come on it in time. You get a man, Tom, find +out the cost of renovating the house, and I'll pay the bill. So will the +sense of untruthfulness be removed from our sensitive feelings." +This was quickly arranged, for work, with the pay in advance, was a +delectable possession in those parts. + +When they reached Fernborough Hall, and Quincy was told of the search +on which his mother had started out, he pretended to agree with his aunt +that it was useless, and the height of folly, but from that moment hope +sprang up within him, that, by some miracle, his father was still alive. +He did not confide his hopes to Aunt Ella, and gave her no inkling of +the real reason for his trip to Europe. + +"It would make me very happy to know that my father was living," he +said, "but after so long a time it seems foolish to think it, does it +not? When do you expect mother home, Aunt Ella?" + +"The letter was written a month ago from Vienna, but, unfortunately, she +did not give her address. If she were well, she should have been here +before this. I have an idea that she may have gone to Switzerland on her +way home, and charmed by its scenery, or forced by her weak condition, +has remained there. Stay here for a week with your friend, and perhaps +some word will come." + +"No, Auntie," said Quincy, "Tom and I will run over to Vienna, and if we +don't find her we will push on to William Tell's republic. We will write +you often--Tom one day and I the next." + +"I have often wondered," said Quincy to Tom two days later as they were +on the cars speeding to Vienna--"I have often wondered," he repeated, +"how my mother could let me go away and stay away from her for fourteen +long years. That she loves me, her letters show plainly. She says often +that I am all she has in the world, but she never sent for me to come +and see her nor did she ever come to see me. How do you explain it, +Tom?" + +"Very easily. That disaster at sea and the loss of your father has given +her a horror of the ocean which she cannot overcome. She fears to +trust herself or one she loves to its mercies again. Perhaps we can't +understand her feelings, but you must respect them." + +"I do," replied Quincy. "I have never doubted her love for me, and +your theory, perhaps, explains her failure to manifest her love more +forcibly." + +On the train they made a most agreeable acquaintance and regretted their +inability to accept his invitation to visit him. His name was Louis +Wallingford. He was an American, born in Missouri. He had been a +reporter, then editor. His passion was music and he had forsaken a +literary life for that of a musician. He had joined an orchestra much in +demand at private parties given by the wealthy residents of St. Louis. +At one of these, he had become infatuated with the daughter of a +railroad magnate who counted his wealth by millions. A poor violinist, +he knew it was useless to ask her father for his daughter's hand. The +young lady's mother was dead. The father died suddenly of apoplexy, +and Miss Edith Winser came into possession of the millions. Then he had +spoken and been accepted. Conscious that her husband, talented as he +was, would not be accepted, without a hard struggle, by the upper class, +they decided to live in Europe. + +He had found a deserted chateau on the borders of Lake Maggiore. Money +bought it, and money had transformed it into an earthly Paradise. The +building, of white marble, was adapted for classic treatment, and Greek +and Roman art were symbolized therein. + +The chateau contained a large music room and a miniature theatre in +which Mr. Wallingford's musical compositions and operas were performed. + +"I have just come from Paris," said Mr. Wallingford, "where I have made +arrangements for six concerts by my orchestra which will play many of my +own pieces. Can you not be in Paris in a month and hear them?" + +"Tell him your story," whispered Tom to Quincy, and he did so. + +Mr. Wallingford was deeply interested. + +"If you find both your father and mother, they deserve another +honeymoon. Bring them to Vertano and in the joys of the present we will +make them forget the sorrows of the past." + +"I am afraid," said Quincy, "that such good fortune would be more than +miraculous." + +"Come with your mother and friend then," said Mr. Wallingford as he left +them to change cars. + +They went to the Hotel Metropole in Vienna. Quincy consulted his guide +book. + +"Everybody lives in apartment houses in Vienna, so this book says. The +question is, in which one shall we find my mother and her maid?" + +"All we can do," said Tom, "is to plug away every day. Keep a-going, +keep asking questions, keep our eyes and ears open, and keep up our +courage." + +"Your plan is certainly 'for keeps,' as we children used to say. Come +along. Your plan is adopted. Have you written Lady Fernborough? 'Tis +your turn." + +Many days of fruitless travel and the young men began to despair of +success. Quincy was debating with himself whether it would not be better +to give up the search for his mother, and follow up the clue about his +father. He felt that every day was precious. + +"I have an idea, Quincy," Tom said one morning. "Perhaps your mother is +quite sick and has gone to a public hospital or a private one of some +kind." + +"That's a fine idea, Tom. We'll begin on them after breakfast." + +The sharp reports of gun shots and the softer cracking of pistols were +heard. + +"What's that?" cried Quincy. + +"Some men are on a strike. They had trouble with the police last night +and this morning's paper says the strikers have thrown up barricades. +Probably the police and soldiers are trying to dislodge them." + +The firing continued, and from their windows the soldiers and people +could be seen moving towards the scene of disturbance. + +"Let's go out and see what is going on," said Quincy. + +"Let's stay in and keep out of trouble," was Tom's reply. "It is the +innocent bystander who always gets shot." + +"I'm going down to the office to find out about it," and Quincy took his +hat and left the room. + +Tom was suspicious of his intentions and followed him. Quincy had left +the hotel and was walking rapidly towards the scene of disturbance. Tom +ran after him, and kept him in sight, but did not speak to him. At first +he felt offended that Quincy had not asked him to go with him. Then he +reflected: "I virtually told him in advance that I wouldn't go. He's his +own master." + +They were nearing a street from which came the sounds of conflict--loud +cries, curses, and the reports of firearms. Tom ram forward to prevent +Quincy from turning into the street. He was too late--Quincy had turned +the corner. Tom, regardless of danger, followed him. He started back +with a cry of horror. Quincy had been shot and was lying upon the +sidewalk, the blood streaming from a gun-shot wound in his right arm. +Tom took him up in his arms, as though he had been a child, and returned +to the safety of the unexposed street. + +As he lay Quincy upon the sidewalk and took out his handkerchief to +make a tourniquet with which to stanch the flow of blood, he cried: "Oh, +Quincy, why did you walk right into danger?" + +As he uttered the words, a man who was standing nearby, whose dress +and swarthy face proclaimed him to be a foreigner, stepped forward and +grasped Tom roughly by the arm. + +"What did you call that young man," asked the stranger, his voice +trembling, perceptibly. + +"I called him by his name--Quincy." + +"Quincy what? Pardon me, but I have a reason for asking." + +"His name is no secret," said Tom, as he twisted the handkerchief +tightly above the wound. "I can't understand your interest in him, but +his name is Quincy Adams Sawyer." + +"Thank Heaven," exclaimed the man. "And thank you," he added, grasping +Tom's hand--"Is he English?" + +"No, we're both Yankees, from Fernborough, Massachusetts." + +The man knelt beside Quincy and gazed at him earnestly. He looked up at +Tom. + +"I could bless the man who fired that shot. My name is Quincy Adams +Sawyer and this young man is my son!" + +Tom's surmise had been correct. Alice did not improve and a long stay +at the Hospital became necessary before the return to England would be +possible. + +"What's that noise, Babette?" asked Alice. + +"There must be a riot somewhere," was the reply. "The soldiers are +marching past. They are fighting in a street nearby." + +Alice said no more. What had she to do with fighting and bloodshed? Her +suffering was greater than any bullet could inflict. She fell into a +doze from which she was awakened by a loud cry from Babette. + +"Oh, Madame, a carriage has just stopped here, and they are bringing +a wounded man into the Hospital. There are two men with him--one looks +like an Englishman or American." + +"Go down, Babette, and see if you can find out who they are. I should be +glad if I could be of help to one of my own countrymen." + +It seemed a very long time before the maid returned. When she did, the +usually self-confident Babette seemed dazed. She did not speak until her +mistress asked: + +"Did you find out anything?" + +"Yes, Madame." + +"What?" + +"They are all Americans, Madame. A young man and his friend; the older +man is the father." + +"The companion's?" + +"No, the young man's." + +"Did you learn their names or where they are from?" + +Babette sank upon her knees by the bedside. + +"Oh, Madame, I am so happy." + +Alice regarded her with astonishment. + +"Happy! Happy because a young man has been shot. You must have a +bloodthirsty nature, Babette." + +"It isn't the shooting, Madame. It's the name." + +"The name? What name? You are nervous, Babette. You must lie down and +rest. I keep you up too late nights reading and writing." + +"Oh, Madame, how can I say it? Can you bear it?" + +"I have borne suspense for twenty-three years. I can bear much. What is +it you would tell me?" + +"You know, Madame, I said the older man was the young man's father. They +both have the same name." + +"That's not uncommon, especially in America. The young man is called +Junior. Sometimes when they are very proud of a family name they number +them. Supposing my husband were living, and my son had a son, named +after himself, the little boy would be Quincy Adams Sawyer 3rd." + +"Madame, I must tell you. The father and the son bear the name of Quincy +Adams Sawyer!" + +Alice regarded her as if affrighted. Then she leaped from the bed and +cried: "Bring me my clothes, Babette. My husband and son! We three, +brought together by the hand of God once more." + +The revulsion was too great. The pent-up agony of twenty-three years +dissolved in a moment. Alice fainted and fell into Babette's arms. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +A PERIOD OF TWENTY-THREE YEARS + + +It took hours for the overjoyed wife and mother and the long-lost +husband and father to tell their stories. Alice's was told first, and +was followed by young Quincy's recital of his life at Fernborough, his +four years at Harvard, and the story of the returned bill of exchange +leading him to Europe, and his search for his mother in Vienna which +ended with such happiness for all. Finally, the father began: + +"On the night of the collision, after seeing you safely started in the +life-boat with the last of the passengers, Captain Hawkins thought of +a small boat on the upper deck which had been overlooked in the general +scramble to get away from the doomed _Altonia_. Shouting to me to follow +him, the Captain rushed up the ladder to the railing, and together we +started to lower the boat. It was raised about three feet above the +deck, being held in position by two supports shaped like a letter X. I +had already loosened the ropes on my side, and then tried to kick out +the support nearest me. It stuck, and finally I got down on my hands and +knees thinking I could force it out better in that position. The water +was steadily pouring in at the ship's side, and it was only a question +of a few minutes before the _Altonia_ would founder. Finally I gave one +mighty push, the support gave away, the boat came down upon me like a +ton weight,--and that was the last I knew until I awoke in a large room +full of single beds, and a kindly faced old priest told me I was in the +Hospital of San Marco, Palermo, Sicily. + +"My God, the shock when I found that my sleep,--for such it was to +me,--had lasted over twenty-three years! What thoughts went through +my mind! Had you, Alice, been saved or lost? If saved, were you still +living, and my son, whom I had never seen, was he living? Were Aunt Ella +and my father and mother and my sisters still alive? I was roused from +my revery by the good Father Paolo. + +"He told me that the week before he had been summoned to the death-bed +of an old seaman, Captain Vando, who had confessed that over twenty +years before, while sailing from Boston to Palermo, two days after a +very bad fog, he had picked up at sea a small open boat in which were +two men, both of whom at first seemed dead. One, it was Captain Hawkins, +was beyond all help; he was frozen to death,--frozen to death, Alice, +in an effort to save my life, for, besides my own coat, his was found +tucked around me. + +"After hours of work, I was brought back to life,--but a life worse than +death. The Captain told Father Paolo that my mind was a blank, I could +remember nothing of my past, I did not know my name. Then temptation +came to Captain Vando. He took from me my belt, in which I had some +English gold, a few English bank-notes, and the five bills of exchange, +each for a thousand pounds. The latter he did not dare to dispose of, +but the money he appropriated to his own use. He soon found I could be +of no use to him on ship-board, so, on his arrival at Palermo, he sold +me to a rich planter, for a hundred lire, and I was put to work in the +orange groves. + +"Captain Vando in his confession told Father Paolo that he still had my +belt containing the bills of exchange, and before his death he delivered +these over to the priest. After the Captain's death, Father Paolo went +to Signor Matrosa, who, when confronted with the facts, admitted I had +been sold to him, and that I was known under the name of Alessandro +Nondra, but he told him that I had been mixed up in a fight, and had +received such a bad wound that I had been sent to the hospital. One of +his managers, an Italian, had married an English girl, and they had a +daughter with light hair, and blue eyes. It seems I had been sent to his +house one day with a message, and when I saw his daughter, I cried +out, 'Alice, Alice,' and caught the girl in my arms. Her father was so +enraged that he picked up a gun lying near at hand, and gave me such +a terrific blow on the head that I was knocked senseless. I remember +nothing of it, but mistaking Anita for you was, undoubtedly, my first +approach to my former consciousness. That scene was probably the one +which you saw in your dream, Alice, and to think that afterwards you +should be so near me in Palermo, and neither of us know it! + +"At the hospital the doctors found that the blow on my head had caused +but a comparatively unimportant scalp wound, but, in dressing it, +they found that at some earlier time my skull had been crushed. They +performed the delicate operation of trepanning the skull, and when I +came out from the effects of the ether, my mind was in the same state as +it had been twenty-three years before. + +"After that my recovery was rapid. Father Paolo made Signor Matrosa pay +me thirty-three hundred lire as my wages for the many years I had worked +for him, and I gave a thousand of it to the manager's daughter, to whom, +in a way, I owed my return to my natural self. The rest I gave to Father +Paolo for the use of his church. + +"Luckily, in my belt that Captain Vando had appropriated was my +passport. I went to the United States consul at Palermo, Mr. Drake, had +the passport visd, and got him to cash one of the bills of exchange for +me. Suddenly, one day, the thought came into my mind, had you, Alice, +thinking me dead, married again? I decided to find out before the +announcement of my return to the land of the living could be spread +broadcast, and I persuaded Mr. Drake to keep back the information +from his official report for a while, at least. This he was able to do +easily, as he was on the point of going away for a vacation of a few +months, and the other members of the consulate knew very little of my +case. + +"I decided to continue bearing the name of Alessandro Nondra for a +while, at least, and I knew I could make a living in some way when my +present funds were exhausted. How I regretted the cashing of that bill +of exchange, because I knew it would eventually lead to my discovery; +but I was so changed, with my iron-gray hair, and Van Dyke beard, that I +felt I could escape detection until I knew whether my wife still waited +for me or not. + +"I decided to make my way north to Ostend, and would cross from there to +England, where I felt sure I could find some news of you, or Aunt Ella. +I stopped off here in Vienna for a day or two. When I heard my son +called by name this morning I could not resist, and instead of finding +my son alone, I have also found his mother, my wife." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +"CATESSA" + + +Quincy gloried in his wife's faith and constancy. Alice, while she +rejoiced in her husband's return bewailed his lost opportunities. + +"Think what you have lost, Quincy. You might have been President." + +"If I have escaped that I shall not regret my long imprisonment." + +"Why, Quincy, would you have refused a nomination?" + +"Many are called, but few are chosen. I have never cherished any such +ambition. I am not in love with politics and I detest the average +politician. Our country produces few statesmen and it never will until +the civil service law is made applicable to legislators and to high +officials. We have much to learn from China in this respect." + +Telegrams had been sent to Aunt Ella and Mr. Wallingford apprising them +of the happy reunion. From the latter came a message extending a hearty +invitation to come to Vertano. + +Young Quincy's wound though painful, and particularly uncomfortable, was +not serious. Tom was his constant companion and attendant while Quincy +passed nearly all his time with his wife. She improved rapidly and their +departure was delayed only until young Quincy's wound was healed. + +"You now have a longer name than ever," his mother said to him one day. + +"How's that? It's too long now. What must be added?" + +"Why, now that your father is alive, you are Quincy Adams Sawyer, +Junior." + +"I am more than willing to make the addition, mother, and hope it will +be many years before I am obliged to shorten it." + +When they reached Vertano but three days remained before the departure +of Mr. Wallingford and his orchestra for Paris, but during that time +there were drives through the beautiful country, boat rides upon the +lake, rehearsals by the orchestra and the performance of an operetta +written by Mr. Wallingford in which he, his wife, and seven children +took part. + +"Shall we go to Paris?" asked Alice. + +"Certainly," said Quincy. "We owe Mr. Wallingford the return courtesy of +our attendance at his six concerts." + +The trip across the channel did not possess so many terrors for Alice +with her husband and son for company, but she was glad when they stepped +upon land at Dover. + +"I shall never love the water," she said. + +They reached London in the afternoon too late to take the train for +Heathfield in which town Fernborough Hall was situated. A telegram was +sent to Aunt Ella informing her of their safe arrival in London, and +that they would be with her the next day. + +"What can I do to amuse you this evening, Alice?" + +"Sit down and let me look at you, I have so much time to make up." + +"They give _Martha_ at the opera to-night--it is my favourite--full of +the sweetest melodies in which I substitute Alice for Martha. Quincy and +Tom would like to go, and I have another reason which I will tell you +after the first act." + +Alice's curiosity was aroused and she expressed her desire to go. After +the first act, Alice turned an inquisitive face to her husband. + +"What was your other reason for coming here to-night?" + +"Don't you think Catessa is a fine tenor?" + +"He has the most beautiful voice I ever heard," Alice replied. + +"I know him. He is an old friend of mine. I'm going behind the scenes to +congratulate him personally." + +"Did you meet him in Italy?" + +"No--in Fernborough, Massachusetts." + +"Why, Quincy, what _do_ you mean? There were no Italians in +Fernborough." + +"He is not an Italian. He's a Yankee. Look at his name." + +"That's Italian surely." + +"It's only his Yankee name transposed. Aren't you good on anagrams?" + +"Certainly, I'm not. Please tell me." + +"Do you remember a young man in Fernborough with consumption whom I sent +to a sanatorium in New York?" + +"Yes, Mr. Scates." + +"You've hit it. Mr. Arthur Scates, or A. Scates for short. Now look at +that Italian name again." + +"I am doing so, and it looks just as foreign as ever." + +"Agreed, but Catessa contains just the same letters as A. Scates, only +they are arranged differently." + +After the second act, Quincy visited Mr. Scates in his dressing room. +The tenor insisted on Quincy and his party taking supper with him at +his hotel after the opera. He offered to repay the cost of his treatment +with interest. + +"No," said Quincy, "I do not need it, and will not take it. Use it to +help some poor artist." + +It was one o'clock when Quincy and his party reached their hotel. + +"Did you enjoy yourself, Alice?" + +"I had a delightful evening. But how happy you must feel to know that +your money saved such a precious life." + +"I do," said he. "Good deeds always bring their reward. See what I +got--twenty-three years hard labour in an orange grove." + +"Hush, Quincy. There is no possible connection between the two events." + +"I disagree with you. I think I am the connection, but I don't really +think one caused the other." + +"I should say not. You are not often cynical." + +"I am not, dear. Only when one does a good deed he must not expect to be +repaid in exactly his own coin." + +"Did Mr. Scates offer to repay you?" + +"He did, and I told him to give it to some poor fellow who needed it." + +"Quincy, I don't know which to admire most. Your good heartedness, or +your ability to make one sum of money perform many good actions." + +The home coming to Fernborough Hall was a sad contrast to the pleasure +of the evening before. They found Aunt Ella in bed with two doctors in +attendance. Though weak, and failing fast there was no diminution of her +mental powers. She expressed a wish to see Quincy alone. + +"Quincy, your wife's faith has made a new woman of me. I have always +wished to live for ever, I had such a fear of death and uncertainty as +to the future. My fears are all gone. + +"The same Power that put me in this world and has given me so many +blessings, with some sorrows, so that I would properly appreciate the +blessings, will take care of me in the next. I have never been a wicked +woman, but often a foolish one. The most foolish thing I have ever done +was to doubt the faith your wife had that you were still alive. She's an +angel. + +"Give me a sup of that wine, Quincy," she continued, "I haven't smoked +a cigarette since I promised Alice I wouldn't. Wasn't that self-denial? +Now, there's a very important matter that needs attention. I told you +when you married Alice that when I died you should have everything. +Don't interrupt me. Believing you were dead I made a new will and left +everything to your son." + +She drew a paper from under the bedclothes. + +"Here it is. Burn it up. The other one is in the hands of my solicitor +in London." + +Quincy laid the will upon the bed. + +"Aunt Ella, I shall not burn the will nor destroy it. I am satisfied +with the disposition of your fortune. I should have been equally well +satisfied if you had possessed other heirs. But, did you leave your +property to Quincy Adams Sawyer Junior?" + +Aunt Ella's eyes snapped with some of their old fire. + +"I've got it right. I have described my heir so carefully that there can +be no mistake. Don't you imagine that there is a chance for you to break +my will." + +There was a smile on her face as she spoke, and Quincy smiled to show +that he did not misunderstand her pleasantry. As he turned to go, Aunt +Ella called: + +"Quincy!" + +He approached the bed again. + +"Another sip of that wine. I always liked wine--but not too much of it." + +She beckoned to him to come nearer. "Quincy, I want you, before you go +away to have the fish cleared out of the lake. Stuart wouldn't let me +do it, and since he died I have kept them as a tribute to his memory. +He said to me, when the name dies out, let the fish die too. The name is +near death, and the fish must go. Now, send Alice to me." + +When she came, she bent over and kissed her aunt tenderly. + +"Alice, I wish you were going with me. You know what I mean, dear. I +hope you will have long life and great happiness to make up for what +you've gone through. You have your husband back again. I am going to +mine, Robert and Stuart. There is no marriage or giving in marriage +there--only love. Quincy is going to look after the fish in the lake." + +Aunt Ella lingered for a week, then passed quietly away while asleep. +She was laid beside Sir Stuart in the family vault, and the name +Fernborough lived only as that of a little country town in New England. + +At the funeral Quincy met his sister Florence who looked upon him as one +raised from the dead. + +"I did not forget you, Quincy, for my first-born bears your name." + +Linda, Countess of Sussex, came with her husband the Earl, and her +daughter, the Lady Alice Hastings, a tall, statuesque blonde, in her +twenty-eighth year. + +"I've something wonderful to tell you," said the Countess to Quincy and +his wife. "My daughter is soon to be married, but not to one of our +set. Her choice has fallen upon Mr. John Langdon, an American. He's very +wealthy, and is coming to England to live. Isn't that romantic--so out +of the usual." + +"America loses every time," said Quincy. "First our girls and their +father's money, and now our men and their money. In time, England will +form part of the great American nation." + +"You mean," said the Countess, "the great English-speaking nation," and +Quincy bowed in acceptance of the amendment. + +The probating of the will, making arrangement for the sale of +Fernborough Hall, and providing for the payment of the proceeds and +annual income to Quincy Jr. caused a long delay, for English law +moves but little faster than it did when Jarndyce brought suit against +Jarndyce. + +Quincy Jr. and Tom were thrown on their own resources during the long +wait. London was their resort, and, to them, Scotland Yard and its +detectives, the most interesting part of the city. + +When the party finally embarked, by a coincidence, it was on the +_Gallia_ which had brought young Quincy and his companion to England +seven months before. + +No storms or heavy fogs were met upon the way, and the party was landed +safely in New York. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +O. STROUT. FINE GROCERIES + + +During the summer that the foregoing events were happening in Europe, +Mr. Hiram Maxwell, in the little New England town of Fernborough had +a serious accident happen to himself the effects of which were far +reaching, and finally affected many people. + +In unloading a barrel of sugar from a wagon, it slipped from the skid +and fell upon his leg causing a compound fracture. He was taken home, +but when the doctor was called he advised his immediate removal to the +Isaac Pettingill Free Hospital for he was afraid an amputation would be +necessary. Unfortunately, his fears proved to be true, and Hiram's right +leg was amputated just below the knee. + +"That Hiram's an unlucky cuss," said Mr. Strout to his hearers one +evening at the grocery. "But think of me. This is our busy season and +with everything piled onto me I'm just about tuckered out. What help +will he be stumbling around on crutches?" + +"Can't he have a wooden leg?" asked Abner Stiles. + +"Yes, of course he can. An' if you lost your head and got a wooden one +in its place you'd be just as well off as you are now." + +This remark caused a laugh at Abner which he took good-naturedly. When +Mr. Strout was out of sorts he always vented his spleen on somebody. + +"Well," said Benoni Hill, "I'm awful sorry for Hiram with a wife and +children to support. Of course his pay will go right on, bein' as he's a +partner." + +"I don't know about that," said Strout. "That's for the trustees to +decide, and I've got to decide whether I'll do two men's work for one +man's pay." + +"He would for you," Abner blurted out. + +"If you think so much of him, why don't you come in and do his work for +him?" said Strout. + +"When you were going to buy this store, and Mr. Sawyer got ahead of yer, +yer promised me a job here as pay for some special nosin' round I'd +done fer yer--but when yer got in the saddle you forgot the feller who'd +boosted yer up. When a man breaks his word to me onct he don't do it a +second time. That's why," and Abner went out and slammed the door after +him. + +Mr. Strout was angry, and when in that state of mind he was often +lacking in prudence in speech. + +"That comes of turning a place of business into a resort for loafers. +If I owned this store outright there'd be a big sign up somewhere--'When +you've transacted your business, think of Home Sweet Home.'" + +"I reckon that's a hint," said Benoni Hill, as he arose and put on his +hat. "You won't be troubled with me or my trade in futur'. There are +stores in Cottonton jus' as good as this, and the proprietors are +gentlemen." + +He left the store, and one by one the "loafers" followed him as no one +had the courage to break the silence that fell upon the company after +old Mr. Hill's departure. + +Mr. Strout, left alone to close up the store, was more angry than ever. + +"What cussed fools. I was hitting back at Abner and they thought the +coat fit and put it on. They'll come round again. They won't enjoy +tramping over to Cottonton for kerosene and molasses." + +The store was lighted by kerosene lamps resting on brackets. It was Mr. +Strout's custom to take them down, blow them out, and replace them +on the brackets. One was always left burning, as Mr. Strout said "so +burglars could see their way round." + +Mr. Strout's anger rose higher and higher and there was no one present +upon whom he could expend it. He grasped one of the lamps, but his hold +on the glass handle was insecure and it fell to the floor, the lamp +breaking, while the burning oil was thrown in every direction. He wished +then that some of the "loafers" were present to help him put the fire +out. There was no water nearer than the pump in the back yard. He +grabbed a pail and started to get some water. He forgot the back-steps +and fell headlong. For some minutes he was so dazed that he could do +nothing. The glare of the fire lighted up the yard, or he would have had +difficulty in filling the pail. When he returned, he saw that the fire +was beyond his control. He could not go through the store, so he climbed +the back yard fence and made his way to the front of the store crying +"Fire" at the top of his voice. + +It seemed an age to him, before anyone responded. He felt then the need +of friends, neighbours--even "loafers" would have been acceptable. + +A bucket brigade formed, but their efforts were unavailing. As the other +lamps were exploded by the heat new inflammable material was thrown +about. In a quarter of an hour the whole interior was in flames, and in +an hour only a grim, black skeleton, lighted up by occasional flashes of +flame, remained of Strout and Maxwell's grocery store. + +Next morning comment was rife. Mr. Strout had told how the fire was +caused but there were unbelievers. + +"I think the cuss set it on fire himself," said Abner Stiles to his +employer, Mr. Ezekiel Pettingill. + +"Be careful, Abner," was the caution given him. "It don't do to accuse a +man of anything 'less you have proof, an' your thinkin' so ain't +proof." Mr. Strout went to Boston to see the trustees. The insurance was +adjusted and Mr. Strout was authorized to proceed with the re-building +at once. During the interim orders were filled from the Montrose store. +Fortunately, the stable and wagon shed were some distance from the +store, and had not been in danger. + +The new store was larger than the old one, and many improvements, in Mr. +Strout's opinion, were incorporated in the new structure. He ordered the +new sign. When it was put up, the whole town, including the "loafers" +were present. "I s'pose he fixed it with the trustees" said Benoni Hill +to Abner Stiles. + +"Danged if I think so," was the reply. "He's allers been meaner'n dirt +to Hiram, an' has allers wanted to git him out. Burnin' up the store +giv' him his chance." + +"You mean the store burnin' up," corrected Benoni. + +"I dunno. The Bible says God works in a mysterious way his wonders to +perform, an' so do some individooals." + +One noon after dinner, Mr. Strout said to his wife. "Bessie, put on your +things an' come down to the new store. I want to show you somethin'." + +"And leave the dishes?" + +"You can bring 'em with you if you want to," her husband replied. + +When they reached the store, upon which the painters were at work, he +pointed to the new sign. + +"See that? Read it out loud." + +Mrs. Strout complied: + +"O. STROUT. FINE GROCERIES." + +"What did I tell yer?" was his only comment. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE HOME COMING + + +Quincy desired to have his return to America unheralded by items in +the newspapers of stories of his wonderful rescue, captivity, and final +recovery of his reason, so when he booked for passage on the _Gallia_ he +gave the name of Mr. S. Adams, wife and son. + +During the homeward voyage the father and son had an opportunity to +become acquainted. The father told the story of his life at Mason's +Corner; first going back to his college days. He told his son how he had +opposed his father's wish that he would become a lawyer and sustain the +reputation of the old firm of Sawyer, Crowninshield, and Lawrence; about +his health breaking down and his visit to Mason's Corner; about the +blind girl whom he had made his wife, and how he had secured medical +assistance and her sight had been restored. Once again he lived over his +life in the country town, and told about his friends and foes--Obadiah +Strout and Bob Wood--who were enemies no longer, and honest, +good-hearted 'Zeke Pettingill, and his sweet wife, little Huldah Mason. +And Hiram who stammered so and Mandy who didn't. Nearly all the people +mentioned in their long talks were well known to young Quincy and after +his father had finished his reminiscences the young man supplied the +sequel. + +"What do you think of Mr. Strout?" asked the father. + +"Think? I know he's a dishonest man. You say that you parted friends. He +is no friend of yours or mine." + +Then he told of his encounter with young Bob Wood. + +"I had some trouble with his father many years ago," said Quincy. "What +did he do to you?" + +"Nothing to me. He insulted a young lady, and I took her part. Tom was +going to help me but I arranged to handle him, in a very unscientific +way though." + +"It was a rough and tumble of the worst sort," interjected Tom. "I was +afraid they'd bite each other before they got through." + +"Quincy," said his father, "you must take boxing lessons. When occasion +requires, it is the gentleman's weapon." + +The mention of Mary Dana naturally led to a rehearsal of the Wood case, +and all Mary had done in helping Quincy at the beginning of the search +for his father. + +"I think I see which way the wind blows," laughed his father, while +Quincy blushed to the roots of his hair, "and I want to meet the young +lady who did so much to bring us all together again." + +Alice was proud of her son. He resembled her, having light hair and blue +eyes; a decided contrast to his father whose skin had been darkened by +Italian suns, who had dark eyes, dark hair frosted at the ends, and a +heavy beard, cut in Van Dyke fashion. Few, if any, would have recognized +in him the young man who more than twenty-three years before had taken +passage on the _Altonia_, looking forward to a pleasant trip and an +early return to his native land. + +Alice explained to her son her apparent lack of affection for him in +allowing him to be separated from her so long. + +"I knew you were with your relatives and good friends, Quincy. In my +nervous, depressed state I was poor company for a young, healthy boy. +Then, I had such a fear of the ocean I dared not go to you and was +afraid to have you come to me. Can you forgive me?" + +"My darling mother," said young Quincy, "what you did turned out for the +best. I have been educated as an American and that fully atones for my +apparent neglect. Your beautiful letters kept you always in my mind, and +I used to take great pleasure in telling my schoolmates what a pretty +mother I had." + +Alice, despite her years, blushed. + +"Quincy, you are like your father in praising those you love." + +Tom gave Quincy's father graphic descriptions of the changes in +Fernborough and fully endorsed his friend's opinion of Mr. Strout. + +"He's a snake in the grass," said Tom. "He'd pat you on the back with +one hand and cut your throat, figuratively speaking, with the other." + +"Do you think he'd recognize me?" asked Quincy. + +"I think not," said Tom. "His perceptive powers are not strong. He's +sub-acute rather than 'cute." + +Quincy and Alice sat for hours looking out upon the wide expanse of +ocean, and at the blue sky above them. It did not seem possible that +so many years had passed since they were together. Memory is a great +friend. It bridged the great gap in their lives. They were lovers as of +yore, and would be always. They did not hesitate to talk of the cruel +past--not sadly, for were they not in the happy present? + +Said Alice one morning, "While you were gone I was in a terribly nervous +condition. Aunt Ella said that I must have something to employ my +mind--and I wrote, or tried to write. I couldn't keep my mind on one +thing long enough to write a story, but I have collected the material +for one, and now that I am happy once more, when we have settled down, I +am going to write it." + +"What's the title, or, rather, the subject?" her husband inquired. + +"Oh, it opens with a ship-wreck--not a collision but a fire was +the cause. Among the passengers are many children--of high and low +degree--and they get mixed up--fall into wrong persons' hands,--fathers +and mothers are lost and cannot claim them, and their future lives have +supplied me with the strongest and most intricate and exciting plot that +I have ever constructed." + +"Which is the 'star' child?" + +"He is the son of a Russian Grand Duke--the offspring of a morganatic +marriage--his mother is driven from the country by order of the Czar. +The title is _The Son of Sergius_." + +They did not remain in New York but took the first train for Boston. +They were driven to the Mount Vernon Street house. + +"I knew you were coming," cried Maude, as she ran eagerly down the steps +to meet them. + +"Who has turned traitor? I pledged them all to secrecy," cried Quincy. + +"Harry told me, and I had a cablegram from Florence." + +"Did she use my name? If so, we are undone and the reporters will swarm +like bees." + +"You are safe," said Maude. "The message read: Brother found. Keep +quiet." + +Tom was prevailed upon to remain in Boston until Quincy could go to +Fernborough. At supper they were introduced to Maude's family. + +"Six of them," said Quincy. "I am uncle to a numerous extent. Maude, +what are all their names--the girls first." + +"This is Sarah, named after mother; Ella for Aunt Ella, and little Maude +for her mother." + +"Good! Now the boys." + +"Stuart--the old gentleman was so nice to Harry and me when we were on +our wedding tour--Nat for father, and Harry--" + +"Thank Heaven--no Quincy. That name was becoming contagious. I am glad, +Maude, that you were wise and kept the epidemic out of your family." + +That evening Quincy and Mr. Merry talked about business matters. Harry +told of Hiram's accident and the destruction of the store by fire. + +"There's something funny about it," said Harry. "We authorized Mr. +Strout to rebuild and restock at once, and we hear that he has done so, +but he has not called on us for a dollar, nor has he sent up any bills +for payment." + +"I wish you would send a telegram to Mr. Ezekiel Pettingill the first +thing to-morrow morning asking him to come to the city--say important +business." + +About three o'clock Ezekiel arrived at the office of Sawyer, +Crowninshield, Lawrence and Merry. He was shown into what had been the +late Hon. Nathaniel's private office, and came face to face with Quincy. + +"I'm heartily glad to see you again," he exclaimed as he wrung Quincy's +helpless hand after the first surprise of the meeting. "Huldy'll be +delighted too. You must come down and tell us all about it. Just to +think--more'n twenty years--but you're looking well." + +Quincy assured him that his health was never better. + +"What I wanted to see you about are affairs in Fernborough. What is +Strout up to?" + +"You've used just the right word. He's up to something. He's got up a +sign--O. Strout, Fine Groceries--an' says Hiram's out of the firm, and +that he owns the whole business." + +Quincy smiled. "So, I've got to fight it out with him again, have I? +Well it will be the final conflict. To use Mr. Strout's words, one +or the other of us will have to leave town. You aren't going back +to-night?" + +"Oh, I must." + +"Well, come up to the house first and see Alice and the boy. Well go +down to-morrow." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE FINAL CONFLICT + + +When Tom Chripp showed his father the photograph of the house in which +he was born, he burst into tears. + +"Just as pretty as ever," he exclaimed. "The roof's been mended, beent +it, and just the same flowers all around it as when I was a boy. Tom, +I'm glad to see you back safe and sound--but that picter--Tom, when I +die, you just put that picter in the coffin with me, won't you? I want +your grandfather to see that the old place was looked after when he was +gone." + +Tom promised. + +A dark featured, dark haired man entered Mr. Strout's store. The +proprietor knew he was a stranger--perhaps just moved into town, and a +prospective customer. + +"What can I do for you?" he inquired blandly, for he was capable of +being affable. + +"I am looking for Mr. Hiram Maxwell." + +"He ain't here no more." + +"But he's your partner, isn't he?" + +"Didn't you read my sign? There ain't no partner on it." + +"There ought to be." + +Mr. Strout looked at the stranger with astonishment. Then he laughed, +and, with a remembrance of Mr. Richard Ricker, asked sneeringly: + +"What asylum did you come from?" + +"I beg your pardon," said the stranger. "I used to know Mr. Maxwell, and +they told me in the city that he was a member of the firm of Strout and +Maxwell." + +"Who told ye?" + +"The trustees of the estate of Mr. Sawyer. Mr. Quincy Adams Sawyer. Did +you know him?" + +"I never knew any good of him. So they told yer, did they? That shows +how much attention they give to business. The old store was burned up +and that busted the firm. This store's mine from cellar to chimney." + +"The old firm must have paid you well." + +"Pretty well--but I made my money in State Street, speculating and I'm +well fixed." + +"I'm glad to hear that you've prospered. I wish my friend Maxwell had +been as fortunate. What became of his interest and Mr. Sawyer's in the +store?" + +"Went up in smoke, didn't I tell yer?" + +"I beg your pardon," said the stranger again. "But doesn't your store +stand on land belonging to the old firm?" + +Strout squinted at the stranger. "I guess you're a lawyer lookin' for +points, but you're on the wrong track. You won't get 'em." + +"I'm not a lawyer, Mr. Strout. I only inquired thinking my friend Mr. +Maxwell might--" + +"Well, he won't," said Strout. "Mr. Quincy Adams Sawyer cheated me out +of one store but he can't drive me out of this. He thought he was awful +smart, but when he bought the store he didn't buy the land. It belonged +to the town. I'm one of the selectmen, and one of the assessors found it +out and told me, and I bought it--an' this store an' way up to the sky, +and the land way down to China belongs to O. Strout." + +"I am much obliged, Mr. Strout, for your courtesy--only one more +question and then I'll try and find my friend Mr. Maxwell--if somebody +will be kind enough to tell me where he is." + +"You didn't ask where he was. If you want to know he's up to the +Hospital. He's had his leg off, an'll have to walk on crutches." + +"So bad as that,--I'm _very_ sorry," said the stranger. + +"I've got to put up some orders--see that sign?" and he pointed to one +which read: + +"When You've transacted your Business, Think of Home, Sweet Home." + +"I beg your pardon, Mr. Strout, for taking so much of your valuable +time. Do you know whether Mr. Quincy Adams Sawyer is in town?" + +Strout laughed scornfully. "In town? That's good. Why, man, he's been +dead more'n twenty years--food for fishes, if they'd eat him, which I +doubt. He's left a boy, same name, that used to go to school here, but, +thank Heaven, he's got lots of money, and probably won't trouble us any +more. Perhaps he's the one you want." + +"Are you sure the boy's father is dead? I saw him in Boston yesterday." + +"I don't take any stock in any such nonsense. This ain't the days of +miracles." + +"I saw him in this town this morning." + +"Where?" gasped Strout. + +"Right here. That's my name, Quincy Adams Sawyer. Do you want me to +identify myself?" He stepped back, puckered up his mouth, and began +whistling "Listen to the Mocking Bird." + +Strout was both startled and mad. "Just like you to come spyin' round. +You allers was a meddler, an' underhanded. But now you know the truth, +what are you going to do about it?" + +Quincy walked to the door. "Well, Mr. Strout, I'm going to put it about +as you did when I first came to Mason's Corner, Either you or I have got +to leave town. This is our last fight, and I'm going to win." + +He left the store quickly and made his way to where Ezekiel was waiting +for him with the carryall. + +"Now, 'Zeke, we'll go to the Hospital and see poor Hiram." + +They found him hobbling about on crutches in the grounds of the +Hospital. + +"How long have you been here, Hiram?" was Quincy's first question. + +"About twelve weeks. You see, besides breaking my leg I cracked my knee +pan an' that's made it wuss." + +"We'll fix you up very soon. I'll get you an artificial leg from New +York. You'll be able to walk all right but you mustn't do any heavy +lifting." + +"Guess I shan't have no chance to lift anything now Strout's got the +store." + +"Don't worry about that, Hiram. There are towns that have two stores in +them. How's Mandy?" + +[Illustration: "'JUST LIKE YOU TO COME SPYIN' ROUND. YOU ALLERS WAS A +MEDDLER.'"] + +"Gettin' along all right. Mr. Pettingill, there, sends a man over to +help her, and Mrs. Crowley is as good as two any day." + +"Don't worry, Hiram. You'll come out on top yet" + +"If I do, 'twill be because you'll put me there, I reckon." + +As they were driving back 'Zekiel asked Quincy if he knew Mrs. Hawkins +was going to sell out. + +"No, why. Getting too old?" + +"No, she's as spry as a cat, and she's seventy odd. That ain't the +reason. Jonas is dead." + +"What was the matter?" + +"Chickens." + +"What--overeating?" + +"No, somebody stole his chickens. So he arranged a gun with a spring and +he must have forgotten it." + +"He didn't 'kalkilate' on its hitting him?" + +"Guess not. Mrs. Hawkins says she's too old to marry agin, and she can't +run the house without a man she can trust." + +"Let's stop and see her." + +When they entered, Mrs. Hawkins threw up her hands. "Lord a Massy! I +heerd at the store all about you comin' back, but where on airth _did_ +you come from? They said you was dead an' here you are as handsome as +ever. How's your wife, an' that boy o' yourn?" + +"Both well, I'm happy to say. 'Zeke tells me you want to sell out." + +"Yes. Now Jonas has gone there's nobody to take care of the chickens, +an' a hotel 'thout chickens an' fresh eggs is no home for a hungry man." + +"What will you take for the place just as it stands?" + +"Well, I've figured up an' I should lose money ef I took less'n four +thousand dollars, an' I ought to have five." + +"I'll take the refusal of it for forty-eight hours at five thousand. Is +it agreed?" + +"I'd hold it a month for you, Mister Sawyer, but I want to go and help +Mandy soon's I can now that Hiram's laid up for nobody knows how long." + +"We'll have Hiram on his feet again very soon, Mrs. Hawkins. I'll be +down again in a few days." + +"Give my love to Alice," she called after them as they were driving +away. + +The next evening Quincy asked his son to come to the library with him. + +"Quincy, I want to borrow fifty thousand dollars. Can you spare it?" + +"Twice as much if you need it. I'll give it to you. It's yours anyway." + +"No, I want to borrow it at six per cent." + +"Are you going into business?" + +"Yes." Then Quincy told him of his conversation with Mr. Strout. + +"How are you going to beat him?" asked young Quincy. + +"I'll tell you. I'm going to buy the Hawkins House. I shall have it +lifted up and another story put underneath. There will be room for a +store twice as large as Strout's, and a hotel entrance and office on the +ground floor. I'll put Hiram Maxwell in charge of the store." + +"Who'll run the hotel?" + +"'Zeke says Sam Hill is the man for the place, and his wife Tilly will +be the housekeeper, chief cook, etc." + +"Do you mean to run Mr. Strout out of town?" + +"That is my present intention. Not for personal vengeance but for the +ultimate good of the community." + +"I'd like to help, but the work isn't in my line." + +"Seriously speaking, Quincy, what is your line--the law?" + +"No." + +"Business?" + +"No." + +"What then?" + +"Don't know. Am thinking it over." + +"Have you seen that Miss Dana yet?" + +"No. Mr. Isburn told me she is out West now on an important case." + +"We'll get her to find Strout after he leaves Fernborough. Give me that +check to-morrow early. I'm going to Fernborough with an architect to +have plans made for the alterations." + +Mr. Strout could look from his window and see what was going on at the +Hawkins House. + +"Who's bought the hotel, Abner?" + +"Well, Mr. Strout, they do say it's Mr. Quincy Adams Sawyer, an' that +Sam Hill and his wife Tilly are going to run it." + +"I won't sell them a darned thing." + +Mr. Stiles grinned. "Can't they buy in Cottonton, or Montrose, or +Eastborough? Mr. Sawyer's got stores there." + +"Well they'll want things in a hurry, but they won't get them from me." + +A month later Abner rushed into the store. + +"Say, Strout, they're putting up a new sign on the Hawkins House. Come +and see it." + +Mr. Strout walked leisurely to the window and put up his hand to shade +his eyes. Great white letters on a blue ground. + +THE SAWYER GROCERY COMPANY + +"By George, Strout, there's going to be another grocery." + +Mr. Strout did not speak, but walked back behind the counter. Abner went +to see the sign raising. + +Mr. Strout soliloquized: "So, he's going to fight me, is he? Well, I'll +spend every dollar I have, and borrow some more, before I'll give in. +He'll cut prices--so will I." + +Then a troubled look came into his face. + +"Confound it. My commission as postmaster runs out in a month, but our +Congressman is a good friend of mine." + +Opening night came at the new store, Saturday being selected. Over the +doorway was an electric sign-- + +WELCOME TO ALL + +Mr. Strout's store was nearly deserted. About ten o'clock Abner came in. + +"I say, Strout, it's just scrumptious. They got three times as many +goods as you have. An' there's a smoking room back of the store with +a sign over the door _'Exclusively for Loafers. Loaf and Enjoy Your +Soul.'_ They say a poet feller named Whitman writ that last part. +Saturday morning is to be bargain day and everything is to be sold +at half price. And, say, isn't the hotel fine? Everybody was invited +upstairs, an' there was a free lunch spread out." + +"Abner, you've talked enough. You'd better go home." + +The warfare continued for three months. At the end of the first, Hiram +Maxwell, an old soldier, was appointed postmaster, _vice_ Obadiah +Strout. At the end of the second month Mr. Strout resigned his position +as organist and the gentleman who led the orchestra that played during +the evening at the hotel was chosen in his stead. At the end of the +third month a red flag was seen hanging at the door of Mr. Strout's +store and Mr. Beers the auctioneer whose once rotund voice had now +become thin and quavering, sold off the remaining stock and the +fixtures. Then the curtains were pulled down and the door locked. The +next day Mr. and Mrs. Strout and family left town. + +"What's become of Strout?" Quincy asked his son, who had just returned +from Fernborough. Another month had passed since the auction sale. + +"I heard he was seen on State Street a few days ago, and he said the +best move he ever made was leaving that one-horse country town; that he +could make more money in a day in State Street than he could in a month +in the grocery business. It seems he has become what they call a curb +broker or speculator." + +"I am glad," said Quincy, "that Mr. Strout has found a more profitable +and congenial field. It must have been very dull for him the last three +months of his stay in that one-horse town." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +TOM, JACK AND NED + + +Quincy decided to have his company incorporated. This necessitated +visits to the Secretary of the Commonwealth and the Tax Commissioner. +The amount paid in cash capital was $200,000. Besides the four stores +doing business, sixteen more were contemplated in Boston, Cambridge, +Lowell, Lawrence, Fall River, New Bedford, and other small cities and +large towns. + +The design was not to form a trust with a view of controlling certain +food products and raising prices, but to establish a line of stores in +which the best grade at the lowest cash price should be the rule. This +price was to be fixed for the Boston store and was to be the same in all +the stores. + +"Whom shall I put in charge of the Boston store, Quincy?" his father +asked. "He will have to be general manager for the whole circuit." + +"I know a man," said young Quincy, "who is honest, conscientious, and a +perfect tiger for work, but he knows nothing about the grocery business. +He has adaptability, that valuable quality, but, while learning, he +might make some costly mistakes." + +"I want you to act as Treasurer for the company. It's your money, and +you should handle it." + +"I've no objection to drawing checks. We sha'n't have to borrow any +money for there's half a million available any time. Why didn't you have +a larger capital, father?" + +"Because the State taxes it so heavily; but there's no tax on borrowed +money. The fellow who lends pays that." + +"If I loan money do I have to pay taxes on it when I haven't got it?" + +"Certainly, and you pay just the same if there's no prospect of its ever +being repaid." + +"That's funny." + +"Funny! Why, our Massachusetts tax laws are funnier than a comic +almanac, and about as sensible." + +Quincy took up a pen and began writing. + +"What are you writing, father?" + +"I'll show you in a few minutes." + +"How will that do?" + +Quincy read: + + QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER, _President_. QUINCY + ADAMS SAWYER, Jr., _Treasurer_. THOMAS CHRIPP, + _General Manager_. Cash Capital, $200,000. + + Cable, _Vienna_. 20 _Stores_. + + THE SAWYER GROCERY COMPANY, INC. + + Wholesale and Retail. + +"Just the man I had in mind, father. You can depend upon him every time, +and he'll keep his subordinates right up to the mark." + +Upon his return to his native state Quincy had found many of his old +friends still in office. The governor and higher officials were only +annuals--some not very hardy at that--while the minor officials, in +many cases, were hardy perennials, whom no political hot weather or cold +storm could wither or destroy. + +A presidential campaign was on, and speakers, for there were few +orators, were in demand. Quincy's visits to so many cities inspecting +the Company's stores had brought him in contact with hundreds of local +politicians. One day there came a call from the State Committee to come +in and see the Secretary. + +"Do you want to do something for the party?" asked Mr. Thwing, the +Secretary. + +"I have already subscribed," said Quincy. "Do you need more?" + +"Money talks," said Mr. Thwing, "and so do you. I have a score of +letters from different cities asking me to add you to our list of +speakers, and to be sure and let the writers hear you." + +"I had no intention--" Quincy began. + +"You're an ex-governor, and know all the State. Aren't you in the +grocery business in a big way?" + +"Rather." + +"'Twill boom your business in great style. Better even for groceries +than boots and shoes, for food is a daily consumption." + +"I wouldn't go on the stump just to advertise my business." + +"Of course not. You would take just what the gods provided and ask no +questions, and make no comments. Shall we put you down for, say, twenty +nights?" + +Quincy consented, but he stipulated that he was not to be placed in any +city or town where he had a store. + +Mr. Thwing vehemently objected. "Why, the men who want you to come live +where the stores are." + +"I can't help it. Put me in the next town, and if they're so anxious to +hear me they'll come." + +After the campaign was over, the votes cast, and the victory won, Mr. +Thwing said, "That was a good business idea of yours, Governor, about +your not going into the towns where your stores were. Of course you +instructed your general manager." + +"I don't know what you mean," said Quincy. + +"Didn't you know when you spoke in places adjoining those in which you +had stores that your Mr. Chripp, I think that's the name--just flooded +the towns with circulars announcing that you were to speak and that +you were the President of the grocery company doing business in +the adjoining city, that your goods were the best, your prices the +lowest--and that your teams would deliver goods free of charge in all +places within five miles?" + +Mr. Thwing stopped to take breath, and Quincy nearly lost his in +astonishment. + +"Great business idea, Mr. Sawyer." + +"I knew nothing about it. I should have stopped it had I known." + +"Why so? You got a double ad. Bright man that Chripp. You'll have to +raise his salary." + +Quincy did not reply. The deed was done, and a public explanation would +do no good. Chripp surely had his employer's interests at heart, even if +he had mixed politics and business rather too openly. The next month's +statement showed a great increase in trade. Mr. Chripp was not called +to account, but his salary was materially increased at the suggestion of +young Quincy. + +The new President had been inaugurated, the Cabinet nominees confirmed, +and the distribution of political "plums" began. Quincy felt that the +lightning had struck in the wrong place when he was approached and +sounded as to whether he would accept a foreign mission. He talked the +matter over with his wife. + +"Quincy," said she, "I would go, if I were you." + +"Are you not happy here?" + +"Yes, and no. Happy to be near my son, and relatives and friends; no, +because your business takes you away so much that I see little of you. +If you take the mission, I shall have you with me all the time. I am +selfish, I know, but it is my love for you that makes me so." + +The Hon. Quincy Adams Sawyer was nominated and confirmed as Ambassador +to Austria-Hungary. Alice had made the selection. + +"Let us go to Vienna, Quincy. It was there we met after our long +separation--and, this is purely a personal matter, I wish to study the +scenes of my story, 'The Son of Sergius,' at close range." + +Before Quincy's departure it had been decided to lease the Beacon Street +house for four years. Maude was given her choice but preferred the house +in Mount Vernon Street where she had lived since her marriage. + +Young Quincy was obliged to take bachelor quarters which he found at +Norumbega Chambers. + +His suite consisted of a sitting-room, two sleeping rooms each with +bath, and a small room intended for a library or study, and which was +utilized by him as an office. + +Quincy went down the harbour with his father and mother on the ocean +liner, returning on the tug with Tom. On the way back young Quincy took +a small envelope from his pocket and extracted a short note which he +had read at least a dozen times since its receipt. It was from Miss +Mary Dana and informed him that she had returned to Boston and would +be pleased to see him, the next day, at her office with the Isburn +Detective Bureau. + +It was a cold, raw day in the early part of April and when they reached +the city Quincy was taken with a chill. When they reached Norumbega +Chambers the chill had turned to a fever, and Tom suggested sending for +a doctor. Quincy stoutly protested against any such action being taken, +but Tom summoned one despite his objections. In this way, Quincy became +acquainted with John Loring Bannister, M. D. + +Dr. Bannister was unknown to his patient when he paid his first visit, +and was professionally non-communicative, but he told him afterwards, +when their acquaintance had ripened to such an extent that the names +Quincy and Jack took the place of more formal designations, that it +had always seemed a wonder to him that he had survived. Quincy, with no +intention of indulging in flattery, replied that if a certain physician +had not been called in he, probably, would not have done so. + +Quincy's condition on the second day was so low, indeed, that Dr. +Bannister told Tom if his friend had not made a will he had better do +so. Tom's first thought was to send for Mr. Merry, but he decided that +might lead to a charge of family influence, and he appealed to the +doctor. + +Dr. Bannister told Tom he was well acquainted with a young lawyer +and that he would send him up to see Mr. Sawyer. Quincy was in such a +condition when Lawyer Edward Everett Colbert made his first visit, that +if he had been asked the name of the principal beneficiary he would +probably have told the lawyer to let it go to the Devil. The second time +that Mr. Colbert called, Quincy's physical will had resumed control and +he had no need of any other. + +When convalescing Quincy said to Tom, when the nurse was absent, "If +you thought I was going to die, why didn't you send for Aunt Maude, +and--and--you know whom I mean--Miss Dana?" + +"I saw them every day, but you were too weak to see them, but if--they +would have been summoned." + +"Tom, your head is so level that a plane couldn't make a shaving." + +Tom was obliged to be away daytimes, the buying for twenty stores +requiring much travel. + +Dr. Bannister and Lawyer Colbert were occasional visitors and Quincy +received a manifest mental exhilaration from his intercourse with them. +His sickness had led him to think about the future. Was he to live and +die as the treasurer of a grocery company? Had he no higher ideal? + +A story told by Jack and Ned, which they knew to be true, because they +were the principal actors therein, led Quincy to give himself up to some +mighty thinking. + +The story was related one evening in the sitting-room when Tom was +present. + +"What I'm going to tell," began Ned, "will include much more than I saw +or knew myself, but it all comes from authentic sources. I shall omit +names, since they are unessential. + +"Among my clients was an old gentleman, over seventy years of age, but +still erect and vigorous. One morning I received a letter requesting me +to call at his house. I found him in bed feeling all tired out. He said +he had never had a doctor in his life. + +"The doctor, here, assures me that those people who never need a +doctor until they are well advanced in life are not likely to require +a physician's services more than once. The next call is for the +undertaker." + +"That's so," broke in Jack; "it's the person who is continually calling +upon a doctor for every little ailment who lives to an old age, +for instead of letting disease creep upon him, he calls for medical +assistance as soon as he experiences any derangement of his physical +system. If all the people would follow this plan, it would increase the +longevity of the human race." + +"And materially increase the income of the medical profession," added +Quincy. + +"It proved to be the old gentleman's first and last sickness. In order +that you may fully understand the wonderful event which took place the +night he died, I shall have to give you a history of his family." + +Quincy consulted his watch. "It is now but a few minutes past seven. I +will give you until midnight, my usual time for retiring." + +"I have an engagement at ten or thereabouts," said Jack, "but it's a +matter of life instead of death." + +Ned continued: "My client had a son and daughter, both married. They +were good children and loved their father on the American plan. The son +had married an avaricious woman, while the daughter was married to a man +who was not so avaricious as his sister-in-law. The old gentleman was +very wealthy and like all good children they were thinking of the time +when the property would be divided." + +"I see signs of a family squabble," remarked Quincy. + +"It came to pass," said Ned. "The French have a maxim which says it +is advisable to search for the woman in all mysterious cases. In this +instance, the woman did not wait to be searched for but came of her own +accord. She insisted upon having the card bearing the name of Mrs. James +Bliss sent up to the sick man; when he saw it he, in turn, insisted upon +seeing the woman. The family wished to be present at the interview but +my client demanded a private conversation which lasted for an hour. + +"Jack had been in daily attendance as a physician, but I was not sent +for until the day following Mrs. Bliss's visit. He had told his son that +he wished to make his will, and the son told the other members of the +family. They wished him to make a will, of course, but they were afraid +that woman had exercised undue influence. As the son expressed it, the +better way would be to let the law make the decision. + +"My client insisted upon seeing me alone. He told me the woman's story. +Many years before, when my client was a poor man, her father had set him +up in business. He had told his daughter of the loan before his death, +and her visit was to ask for payment as she was a widow and poor, with +three children to support. + +"My client directed me to put her in the will for fifty thousand +dollars, saying the original loan at six per cent, would amount to fully +that amount. + +"The son, when told the story by me made no objection to the bequest +but the son's wife and the son-in-law declared that the note she had +was outlawed and that she shouldn't have a cent. The son-in-law put a +private detective on her track who learned that Mrs. Bliss was a test +and trance medium, and that she gave materialization sances at private +houses. The whole family then declared her to be a fraud and impostor, +and declared their intention of breaking the will if it was signed. + +"Now we are getting to the lively part of the story. The will was ready +for signing. It was about five minutes past six when I was admitted and +I went right up to my client's room. I had been there about five minutes +when Jack came in. He was followed by the entire family, the son-in-law +having been chosen to prevent the signing of the will. + +"Then occurred a sensational episode. Mrs. Bliss came to inquire about +my client's condition and the unsuspecting nurse admitted her. She came +directly to the room where we were all assembled." + +"A strong situation for a play," remarked Quincy. + +"They played it," said Ned. "The son-in-law took Mrs. Bliss into an +adjoining room and ordered her to stay there. Then he returned. This was +to be a Waterloo but he was the Wellington. + +"My client was propped up in bed, a pen placed in his hand, while the +document rested on a large book which Jack held. + +"The son-in-law began the oratory. 'I protest,' he screamed. 'This +sacrilege, this injustice shall not be done with my consent.' What was +it you said to him, Jack?" + +"I told him unless he stopped talking in such an excited manner, +and made less noise, it would have a very prejudicial effect upon my +patient's health. + +"The son-in-law then denounced Mrs. Bliss as an adventuress, and that +she had no legal claim upon his father-in-law. His loud voice and +violent gestures were too much for the invalid. The pen dropped from +his nerveless fingers and he fell back exhausted. I think you had better +take it up now, Ned." + +"All right. You gave me a chance to rest my voice. Yes, thank you," as +Tom passed him a glass of water. + +Ned resumed, "The door was opened and Mrs. Bliss looked in. 'Has he +signed?' she asked. + +"'No, he hasn't,' yelled the son-in-law, 'and while I live he never +shall' Now you come in again, Jack." + +"'Ladies and gentlemen.' said I, 'this excitement must stop. As medical +adviser I order you all to leave the room.' They objected, but I told +them if they didn't, I should resign charge of the case and refuse to +give a death certificate unless there was an inquest. That frightened +them, and they all went out, the son-in-law escorting Mrs. Bliss." + +"We propped up the patient again, and I gave him some brandy. He said, +'I must sign.' He took the pen and made a ragged, disjointed capital +'T.' + +"The pen dropped from his hand and he fell back upon the pillow. Ned put +the unsigned will in his pocket. I found that the end was very near and +I told Ned to call the family. Now, it's your turn, Ned." + +"I told the family they had better go to their father's room at once. +Mrs. Bliss arose with the intention of following them but I told her she +was not one of the family; that she could remain with me as my services +were no longer needed. She turned to me and asked: 'Was it signed?' I +shook my head. Without a word she sank upon the nearest chair and buried +her face in her arms. + +"I stood irresolute. The spectacle of this silent woman, speechless +because she was to be deprived of what was justly due her, was a +situation with which I did not know how to deal. I was saved the +necessity of saying or doing anything by the sudden entrance of Jack who +cried: 'Ned, it's all over; he's dead.'" + +"Now comes the wonderful, inexplainable, part of the story. There was a +single gas-burner alight in the room. It was turned down low; faces were +discernible, but the room was only half lighted. Hearing a movement, +Jack and I turned towards Mrs. Bliss. She had lifted her head from the +table and was gazing directly at us. Her eyes were open, but they had +a glassy look. Then it seemed as though the room was gradually becoming +darker and darker, until the darkness became intense. + +"My first thought was that Mrs. Bliss had put out the gas. Before I had +time to question her, Jack and I caught sight of a white spot that was +approaching us from the corner of the room nearest the doorway which led +into the hallway. This light, which was no larger than a man's hand at +first, increased in size and intensity until it covered a space at least +two feet wide and six feet high. I must admit that my hair was inclined +to stand on end." + +"And mine too," exclaimed Jack. + +"Suddenly," said Ned, "the light, which was nebulous, began to fall away +in places and assume a shape like the form of a man. Then the portion +where a man's head ought to be, assumed the appearance of one. Jack and +I clasped hands and retreated to the farther corner of the room. This +act on our part was purely voluntary. If I had possessed a Remington +rifle, six Colt's revolvers, and a dynamite bomb, I should have backed +out just the same. + +"We could not remove our eyes from the glittering, moving, thing; and +now a most surprising change took place. The light seemed to leave the +figure, so that it was not visible as a light, and yet it filled the +room with a radiant glow. + +"Who was that who stood before us? Could we believe our eyes? Were they +playing us a trick? Were we the victims of a too active imagination? No, +there could be no mistake. The form that stood before us was that of the +man who lay dead in the next room. + +"Turning towards us, from the form came the words distinctly spoken--'It +must be signed!' The figure pointed to the table near which Mrs. Bliss +still sat in an apparently unconscious state. I took the will from +my pocket, opened it, advanced to the table, and laid it thereon. The +figure reached out its right hand and beckoned. The thought came to +me that he wanted a pen. There was none in the room. Jack divined the +situation as quickly as I did and took his stylographic pen from his +visiting book, fitted it for use, and laid it on the table beside the +will. The form advanced, took up the pen, joined a small letter to the +capital 'T' already written, and finished out the name in full. + +"The form then laid the pen upon the table and pointed to the places set +apart for witnesses. I wrote my name, Edward Everett Colbert, and Jack +put his,--John Loring Bannister, under mine." + +"Did the form sit down?" asked Quincy. + +"No. The only chair near the table was the one in which Mrs. Bliss sat. +I could not resist the inclination to whisper in Jack's ear: 'What do +you think of that?' We both turned with the intention of taking another +look at 'That,' but it had disappeared and the gas was burning at about +half-light. + +"Mrs. Bliss arose from her seat with a pleasant smile on her face. 'You +said that he had signed it--I understood you to say so, did I not?' +I said nothing, but drew the will from my pocket and pointed to the +signatures. Then Jack said it was his duty to see the sorrowing family +and for me to escort Mrs. Bliss to a car. + +"Jack and I took dinner together in a private room at Young's the next +day. We decided that it was my duty to present the will for probate. +Although it is presumed by the statutes of this Commonwealth that a +will is signed by a living man, I was unable to find anything in said +statutes to prevent a dead man, if he were so disposed and able, or +enabled, doing so." + +"Of course the will was presented for probate," said Quincy. + +"It was," replied Ned, "and despite the energetic efforts of the +avaricious son-in-law, was admitted. His lawyer brought up the point +that the will should have had three witnesses, but I showed him the +note, told him Mrs. Bliss's story, and declared that I would fight the +case up to the Supreme Court if necessary. + +"There was no doubt in the mind of the registrar as to the authenticity +of the will for was it not duly signed and witnessed by Dr. Bannister, +a physician of the highest repute, and Lawyer Colbert, a bright and +shining light of the legal profession?" + +"Your story taxes my credulity," said Quincy, "but I will not allow it +to break our friendship. Tom, kindly ring for that supper to be sent +up." He looked at his watch. "Doctor, you've time to spare. 'Tis only +nine-thirty." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +THE GREAT ISBURN RUBY + + +Mr. Irving Isburn, the proprietor of the great detective bureau was over +seventy years of age, and, although he still had a general supervision +over the business, and was in his office for a short time anyway, nearly +every day, he was leaving the details more and more to his subordinates. +From the very beginning Mary Dana had made wonderful improvement in her +detective work, and the results of her last case, on which she had been +kept in the West for several months, were so satisfactory that she was +given practically the entire management of the Bureau. + +One day, shortly after her return from the West, Mr. Isburn called +her into his private office. He took great interest in electrical +inventions, and had one in his office of a decidedly novel design. Back +of his office chair, standing against the wall, just behind the door +that led into the hallway, was a mahogany bookcase fully seven feet +in height. Upon the top were several valuable statuettes, but the +most noticeable object was a rosy-cheeked apple. It was not really an +apple--only an imitation of one--made of brass. Using the stem as a +handle, the upper portion of the apple could be lifted off, forming a +cover. The apple was fastened firmly to the top of the bookcase. + +While talking over the case in hand with her employer, Miss Dana chanced +to fix her eyes upon the brass apple. + +"Mr. Isburn, why do you keep that peculiar ornament on the top of your +bookcase?" + +"Oh, you mean the apple. It contains something that is very valuable. +The method of opening it is a secret, but as somebody may succeed in +doing so some day I will show you its contents, for otherwise I might be +unable to prove that it contained anything." + +He opened a secret drawer in his desk, inserted his forefinger and, +apparently, pressed a button. The doors of the bookcase flew open as +if by magic, and, at the same time, a bell inside the bookcase rang +sharply. Miss Dana watched each motion of her employer intently. + +"That is all done by electricity," said he. "But it does something +else--opens the apple." + +He reached up and lifted the cover. Then he removed something from the +apple and placed it in Miss Dana's hand. + +"Oh, how lovely!" she exclaimed. + +It was a ring made of the finest gold and containing an immense ruby. + +"That," said her employer, "I call the Isburn Ruby. It belonged to my +mother, and it is precious to me, both on account of its great intrinsic +value, and as an heirloom." + +He dropped it into the brass apple, replaced the cover, and shut the +doors of the bookcase. + +"That cover can only be removed when the bookcase doors are open; they +can only be opened by touching the button in the secret drawer in my +desk, and, even then, a notice of the opening is given by the electric +bell. I think the ruby is well protected, but if anybody steals it I +shall call upon you to find the thief." + +Miss Dana said, laughingly, that she feared she would never have a +chance to distinguish herself in that direction. + +About a fortnight later, Mr. Isburn sat at his desk one morning opening +his mail. He was so preoccupied with an interesting letter containing an +account of the very mysterious disappearance of a young woman, that +he was not aware, for some time, of the presence of a person who stood +beside his desk. + +He looked up, suddenly, and saw a pretty girl, dressed in picturesque +Italian costume, holding a basket filled with roses, pinks, and other +cut flowers. Mr. Isburn was passionately fond of flowers and kept a vase +filled with them upon his desk. He selected a large bunch of flowers +made up of the different kinds. + +At that moment the door was opened and a clerk appeared: "Mr. Isburn, +there is a call for you on the long distance telephone." + +"I will be back in a moment," he said to the flower girl, as he went +into an adjoining room. The telephone bell was being rung continuously, +and he called "Hello" several times before the tintinnabulation ceased. + +The call was from a town some fifty miles away. The operator informed +him that No. 42 wished her to tell him that she had a valuable clue in +case T 697 and would not return for several days. Mr. Isburn knew that +No. 42 was Miss Dana. + +He returned to his office. The young Italian girl still stood by his +desk holding the basket of flowers. He gave her more than the amount she +asked for, and, bowing low and smiling, she left the office: Referring +to his call index, he found that T 697 was that of a young man, +Tarleton, belonging to a wealthy family, who was the buyer for a +manufactory of electrical machines. In their construction, a large +quantity of platinum was used, a metal more valuable, weight for weight, +than gold. His purchases had been very heavy, but a checking up of stock +used showed that not half of it had been applied to actual construction. +The question was--"What had become of the missing metal?" and that +question it was No. 42's business to answer. + +Mr. Isburn was a frequenter of clubs and social functions, partly +because he enjoyed them, but, principally, because many valuable clues +had been run across while attending them. + +He had been invited to be a guest at a reception tendered to an Indian +Maharajah. He knew that the East Indian princes were profuse in their +use of gems and he decided to wear the ruby, for it was a beautiful +stone and would be sure to attract the Maharajah's attention. On opening +the brass apple he found, to his astonishment, that the ring was gone. +Three days later Miss Dana returned and made her report on the Tarleton +case. The young man had stolen the platinum, sold it, and lost the money +in speculation. His rich father had made good the company's loss, and +there would be no prosecution. + +"He'll be a bigger criminal some day," remarked Mr. Isburn. + +"Money saved him," said Miss Dana. "While I was in the town a workman +stole a pound of brass screws--he is a poor inventor and needed them to +complete a model, and he got six months in jail." + +"Miss Dana, what punishment would be adequate for the thief who stole my +ruby?" + +She laughed, and said: "Anybody smart enough to do it, should have a +reward." + +"The reward," said he, "will go to the one who finds and returns it." + +"You are joking, Mr. Isburn." + +"I wish I were. No, it is gone. I cannot imagine how it was possible for +any one to get possession of that ring. Only you and I knew how to open +the bookcase doors, and I would as soon suspect myself as you." + +"I am glad that you have that opinion," said Miss Dana. "I have thought +several times that I was sorry that you told me about it, for I have +felt that if anything happened I should be an object of suspicion." + +"Oh, no," cried Mr. Isburn. "No such suspicion ever entered my mind. I +could not be so mean and ungenerous as to think such a thing. The +only person I suspect is an Italian girl who came in here to sell some +flowers. It was the day I received the long distance telephone message +from you in regard to the Tarleton case. I was only out of the room a +few minutes, and when I came back she was standing just where I left +her." + +"It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack to find that girl," +said Miss Dana. + +"Yes, those Italian girls look very much alike. She was one of medium +height, as a great many women are. You are of medium height, Miss Dana, +so that is a very poor clue to work upon. She had dark hair." + +"Mine is light," remarked Miss Dana. + +"I did not notice the colour of her eyes--probably black." + +"Mine are blue." + +"Her complexion was dark." + +"Well, I surely have not a dark complexion." + +"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Isburn. + +"You talk as though you were, in some way, connected with this affair." + +"But I am." + +"How so?" and Mr. Isburn's voice betrayed his astonishment. + +"Don't you remember saying if the ring was lost or stolen that you +should call upon me to recover it?" + +"Why, yes, I do remember. If you find it, you shall have a big reward. +If found, I am going to give the ring to a young lady." + +"Who is she? Pardon my hasty inquisitiveness." + +"My niece, Rose Isburn. She is my only brother's daughter. He has just +died and left her in my charge. Nothing has happened since I began my +professional career that has so puzzled and disgusted me as the loss +of that ring. I thought myself acute, and I am outwitted by a chit of a +girl. I think I'll sell out, take my niece to Europe and marry her off +to a Prince or a Duke." + +"Don't do it!" laughed Miss Dana. "Leave her your money, and let her +choose some honest, clean, young American." + +"Well, I think you are right," answered Mr. Isburn, laughing at Mary's +half serious, half comic air, "but I must first sell my business. Will +you find me a purchaser? I want to travel, and loaf the rest of my life. +I've had my fill of adventure and excitement." + +"Perhaps you can find a purchaser while I'm finding the ring. As you +say, your description of her is very meagre. But she was a flower girl +and that is one point gained." + +"But she may be selling oranges or dragging a hand-organ to-day." + +"True," replied Miss Dana, "and she may be selling flowers again +to-morrow," and the conversation dropped. + +About a week later, Miss Dana entered Mr. Isburn's private office. There +was a smile upon her face, as she cried: + +"I have been successful!" + +"You usually are," Mr. Isburn remarked, not comprehending to what she +alluded. + +"You will be somewhat surprised, no doubt, when I tell you--that I have +recovered the ruby!" + +Mr. Isburn sprang to his feet. + +"I know that you are a truthful young woman, Miss Dana, but, pardon me, +I shall disbelieve your statement, until the ruby is once more in my +hands." + +"I have not only recovered the ruby, but I have induced the Italian girl +who took it--" + +"By George!" cried Isburn, "I always suspected her." + +"I have induced the culprit, Mr. Isburn, to come here and place it in +your hands." + +"Well, you're a wonder, Miss Dana. You should give up being a detective +and become a teacher of morals." + +Miss Dana ignored his suggestion. "I have her in my office and the door +is locked. You see, I have the key here," and she held it up for his +inspection. + +"She is quite overcome at being discovered. I am going to talk with her +for a few minutes. You may come, say, in ten minutes. The door will be +unlocked if she is ready. I shall be with her to witness the restitution +of your property." + +Never did ten minutes pass so slowly as did those to Mr. Isburn. He +placed his watch upon his desk and watched each minute as it slowly +ticked away. When the time was up, he went to the door of Miss Dana's +office. He turned the knob--the door opened at a slight pressure, and +he entered. In a chair by the window, with her head bowed, sat a young +Italian girl. As Isburn approached her; he glanced about the room, but +Miss Dana was not present. + +"Signorita," he said, "I am informed that you have come to restore the +ring which you took from me." Then he noticed by her side was the same +basket in which she had brought the flowers, but this time it was empty. + +She rose to her feet and looked into his eyes with a glance of mute +appeal. She took up the basket, and walked towards the door, beckoning +to him to follow. Without resenting the incongruity of the situation, he +did so. They passed through the hallway and into his private office. + +She lifted the cover of one side of the basket and took from it a small +parcel. She removed the tissue paper disclosing a bunch of cotton wool. +From this she extracted the jewel that he prized so highly. + +He reached forward to take it, but she drew back. She first shut down +the cover of the basket. Then she went to the desk, opened the private +drawer and pressed the button. The bookcase doors flew open. Her next +move was to place the basket in front of the bookcase. Stepping upon it, +which enabled her to reach the apple, she removed the cover, and dropped +the ring into its receptacle, replaced the cover, stepped down and took +up her basket, then closed the bookcase doors. + +"And that's how you did it," ejaculated Isburn, greatly astonished at +her coolness and audacity. "But how did you find out how to open the +bookcase doors?" + +"You told me," said the girl in good English, the first words she had +spoken. + +"I told you?" he cried. + +The Italian girl had a fit of uncontrollable laughter. + +"Have you forgotten the old adage, Mr. Isburn, that it is a good plan to +set a thief to catch a thief?" + +Isburn sank into a chair. "Can I believe my ears? Miss Dana?" + +"Exactly," said the young woman. "This is one of my make-ups. This is +what I wore when I discovered the clue that led to the arrest of Corona +in that Italian murder case." + +"But I don't understand yet," cried Isburn. "How could you be here as an +Italian flower girl when you telephoned me from a place more than fifty +miles away?" + +"Money will do a great deal," replied Miss Dana, "but you must tell your +subordinates what to do for the money. I induced the operator in that +little country town to give you to understand that I was still there. +The fact was, I left the noon before, located young Tarleton, turned +him over to the police, and was in the city by 8 o'clock. I told the +operator to keep on ringing until you came for you were very deaf. +Pardon me for that, but I was afraid you would hear the bell when the +bookcase doors opened. Now, you know all, and I await my discharge." + +Mr. Isburn looked serious. "Miss Dana, I see but one matter to be +arranged now, and that is your half-interest in the business. You know I +told you that if you found the ruby I would take you as a partner." + +"Oh, that's all a joke," cried Miss Dana. "What I did was for fun. I +only wished to show you how the thing could be done, and I beg your +pardon for causing you so many hours of uneasiness on account of the +supposed loss of your valuable ring." + +"Yes," said Mr. Isburn, "I feel as though you should make some atonement +for the disquietude you have caused me. I shall insist upon going to +Europe with Rose, and you must manage the business while we are gone, as +full partner." + +"The staff won't take orders from a woman." + +"Yes, they will, if you tell them how you fooled me. If they object +then, call for their resignations and engage a new force." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +"IT WAS SO SUDDEN" + + +The Hotel Cawthorne was, in some respects, a correct designation but in +others a misnomer. It had rooms to let, or rather suites, and it had a +clerk. So far, a hostelry. It had no dining room, no bar, no billiard +room, no news-stand, no barber shop, no boot-black, no laundry--and in +these respects, at least, it belied its name. + +Some childless couples, some aged ones with married children, many young +men, a few confirmed old bachelors, and a few unmarried women roomed +therein. On stormy days, or when their inclinations so prompted, the +tenants could have meals served in their rooms at a marked increase over +hotel rates. + +But the "Cawthorne" was exclusive, and for that reason, principally, +Miss Dana had chosen it as her city domicile. Tenants were not +introduced to each other, and one could live a year within its walls +without being obliged to say good morning to any one, with the possible +exceptions of the housekeeper, or the elevator man, but that was not +compulsory, but depended upon the tenant's initiative. + +Every hotel has an "out"; at the "Cawthorne" it was an "in." The "in" +was Mr. Lorenzo Cass, the clerk and general _factotum_. His besetting +sin was inordinate curiosity, but it was this oftentime disagreeable +quality which particularly commended him to the ex-Rev. Arthur +Borrowscale, the owner of the "Cawthorne." + +Mr. Borrowscale had not given up the ministry on account of advanced +age, for he was only forty; nor on account of physical infirmity, for +he was a rugged specimen of manhood and enjoyed the best of health. His +critics, and all successful men have them, declared that he had forsaken +the service of God for that of Mammon. While officiating, he had +received a large salary. Being a bachelor, he had lived economically and +invested his savings in real estate. He was the owner of six tenement +houses--models of their kind, and the "Cawthorne." Before leaving +college, he had loved a young girl named Edith Cawthorne. She had died, +and at her grave he had parted with her,--and love of women, but, +that sentiment was not wholly dead within him, the name of his hotel +attested. + +He had another attribute; he was intensely moral. The "Cawthorne" was +his pride, but he had a constant fear that some undesirable--that is, +immoral--person would find lodgment in his caravansary. For certain +reasons, Mr. Cass was indispensable. He had been a "high roller" until +he came under the Rev. Mr. Borrowscale's tutelage. + +"Mr. Cass, you know the bad when you see it--I do not. The reputation of +my house must be like Caesar's ghost--above suspicion." + +He had said "ghost." He had seen but two plays--"Hamlet" and "Julius +Caesar," and for that reason his dramatic inaccuracy may be excused. + +So Mr. Cass became a moral sleuth, and woe betide an applicant for +rooms, and occasional board, who could not produce unimpeachable +references, and point to an unsullied record in the past. + +Miss Dana's respectability and social standing had been abundantly +vouched for, and her financial responsibility had been demonstrated by +monthly payments in advance. + +It was the first evening Quincy had been out since his illness. + +"Is Miss Dana in?" asked Quincy as he presented his card to Mr. Cass. + +"I am quite positive she is. I am strengthened in this belief by the +fact that she had her supper sent up to her room. A fine specimen of +womanhood, and a remarkable appetite for so lovely a creature." + +Quincy had an inclination to brain him with the telephone stand, but +restrained his murderous impulse. + +"Will you please send up my card?" was his interrogatory protest against +further enumeration of Miss Dana's charms and gastronomic ability. "No +need to do so, Mr. Sawyer," for he had inspected the card carefully. "We +have a private telephone in each room. Will you await her in the public +parlour?" + +"Hasn't she more than one room?" + +"Oh, yes; a three room suite, sitting-room, boudoir, which I am sure she +uses more as a study, a chamber--and private bath." + +Quincy said, "I would prefer to see her in her sitting-room." + +"Oh, certainly," replied Mr. Cass. "Our rules are only prohibitive in +the case of single chambers or alcove suites, when the caller and tenant +are of opposite sexes. The proprietor--he was formerly a clergyman--is +tenacious on certain points." + +"And so am I," was Quincy's response, for his temper was rising, +"and you will oblige me by communicating with Miss Dana at once, and +informing her of my desire to see her." + +"Oh, certainly," replied Mr. Cass, "but my employer, who, as I have +said, was formerly a clergyman, is tenacious on another point; all +tenants who receive visitors in their rooms must have their names +entered in a book prescribed for the purpose, and also the names of +their callers." + +Quincy's murderous instinct was again aroused, but Mr. Cass was +unmindful of his danger and made the required entry. The humourous side +of the affair then struck Quincy, and taking a memorandum book from his +pocket, he said: + +"I, too, am tenacious on one point. I never visit a hotel for the first +time without writing down the name of the clerk. Will you oblige me?" + +"Oh, certainly. Cass, Mr. Lorenzo Cass." + +"Do you spell it with a 'C'?" asked Quincy, innocently, as he pretended +to write. + +"Oh, certainly. C-a-s-s-." + +"Thank you," said Quincy. + +"We make it a rule, or rather my employer does, that tenants and their +callers shall be treated with civility and their wants attended to +promptly." + +Again Quincy eyed the telephone stand with a view to its use as a +weapon. + +"Ting-a-ling! Ting-a-ling! Miss Dana--yes, Mr. Cass--Mr. Quincy Adams +Sawyer, Junior, wishes to call upon you in your sitting-room. Is it +agreeable to you? Very well, he will come right up." + +Mr. Cass replaced the receiver with deliberation, first unwinding a +tangled coil in the cord. + +"Take the elevator--third floor--number 42--she insisted upon taking +that suite for some personal reason--" + +Quincy waited to hear no more but started for the elevator. Mr. Cass +reached it as soon as he did, and motioned for the elevator man to +postpone the ascent until he had finished his remarks. + +"The outside door is locked at eleven, Mr. Sawyer, but you have only to +turn the upper handle to insure an exit." + +"Your clerk is quite loquacious," remarked Quincy as they slowly mounted +upward. + +"What's that?" + +"He has a sore tongue," said Quincy, as the elevator door was closed +behind him. + +After cordial greetings on both sides, for they had not seen each other +for nearly a year, Quincy exclaimed, as he sank into a proffered easy +chair: "Mary, I am a murderer at heart." + +"That is not strange, Quincy. I have read that the friends of police +officers and detectives often imbibe, or rather absorb, criminal +propensities. Who is the intended victim, and how do you expect to +escape arrest, conviction, and punishment, after incriminating yourself +by a confession to a licensed detective?" + +"If I had killed your hotel clerk it would have been due to +emotional insanity, and I should expect an acquittal--and, perhaps, a +testimonial." + +"I got a testimonial to-day from Mr. Isburn. He said I was a wonder." + +"I agree with him." + +Miss Dana flushed perceptibly. + +"He had what he considered a good reason for his compliment. I am afraid +yours rests on unsupported grounds." + +"Not at all. Have I not known you since you were a child? Can he say as +much? Did I not work with you on Bob Wood's case? The help you were to +me in trying to solve the mystery of the return of my father's bill +of exchange I will never forget," and for a long time Quincy and Mary +talked over the miraculous return of his father. + +Finally Quincy said, "I interrupted you. You said that Mr. Isburn +considered he had good reasons for complimenting you. Will you tell me +what they were?" + +"It is a long story." + +"I'm all attention." + +"Then I'll begin at once. If you need a stimulant at any stage of the +narrative, just signify your want and I'll ring for it." + +"Is there a bar?" + +"No, but there's a cellar." + +"I may need some Apollinaris," said Quincy, as he settled himself more +comfortably in the easy chair; "as my flesh is again strong, I always +take my spirit very weak." + +Mary had that sweetest of woman's charm--a low-pitched voice, and as +she told the story of the loss of the great Isburn ruby and its recovery +Quincy's thoughts were less on the words that he heard than the woman +who uttered them. In his mind he was building a castle in which he was +the Lord and the story-teller was the Lady. + +He was awakened from his dream by Mary's query: + +"Didn't I fool him nicely?" + +"You certainly did. And so he's going to give you a half-interest in the +business. If he keeps his word"-- + +"Which I very much doubt," interrupted Mary. + +"I'll buy the other half and we'll be partners." + +He came near adding "for life," but decided that such a declaration +would be inopportune. "Why should you engage in business, Quincy? You +are not obliged to work." + +"That's the unfortunate part of it. I wish I were. I have so much money +that I don't know what to do with it, except let it grow. But, speaking +seriously, I've no intention of remaining a do-nothing. I'm treasurer +of my father's grocery company but I have no liking for mercantile +business. I can give away, but can neither buy nor sell--to advantage. I +heard a story not long ago that set me thinking." + +"I told you my story, Quincy, why not tell me yours?" + +"I will. It's a mystery--unsolved, and, I think, unsolvable. But I +feel that my vocation will be the solving of mysteries. My mother wrote +detective stories and I must have inherited a mania for mysteries and +criminal problems. But I'll tell you what set me thinking." + +Then he related the story that had been told him by Jack and Ned. As he +concluded, he asked: "Do you think it was signed?" + +"Of course it was, but not by the dead man." + +"By whom, then?" + +"By Mrs. Bliss. She materialized the form by her mediumistic prowess, +but she signed the will." + +"But Jack and Ned saw the form, as they called it, take the pen and +write his name." + +"They thought they did. She hypnotized them so they saw whatever she +impressed upon their minds." + +"Can sensible, highly educated people be so influenced?" + +"The bigger the brain the more easily influenced. She couldn't have so +impressed an idiot, or an illiterate, unreceptive man. Let me tell you +how a hundred people were fooled lately." + +"I should be delighted to hear you tell it." + +"You should have sympathy for them, after your spiritualistic +experience," said Mary with a smile. + +"There is a married couple in this city whom we will call Mr. and Mrs. +Cartwright, because those are not their names. They have been married +less than two years. He is 68 and she 28, so you see it was what they +call a December and May union. It was worse. He is a bank president +and his god is money--his diversion sitting in his elegant library and +reading _de luxe_ editions of the world's literary masterpieces. She is +young, and beautiful, and craves society, attention, admiration. + +"She didn't get the last two at home, but society furnished them. He +attended her to parties and receptions and then went back to his library +until it was time to escort her home. + +"One night when he went for her she could not be found. No one had seen +her leave--she had mysteriously disappeared. Mr. Isburn gave me the +case. I'll make the story short for it is eleven o'clock." + +"I know how to get out. Mr. Cass told me." + +"Your knowledge of a method of egress does not warrant an extension of +your visit to midnight, does it?" asked Mary laughingly. + +"Considering the attractions presented, I think they do," replied +Quincy, banteringly. + +She resumed her story. + +"There was a man in the case, young, handsome, and wealthy. Just such a +man as she should have married. They had planned an elopement to Europe. +Not together. She was to go to Liverpool, he was to follow later to +Paris, and there meet her. Quite ingenious, wasn't it? Our agent at +Liverpool was called to locate her and prevent her inamorata from +communicating with her, at the same time using his influence to induce +her to return to Boston without meeting her lover. His powers of +persuasion, I mean our agent's, must have been great, for she consented. + +"A month later she attended a reception next door to the house from +which she disappeared, and silenced the tongue of scandal by saying that +she had been hastily summoned to the bedside of a sick friend, her chum +at Wellesley, and had returned home only the day previous. Her last +statement was true. Good detective work by a good detective, and a +great, big white lie fooled her friends and acquaintances, but if I were +her husband she would not lack attention or admiration in the future, +and I would furnish it." + +"When I get married, I will bear your admonition in mind." + +"I have another admonition. If you meet Mr. Cass when you go down, be +nice to him. Why, when you know him, he is a treasure. I can bear his +inquisitiveness, for it shields me from others. This is my sanctuary, +and Mr. Cass protects me from the literary wolves--the reporters. He +thinks I am a writer because I have so many books, and, to him, an +author is next to an angel. Was he rude to you? You must forgive him, +for he is my Saint George who protects me from the Dragon." + +Quincy was mollified to a certain extent. "Do I look like a Dragon? If +I am one, history came near being reversed, for at one time your Saint +George's hold on life was frail." + +Late in the afternoon of the next day Quincy made another call on Mary. +He had telephoned and learned that she was in her room. Mr. Cass +was temporarily absent from his desk and Quincy went at once to the +elevator. + +"I axed Mr. Cass about his tongue," said the elevator man. + +"Was it better?" asked Quincy. + +"He said I was labourin' under a misapprihinsion. What's that?" + +"He meant that it was improving," said Quincy, as he hurried from the +elevator. + +"How did you get home last night?" was Mary's salutation as he entered. + +"I groped my way down two flights of stairs in the dark. When I opened +the front door by the upper handle as Mr. Cass had kindly instructed me +to do, I found that gentleman on the steps. 'Quite late,' said he. 'Not +for me,' said I. At that moment my auto drew up at the curb." + +"A narrow escape from a Cass-trophe," exclaimed Miss Dana. "Pardon the +pun, but sometimes he is insufferably loquacious." + +Quincy smiled grimly. "He wasn't through with me. He followed me. 'My +employer.' he began, 'is very tenacious on several points, and one of +them is the acceleration of matrimonial preliminaries, commonly called +courting, in the house which he owns and successfully conducts with my +humble assistance. Will you allow me to ask you a question?' + +"Alexander had opened the auto door, and I stood with one foot on the +step." + +Quincy was silent for a moment. Miss Dana's curiosity was excited. + +"What did he ask you to do?" + +"His question was--'are you going to marry Miss Dana?'" + +"Preposterous!" cried Miss Dana. "I shall leave the 'Cawthorne' +to-morrow. What answer did you give to so impertinent a question?" + +"I said, not to-night. Not until to-morrow. Then I jumped in, slammed +the door, and off we went leaving Mr. Cass fully informed as to my +intentions." + +Mary thought, under the circumstances, that a change of subjects was +necessary. + +"I am working on the Harrison case. I don't believe he poisoned his +wife. I think the law killed an innocent man." + +"Another Robert Wood affair? Have you seen your little namesake, Mary +Wood?" + +"Yes. I am going to spend to-morrow in the laboratory making toxic +analyses." + +"I've been very busy to-day." + +"Not working?" + +"No, getting ready to. I've bought out an established business." + +"You said you disliked business." + +"Not this kind. You were right about Isburn. He didn't mean what he said +about giving you a half-interest in the agency." + +"I'm not disappointed. I didn't think he did. Why should he pay me for +returning what I took from him as a professional joke?" + +"Well I fixed it up with him, and he will sail for Europe with his niece +as soon as we can take charge." + +"We? Why, what _do_ you mean, Mr. Sawyer?" + +"I mean that I've engaged to pay Mr. Isburn one hundred thousand dollars +for his agency, a one-half interest to become mine and the other half to +be transferred to my wife as soon as I am married, which will be soon." + +"Then you will be my employer," and Mary's blue eyes were opened as wide +as they could be. + +"Within a week, I shall be Mr. Isburn. I shall not use my own name." + +His manner changed instantly. + +"This morning I met an old college friend. He was doing the historical +points of old Boston with his father and his father's friend, a Rev. Mr. +Dysart of Yonkers, New York." + +Miss Dana started, and exclaimed, involuntarily, "Mr. Dysart--not Mr. +Octavius Dysart?" + +"Yes, that was the name. Why, do you know him? I'll be honest, I know +you do." + +"My mother was born in Yonkers, and Mr. Dysart was the clergyman who +officiated at my father's wedding. He used to call on us whenever he +came to Boston. But how did he know that you knew me?" + +"He said he was going to Fernborough to see your father, and I availed +myself of the opportunity to mention my acquaintance with you. He wished +you could come and see him." + +"Where is he? Of course I will go." + +"He is staying with Mr. Larned, my college mate's father, who lives +in Jamaica Plain, but he will not be there until this evening. He's +attending a religious conference this afternoon and goes to Fernborough +early to-morrow." + +"Then I can't see him." + +"Why not? I'm going out this evening--small party invited--entirely +informal--half my auto is at your service." + +"Will you get me back to the hotel before the doors are closed? I shall +pack up to-morrow." + +"I promise," said Quincy. "I will come for you at seven sharp." + +Punctually at seven, a closed auto stopped before the "Cawthorne" and +Quincy alighted. Mary stepped from the elevator, wearing a new spring +costume and a marvellous aggregation of flowers upon her hat, walked to +the door without looking at Mr. Cass, and before he could frame one of +his employer's tenacious points and follow her, she had been handed into +the auto and whirled swiftly away. + +"Is Alexander driving?" she asked. "No. He's asleep--up too late last +night. We have a strange _chauffeur_. I selected him for that reason." + +"Why, what do you mean?" + +"I didn't wish anybody to know where we had gone." + +"Why not, pray?" + +"I mean, what we'd gone for." + +"Nonsense. Why, a friendly call--what more?" + +"Are your gloves on?" + +"No, I didn't have time. I'll put them on now." + +"No hurry--plenty of time. You are agitated. Allow me to feel your +pulse." + +"You are funny to-night, Quincy." + +"Not funny--just happy." + +Quincy took forcible possession of her half-resisting hand and slipped a +diamond solitaire on the proper finger. + +"Why, what are you doing? Isn't it a beauty? Is this the great Sawyer +diamond? Whose is it?" + +"It's yours. It is an engagement ring. It's the first step towards +keeping my promise to Mr. Cass, and he's tenacious, you know. I told you +all about it when I called this afternoon. So, please don't say 'this is +so sudden.'" + +"Are you crazy, Quincy?" + +"No, sane. Delightfully so. I told Mr. Cass I couldn't marry you until +to-day. I got the license this noon." + +They were passing through a dimly-lighted street, but, occasionally, the +street lamps threw flashes across two earnest faces. She endeavoured to +remove the ring. + +"Mary," said Quincy, "if you allow the ring to remain, I shall be a very +happy man, dear,--for I love you. I have loved you ever since the day +that I thrashed Bob Wood, and when I lay exhausted, you looked down at +me with those beautiful blue eyes and said 'all for me!' I am all for +you,--are you for me?" + +He put his arm about her and drew her towards him; their lips met. +A bright light shone in the auto windows--but they were sitting +erect--they even looked primly. + +"It is a long ride," she ventured. + +"Too short," he replied, "and yet, I wish we were there." + +Again she spoke: "This is a most unprecedented affair. Can it be real, +or are we actors?" + +"We are detectives, and they always do unexpected and unprecedented +things." + +"What will your father say--you a multimillionaire and I a poor girl who +works for a living?" + +"My mother was poor and blind when my father married her." + +"Yes, I know; but she wrote a book and became famous." + +"You're a 'wonder' now, and you will become famous." + +"What will your friends say?" + +"If they wish to remain my friends they will either say nothing, or +congratulate me. How shall we be married--in church? I'll spend a +hundred thousand on our wedding, if you say so." + +"No. As little publicity as possible. Use the money to help those +poor creatures who are sick with the disease called crime; that is +the symptom. The cause is often bad environment, and the poverty which +prevents improvement." + +"What a philosopher you are. That simple ceremony suits me exactly, +Mary. What a sweet name you have. Why not have Mr. Dysart perform the +ceremony? We'll be married with a ring." + +Mary laughed: "Where will you get yours?" + +"Detectives are always prepared for emergencies. I bought them this +noon, after I procured the license. They seemed to go together." + +"Well, Quincy, I think you are the most presumptuous mortal in +existence. How dared you do such a thing--so many things, I mean?" + +"Was not the prize worth even more of an endeavour? I have always +thought _Young Lochinvar_ was a model lover. But here we are." + +The Rev. Mr. Dysart received them with pleasant words of welcome, and +reminiscences of life in Yonkers, and memories of Mary's mother, +held Cupid in abeyance for an hour. Quincy passed the license to the +clergyman who read it and looked up inquiringly. + +"It's all right, isn't it?" Quincy asked. + +"Why yes,--but--I never supposed--why, of course--but when?" + +"Now, at once," said Quincy. "We must be home by eleven, for they lock +the doors." + +The simple ceremony was soon over. + +"Can you give Mrs. Sawyer a certificate, Mr. Dysart?" + +"Fortunately, yes. I bought some to-day, for I needed them." + +He went into an adjoining room to fill it out. + +"Mary, my darling, I am a rich man--richer than I deserve to be, for I +have created nothing--but I would give every dollar of my fortune rather +than lose you. Does your wedding ring fit? Mine is all right." + +"It ought to be--you had a chance to try yours on." + +"I am a designing villain, Mary. While you were telling that story last +night, you will remember that I walked about the room. One of your rings +was on the mantelpiece and I tried it on." + +When the clergyman handed Mrs. Sawyer the certificate, Quincy passed him +his fee. + +"You've made a mistake, Mr. Sawyer. This is a hundred dollar bill." + +"It ought to be a thousand. I'll send you a check for the difference +to-morrow--for yourself, or your church, as you prefer." + +As they descended the steps, the clergyman raised his hands. + +"I wish you both long life and prosperity, and may Heaven's blessing +fall upon you." + +"Back to the 'Cawthorne,'" said Quincy, as he pressed a small roll of +paper into the _chauffeur's_ hand--which roll of paper a friendly street +light showed to be a five dollar bill. + +"What will that horrid Mr. Cass say?" + +"I'll fix him," replied Quincy. "Just await developments, patiently, my +dear." + +It was a quarter of eleven when they reached the hotel. Mr. Cass was at +his desk, the light turned down in anticipation of the closing hour. + +"The certificate, darling," Quincy whispered. + +"Please turn up the light, Mr. Cass, and read that." + +Mr. Cass adjusted his _pince-nez_. Quincy was relentless. His turn had +come. + +"Is that in proper form, Mr. Cass? I know your rules are strict, and +that your employer holds you to them tenaciously," and there was a +strong accent on the last word. + +"Would your reverend employer object to your harbouring a newly-married +couple for one night? Show him your wedding ring, Mrs. Sawyer. We must +satisfy his moral scruples." + +Mr. Cass regarded them attentively. Then he said, slowly: "I anticipated +such a result, but wasn't it rather sudden?" + +"We shall lose the elevator," cried Mary. "It shuts down at eleven." + +"Shall we go on a tour?" asked Quincy the next morning. + +"I can't leave the Harrison case. I must follow a clue this morning." + +"Where shall we live, Mary? In grandfather's house on Beacon Street, or +shall I build a new one? I'll make it a palace, if you say so." + +"Well, I sha'n't say so--but let's live anywhere but here." + +"We'll bid Mr. Cass a long farewell--but I admire his tenacity. He's a +sort of moral bull-dog. I might use him in my business." + +"Our business, Quincy." + +"That's so--we are partners professionally, and lovers ever." + +As she disengaged herself from his embrace, Mary exclaimed: "I've +planned a model honeymoon for us, Quincy. You must go over the Harrison +case with me. I'm sure _we_ can prove that he was an innocent man, +and--" + +"We'll find the real criminal, Mary, and bring him to justice." + +"It will be a long and tedious investigation. I may have to visit every +drug store in the city." + +"That's easy. I'll buy you a touring car--I will act as _chauffeur_--" + +"Why a touring car--why not a runabout just for two?" + +"As you say, my dear. Your word is law--or the next thing to it. By the +way, Mary, we must live on Beacon Street." + +"Why, must?" + +"Because Mr. Strout has bought a house on Commonwealth Avenue, and +we must keep the line drawn sharp between the old families and the +_nou-veaux riches!_" + +THE END. + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Further Adventures of Quincy Adams +Sawyer and Mason's Corner Folks, by Charles Felton Pidgin + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER *** + +***** This file should be named 7497-8.txt or 7497-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/4/9/7497/ + +Produced by Charles Franks + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Further Adventures of Quincy Adams Sawyer and Mason's Corner Folks + +Author: Charles Felton Pidgin + + +Release Date: February, 2005 [EBook #7497] +This file was first posted on May 11, 2003 +Last Updated: March 16, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER *** + + + + +Text file produced by Charles Franks + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER AND MASON'S CORNER FOLKS + </h1> + <h2> + By Charles Felton Pidgin + </h2> + <h5> + Author of “Quincy Adams Sawyer,” “Blennerhassett,” “Stephen Holton,” etc. + </h5> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h4> + Illustrated by Henry Roth + </h4> + <div class="middle"> + {Illustration: “HE LOOKED UP, SUDDENLY, AND SAW A PRETTY GIRL, DRESSED IN + PICTURESQUE ITALIAN COSTUME."} + <p> + (Illustrations not incluced in this edition) + </p> + </div> + <h4> + 1909 + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + To My Daughter Dora + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER + AND MASON'S CORNER FOLKS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. — THE GOVERNOR'S SPEECH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. — A DAY WITH THE GOVERNOR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. — A VACATION AT FERNBOROUGH + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. — THE HAWKINS HOUSE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. — 'ZEKE PETTINGILL'S FARM </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. — “JUST LIKE OLD TIMES” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. — STROUT AND MAXWELL'S GROCERY + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. — UNCLE IKE AND OTHERS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. — A “STORY” SERMON </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. — THE RAISED CHECK </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. — THE WRECK OF THE <i>ALTONIA</i> + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. — FERNBOROUGH HALL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. — “HORNABY HOOK” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. — AN AMERICAN HEIRESS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. — AN ELOPEMENT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. — YOUNG QUINCY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. — HIS FATHER'S FRIENDS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. — AN OLD STRIFE RENEWED </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. — BOYHOOD TO MANHOOD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. — MARY DANA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. — AT HARVARD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. — ALICE'S DREAM </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. — “BY THE BEAUTIFUL BLUE + DANUBE” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. — “WE THREE” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. — A PERIOD OF TWENTY-THREE + YEARS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. — “CATESSA” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. — O. STROUT. FINE GROCERIES + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. — THE HOME COMING </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. — THE FINAL CONFLICT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. — TOM, JACK AND NED </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI. — THE GREAT ISBURN RUBY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII. — “IT WAS SO SUDDEN” </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PREFACE + </h2> + <p> + Eight years ago, “Quincy Adams Sawyer and Mason's Corner Folks” was + published, being heralded, truthfully, as the work of an “unknown author.” + It met with favour from reviewers and the reading public. My pleasantest + souvenirs are hundreds of letters, from personally unknown correspondents, + wishing to know more about “Quincy” and the other characters in my first + story. + </p> + <p> + I know that few, if any, “sequels” are considered as interesting as the + original work, and an author, to a certain extent, tempts fate in writing + one. But if we visit friends and have a pleasant time there seems to be no + reason why another invitation should not be accepted. So, if a book + pleases its readers, and the characters therein become their friends, why + should not these readers be invited to renew their acquaintance? + </p> + <p> + They may not enjoy themselves as much as at their first visit, but that is + the unavoidable result of repetition. The human mind craves novelty, and, + perhaps, the reader will find it, after all, within these pages. + </p> + <p> + C. F. P. + </p> + <p> + WIDEVIEW FARM, BELMONT, MASS. August, 1908. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER<br /> AND MASON'S CORNER + FOLKS + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. — THE GOVERNOR'S SPEECH + </h2> + <p> + When the applause had subsided, Governor Sawyer began to speak. + </p> + <p> + “My Friends and Fellow Citizens: When I stood before the representatives + chosen by the people, and an audience composed of the most eminent men and + women in the State, and took the oath to support the constitution of my + native State and that of my country, my heart was filled with what I + deemed an honest pride. My fellow citizens had chosen me to fill the most + exalted position in their power to bestow, and when the Secretary of the + Commonwealth uttered the well-known words which your toastmaster has just + repeated—God save the Commonwealth of Massachusetts—I felt in + every fibre of my body that I would be true to my oath and to the people + who had shown their confidence in me. + </p> + <p> + “But the satisfaction I felt on that occasion was no greater than that + which I experience to-night. I came among you entirely unknown. I have + heard that some wondered whether I was a city swell, what my business was, + what led me to choose your town for a vacation, and how long that vacation + was to be, especially as I came in the winter when country life is + popularly, but erroneously, supposed to be dull. + </p> + <p> + “By some I was welcomed,—others—I don't blame them—refused + to extend to me the hand of fellowship. But, I liked some of your people + so well—and one in particular”—all eyes were turned towards + his wife, who bore the scrutiny bravely—“that I determined to stay—and + I did.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram Maxwell could not forget past events in which he had figured + prominently and cried, “Three cheers for Quincy Adams Sawyer,” which were + given with a will, and accompanied by many expressions of approval in the + shape of clapping of hands, pounding of canes, and stamping of thick-soled + boots. The Governor continued his remarks. + </p> + <p> + “I staid so long that I might have become a voter. I did not, but besides + my native city of Boston, I shall always render my allegiance to this + town, which turned the current of my life into such happy channels. + </p> + <p> + “I will not weary you with a long speech.” + </p> + <p> + Cries of “Go on,” “We can stand it,” came from all parts of the hall, and + Mrs. Hawkins said to Olive Green, “He's a beautiful speaker. I could + listen to him all night if it wa'n't for gettin' breakfast for my + boarders. My bread didn't ris worth a cent, and I've got to git up airly + and make biscuits.” + </p> + <p> + His Excellency went on, “I want you to make Fernborough, the Mason's + Corner of five years ago, a beautiful town—more beautiful than it is + now.” Make good, wide roads, don't call them streets, and have wide tires + on your wagons to preserve them. Plant trees both for grateful shade and + natural beauty. Support your Village Improvement Society by suggestions + and contributions. Attend town meeting regularly, be economical but not + stingy in your appropriations, pay good salaries and wages for honest + service. Be partisans if you wish, in State and National elections, but in + choosing your town servants, get the best men regardless of politics. + </p> + <p> + “Support and constantly aim to elevate the standard of education in your + schools, and remember that the mother and the teacher are the makers of + those who are to rule in the future. + </p> + <p> + “Do these things, and you will make Fernborough a worthy member of that + galaxy of communities which represents the civic virtues and possibilities + in the highest degree—our New England towns, in which the government + is by the people, of the people, and for the people, and may God grant + that these bulwarks of our freedom may ever be preserved.” + </p> + <p> + It was decided by the committee to have a reception in the Selectmen's + room. It was conveniently arranged for such a purpose, having a door at + either end, besides the double one near the middle. At the request of + Selectman and Toastmaster Strout, the Governor and his wife and the + Countess of Sussex, formerly Lindy Putnam, stood in line to greet the + citizens of Fernborough. + </p> + <p> + First came Benoni Hill, who had increased in rotundity since selling his + grocery store and giving up an active life. + </p> + <p> + “How much is flour a barrel?” asked Quincy as he shook hands with him. + </p> + <p> + “When I kept the store myself everything I wanted I got at wholesale, but + now your partners charge me full price.” + </p> + <p> + “That's right,” said Quincy. “You got a good price for the store, and now + we're trying to get some of it back,” and he laughed heartily as he + extended his hand to young Samuel Hill. His wife, the former Miss Tilly + James, was with him. + </p> + <p> + “I am pleased to meet a lion-tamer,” said Tilly. + </p> + <p> + “I never saw a live one,” said Quincy, somewhat puzzled by the remark. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, you have. Our local lion, Obadiah Strout, is as tame as a dove, + and we owe it to you.” + </p> + <p> + “If I remember aright, a certain Miss Tilly James aided me when I gave the + first lesson.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you mean the time you whistled 'Listen to the Mocking Bird.' I wish + you had repeated it to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Cobb's Twins, William and James, with their wives, were next in line. + </p> + <p> + “How's farming?” asked Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “Bill and I,” said James, “spend most of our time on our own places, but + we help 'Zeke and Hiram out on their hayin' an' potato diggin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Samantha,” said Quincy, addressing Mrs. James Cobb, “do you remember the + first time I came to see Miss Putnam?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I'd heard about you goin' round with Huldy Mason. Didn't I laugh + when I showed you into Aunt Heppy's room? She did the hearin' for both of + 'em, for you remember her husband, Silas, was as deaf as a stone post.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Putnam found out all about me before I got away. I shall never + forget what she told me about her husband sitting on the ridge pole of the + barn, blowing his horn, and waiting for Gabriel to come for him.” + </p> + <p> + As Robert Wood came up, Quincy stepped from the line to greet him. + </p> + <p> + “Your hand ain't quite as hard as it was five years ago,” said Robert. + </p> + <p> + “No, I'm out of practice. You could handle me now.” + </p> + <p> + “It cost me two dollars to get my watch fixed,” said Robert, irrelevantly. + </p> + <p> + “I was on time in that affair,” said Quincy, conscious, when too late, + that he had wasted a pun on an obtuse individual. “Are you still + carpentering?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Lots of new houses going up, and Ben Bates and me have all we can + handle. Here, Ben, come here. The Governor's askin' 'bout you.” + </p> + <p> + Benjamin Bates was rather diffident, and had been holding back, but at + Bob's invitation came forward. + </p> + <p> + “How d'ye do, Governor?” was his salutation. Diffidence when forced to + action often verges on forwardness. + </p> + <p> + “Glad to meet you again,” said Quincy. “Robert says they keep you busy.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we don't have so many resting spells now they use donkey engines as + we did when Pat or Mike had to climb the ladder.” + </p> + <p> + “The march of improvement forces us all into line,” said Quincy as he + greeted Miss Seraphina Cotton. + </p> + <p> + “Teaching school, now, Miss Cotton?” + </p> + <p> + “No, your Excellency, I am fortunately relieved from what became, near the + end of my long years of service, an intolerable drudgery. Teaching + American children to talk English is one thing, but teaching French + Canadians, Poles, Germans, Russians, Italians, and Greeks was quite a + different proposition.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet it is a most important work,” said Quincy—“making good + citizens from these various nationalities. America, to-day, is like a + large garden, with a great variety of flowers from foreign stalks.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Cotton smiled somewhat satirically. “I'm afraid, your Excellency, if + you'd ever been a school teacher, you'd have found many weeds in the + garden.” + </p> + <p> + “But how did you gain your freedom?” asked Quincy. “Did they pension you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. An uncle died out West and left me enough with which to buy an + annuity. I board with the Reverend Mr. Howe. You remember him?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, certainly, I do. And here's his son, Emmanuel—have I got the + name right?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Governor, just right as to sound. I spell it with an 'E' and two + M's,” said young Mr. Howe, as Miss Cotton moved on to tell of her good + fortune to Alice and Linda. + </p> + <p> + “How's your father, now? Does he preach every Sunday?” + </p> + <p> + “Reg'lar as clock work. Of course I couldn't tell everybody, but I reckon + he's using some old sermons that he wrote forty years ago, but the young + ones never heard them, and the old ones have forgotten.” Quincy laughed. + Ministers' sons are seldom appalled by worldly ways and, quite often, + adopt them. + </p> + <p> + “This is Arthur Scates,” said Mr. Strout, as he presented a young man with + sunken cheeks, hollow eyes, and an emaciated body. “He ain't enjoyin' the + best of health.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I remember,” said Quincy. “You are the young man who was to sing at + the concert when I first came here. I took your place, and that act turned + out to be the most important one in my life. I owe much of my present + happiness to you. What is your trouble?” + </p> + <p> + “My lungs are affected. I have lost my voice and cannot sing. I had + counted on becoming an opera singer.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you not go to one of the out-door hospitals for treatment?” + </p> + <p> + The young man's face flushed, and he remained silent. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” said Quincy. “I understand. Come to Boston next week, to the + State House, and I will see that you have the best of treatment.” + </p> + <p> + “Wall, Mr. Sawyer, it does one's eyes good to set 'em on you again. This + is Olive Green,—you remember her sister Betsey worked for me when + you was one of my boarders.” The woman's voice was loud and strident, and + filled the room. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Hawkins, I shall never forget you and Miss Betsey Green, and how you + both tried to make my stay with you a pleasant one.” + </p> + <p> + “You've put on consid'rable flesh since I saw yer last. Guess you've been + taking your meals reg'lar, which you never did when you lived with me. But + your market's made now, and that makes the difference. They say folks in + love have poor appetites.” She laughed loudly, and stopped only when Olive + put a restraining hand on her arm. “I hope Alice is a good cook, but she + never had much chance to learn.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy thought it was time to change the subject. “How's Mr. Hawkins?” + </p> + <p> + “I tell him he's just as lazy as ever. He's kalkerlatin' on getting three + good broods of chickens. He's gone on chickens. He wanted to come tonight, + but we've lots of boarders, and they're allus wantin' ice water or + somethin' else, and so I told him he'd got to stay to home. You'll have + plenty of time to see him to-morrer.” + </p> + <p> + Many others greeted the Governor and his right hand felt the effect of so + many hearty grips, some of them of the horny-handed variety. + </p> + <p> + The Cottonton Brass Band was now stationed in the hall, and a short + concert closed the evening's entertainment, which was allowed, by all, to + be the most high-toned affair ever given in the town. + </p> + <p> + As Quincy laid his head upon his pillow that night, his mind reverted to + his first arrival at Mason's Corner, and the events that had taken place + since. + </p> + <p> + “Alice, five years ago, could your wildest imagination have conjured up + such an evening as this?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Quincy. What has taken place in our lives is truly wonderful. My + daily prayer is that these happy days may last.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. — A DAY WITH THE GOVERNOR + </h2> + <p> + Governor Sawyer sat in the Executive Chamber at the State House. It was + eleven o'clock on the morning following the festivities at Fernborough. + Quincy and Alice had staid over night at the Hawkins' House, and Ezekiel + in the morning urged them strongly to wait a day and see what great + improvements he had made on the old farm which had been so neglected + during the last years of Mrs. Putnam's life. But Quincy said his presence + in Boston was imperative, that certain matters required his attention, and + so the earliest train brought him and his wife to the city. Quincy left + the carriage under the arch at the State House. + </p> + <p> + Alice was driven to the well-known house on Mount Vernon Street, in which + Aunt Ella had lived so long, but which had lost much of its cheerfulness, + and all of its Bohemianism since that lady had gone to England and become + Lady Fernborough. + </p> + <p> + The Executive Chamber was a large room, and simply furnished with a flat + top desk of wine-red mahogany, a bookcase, and a few chairs. A door to the + left led to the office of the private secretary; the one to the right to a + short and narrow corridor across which was the door of the Council Chamber—a + room occupied by that last link between democratic and aristocratic + government. It must not be inferred that the members of the Council are + aristocrats—far from it, but with the lieutenant-governor they form + a “house of lords” which may or may not agree with the policies of the + chief magistrate. They can aid him greatly, or they can “clip his wings” + and materially curb his freedom of action. The Council is a relic of the + old provincial and colonial days, its inherited aristocratic body clothed + in democratic garments. As its duties could be performed by the Senate + without loss of dignity, and with pecuniary saving, its retention as a + part of the body politic is due to the “let well enough alone” policy of + the American citizen which has supplanted the militant, progressive + democracy of his forefathers. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the short corridor was the office of the Executive Secretary + and his stenographer from which, through an opening hung with portières, + one passed into the general reception room where the faithful messenger + stood guard, authorized to learn the business of each new-comer. + </p> + <p> + The private secretary had opened the mail and had assorted it as + “ordinary,” “important,” and “most important.” For an hour the Governor + dictated steadily, and it would take several hours' clicking of the + typewriter before the letters and documents were ready for his signature. + </p> + <p> + The waiting-room was now filled with persons desiring audience with his + Excellency. A well-known city lawyer and ward politician was the first to + enter. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, Guv'nor.” + </p> + <p> + The Governor arose, came forward, and extended his hand. “Good-morning, + Mr. Nutting.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to send in the names of the Industrial Expansion Committee + to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “I have intended to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I want to say a good word for Mr. Collingwood. He is promoting a + company to develop water power on the Upper Connecticut above Holyoke. He + is a client of mine, and I can vouch for his business ability and his + desire to improve and increase our manufacturing facilities.” + </p> + <p> + The Governor was silent for a time. He was busily thinking. No doubt this + Mr. Collingwood was concerned financially, indirectly if not directly, in + the proposed company he was promoting, and perhaps Mr. Nutting himself + would profit far beyond his normal legal fee if Mr. Collingwood was named + on the commission. Mr. Nutting noticed the delay of his Excellency in + replying. + </p> + <p> + “It will be all right if you send his name in. There will be no doubt of + his confirmation.” + </p> + <p> + Again the Governor thought. The four wheels of the executive coach were in + good order, but, apparently, the fifth wheel had been put in condition for + use, if it became necessary. + </p> + <p> + “Here are Mr. Collingwood's endorsements,” said Mr. Nutting, as he placed + a large packet of papers on the governor's desk. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Mr. Nutting. I will give them consideration.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Nutting withdrew, and the lieutenant-governor, who had arrived late, + was given precedence over the others in the reception room. After the + customary salutations, the lieutenant-governor seated himself in the + governor's chair, which Quincy had temporarily vacated, and lighted a + cigar. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to send in Venton's name?” + </p> + <p> + “He is inexperienced.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it, but he'll learn. If, following precedent, I become your + successor, he will be of great help to me in certain lines.” + </p> + <p> + There was a slight frown on the governor's face. “Mr. Williams, the + present head of the department, has held it for many years, is a most + efficient man, and I have heard no complaints.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that,” said his Honour, David Evans, “but he's getting old, and + rotation in office is one of the principles of our Bill of Rights.” + </p> + <p> + “I am well aware of that,” said the governor, “but retention in office for + good and efficient service is one of the principles of our civil service + law.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Evans arose and flicked the ashes from his cigar upon the rich carpet + which covered the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Am I to understand then that you will renominate Williams? Let me say now + that there is strong opposition to him in the Council and he may fail of + confirmation. Will you send Venton's name in then?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I should send Mr. Williams' name in again.” + </p> + <p> + “But, suppose he is turned down the second time?” asked Mr. Evans. + </p> + <p> + “I think I should continue sending in his name until good and sufficient + reasons were given for his rejection. This is not a voting contest between + two nominees. I am convinced Mr. Williams is the best man for the place. + Such being my opinion, to withdraw his name, would be a + self-stultification, and, to speak plainly,”—and his jaw was firmly + set,—“an acknowledgment that the Council is a stronger arm of the + government than the Chief Executive.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Evans was evidently indignant. “Well, Mr. Venton is backed by men who + contribute heartily for campaign expenses. If you can get along without + their aid this fall have your man Williams,” and Mr. Evans strode from the + room with a curt “Good-morning.” + </p> + <p> + The private secretary laid some papers on the governor's desk. The first + one that he examined conferred certain valuable privileges, in perpetuity, + upon a corporation without requiring any compensation for the franchise. + The property thus alienated from public use had been paid for by the + people's money. In response to a vigorous push on an electric button, the + private secretary appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Send for Senator Downing. I must see him immediately.” + </p> + <p> + His Excellency thought, “How can the people's so-called representatives + give away the property of the people so indiscriminately? It would not do + to mention it, without proof, but I am convinced that all such public + robberies are for private gain. Ah, good-morning, Senator.” + </p> + <p> + Senator Downing was a short, heavily-built man, with dark hair, black + eyes, and a jaw and chin indicative of bull-dog pertinacity. + </p> + <p> + “In your bill, Senate 513, I notice that the railroad Company is not + called upon to pay for the great privilege conferred.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should they? It simply gives them a quick connection with tide-water, + and reduced transportation charges means lower prices.” + </p> + <p> + “How will prices be regulated?” was the Governor's query. + </p> + <p> + “As they always have been,” replied the Senator brusquely. “Supply and + demand—” + </p> + <p> + “And by combinations called trusts,” added the Governor. “Cannot some + provision be made by which the Company will pay a yearly rental? It will + reduce the burden of taxation just so much.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps if you recommend it, some attention will be given it, but I + should not care to prejudice my political standing by endorsing such an + amendment.” + </p> + <p> + “I will consider the question carefully,” said Quincy, wearily, as he laid + down the bill, and Senator Downing departed. + </p> + <p> + The next bill was what was called “a labour measure.” It gave members of + trade unions a right demanded by them, called “peaceful picketing;” in + other words, during a strike, the right to use argument, persuasion, in + fact any rightful inducement to keep a non-union man from working for the + “struck” firm or corporation. The bill had been passed by a majority of 48 + in the House, and by the narrow margin of one vote in the Senate. A tie + had been expected when the President of the Senate, who was a prominent + manufacturer was counted upon to kill the bill. If the Governor vetoed it, + the Senate would probably sustain the veto, throwing the greater + responsibility upon him, each member voting against the bill sheltering + himself behind the veto. Thus do partisans play politics with the head of + their party. While he was reading the bill the lieutenant-governor was + ushered in again. + </p> + <p> + “Downing has been talking with me about his bill. He says you are going to + veto it.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not say so. I asked him his reasons for turning over public + property for private use and gain, and he did not seem well-prepared to + answer me.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Evans replied, “The best reason, to my mind is, that the heaviest tax + payers, members of our party, are all in favour of the bill.” + </p> + <p> + “Are they numerous enough to elect a governor who will do their bidding?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not, but their money is powerful enough to do it”—he paused—“if + it becomes necessary.” + </p> + <p> + The Governor arose, and Mr. Evans, influenced by the action, did the same. + The two men faced each other. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Evans,” and the Governor seemed to increase in stature, “I fully + understand your last remark—if it becomes necessary. You shall have + an open field. I prize the great honour that has been conferred upon me by + placing me here, but I must confess I dislike the duties, circumscribed as + they are by personal and political influences. I can understand, now, why + a ruler wishes to be an autocrat. It is the only way in which he can make + his personality a part of his body. I shall not be a candidate for + re-election this autumn. I wish my personal freedom of action, and I prize + it more than fame or power.” + </p> + <p> + “May I mention your decision to the leaders of the party?” + </p> + <p> + “If you so desire. From this moment I am to be untrammelled except by my + official oath.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Evans took his leave, evidently pleased with a part of what he had + heard, and in a short time was closeted with some leading politicians in a + private room of a prominent hotel. + </p> + <p> + The Governor resumed his reading of the labour bill, but was aroused from + his contemplation of its provisions by the entrance of Mr. Amos Acton. Mr. + Acton was secretary of a manufacturer's association. He was tall and + spare. His hair was sandy in hue, and his mouth twitched nervously. + </p> + <p> + “Your Excellency, I came to see you about that picketing bill. If it + becomes a law our manufacturers will be driven from the State. They are + now seriously handicapped by the vigorous provisions of existing laws. I + trust your Excellency will not add to our present burdens.” + </p> + <p> + “I have read the bill, Mr. Acton. It seems conservative, with full + provision for the protection of life and property.” + </p> + <p> + “That's not the question. When Union men strike we must have the Non-Union + men to fill their places; but this bill says the Non-Union man shan't + work.” + </p> + <p> + “It says the Union man may persuade him, peacefully, not to work.” + </p> + <p> + “We all know what that means. If he does work, he will be called a 'scab' + and his family will be ostracized in every possible way.” + </p> + <p> + “It is hard to draw the line,” said the governor. “You say, or imply, that + every man has a right to work for whoever will employ him. Granted. But do + you always give him work when he wants it? Do you pay him what he asks, or + do you not fix the rate of wage? You must realize the fact that collective + bargaining has superseded dealing with the individual.” + </p> + <p> + “Some of us do not allow that,” said Mr. Acton. + </p> + <p> + “I know it, and that causes the difficulty. Your relations with your + employees should be based upon trade agreements, legalized and strongly + adhered to by both sides.” + </p> + <p> + “I have just come from a meeting of leading manufacturers,” said Mr. + Acton, “and they wished me to express to you their urgent request, I may + say solicitation, that you will veto this bill.” + </p> + <p> + After Mr. Acton's departure, Quincy rang for his secretary, to whom he + delivered the papers containing his official decisions. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Williams was renominated for the position that he had so long and so + ably filled. + </p> + <p> + As members of “The Industrial Expansion Commission” nine manufacturers + were named, one for each of the leading industries of the State, chosen + independent of known or presumed political affiliations; Mr. Collingwood's + name was not among them. + </p> + <p> + A vigorous veto of the bill giving a private corporation control of public + property was sent to the Senate. + </p> + <p> + The “peaceful picketing” bill was signed. + </p> + <p> + The door opened, and a pretty face looked in. + </p> + <p> + “Come in, Maude—I've just finished.” As the secretary withdrew, + keeping his eyes fixed on the governor's youngest sister, she advanced + slowly into the room. The door closed automatically and Maude tip-toed to + her brother's side, returning his welcoming kiss. + </p> + <p> + “What's his name?” she asked, pointing towards the self-closing door. + </p> + <p> + “My secretary? Harry Merry,” said Quincy, “but the press boys all call him + Sober Harry.” + </p> + <p> + “I think he's just splendid,” said the impulsive Maude—“such + beautiful eyes! But that isn't what I came for. I went up to your house + and just brought Alice down to ours, and she told me all about the fine + time you had and your speech. Will it be printed?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Sylvester Chisholm, editor of the Fernborough Gazette was there and a + faithful transcript of my feeble remarks will, no doubt, appear in his + paper.” + </p> + <p> + “Feeble!” said Maude contemptuously. “Have you been doing feeble things + since you came back?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Maude, I have done some very strenuous things, and I shall be glad to + get home to my family.” + </p> + <p> + Maude repeated, seriously, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “To make a happy fireside clime + For weans and wife + Is the true pathos, and sublime, + Of human life. +</pre> + <p> + “But you are not going home,” she continued,—“you are invited to + dinner with your respected pa and ma and your two young—” + </p> + <p> + “And beautiful sisters,” added Quincy with a laugh. “I'll come, but you + must play the latest popular songs for me, and Alice will sing 'Sweet, + Sweet Home,' and perhaps I can forget the cares of State—until + to-morrow, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + Maude flounced out of the door tossing a kiss from the tips of her + fingers, to the astonishment of Sober Harry who had just entered, and who + wished, from the bottom of his heart, that the flying salutation had been + for him. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. — A VACATION AT FERNBOROUGH + </h2> + <p> + The Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer did not dine at home that evening. + Quincy's mother said that he had gone to Salem but would return later. + After dinner the little company of five repaired to the parlour. Maude + sang negro melodies despite the protests of her mother, and her sister + Florence's assertion that they were only sung at cheap variety shows. + </p> + <p> + “How do you know that?” cried Maude. “Did Reginald tell you?” + </p> + <p> + “Who is Reginald?” asked Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Maude, tossing her head, “he's Florence's latest. She met him + night before last—” + </p> + <p> + “Maude!” Her sister's voice was full of angry protest. “Don't say another + word.” + </p> + <p> + “Such matters,” said her mother mildly, “are not suitable subjects for + general conversation. There is a privacy about them which should be + respected.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll leave Florence out of it, then,” said Maude. “I met him at Mrs. + Dulton's reception. His name is Capt. Reginald Hornaby, and he's the + fourth son of Sir Wilfred Hornaby, of Hornaby Hook, Hornaby, England—don't + you know,” and she winked spitefully at Florence. + </p> + <p> + “He told me all that himself,” she continued, “so I know it must be so. + Won't it be nice to have a place in England where we can make ourselves at + home?” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Ella will be glad to see you at any time,” remarked Quincy. “Why + don't you go back with her? She'd be delighted.” + </p> + <p> + “I would but for one thing,” replied Maude. “I'm afraid I might fall in + love with an Englishman, and one title in the family is enough.” + </p> + <p> + Alice interposed: “Aunt Ella has an English husband with a title.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Maude, “but he <i>has</i> his title, while Reggie is four + blocks away from the fire.” + </p> + <p> + “You're as big a tease as ever,” and Quincy drew his favourite sister + towards him. “Don't plague Flossie any more. Think of your possible fate. + You may marry a Jap.” + </p> + <p> + “I know a lovely little Jap, now. His name is Hioshato Konuka. Oh, Alice, + won't you stay all night? When are you going on your vacation, Quincy?” + </p> + <p> + “In about ten days, if the legislature is prorogued by that time.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” asked his mother. + </p> + <p> + “Alice wishes to go to Fernborough for a week or two, and then we shall go + to Nantucket.” + </p> + <p> + “Will the Earl and Sir Stuart pay us a visit?” was the next question. + </p> + <p> + “I invited them in your name, mother, but Linda and Aunt Ella were anxious + to get back to their yacht at Nantucket. They will sail from there to New + York and take the steamer home next week.” + </p> + <p> + “Is the Countess of Sussex' sister-in-law, the Lady Elfrida, married yet?” + asked Florence. + </p> + <p> + “I understand she is engaged,” Quincy replied. + </p> + <p> + Maude was incorrigible. “Reggie told me she was practising deep breathing, + owing to the length of the Episcopal marriage service.” + </p> + <p> + “Maude,” said her mother sharply, “if you were not of age I should send + you to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going. Alice, while Quincy runs up to the house to say that you are + not coming home, you come to my room. I've some pretty things to show + you.” + </p> + <p> + As Quincy walked up Walnut Street, he saw a bright light in Dr. Culver's + window. He rang the bell, and the doctor himself came to the door. + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, Quincy? Come in.” + </p> + <p> + “Paul, how are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Fine as silk. Business is good, but I'm doing my best to keep the + undertakers out of a job. Have you read the evening papers?” + </p> + <p> + “I seldom do. I prefer to wait until morning.” + </p> + <p> + “The papers are rapping you hard for signing that picketing bill, but the + labour men are delighted. You'll run ahead of your ticket sure next fall.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not going to run. One year is enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Will Evans get the nomination? I won't vote for him. How are your wife's + eyes?” + </p> + <p> + “All right. She has better vision, now, than I have. We owe you a great + debt of gratitude for sending us to Dr. Tillotson.” + </p> + <p> + “He's a wonder. He told me the other day that he is going to cure what is + called split retina, which has never been done.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy bethought himself of the message he had to deliver and made a + hurried departure, first inviting the Doctor to dine with him the next + day. On his return to the Beacon Street house, he found his father at home + reading an evening paper. + </p> + <p> + “Quincy, I see that you vetoed that railroad bill.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I did. I saw no reason why public property should be given to a + private corporation without compensation.” + </p> + <p> + “The public would be compensated indirectly. I am a large stockholder in + the railroad, and, to speak plainly, I drew that bill myself. I met + Senator Downing and he says the bill will be passed over your veto.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot help that, father. I did my duty as I saw it. If the bill + becomes a law without my signature, I cannot be blamed for future + developments.” + </p> + <p> + The Hon. Nathaniel dropped the subject. “Quincy, I have purchased a house + in the country and shall go there in a few days. Won't you and your wife + pay us a short visit?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, we will. We are going to Fernborough for a few days and then + will drop in on you, before we go to Nantucket.” + </p> + <p> + By the look on his father's face Quincy knew that he was disappointed. The + Hon. Nathaniel never liked “to play second fiddle.” Quincy hastened to + rectify his mistake. “We can put it the other way round, just as well. + We'll come and see you before we go to Fernborough.” + </p> + <p> + “That will please me better, but, of course, you must not do it if your + wife objects.” + </p> + <p> + “She will not object. She is upstairs, now, with Maude. Of course, the + girls are going.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and I have invited Captain Hornaby, a very fine young man. But, I + must retire. I have a case in court to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy found both commendation and criticism in the morning papers. His + face wore its usual genial expression as he entered the elevator, and + Robert's “good morning” was particularly cheerful. + </p> + <p> + The Governor's first caller was Mr. Acton. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” he began, “that your approval of the picketing bill is + receiving universal condemnation.” + </p> + <p> + “Hardly,” was the reply. “Two papers and the Governor sustain it and the + labour press and unions are yet to be heard from.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall endeavour to secure a repeal of the bill next year. In the + meantime, we shall carry the matter to the courts.” + </p> + <p> + “May the cause of truth and justice prevail in the end” was Quincy's + comment, and Mr. Acton took his departure in an uncomfortable state of + mind. + </p> + <p> + The day wore away. At three o'clock a vote was taken in the Senate and the + so-called Downing bill was passed over the veto. Not so, in the House, for + one newspaper, read by nearly all the working men, had so strongly pointed + out the nature of the “grab” proposed by the bill, that the State House + was besieged by its opponents, and the veto was sustained by a narrow + margin. + </p> + <p> + About five o'clock, Mr. Evans and Senator Downing were dining in a private + room at a hotel. “So, the Governor won't run again,” said the Senator. + </p> + <p> + “He so informed me yesterday. He may change his mind.” + </p> + <p> + “You're not satisfied with things as they are,” remarked the Senator. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied the lieutenant-governor, “I'm disgusted with the Williams + matter. When I'm governor, I'll request his resignation.” + </p> + <p> + “And when you're governor, we'll put my bill through. Do you know the + Governor's father is one of our heaviest stockholders? We'll have our way + yet.” + </p> + <p> + Within a week the legislature was prorogued. The House had a mock session, + during which partisanship, and private victories and defeats were + forgotten, for the time at least, and the fun was jolly and hearty. + </p> + <p> + Ben Ropes, the funny man of the House, but a member of the minority, + convulsed all by announcing his candidacy for the governorship, with the + understanding that no money was to be spent, no speakers engaged, the + question to be settled by joint debates between the opposing candidates. + Every member of the House arose, and amid wild cheers, pledged him their + support. + </p> + <p> + The Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer's estate at Redford comprised some eighty + acres. Within five minutes' walk of the house was a sheet of water + covering fully fifty acres known as Simmons' Pond. On the farther side of + the pond were a few cottages and near them a tent indicating the presence + of a camping party. + </p> + <p> + “Next year,” said the Hon. Nathaniel to Quincy as they stood on the shore + of the pond, “I am going to buy some twenty acres on the other side of the + pond. Then I shall own all the land surrounding it, and my estate will be + worthy of the name which I have given it—Wideview—for nobody's + else property will obstruct my view in any direction. I shall name this,” + and he pointed to the pond, “Florence Lake after my eldest daughter. What + do you think of Captain Hornaby?” + </p> + <p> + Quincy hesitated—“He's a typical Englishman—healthy, hearty, + but with that English conceit that always grates on my nerves.” + </p> + <p> + “Are we Americans free from it?” his father asked. “To my mind, conceit is + often but the indication of self-conscious power. Its possessors never + acknowledge defeat I have always had that feeling in my law practice.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy changed the subject, “What have you in the boat house?” + </p> + <p> + “Canoes—three canoes. I have ordered a large row-boat but it is not + ready yet. When I own the 'lake' and the land beyond, my residence will + stand in the centre of my estate. I shall retire from practice in a few + years, and spend my last days here. We all have to go back to the soil and + I am going to make my progress gradual.” + </p> + <p> + “Won't you find it rather dull here after so long an active life in the + city?” + </p> + <p> + “Not dull, but quiet,” was the dignified response. “I shall pass my time + surveying the beauties of Nature to which, to my discredit, I have been so + long oblivious; then, I shall commune with the great minds in literature, + and read the latest law reports.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy wondered whether Nature, literature, or law would be his father's + most appreciated relaxation, but inclined to the latter. + </p> + <p> + The next morning Maude exclaimed: “Let's have some fun. What shall we do?” + </p> + <p> + “There are three canoes in the boat house,” said Quincy, “why not a row on + the pond?” + </p> + <p> + “Fine!” cried Maude. “Quincy, you are a man of ideas.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Hornaby had asked Florence to go with him and she had willingly + consented. This emboldened Harry Merry, who had come down from the State + House with the Governor's correspondence, and he, rather bashfully, + requested Maude's company in the third canoe. + </p> + <p> + “Can you swim?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I learned when a boy,” said Harry. + </p> + <p> + “All right. I don't believe the style has changed much since then. I + wouldn't go with you unless you could swim. It would be too great a + responsibility.” + </p> + <p> + Harry thought to himself that he would be willing to swim ashore with such + a “responsibility” in his arms. + </p> + <p> + Maude turned to the Captain: “Can you swim, Captain Hornaby?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, Miss Maude. We Englishmen are all sea dogs, don't you know?” + </p> + <p> + “But Englishmen are drowned sometimes,” said Maude. “How about Admiral + Kempenfelt and the Royal George? See Fourth Class Reader for full + particulars in verse.” + </p> + <p> + The three couples were soon afloat—Quincy and Alice, Captain Hornaby + and Florence, Harry and Maude. + </p> + <p> + “Let's have a race,” cried Maude. “To that big white rock down there,” and + she pointed to the farther end of the pond. Harry took the lead with + short, swift strokes, but the long, steady paddling of Captain Hornaby + gained on him steadily, and to Maude's disgust the Captain reached the + rock first, Harry being a close second, and Quincy a late third. + </p> + <p> + Maude was excited. “Let's race back to the boat house. A prize for the + first one who reaches it.” + </p> + <p> + “What will be the prize?” asked the Captain. + </p> + <p> + Maude saw that Harry needed encouragement. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't anything with me but kisses and only one of them to spare.” + </p> + <p> + Harry shut his teeth with a snap. He was going to win that race. + </p> + <p> + As they were nearing the boat house Harry was in the lead, the Captain + close behind, with Quincy following leisurely. This was a young people's + race—married men barred. For some unexplainable reason Captain + Hornaby tried to cross Harry's bow. The project was ill-timed and + unsuccessful. Harry had just made a spurt and his canoe went forward so + fast that the Captain's boat, instead of clearing his, struck it full in + the side and Harry and Maude were thrown into the water. Florence, who + really loved her sister despite their many quarrels, gave a loud scream + and stood up in the boat. Her action was fatal to its equilibrium, and the + Captain and she were soon in the water's embrace. + </p> + <p> + The accident occurred about two hundred feet from the shore where the + water was deep. Captain Hornaby grasped Florence and struck out for the + boat house float. She had fainted and did not impede him by struggling. + </p> + <p> + Harry had essayed to bear Maude ashore, but she broke away from him and + swam vigorously towards land, Harry in pursuit. + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry, Alice,” said Quincy. “They are not in danger.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Quincy, suppose it had been our boat.” + </p> + <p> + “If it had been,” said he, “you would be as safe in my arms as Florence is + in those of the Captain, providing you did not struggle.” + </p> + <p> + Harry exerted his full strength and skill to overtake Maude, but she, + flushed with the excitement, her thin costume clinging close to her form, + reached the bank some twenty feet ahead of him. + </p> + <p> + “I had to do it,” she cried, “and I suppose I must deliver the prize by + kissing myself.” + </p> + <p> + Then her exuberant nature gave way, and she sank helpless to the ground. + Harry did not envy the Captain who was carrying Florence in his arms, for + was not Maude in his? + </p> + <p> + In the evening as they sat upon the veranda watching the dying glories of + the sun, Quincy said to Maude, “Why didn't you let Harry bring you + ashore?” + </p> + <p> + “The idea of it,” she exclaimed. “And be under obligations to him—not + on your life. Think of poor Florence. If that Captain asks her to marry + him she must accept because he saved her life.” + </p> + <p> + Later, when the sun had set, and the moonbeams silvered the surface of the + pond, Harry mustered up courage to ask Maude what she meant when she said + it was too great a responsibility to go out canoeing with a man who + couldn't swim. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I meant if you couldn't swim it might be a great job for me to get + you ashore. I knew I could take care of myself all right.” + </p> + <p> + At the other end of the veranda the Hon. Nathaniel and Captain Hornaby + were engaged in conversation. The Captain was not asking the Hon. + Nathaniel for the hand of his daughter Florence but, instead, for a loan, + giving as his reason that when he threw off his coat his letters of credit + to the value of five hundred pounds went to the bottom of the pond. + </p> + <p> + “I shall have to write home to my brother, the Earl, for other letters, + and it will take some time for them to reach me.” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “'IF YOU WILL GIVE ME YOUR NOTE AT THIRTY DAYS I WILL LET + YOU HAVE THE FIVE HUNDRED.'”} + </p> + <p> + “You are at liberty to remain here until you receive word,” said the + cautious Hon. Nathaniel. + </p> + <p> + “I appreciate your great kindness,” said the Captain, “but I must visit + New York and Chicago at an early day.” + </p> + <p> + “How much will supply your present need?” asked the lawyer. + </p> + <p> + “I had expected my trip would cost me at least five hundred dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “If you will give me your note at thirty days I will let you have the five + hundred. I will bring it down to-morrow night.” + </p> + <p> + On the second day following, the Captain took an apparently very reluctant + departure. + </p> + <p> + A week later Quincy and Alice were in Boston making preparations for their + trip to Fernborough. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to buy the tickets this morning, Alice—we must have + seats in a parlour car. How shall we go—to Cottonton or Eastborough + Centre?” + </p> + <p> + “To Eastborough surely,” said Alice. “We will drive over the old road. Do + you remember the day that you took me to see Aunt Heppy Putnam after her + husband died?” + </p> + <p> + “Alice, every day I passed at Mason's Corner near you was like Heaven to + me, and, now, for a week or more I mean to live in Paradise again. What a + joy it will be to see the old scenes and faces, hear the familiar voices, + and remember the happy days we have had there.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid, Quincy, some of the charm has departed. Things have changed, + and, in spite of our resolves, we change with them.” + </p> + <p> + When they alighted at Eastborough Centre, Ellis Smith stood there with his + carriage. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do, Ellis, and how's your brother Abbott? Will you take us to + the Hawkins House?” said Quincy. Turning to his wife, he added, “Mrs. + Rawkins is a good cook—her rooms are large and clean. We can go a + visiting during the day and have quiet times by ourselves when we wish.” + His wife nodded her acquiescence with the plan proposed. + </p> + <p> + “Ellis, can you handle those two big trunks alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Guv'nor. I'm a leetle bit heavier built than Abbott.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy drew Alice's attention to the Eagle Hotel. + </p> + <p> + “There's where we hatched the plot that downed Mr. Obadiah Strout, when he + was an enemy of mine. Say, Ellis, drive up by the Poor House, through the + Willows, and then back down the Centre Road to Mason Street. That will + carry us by some of the old landmarks.” + </p> + <p> + As they passed the Poor House they saw “pussy” Mr. Waters, sitting on the + piazza and Sam standing in the barn doorway. + </p> + <p> + “There's where my Uncle James died,” said Quincy. “Did I ever tell you, + Alice, that he left some money and it went to found the Sawyer Public + Library? He made me promise not to tell that he left any, and it has + always troubled me to receive a credit that really was not my due.” + </p> + <p> + “But you could have kept the money, couldn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes. He gave it to me outright.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I think you are entitled to full credit for the good use you made of + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Looking at it that way, perhaps you are right, Alice. Here are the + Willows.” + </p> + <p> + “What a lonely place.” + </p> + <p> + “You didn't think so, Alice, when we used to drive through here.” + </p> + <p> + “I was blind then and couldn't see except with your eyes. You didn't say + it was lonesome.” + </p> + <p> + “How could I say so, when I was with you?” + </p> + <p> + Alice squeezed his hand lovingly. + </p> + <p> + As they turned into Mason Street, Quincy exclaimed: “There's where Uncle + Ike's chicken coop stood until he set it on fire.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he set it on fire?” cried Alice. + </p> + <p> + “Now I've let out another promised secret. Can you see 'Zeke's house + ahead?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, how inviting the old place looks. I'm glad Hiram Maxwell has it, for + we can sit in the old parlour and sing duets as we used to.” + </p> + <p> + “Now we're going up Obed's Hill,” said Quincy. “Deacon Mason's house looks + as neat as ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember when Huldah Mason broke her arm, Quincy?” + </p> + <p> + “Do not remind me of that, Alice. I was never in love with her, but no one + could help liking her. There's the grocery store in which I am a silent + partner”—he paused a moment—“and here we are at the Hawkins + House.” + </p> + <p> + As Ellis Smith reined up, the front door was opened and Mrs. Hawkins came + out to meet her guests. “I got your letter, an' I know'd it was you. How + be ye both? Seems like old times. Come right in the parlour. I've got the + curtains down so as to keep it cool,” and the delighted woman led the way + into the house. In the hallway, she screamed, “Jonas! Jonas! Hurry up and + pick those chickens. Guv'nor Sawyer and Alice are here.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. — THE HAWKINS HOUSE + </h2> + <p> + The converting of Mrs. Hawkins' boarding house into a hotel had been due + to two causes: First, the thrift and economy of the lady herself, which + had enabled her to put by a good sum in the bank. This she expended in + building an ell with extra sleeping rooms, painting the structure cream + colour with brown trimmings, and replacing old furniture with that of + modern make. This latter, she confessed within a year, was a great + mistake, for the new chairs became rickety, the castors would not hold in + the bed posts, the bureau drawers became unmanageable, and the rooms, as + she expressed it, had a “second-hand” appearance. Then it was that the old + mahogany furniture, that had been relegated to the attic, was brought + down, furbished up, and restored to its original place. When Quincy + entered the room which he had formerly occupied, it did not seem possible + that five years had elapsed. + </p> + <p> + The second cause that had led Mrs. Hawkins to change the small and modest + sign—“Rooms and Board”—which had been in the front window for + years, for a large swinging sign over the front door—“Hawkins House”—having + large gold letters on a blue ground—was the rapid growth of the + town. Many new mills had been erected in the neighbouring city of + Cottonton. The operatives being unable to obtain suitable accommodations + in the city, had come to Fernborough to live, where they could have + gardens, fresh air, and playgrounds for their children. Fernborough became + to Cottonton what Methuen is to Lawrence. Mrs. Hawkins was democratic, but + shirt-sleeves and Prince Albert coats did not look well together, so she + had turned what had been her sitting room into a private dining room, and + it was here that what she called her “star boarders” were served. + </p> + <p> + By the time Quincy and Alice had opened their trunks, and distributed the + contents in the capacious closet and deep, roomy bureau drawers, the + cheerful tones of the dinner bell were heard, and they descended to the + private room. + </p> + <p> + They were its only occupants. + </p> + <p> + “I thought as how you might be hungry after so long a ride an' so I just + hurried Jonas up so you could begin afore the crowd came in. I don't + introduce folks now I run a hotel. If they gets acquainted it's their + lookout not mine,” and Mrs. Hawkins and Olive brought in the fare from the + adjoining kitchen. + </p> + <p> + Such a meal for hungry people! Lamb broth, roast chicken, yeast biscuit, + potatoes, string beans, cucumbers, lettuce, berry pie, blackberries, + currants, frosted cake, with tea, coffee, or cocoa. + </p> + <p> + “What does she charge?” asked Alice in a whisper when they were alone. + </p> + <p> + “A dollar a day for room and board—three square meals for board.” + </p> + <p> + After dinner they went into the parlour, where Mrs. Hawkins joined them. + </p> + <p> + “I jest told Jonas he must help Olive wash the dishes to-day, for I hain't + seen ye for so long I'm just dyin' to have a talk with yer, 'cause I + s'pose you'll eat and run while yer here, you know so many folks.” + </p> + <p> + “We haven't much to tell about ourselves,” said Quincy. “What we want to + know is how Fernborough folks are getting along.” + </p> + <p> + “Wall, I s'pos'd you'd like to hear what's goin' on 'round here, an' + p'raps I can tell yer some things that other folks mightn't mention, + 'cause they'd forgot it, or p'raps wouldn't want to tell. Is that cheer + comfortable, Alice? I s'pose I ought to say Misses Guv'nor Sawyer, but it + don't come nat'ral, I've known yer so long.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall always be Alice to my good friend Mrs. Hawkins and her daughter + Mandy.” + </p> + <p> + “Speakin' o' Mandy, you know she's got two little boys—twins, one + named after Deacon Mason, and t'other after your husband's friend Obadiah + Strout, ther perfesser—and she's got a little girl, nigh on ter two + years old named Marthy after me—but they don't call her Marthy—it's + allus Mattie. These new-fangled names fuss me all up. If Mary and Marthy + were good enough for the Lord's friends, I don't know what he'd think to + hear 'em called Mamie and Mattie. + </p> + <p> + “Speakin' o' names, there's my Jonas, which is same as Jonah I s'pose. + Anyway it fits him to a T, for he's a reg'lar Jonah if there ever was one, + which our minister, Mr. Gay, you'll meet him at dinner-time to-morrow, + says he's doubtful about. + </p> + <p> + “If a whale swallowed my Jonas it couldn't keep him down, for he's just <i>satirated</i> + with tobacco smoke—he says he has to puff it on the hens and + chickens to kill the varmints, and I should think it would. Do you smoke, + Mr. Sawyer?” + </p> + <p> + “Cigars, occasionally. I am not an habitual smoker.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, old Mr. Trask told me as how pipe smoke wouldn't colour lace + curtains same as cigars do. Now you jes' smoke all you want to up in your + room an' I'll see if it washes out.” + </p> + <p> + “Alice dislikes smoke, and I never use tobacco in her presence—so + your lace curtains won't suffer.” + </p> + <p> + “Wall, I'm kinder sorry for I wanted to see if Doctor Trask knew what he + was talkin' about. When I'm rich I'll have three doctors and two on 'em + will have to agree afore I'll take any of their pizen. I jes' remembered + that the new minister, Mr. Gay, smokes. I'll put some lace curtains up in + his room. You ain't seen him yet. He parts his hair in the middle. The + gals are all crazy 'bout him. I like his preachin' putty well, but he + don't use near as much brimstone as old Mr. Howe does.” + </p> + <p> + “Is Mr. Howe's son going to be a clergyman?” Alice asked. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hawkins laughed raucously. + </p> + <p> + “The Lord save us, I guess not! Why Emmanuel has gone and married a play + actress—and isn't she some? She rides a hoss just like a man does, + and the way she jumps fences and rides hur-rah-ti-cut down the street + would jes' make your hair stand on end. She's away now—I wish you + could see her. Of course you're goin' over to the store.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, certainly,” said Quincy. “I'm a special partner, you know. I shall + call on Mrs. Strout. You remember the party at Deacon Mason's, Alice—I + danced with Miss Bessie Chisholm—” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hawkins couldn't wait, “Yes, an' she made the perfesser just the kind + of wife he needed. She bosses the house... for I heard her tell him one + day that if he didn't like her cookin' he might have his meals at the + store—an' she goes to dances with her brother Sylvester. Some folks + think she's a high-flyer—but I don't blame her seein' as how she has + that old blowhard for a husband—which is true, if he is your + pardner.” + </p> + <p> + Alice asked if the Strouts had any children. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they've got a little boy, an' he's a chip of the old block. His + father brought him here one day and he pulled the cloth of'n that table + there and broke a chiny vase that I paid fifty cents for, and his father + never said a word about buyin' me another.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope that Mr. Strout and Hiram get along together well,” said Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “Hiram's a good feller. Mandy did well when she got him, but she has you + to thank for it, Mr. Sawyer. If you hadn't set him up in that grocery + store I'm afraid he'd be chorin' now. You remember Mrs. Crowley? She jes' + loves them children, but Mandy's afeerd she's going to lose her. She's got + a beau—a feller named Dan Sweeney, and his hair is so red you could + light a match by techin' it. He works for your brother 'Zeke. He's a good + enuf feller, but he and Strout don't hitch horses. You see he was in the + same regiment with the Perfesser an' he knows all about him, same as you + found out, and Strout don't talk big afore him. The fact is, the Perfesser + hain't many friends. There was Abner Stiles. They two used to be as thick + as molasses, but since Strout wouldn't give him the job in the grocery + that he'd promised him, Abner's gone back on him.” + </p> + <p> + “Does Uncle Ike board with Mandy now?” Alice knew that he did, but wished + Mrs. Hawkins' view of the strange doings of her uncle. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he's there—goin' on eighty-two and chipper as a squirrel. He's + got religion Mandy says, and so many kinds that she don't know which one + he's got the most of.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy looked at his watch. “Mrs. Hawkins, we're going up to Ezekiel's + house. We shall stay to supper, but will get back before you lock up—ten + o'clock, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “No such hours in a hotel. We're allus open till twelve, and sometimes all + night—when it pays. It's a hard life, but you know what's goin' on + an' that's considruble for a woman who's tied up in the house as I am.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. — 'ZEKE PETTINGILL'S FARM + </h2> + <p> + Quincy had intended to drive to his brother-in-law's house, but Alice + preferred to walk as the distance was so short. The Hawkins House was on + Mason Street. A short walk brought them to Mason Square. In plain view + were the Town Hall and the Chessman Free Public Library. + </p> + <p> + “I always thought it was foolishness to name these streets after me,” said + Quincy, as they stood on the corner of Sawyer Street. “There's Adams + Street back of the Town Hall and Quincy Street on the other side.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't agree with you,” said Alice. “I would rather have a street named + after me than a monument erected to my memory.” + </p> + <p> + At Putnam Square they turned to the left into Pettingill Street and soon + reached her brother's house. Huldah saw them coming and ran down the path + to meet them. + </p> + <p> + “Why, when did you come, and where are your things? You are surely going + to stay with us.” + </p> + <p> + “Our headquarters are at the Hawkins House,” said Quincy. “We have been in + town but a few hours and you have the first visit.” + </p> + <p> + “I am so disappointed you aren't to be with us,” and Huldah's face showed + the feeling she had expressed. + </p> + <p> + “You won't be when I give you our reasons,” Quincy replied. “Mrs. Putnam + died in this house, and Alice has such a vivid recollection of her last + day on earth—” + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” said Huldah, “but you must come and see us every day.” + </p> + <p> + “Where's Ezekiel?” asked Alice. + </p> + <p> + “Getting in his last load of hay—about sixty tons this year. We only + had thirty a year ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Where's my namesake—Quincy Adams Pettingill?” + </p> + <p> + “He goes every day to see his grandpa and grandma. Abner will be here with + him soon.” + </p> + <p> + When they reached the piazza, Quincy took a good view of the farm. What a + contrast to the condition it had been in, when occupied by the Putnams! + Then everything had been neglected—now garden, field, and orchard + showed a high state of cultivation, and the house and outbuildings were in + good repair and freshly painted. Inside, the careful attention of a + competent housekeeper was apparent. Huldah Pettingill was a finer looking + woman than Huldah Mason had been, but Quincy had never forgotten how + pretty she looked the day she lay in bed with the plaster cast on her + broken arm—the result of the accident for which he had taken the + blame belonging to another. + </p> + <p> + They had just sat down in the little parlour when cries of “Mamma” were + heard outside and four year old Quincy Adams Pettingill burst into the + room followed closely by Abner Stiles. + </p> + <p> + “He don't mind me no more'n a woodchuck would,” said Abner—then his + eyes fell on Quincy, who rose to greet him. + </p> + <p> + “Why, if it ain't”—but words failed him as Quincy gave his hand a + hearty grasp. + </p> + <p> + “This is the first time I ever shook hands with a guv'nor,” said Abner. “I + didn't know you was going to shake hands all round the night of the show + an' I went home.” He looked at his right hand, rubbed it softly with his + left, and then remarked: “I sha'n't wash that hand for a couple o' days if + I can help it.” + </p> + <p> + His hearers laughed, for his words were accentuated by the old-time grin + that had pleased Obadiah Strout on some occasions, but on others had + raised his ire to an explosive point. + </p> + <p> + “Are father and mother at home?” asked Huldah. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, both on 'em. Susie Barker's been helpin' her to-day, and the Dekin's + wife thinks o' keepin' her reg'lar.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll have them come to supper,” said Huldah. “Abner, hitch up the black + mare into the low phaeton and bring them up here. Don't tell them who's + here, but tell them that I say they must come.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I declare!” All looked up and saw Ezekiel standing in the doorway. + He wore overalls and thick boots, his sleeves were rolled up, showing his + brawny arms with muscles like whip-cords. His face was brown, but his + beard was neatly trimmed, and his eyes bright. He was a picture of robust, + healthy manhood, and showed what he was,—a hard-working, independent + New England farmer. Alice sprang into his arms and received a resounding + smack. One hand grasped Quincy's while the other encircled his dainty + wife's waist, and he drew her towards him. + </p> + <p> + “You have a fine farm,” said Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “About as good as they make them,” 'Zeke replied. “I've a good market for + all I can raise. Strout and Maxwell buy a great deal of garden truck, and + I sell considerable to Mrs. Hawkins direct. What I have left we eat or + give away.” + </p> + <p> + Alice had taken young Quincy on her lap. He became communicative. “I've + got a grandpa and grandma and Uncle Abner.” + </p> + <p> + “Abner isn't your uncle,” said Alice. “I'm your Aunt Alice, and that is + your Uncle Quincy.” + </p> + <p> + Ezekiel laughed. “You can't convince him but that Abner's his uncle. Abner + comes after him every afternoon and takes him down to the Deacon's house + and that gives Huldy a good chance to do my mending.” + </p> + <p> + The sound of carriage wheels indicated new arrivals, and Huldah went to + the door to meet her father and mother. + </p> + <p> + “Have you got callers?” asked Mrs. Mason. “I don't think I'll go in. I + didn't dress up, but came just as I was.” + </p> + <p> + “And I never saw you looking better,” said Quincy, stepping into the entry + to meet them. + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad to see you again, Mr. Sawyer,” and the Deacon's grasp was a firm + one. “I didn't get up to the Town Hall that night, for I didn't feel + first-rate and Sophia didn't want to go alone, but Abner told me what you + did and said, and I reckon added a little on his own account.” + </p> + <p> + Abner appeared in the doorway. “I've put up the mare, Mr. Pettingill. Want + me for anything more, Dekin?” + </p> + <p> + “You can go home and help Susie,” said Mrs. Mason. + </p> + <p> + When Abner had gone, the Deacon chuckled and said, “Nothing could please + Abner better than to take supper with Susie and pass the evening in her + company. He's more'n forty and she's only twenty, but such hitch-ups ain't + uncommon nowadays.” + </p> + <p> + “That is what they call a December and May marriage,” remarked Alice. + </p> + <p> + “Not quite as bad as that,” said the Deacon. “I should say about October + and March.” + </p> + <p> + It was a jolly company that sat down to a well-filled table that evening. + Quincy's first coming to town, and his exciting experiences during his + four months' residence at Mason's Corner, formed the principal topics of + conversation, and Alice appreciated more fully than ever her husband's + persistency, which had shown itself as strongly in doing good to others as + it had in manifesting love for herself. + </p> + <p> + When they reached the Hawkins House Mrs. Hawkins was on the watch for + them. + </p> + <p> + “There's a young man here to see you, Mr. Sawyer. He came on the train to + Cottonton and my man Andrew brought him over. I told him you wouldn't be + home till late and I sent him off to bed. Was that all right?” + </p> + <p> + “I can tell better,” said Quincy, “when I find out who he is and what he + wants.” + </p> + <p> + “He said his name was Gerry or Ferry or something like that. He's kind of + bashful, I 'magine.” + </p> + <p> + “It's Merry,” Quincy exclaimed. “Something has turned up at the State + House, but it will keep till morning.” + </p> + <p> + As they were ascending the stairs, Mrs. Hawkins called out, “Oh, Mr. + Sawyer, there was a letter came for you. It's up in your room.” + </p> + <p> + It was from Maude. “Let us see what that volatile sister of mine has to + say. Something very important or she wouldn't write.” As he opened the + note sheet, he turned to his wife. “Shall I read it aloud?” + </p> + <p> + “I should love to hear it.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * * * * * +</pre> + <p> + “MY ABSENT RELATIVE: You will be delighted to hear that I have found + Captain Hornaby's missing coat and wallet. I was out in the new boat when + I saw something on the bottom of the pond. You know the water is as clear + as glass. It wasn't very deep and I fished the coat up with an oar. I gave + it to father and he examined the wallet with apparently great interest. + Perhaps he thought there was some money in it, but there wasn't. There + were some visiting cards bearing the name Col. Arthur Spencer, but nary a + red. Father is trying to find out who the Colonel is. I think father + loaned the Captain some money—don't you? Now that we have a real + live boat, no more slippery canoes for me. I hope you and Alice are having + a fine time—of course you will on your old stamping ground. + </p> + <p> + “I don't find any fault, because I'm so young and of so little importance, + but it seems funny that nobody ever invited me to visit Fernborough. + Please don't consider this a bid for an invite, for I won't come. Your + neglected sister, + </p> + <h3> + “MAUDE.” + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * * * * * +</pre> + <p> + “Is it possible?” cried Alice, “that Maude has never been here?” + </p> + <p> + “It is a lamentable fact.” + </p> + <p> + “She won't come now.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll fetch her,—hand-cuffed, if necessary.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy was up early to learn Merry's errand. A request had come from the + Governor of Colorado for the extradition of a Pole named Ivan Wolaski, who + was accused of being concerned in a dynamite explosion in a Colorado mine. + </p> + <p> + “Have you looked into the case, Harry?” + </p> + <p> + “Somewhat. I think it is part of a political feud.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy made preparation for an immediate departure. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Hawkins, I must go to Boston at once with Mr. Merry. Will you have + Andrew get a team ready for me? I will leave it at the Eagle Hotel. I know + the way home.” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to,” said she. “You've druv it times enough.” + </p> + <p> + “What will you do with yourself all day, Alice? I must go to the State + House on business, but I'll be back by six o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + “If I were home I'd have my horse saddled and have a ride out to the + Arboretum or Chestnut Hill.” + </p> + <p> + “They've no saddle horses here, unfortunately. I'll tell you what to do. + After dinner go down to Mandy Maxwell's and see her and the children, and + have a talk with Uncle Ike. I'll be there in time for supper, tell Mandy.” + </p> + <p> + When Quincy went down stairs he found that Mrs. Hawkins had gone out to + the stable to give Andrew directions about the team. + </p> + <p> + Quincy said in a low tone: “Mrs. Hawkins, have you some spare stalls in + your stable that I can use while here?” + </p> + <p> + “You can have the old barn all to yourself. It's a leetle further from the + house, but it's in first-rate order.” + </p> + <p> + As they drove towards Eastborough Centre, Quincy pointed out the objects + of interest to Mr. Merry, who thought Fernborough a beautiful town. + </p> + <p> + “Come down next Saturday afternoon, Harry, and stay over Sunday. Bring + down any important letters. Perhaps my sister Maude will come back with + me.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Merry accepted the invitation with polite outward thanks, but with an + inward sense of intense gratification. Love is blind. If he had reflected, + he would have come to the conclusion that the daughter of the Hon. + Nathaniel Adams Sawyer, the millionaire, was not for him, an unfledged + lawyer with a mother to support. + </p> + <p> + When they reached Eastborough Centre, Quincy found he was too late for the + train. He had nearly an hour at his disposal. His first visit was to the + Eagle Hotel, where he put up the horse. Mr. Parsons, the proprietor, was + greatly pleased to meet him. + </p> + <p> + “You haven't forgotten how we railroaded Strout out of office, have you?” + </p> + <p> + “That was long ago,” said Quincy. “Strout and I are good friends now. He's + one of my partners in the Fernborough store.' + </p> + <p> + “So I've been told.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy took Mr. Parsons aside and had an animated conversation with him. + </p> + <p> + “I can get you just what you want, Guv'nor. Kind and gentle but some go in + them when needed.” + </p> + <p> + “Send them to the Hawkins House and don't forget the saddles.” + </p> + <p> + They crossed the square to the telegraph office, where Quincy sent this + message. + </p> + <p> + “Miss MAUDE SAWYER, + </p> + <p> + “Wideview, Redford, Mass. + </p> + <p> + “Meet me at State House by two o'clock. Leave your trunk at station. + Something important. + </p> + <h3> + “QUINCY.” + </h3> + <p> + As they were leaving the office Quincy met Tobias Smith, father of Abbott + and Ellis Smith, and Wallace Stackpole. + </p> + <p> + “Glad to see you, Guv'nor,” said 'Bias. “You remember Mr. Stackpole that + we gave Strout's job of tax-collector to—he's held it ever since. + We're mighty glad Strout lives in Fernborough. We don't have circuses at + town meetings now he's gone.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy's next visit was to the office of the <i>Fernborough Gazette</i>, + which was published in Eastborough, as the editor and proprietor, Mr. + Sylvester Chisholm, Mr. Strout's brother-in-law, could not get printers in + Fernborough, and, being an Eastborough-born boy, his paper had a large + circulation in that town and in Westvale, its principal village. + </p> + <p> + Quincy obtained some copies of the paper containing his speech at the Town + Hall. On looking it over he was astonished to find it reported <i>verbatim</i>. + </p> + <p> + “How did you manage it, Mr. Chisholm? My address was extemporaneous.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvester smiled. “Well, the fact is, Mr. Sawyer, while I was working on + the <i>Eastborough Express</i>, when you were here five years ago, I + studied short-hand, and it came in handy that night.” + </p> + <p> + The train was express to Boston and Quincy was in his chair in the + Executive Chamber by half-past eleven. After a careful examination of the + case of Ivan Wolaski, he decided to refuse the request for extradition, + and the Governor of Colorado was so notified in a communication which from + moral, legal, political, and humanitarian points of view was unanswerable. + It was nearly two o'clock when the last official letter was signed. + </p> + <p> + The door was opened by the messenger. Quincy expected Maude to enter, but + it was Mr. Acton, the energetic opponent of the “peaceful picketing” law. + </p> + <p> + “I heard, Mr. Governor, that you were here, and I thought it only fair to + inform you that we shall apply for injunctions just the same as if that + bill you signed had not become a law, and, in that way, test its + constitutionality.” + </p> + <p> + “You have a legal right to do that,” said the governor, “but I question + your moral right.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” asked Mr. Acton. + </p> + <p> + “Supposing I had applied for an injunction to prevent you and a score of + others from trying to influence me to veto the bill?” + </p> + <p> + “That would have been foolish. No judge would have granted it.” + </p> + <p> + “And why not?” said the governor sternly. “Were not all of you engaged in + 'peaceful picketing'? Why should not the working man have the same right + to persuade his fellows that you exerted to influence me?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Acton had not exhausted his argument: “But the probable destruction of + property and possible loss of life?” + </p> + <p> + “Matters fully covered by law,” the Governor replied. “They are under the + jurisdiction of the police, the sheriff, and, if need be, the militia.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Acton, despite the argument advanced, “was of the same opinion still.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy rang for the messenger, who appeared. + </p> + <p> + “I am going now. Does any one wish to see me?” + </p> + <p> + “There's a young lady outside. She's been waiting some time.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy looked at his watch. It was quarter past two. + </p> + <p> + “Admit her, at once.” + </p> + <p> + Maude began the conversation. “I received your astonishing telegram, + Quincy, and was here <i>on time</i>,” and she emphasized the final words. + </p> + <p> + “What does it mean? Is Alice sick?” + </p> + <p> + Quincy took the cue. “Not exactly sick, but she wants to see you very + much, and I felt so sure you would come to please her, that I ignored your + refusal to accept an invitation from me. Come, we'll have lunch at + Young's, and then a carriage to the station,—is your trunk there?” + </p> + <p> + Maude nodded. She felt that Quincy had played a trick on her and she was + in a rebellious mood. + </p> + <p> + She ate her lunch in silence. Not a word was spoken during the drive to + the station. When the train was under way Quincy remarked, casually, “I + invited Mr. Merry to come down next Saturday and stay over Sunday.” + </p> + <p> + From that moment until they reached Eastborough Centre, Quincy could not + have desired a more talkative or vivacious companion. As they stepped upon + the platform, Mr. Parsons came up. + </p> + <p> + “They're there, safe and sound. I went up with them myself, so's to be + sure.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. — “JUST LIKE OLD TIMES” + </h2> + <p> + Alice had a delightful day at Mandy Maxwell's. The twins, Abraham Mason + and Obadiah Strout, sturdy little fellows of the same age as Ezekiel's + boy, were full of fun and frolic. Swiss, Uncle Ike's dog, had grown old in + the past five years, but the antics of the youngsters overcame at times + both age and its accompanying dignity, or love of repose, and he was often + as frisky as in his younger days. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Crowley told Alice, in confidence, that she “was most dead” with the + noise of them, and that, some day, she would be “kilt intirely” by falling + over them. + </p> + <p> + Alice held the little girl for hours, and, remembering Mrs. Hawkins' + complaint, called her “Martha” instead of “Mattie.” + </p> + <p> + After the death of Capt. Obed Putnam, his companion, Uncle Ike came down + from his attic and had the room that Quincy occupied when he boarded with + Ezekiel Pettingill. He was now eighty-one years of age, and too feeble to + go up and down stairs, so his meals were taken to his room. + </p> + <p> + He was greatly pleased to see Alice and to learn that there had been no + return of the trouble with her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “If we had known as much then as we do now, you wouldn't have needed any + doctor, Alice.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, how's that?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Because the mind governs the body; as we think we are—we are.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Uncle Ike, why don't you think you are able to go down stairs and + walk back again?” + </p> + <p> + “I was referring to disease, not the infirmities of old age.” + </p> + <p> + “What's the difference, Uncle?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't explain it, but there's a mighty sight of difference. I've been + trying to get Mandy to let me live on sour milk, because a great doctor in + Europe says we'll live longer if we do.” + </p> + <p> + “How long would you care to live?” + </p> + <p> + “As long as I could. I've been reading up on all the religions and all the + substitutes, and it's going to take me some time to decide which is best—for + me, I mean. I don't presume to dictate to others.” + </p> + <p> + “Which do you favour so far?” + </p> + <p> + “I was brought up on theology—great, big doses of it. I was taught + that God was everything and man was nothing. Now I'm willing to give the + Almighty credit for all his wonderful works, but I can't help thinking + that <i>man</i> deserves some credit for his thousands of years of labour. + There's a man out in Chicago who has got up a religion that he calls + Manology. There's some good points in it, but he goes too far to suit me. + I've read about ghosts and spirits, but I've got to see one before I take + stock in them.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand how you feel, Uncle. You have lost the two anchors which + make this life bearable. They are Faith and Hope. For them you have + substituted Reason—not the reason of others, or of the ages, but + your own personal opinion. Until you are satisfied, every one else is + wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you're right, Alice. I can see now that my life has been + misspent. I should have remained at home and made my wife and children + happy. Instead, I became, virtually, a hermit, and for more than twenty + years I have thought only of myself and done nothing for humanity, that + has done everything for me.” + </p> + <p> + Alice was deeply touched by her Uncle's self-accusation. He had been good + to her, and not unkind to others. But he was drifting in a sea of doubt, + and really wishing to live his life over again. She felt sorry, but what + could she say to give his mind peace? She would begin on the material + plane. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle, how much money have you?” + </p> + <p> + “That's what troubles me, Alice. When I left home”—his voice + lingered on the word—“I gave my wife and children two-thirds of what + I had. The rest I put into an annuity, which dies with me. That will do + nothing for those I love and who love me.” + </p> + <p> + To Alice, the case seemed almost hopeless. Here was a man who, owning his + past life had been self-reliant, independent, impatient as regarded advice + and control—was now weaker than a child, for, in youth, Faith is + triumphant. + </p> + <p> + “You must have a talk with Quincy, Uncle. Perhaps he can help you.” She + went down stairs with a sinking heart. She loved her uncle, but love, + powerful as it is, cannot always cast out unbelief. + </p> + <p> + “Where can your husband be, Alice?” asked Mandy. “Half-past six, and + supper's ready. I remember how I used to call out 'supper's ready' when + you and he were in the parlour singing. I hope you'll sing some to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Crowley rushed into the dining room. “He's coming, but he's got a + woman with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Who can she be?” thought Alice as they followed Mrs. Crowley to the front + door. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Alice,” cried Maude. “I've brought him back with me.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy told Ambrose, Mandy's boy-of-all-work, to drive the team to the + Hawkins' House and tell Mrs. Hawkins that he wished a room that night for + his sister. Ambrose's hand clutched the half-dollar tightly as he repeated + the message to Quincy's satisfaction. Mrs. Crowley gazed admiringly at the + Governor until he disappeared from view. Alone, in the kitchen, she gave + vent to her feelings. + </p> + <p> + “The foine gintleman that he is. 'How do you do, Mrs. Crowley.' sez he, + and he shakes me hand as jintly as if I was a born lady. And the pretty + sister that he has, an' the beautiful wife. An' he's the President of the + State, an' sez he, 'Mrs. Crowley, how do you do, an' it's delighted I am + to see you again.'” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Crowley wiped her eyes with her apron and resumed her household + duties, occasionally repeating, “'How do you do, Mrs. Crowley.' When Dan + comes to-night I'll tell him what the Governor said.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram soon joined the party, it being his night off. As of old, he + stammered, or stuttered, when excited, and the sight of Quincy and Alice + was enough to entirely disorganize his speaking apparatus. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't this jolly?” said he. “Just like old times. I heerd you was at Miss + Hawkinses, but I didn't think as how you'd git round here so quick. But + we're mighty glad to see 'em, ain't we, Mandy? I hope you're all as hungry + as I am.” He went to the kitchen door and called, “Mrs. Crowley, we're + waiting for the supper.” + </p> + <p> + “How I wish Uncle Ike could be with us,” said Alice. + </p> + <p> + “Why can't you call him?” asked Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “He's too weak in his legs to come down,” said Mandy. + </p> + <p> + “I'll fetch him,” and Quincy bounded up stairs, while Mandy got a place + ready for him. + </p> + <p> + Quincy soon returned with Uncle Ike in his arms and placed him in a big + arm-chair at the head of the table. + </p> + <p> + Alice looked up and smiled at her husband. + </p> + <p> + “Now it is much more like old times,” she said, softly. + </p> + <p> + Maude, who had been an interested listener and spectator, finally + exclaimed, “I'm not surprised that you stayed down here four months, + Quincy, but we used to wonder, until we saw Alice, what the great + attraction was.” + </p> + <p> + Maude's explosive remark caused a general laugh in which Uncle Ike joined. + Alice, feeling that all eyes were fixed upon her, blushed prettily, “As my + husband's residence here brought good to others as well as to myself, I am + glad that a poor, blind girl, such as I was, proved an attraction strong + enough to keep him here.” + </p> + <p> + She stopped, somewhat abashed at making so long a speech, which Maude + might think indicated that she was offended at her sister-in-law's + reference to herself. + </p> + <p> + “Bravo, Alice,” cried Uncle Ike, “so say we all of us.” + </p> + <p> + After supper all adjourned to the parlour. Quincy offered to carry Uncle + Ike. + </p> + <p> + “No, young man. I'm all right on an even floor. It's these up and down + stairs that tire my loose joints”—and he made his way, without + assistance, to an easy chair in a farther corner. Quincy looked about the + room. Five years had made little change. The old square piano was in its + accustomed place, as well as the music stand. He looked over the pieces—the + same ones that he and Alice had sung together years ago. + </p> + <p> + “Let's have some music,” said Hiram. “We haven't heard any singers, except + Dan, since you folks went away. Guess that pianner's out of tune by this + time.” + </p> + <p> + It certainly was, but their hearts were in tune, and it mattered little if + some of the keys refused to move, or the sounds emitted were more + discordant than melodious. + </p> + <p> + “Is this Dan a good singer?” asked Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “Fine!” exclaimed Hiram. “He's great on Irish songs.” + </p> + <p> + “They are always humourous or pathetic,” remarked Alice. “Some of them + remind me of a person trying to laugh with a heart full of sorrow, and + their love songs are so sweet.” + </p> + <p> + “Can't we have him in?” asked Maude. + </p> + <p> + “I'll go and see if he's come,” said Mandy. “He often drops in and helps + Mrs. Crowley clear up after supper.” + </p> + <p> + Maude laughed. “A sure sign he's in love. I hope I'll get such a helpful + husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Your life will be on different lines,” remarked Uncle Ike. “You will not + be obliged to do your own housework.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know about that. I've loafed all my life and I'd really like to + know what work is.” + </p> + <p> + Mandy came back with smiling face. “Yes, he's there, and they're putting + the dishes in the closet. He's coming in, and, of course, Mrs. Crowley + will come too.” + </p> + <p> + “While we are waiting, play something, Maude,” said Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “I only took three quarters,” she said roguishly, as she seated herself + and dashed off “Waves of Ocean” in strident style. + </p> + <p> + “I always liked that,” said Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “So do I, with my bathing-dress on,” and Maude acknowledged the applause + that greeted her efforts with a low bow. + </p> + <p> + The door was opened, and Mrs. Crowley entered followed by Mr. Daniel + Sweeney. Mrs. Crowley with her neat calico dress and white apron, did not + look her forty-five years, and Mr. Sweeney, although five years her + senior, was a young appearing man. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't the music with me,” said Mr. Sweeney to Maude, who offered to + play the accompaniment. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Give me the key—I guess I can vamp it.” + </pre> + <p> + Mr. Sweeney struck a note. + </p> + <p> + “What's the title?” asked Maude. + </p> + <p> + “Widow Mahan's Pig.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know that,” said Maude. “It's one of my favourites. I often sing it + to my sister Florence. She just adores it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Maude,” cried Alice, “how can you tell such stories?” But Quincy was + laughing quietly. But few people understood Maude as he did. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sweeney had a fine baritone voice; he sang with great expression, and, + what is particularly desirable in a comic song, the words could be heard + and understood. + </p> + <h3> + I. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Young Widow Mahan had an iligant pig, + In the garden it loved for to wallow and dig; + On potatoes it lived, and on fresh buttermilk, + And its back was as smooth as fine satin or silk. + Now Peter McCarthy, a graceless young scamp, + Who niver would work, such a lazy young tramp, + He laid eye on the pig, as he passed by one day, + And the thafe of the world, he stole it away! + + <i>Chorus</i> + + An iligant pig in every way, + Young Widow Mahan used often to say: + “Faith, when it's full grown, I'll go to the fair, + A mighty foine price I'll get for it there.” + </pre> + <p> + As Mr. Sweeney started to repeat the four lines of the chorus, a soprano + voice rose above his own, and, as the last note died away, Maude came in + for her share of the applause. Mrs. Crowley was delighted, and showed her + appreciation by laughing until she cried. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + II. — He drove the poor piggy to Ballyporeen, + And the price of it soon he did spend in poteen, + He got into a fight and was cracked on the head, + Then to jail he was carried and taken for dead. + The constable then for the Father did send, + For he thought that McCarthy was quite near his end; + He confessed to the priest, did this penitent youth, + About the pig stealing he told the whole truth. +</pre> + <p> + Maude improvised a short symphony before the third and last stanza. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + III. — Then to young McCarthy, the Father did say: + “Now what will you do at the great Judgment Day? + For you will be there, at the bar you will stan' + The pig as a witness, and Widow Mahan.” + “Faith, what will I do?” young McCarthy did say. + “An' the pig will be there at the great Judgment Day? + Begorre! I'll say to the Widow, 'Asthore, + Take back your old pig, for I want it no more' + + “'An iligant pig in ivery way, + Schwate Widow Mahan, plaze take it away. + Faith, now it's full grown, just go to the fair, + A mighty foine price you'll git for it there.'” + </pre> + <p> + “Yes,” said Uncle Ike, “that's what the rich man will say. After cheating + the poor, buncoing the credulous, and 'cornering' his fellows, he will say + he is willing to give it back, for he has no further use for it. There's a + good moral in that song, Mr. Sweeney, and some of our sordid millionaires + ought to hear it.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy looked at his watch. “The hour is late—for the country, but, + fortunately, our hotel keeps open all night.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy carried Uncle Ike up stairs to his room and told him he would come + some day and have a good old-fashioned talk with him. + </p> + <p> + They walked home slowly, Maude admiring the moonlight night and the cool, + scented air. When they reached their own room, after seeing Maude to hers, + Alice repeated to her husband her conversation with Uncle Ike. + </p> + <p> + “You must do something to cheer him up, Quincy. Promise me, won't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I promise. I hope I won't forget to perform it as I have in one + instance.” + </p> + <p> + “Why—what?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember that young man at the Town Hall—Arthur Scates? He's + in consumption. I told him to come to the State House and I would see that + he had proper treatment. He hasn't been—or perhaps he has since I've + been away, but I will see him to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Alice looked up at him approvingly. “Quincy, I agree with you that the + real value of money is found in the good that can be done with it.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. — STROUT AND MAXWELL'S GROCERY + </h2> + <p> + The next morning, after breakfast, Quincy asked his wife and Maude to + accompany him to Mrs. Hawkins' barn. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I had my saddle horse here,” said Alice. + </p> + <p> + “So do I,” added Maude. “I did think of bringing him.” + </p> + <p> + Alice laughed, “Do you know, Maude, sometimes you say the most ridiculous + things? How could you bring a horse with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Easy enough—on a cattle car. Besides, I could have ridden down here + if Quincy hadn't been in such a hurry.” + </p> + <p> + “Alone?” + </p> + <p> + “No, with Bobby. What better protector can a woman have than a good horse? + I shall never remain in danger long if my heels or my horse's will get me + away from it.” + </p> + <p> + “Maude, you're a strange girl,” said Alice. Then she put her arm about her + and added—“but one of the best girls in the world.” + </p> + <p> + By this time they had reached the barn. Two stalls were occupied. Quincy + pointed to two side-saddles hanging on the wall. + </p> + <p> + “As I knew you were both good horse-women, I had these sent up with your + riding habits from Eastborough Centre yesterday. I am going to be busy at + the store this morning, and I thought you might enjoy a ride.” + </p> + <p> + Maude threw her arms about his neck and kissed him. + </p> + <p> + “You are the bestest brother in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “And the most thoughtful husband,” said Alice as he drew her close to him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll saddle them and see you mounted.” + </p> + <p> + A quarter of an hour later Quincy led the horses to the street. + </p> + <p> + “Don't go down Obed's Hill—it is very steep. Ride along Pettingill + Street to the Centre Road, which will bring you to Mason Street, and when + you've walked your horses up hill you'll be near the grocery store, where + you'll find me.” + </p> + <p> + They waved a good-bye as they rode off, and Quincy made his way to the + grocery store. Mr. Strout came from behind the counter to meet him. Hiram + was busy putting order baskets in the gaudily painted wagon. + </p> + <p> + “I heard as how you were in town, and Hiram said you were at his house + last night, but I ain't one of the kind that gits mad if I'm waited on + last at table. In music you know we usually begin down low and finish off + up high, and visitin' is considerable like music, especially when there's + three children and one of 'em a baby.” + </p> + <p> + His closing words were intended to refer to Hiram's family, but Quincy + made no reply. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout was never at a loss for words: “How do you like being + Governor?” + </p> + <p> + “So well that one term is enough. I'm going to Europe later.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean to go some day. I've heard so many foreigners blow about what + they've got over there, I'm kinder anxious to see for myself. If they've + got a better grocery store than this, I'll introduce improvements as soon + as I get back.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram having finished his work and dispatched the team, the three partners + went into the private office, which was monopolized by Mr. Strout. It + contained one desk and two chairs. Hiram brought in an empty nail keg and + closed the door. + </p> + <p> + “We've done twenty per cent. more business this month than same time last + year.” Mr. Strout opened a desk drawer. “Will you smoke, Guv'nor?” + </p> + <p> + Quincy accepted the cigar, and Strout, without offering one to Hiram, was + returning the box to the drawer when Hiram, by a quick movement, gained + possession of it, and taking out half-a-dozen put them in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “That'll even matters up a little, I guess,” he said. Mr. Strout scowled, + but catching Quincy's eye, said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Would you like to look over the books? I'll have them brought in.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't trouble yourself to do that,” said Quincy. “I'll examine them at + the bookkeeper's desk.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well,” said Strout. “You'll find them O. K. But now's you're + here there's one thing I want to say. Hiram don't agree with me, but he + ain't progressive. There's no <i>crescendo</i> to him. He wants to play in + one key all the time. He's—” + </p> + <p> + Quincy interrupted, “What did you wish to say about the business? We'll + drop personalities for the present, at least.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, our business is growing, but we can do ten times as much with more + capital. What I want to do is to start branch stores in Cottonton, + Montrose, and Eastborough Centre. We send our teams to all these places, + but if we had stores there we'd soon cut the other fellers out, for buying + in such large quantities, we could undersell them every time.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm rather in favour of the branches, but don't go to cutting prices. The + other fellow has the same right to a living that we have.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not let him have what he's got then and not interfere with him?” said + Mr. Strout, chewing his cigar vigorously. + </p> + <p> + “For the reason,” said Quincy, “that we don't keep store to please our + competitors, but to serve the public. I believe in low prices in sugar, + tea, and coffee, to draw trade. But general cuts in prices are ruinous in + the end, for our competitors will cut too, and we shall all lose money.” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't agin the new stores,” said Hiram, “but I'm teetotally agin + chopping prices down on everything and tryin' to beat the other feller.” + </p> + <p> + “How much money will it require?” asked Quincy. “Have you estimated on + rent, fixtures, stock, horses and wagons, stabling, wages and salaries, + and sundry expenses?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I've got it all down in black and white, it's in the safe. My + estimate, and it is as close as the bark to a tree, is six thousand + dollars spot cash.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll look over your figures,” said Quincy, “and if they seem all right, + I'll advance the money on the usual terms, eight per cent., but I must + have a four thousand dollar mortgage to cover your two-thirds, for I don't + suppose you can put up two thousand apiece.” + </p> + <p> + “Not this year,” said Strout, as he proceeded to relight his cigar. + </p> + <p> + The door was thrown open violently and Alice rushed in. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Quincy, Maude's horse has run away with her and I'm afraid she's + thrown and perhaps killed. I tried to catch up with her but I could not, + and I saw nothing else to do but to come and let you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Which way has she gone?” cried Quincy. “How did it happen?” + </p> + <p> + “We stopped at 'Zekiel's and had a talk with Huldah, who came down to the + gate. Then we went on until we came to the Centre Road. When Maude saw the + long straight stretch ahead she cried, 'Let's have a race!' Before I could + remonstrate, she gave her horse a sharp cut with the whip. He took the bit + in his teeth and bolted. I rode on as fast as I dared to, but when I + reached Mason Street she was not in sight.” + </p> + <p> + “If she had come this way we should have seen or heard her,” said Quincy. + “She must have gone towards Eastborough Centre. Come, Alice, I will get + the carryall. If she is hurt she will not be able to ride her horse.” + </p> + <p> + Leading her horse, Quincy and Alice went to the Hawkins House. + </p> + <p> + “He takes it pretty cool,” said Strout to Hiram. “If she was my sister I'd + ring the church hell, make up a party, and go in search of her dead body, + for that's what they'll come back with.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't take no stock in that,” remarked Hiram. “She's used to horses, + and she's a mighty bright, independent girl. She'll come home all right.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt she's independent enough,” retorted Strout. “That runs in the + family. But the horse, it seems, was independent too. Perhaps the Guv'nor + will have a boxing match with him for his independence to a Sawyer.” + </p> + <p> + As Hiram went back into the store he said to himself: “That Strout's only + a half-converted sinner anyway. He'll never forget the thrashing that Mr. + Sawyer gave his man, Bob Wood.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy had Alice go to her room, for she was agitated and extremely + nervous, and he asked Mrs. Hawkins to look out for her until his return. + </p> + <p> + With Andrew's help, the carryall was soon ready and Quincy drove to the + store. What was his surprise to find Maude there, still on her horse, and + apparently uninjured. With her, also on horseback was an attractive girl, + a stranger to Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “I'm all right, Quincy,” Maude cried as he alighted, “but there would have + been a funeral but for this young lady.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy, with hat in hand, bowed to the stranger. “I am deeply grateful for + your valuable service, madam. To whom are we indebted for my sister's + rescue from death?” + </p> + <p> + The young lady smiled, showing a set of even, white teeth. “Not so great a + service after all. Your sister is a good horsewoman. If she hadn't been, + she would have been thrown long before I reached her.” + </p> + <p> + “But your name, Madam,” persisted Quincy. “Her father will wish to know, + and to thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “My name when in Fernborough is Mrs. Emmanuel Howe. When I'm on the stage, + it is Dixie Schaffer. I was born in the South. My father was Col. Hugh + Schaffer of Pasquotank County, North Carolina.” + </p> + <p> + “My father and all of us will feel under great obligations to you.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope he will not. I have no objections to receiving his thanks in + writing, if he is disposed to send them, which I think unnecessary as you + are his representative. But kindly caution him not to suggest or send any + reward, for it will be returned.” She bowed to Quincy, turned her horse's + head and rode away. + </p> + <p> + As Strout entered the store he said to himself, “Bully for her. She don't + bow down to money. She's got brains.” + </p> + <p> + A few days later, however, Miss Dixie Schaffer was the recipient from the + Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer of a beautiful gold pendant in the shape of a + horseshoe, set with pearls. If one could have glanced at a stub in the + lawyer's check book, he would have found the name of a prominent jeweller, + and the figures $300. It is needless to add that the gift was not returned + to the donor. When Alice saw that Maude had escaped without injury, she + soon recovered her equanimity. + </p> + <p> + “How did it happen, Maude?” asked Quincy. “Alice says you gave the horse a + sharp blow.” + </p> + <p> + “I must have hit her harder than I intended—but I was thinking of + the race more than of her. Didn't she run, hurrah-ti-cut, as Mrs. Hawkins + says? I was bound I'd keep on her back unless she fell down or ran into + something, and I did. I wasn't foolish enough to jump and land on my head. + </p> + <p> + “When we got to the main road, I didn't know which way to turn—I + mean I couldn't think. She settled the matter by turning to the right, + which was very fortunate, but I didn't know I was on the road to Dixie.” + </p> + <p> + “Maude, you're incorrigible,” laughed Alice. + </p> + <p> + “No, I'm a sensation. I was full of them as I dashed on. But she was a + well-bred horse and kept in the middle of the road. Then, to my joy, I saw + Dixie ahead. As I went by her I yelled—yes, yelled—'she's + running away.' + </p> + <p> + “Dixie yelled—yes, yelled—'Hold on, I'll catch you.' She did, + but we ran more than a mile before she got even with me, grasped my + horse's bridle, and pulled her round so quickly that I came near landing + in the bushes. And here I am.” + </p> + <p> + “You must not ride her again,” said Alice. + </p> + <p> + “That's just what I am going to do. I'm not going to deprive that horse of + my company, when it was all my fault. No more whip, she needs only the + voice—and little of that.” + </p> + <p> + “Alice,” said Quincy, “Mr. Strout has invited us to dinner. He will be + offended unless his invitation is accepted.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't feel equal to meeting that man in his own house. I cannot bear + him even at long range. Take Maude.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll go, Quincy. I love these odd characters.” + </p> + <p> + “He's married and has a little boy,” said Alice. + </p> + <p> + “Then my love for the father will be invisible—I'll shower my + affection upon his offspring.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy, after introducing his sister to Mr. Strout and his wife, expressed + his regret that his wife was so unnerved by the runaway that she was + unable to accompany him. Mr. Strout, in turn, expressed his regrets, as + did Mrs. Strout, then he added: “Miss Sawyer, we'll have to pay you a + commission. The store has been full of folks asking about you, and after I + told them all about the runaway and how you were rescued, they had to talk + it over, and I sold more than forty cigars and ten plugs of tobacco.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you know how I was rescued?” asked Maude. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I heard part and imagined the rest. I had to tell 'em something or + lose the trade.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Strout was a very good cook and the dinner was a success. + </p> + <p> + Strout leaned far back in his chair and Maude assumed a similar position. + Quincy looked at her reprovingly, but she did not change her attitude. To + her brother's astonishment, she addressed Mr. Strout. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you have travelled a great deal, Mr. Strout.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes, I have. Since I got back from the war I've taught music, and + as my pupils were too lazy to come to me, I went to them. But speaking of + travelling, I was in a runaway once. It had been snowing for about four + days without a break and the roads were blocked up. I had to go to + Eastborough Centre and I hired a horse I'd never driven before.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you have to put snow-shoes on him?” asked Maude. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, because I waited until the roads were broken out.” + </p> + <p> + “That's one on me,” acknowledged Maude. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I nearly tipped over a dozen times, but I got to the Centre where + the roads had been cleared. But my sleigh went into a gully and came down + on the horse's heels. My, wasn't she off in a jiffy! I held her in the + road, the men, and women, and children, and dogs and hens getting out of + the way as fast as they could. She was a going lickety-split, and although + I wasn't frightened, I decided she'd got to stop. + </p> + <p> + “I saw a house with an ell, and in the corner the snow was packed up ten + feet high. I had an idea. I put all my strength on to one rein, turned her + head, and she went into that snow bank out of sight, all but her tail. I + got out of the sleigh, sat down on the snow, and laughed till I thought + I'd die.” + </p> + <p> + “And the horse?” queried Maude. + </p> + <p> + “It took half an hour to dig her out. They say horses are intelligent, but + I don't think they know any more than hens.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought hens were bright,” said Maude. “They say they hide their eggs + so we can't poach and boil them.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you can judge. When we moved into this house all the doors had + glass knobs. I took them off, put them in a box and set them out in the + barn. I saw a hen setting, but didn't notice her particularly until one + day she got off the nest while I was in the barn, and true as I live, that + fool hen had been trying to hatch out those knobs.” + </p> + <p> + “They said you have a little boy, Mr. Strout,” Maude looked at him + inquiringly. “I hope he isn't sick.” + </p> + <p> + “No, he's all right. But we never let him come to the table when we have + company, because he talks too much.” + </p> + <p> + “What's his name?” + </p> + <p> + “That's the funny part of it. My wife has lots of relations, and some + wanted him named this, and some wanted him named that. So I went to the + library and looked at all the names in the dictionary.” + </p> + <p> + Maude's curiosity was excited. “What did you finally decide upon?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we haven't named him yet. We call him No. 3, I being No. 1, and my + wife No. 2.” + </p> + <p> + After their guests had departed, Mrs. Strout asked, “Why didn't you tell + Miss Sawyer that our boy's name was same as yours?” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't I?” snapped her husband. “Because she was so blamed anxious + for me to tell her. Them Sawyers are 'ristocrats. They look down on us + common people.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Strout remonstrated. “I thought he was real nice, and she's a lovely + girl. Besides, he set you up in business and made you postmaster.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did he do it for? Just to show the power of money. What did he + want of a grocery store except to beat me out of it?” + </p> + <p> + “But you owned up in your speech at the Town Hall that you'd treated him + mean, and that you were his friend.” + </p> + <p> + “That was official. Do you suppose he means all he says? No! No more than + I do. When I get enough money, there won't be but one partner in that + grocery store, and his name will be O. Strout.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. — UNCLE IKE AND OTHERS + </h2> + <p> + At the breakfast table next morning, Maude sat with her head bent over her + plate. All were awaiting Olive's advent with the fruit. + </p> + <p> + “At your devotions, Maude?” asked Alice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am thanking the Lord that my life was saved by a woman. <i>She</i> + can't ask me to marry her.” + </p> + <p> + A trio of “good mornings” greeted the Rev. Mr. Gay as he entered and took + his accustomed place at the head of the table. He bowed his head and asked + a blessing. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you ask a blessing, Mr. Gay?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gay looked up, but there was no levity in Maude's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It is our duty to thank the Almighty for his goodness in providing for + our physical ends.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Maude, “with the exception of the fruit all our food is + prepared by man. We couldn't eat it just as it grows.” + </p> + <p> + “God has given us the necessary intelligence to properly utilize his + blessings.” + </p> + <p> + “But some people starve to death,” said Maude, forsaking the main + argument. + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, yes, owing to man's lack of brotherly feeling, or rather, + a hap-hazard method of distributing his blessings. It is not God's will + that any of his creatures should lack food or raiment.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really believe, Mr. Gay, that God takes a personal interest in us? + That he sent Mrs. Howe yesterday to save my life?” + </p> + <p> + “I certainly do, Miss Sawyer.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't understand it,” said Maude. “I looked upon it simply as a lucky + coincidence. But supposing the horse had turned to the left, and stopped + of his own accord when he reached that steep hill. What would that prove?” + </p> + <p> + Quincy and Alice who had listened to the discussion, looked at the + clergyman, who hesitated before answering. At last, a smile lighted up his + face and he replied: “It would prove that, in that particular case, you + did not need the intervention of Heavenly power.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not convinced yet,” said Maude. “I am coming to hear you preach + to-morrow. Do make it plain to me, please.” + </p> + <p> + “With God's help, I will try to,” the clergyman answered. + </p> + <p> + Quincy passed the morning at the grocery, making arrangements for the + establishment of the branch stores, Mr. Strout's plans being approved with + some material modifications. Strout told his wife that Mr. Sawyer had + fixed it so he couldn't get control of the business, but that he would put + a flea in his ear some fine day. + </p> + <p> + “I can't see through it,” said Bessie Strout. “Why have your feelings + towards Mr. Sawyer changed so? I think he is a perfect gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “So he is. So am I. But we grew on different bushes.” Feeling that he did + not wish to confess that jealousy of others' attainments was the real + foundation of his hostility, Mr. Strout took his departure. Two hours + later Mrs. Strout was delighted at receiving a call from Miss Maude Sawyer + and the Governor's wife. + </p> + <p> + Quincy wished to have a talk with 'Zekiel about Uncle Ike, so he walked + over to the old Putnam house. He had asked his wife to accompany him, but + she declined. + </p> + <p> + “That house gives me the shivers,” she had said. “I never can forget the + ordeal I went through the day that Aunt Heppy died. I gave the house to + 'Zekiel because I never could have lived in it. Maude and I are going to + call on Mrs. Strout.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy found 'Zekiel in the barn, and broached the matter on his mind at + once. + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad you spoke of it,” said 'Zekiel. “I was over to Mandy's yesterday + and Uncle Ike wants to come and live with us. Not that he's dissatisfied + where he is, for he likes Mandy and the children, and they do everything + to make him comfortable—but it's the stairs. He wants to eat with + the others; he says he feels like a prisoner cooped up in one room. We + have a spare room on the ground floor that old Silas Putnam used to sleep + in. I'm only afraid of one thing—'twill be too much care for Huldah. + If I could get some one to help her with the work, she'd be glad and + willing to look after Uncle Ike.” “We must find some way out of it,” said + Quincy, as they parted. + </p> + <p> + His next visit was to the home of Arthur Scates. He found the young man in + bed and in a very weak condition. + </p> + <p> + “He's had two o' them bleedin' spells,” said his grandmother, “an' las' + night I thought sure he was a goner. But I giv him some speerits of ammony + and he perked up a little. Yer see, Mr. Sawyer, we're poor, an' it's no + use tryin' to cover it up, an' I can't give Arthur the kind of vittles he + ought to have. He wants nourishin' things an'”—The old lady's + feelings overcame her and she began to cry. “I'm ashamed of myself, but I + can't help it. He's my only son's boy, and he's an orphan, an' wuss. I'm + sixty years old, but I can do a day's work with any of the young ones, but + I can't leave him alone. I should have a conniption fit if I did.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy thought it advisable to allow the old lady to have her say out + before replying. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Scates, I think there are brighter days coming for you.” + </p> + <p> + “The Lord knows I have prayed hard enough for 'em.” Quincy spoke to + Arthur. “I expected to see you in Boston, but I suppose you were in too + poor health to come.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell him the whole truth, Arthur,” said his grandmother—“his health + was too poor an' we hadn't any money.” + </p> + <p> + “Arthur,” said Quincy, “I am going to find a home for you in a sanatorium + where you will have the treatment you need and the proper food to build + you up. One of these days, if you can repay me, well and good. If not, I + can afford to give it. Your voice may make your fortune some day. And, + now, Mrs. Scates, I've got some work for you. Mrs. 'Zekiel Pettingill—” + </p> + <p> + “She that was Huldy Mason,” broke in Mrs. Scates, “she was just the nicest + girl in town.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” assented Quincy, “she's going to have an addition to her family—” + </p> + <p> + “You don't say,” again interrupted Mrs. Scates. “Well, I've nussed a good + many—” + </p> + <p> + “You misunderstand me,” said Quincy quickly. “Her Uncle Ike is coming to + live with her, and she needs assistance in her work. You must go and see + her at once.” + </p> + <p> + While she was gone, Quincy explained to Arthur the nature of his coming + treatment; how he would have to virtually live out of doors daytimes and + sleep with windows and doors open at night. “I will see that you have good + warm clothes. I will pay for your board and treatment for a year, and give + you money for such things as you may need.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll try hard to get well so I can repay you,” said Arthur. + </p> + <p> + “She says she'll take me,” cried Mrs. Scates, as she entered the room—“just + as soon as I can come, and here's a big basket of apples and peaches, she + sent you, and—” the poor woman was quite out of breath. “I met that + minister, Mr. Gay, and he said he was coming up to see you, Arthur.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever go to Mr. Gay's church?” Quincy asked Mrs. Scates. + </p> + <p> + “Jus' onct, and that was enough. He'll have to leave here sooner or + later.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, he don't believe in no divil—an' ye can't make folks good + unless they knows there's a divil.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy recalled the story of the Scotch woman, a stern Presbyterian, who + thought if ten thousand were saved at the final judgment that it would be + “muckle many,” and who, when asked if she expected to be one of the elect, + replied “Sartainly.” He felt that a theological discussion with Grandma + Scates would end in his discomfiture and he wisely refrained. + </p> + <p> + Quincy reached Mandy Maxwell's just in time for dinner, and, at his + request, it was served in Uncle Ike's room. + </p> + <p> + “This is more cheerful,” said he to Quincy. “I once thought that being + alone was the height of enjoyment—and I did enjoy myself very + selfishly for a good many years. Has Alice told you of our conversation?” + </p> + <p> + Quincy nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I've been thinking about it since and I decided my first move would be to + live, if I could, with my own flesh and blood. But while they've got a + down-stairs room, it will be too much work for Huldah.” + </p> + <p> + “That's provided for,” said Quincy. “Mrs. Scates is going to help Huldah.” + </p> + <p> + “What's to become of her grandson—he's consumptive they tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “He's going to a sanatorium to get cured.” + </p> + <p> + “And you are going to pay the bills?” + </p> + <p> + Quincy nodded again. + </p> + <p> + “I get a lesson very often. You are using your money to help others, while + I've hoarded mine.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy looked at the speaker inquiringly. Alice had given him to + understand that her uncle had used his income for himself. + </p> + <p> + “I know what you're thinking, Mr. Sawyer. I did tell Alice I had an + annuity, but I haven't spent one-tenth of what's coming to me. I arranged + to have it put in a savings bank, and I've drawn just as little as I could + and get along. I bought a fifty thousand dollar annuity at sixty. I got + nine per cent, on my money, besides the savings bank interest. As near as + I can figure it out I'm worth about two hundred thousand dollars. I've + beat the insurance company bad, and I ain't dead yet. I have all this + money, but what good has it done anybody?” + </p> + <p> + “It can do good in the future, Uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to leave something to Mandy's boys—not too much—for + I'm afraid they'd squander it, and become do-nothings. What shall I do + with it?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you wish me to suggest a public use for your fortune?” + </p> + <p> + “That's what I've been telling you about it for. You've a good knack of + disposing of your own and other folks' money, and I thought you could help + me out.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy did not speak for some time. Finally he said, “Uncle Ike, the Town + Hall in Fernborough is but one mile from the centre of the city of + Cottonton. That city is peopled, principally, with low-paid cotton mill + operatives. Their employers, as a rule, are more intent on dividends than + the moral or physical condition of their help. Accidents are common in the + mills, many are broken down in health by overwork, and those who become + mothers are forced by necessity to resume work in the mills before their + strength is restored.” + </p> + <p> + Uncle Ike shut his teeth with a snap. “That's worse than hoarding money as + I've done. Mine may, as you say, do good in the future, but theirs is + degrading human beings at the present. I wish I could do something for + them, especially the mothers. It's a shame <i>they</i> have to suffer.” + </p> + <p> + “You can do something, Uncle Ike. My suggestion is, that you leave the + bulk of your fortune to build a hospital in Fernborough, but provide in + your will that the mill operatives of Cottonton, or all its poorer + inhabitants, if you so wish it, shall be entitled to free treatment + therein.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll do it,” cried Uncle Ike. “As soon as I get settled at 'Zeke's, I'll + send for Squire Rundlett to come and make out my will. You've taken a big + load off my mind, Mr. Sawyer.” + </p> + <p> + As Quincy was mounting Obed's Hill slowly, for it was very steep, he + thought to himself—“Getting Uncle Ike to do something practical + towards helping others was much better than talking theoretical religion + to him.” + </p> + <p> + When he reached the Hawkins House, Andrew was getting ready to drive to + Cottonton to meet the three o'clock express from Boston. + </p> + <p> + “There's a friend of ours coming down on that train, Andrew—a young + man named Merry.” He took out his note book, wrote a few lines, and passed + the slip with some money to Andrew. + </p> + <p> + “You get that—have it covered up so no one can see what it is, and + leave it in the barn when you get back.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy told his wife about Arthur Scates and Uncle Ike. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to take Uncle Ike to Mr. Gay's church to-morrow,” he added, + “but I didn't say anything about it to-day. I'm not going to give him time + to invent excuses.” + </p> + <p> + Maude did not conceal her pleasure at meeting Harry again. She was a + companionable girl, and Mr. Merry was too sensible to think, because a + young lady was sociable, that it was any indication that she was falling + in love with him. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going riding this evening, Alice?” Quincy walked to the window. + “The sunset is just glorious. There's a purple cloud in the west, the + edges of which is bordered with gold. There are rifts in it, through which + the sun shows—and now, come quickly, Alice, the sun, a ball of fire, + has just sunk below the cloud which seems resting upon it.” + </p> + <p> + When they turned away from the window, Alice said: + </p> + <p> + “I don't think I will ride any more. Maude must take the horse I had—he + is so gentle. What a pity Mr. Merry cannot go with her for a ride.” + </p> + <p> + “He can. I sent Andrew for a saddle for him to use.” + </p> + <p> + “Quincy, you are the most thoughtful man in the world.” + </p> + <p> + In less than half an hour Maude, with Harry riding the mare, were on their + way towards the Centre Road. When they returned, an hour later, there had + been no runaway, unless Harry's heart had undergone one. Maude's + countenance did not, however, indicate that she had participated in any + rescue. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. — A “STORY” SERMON + </h2> + <p> + The influx of mill operatives and mechanics from Cottonton in search of a + breathing place after a hard day's work, had led to the building up of the + territory north of Pettingill Street and east of Montrose Avenue. This + fact had led to the erection of the Rev. Mr. Gay's church in the extreme + northern part of the town, but near to both Montrose town and Cottonton + city. + </p> + <p> + “We are all coming to your church this morning, Mr. Gay,” said Quincy at + breakfast. + </p> + <p> + “I shall be glad to see you, but you must not expect a city service. The + majority, in fact all, of my parishioners are common people, and I use + plain language to them.” + </p> + <p> + “I think simplicity in devotional exercises much more effective than an + ornate service,” said Alice. + </p> + <p> + “Do you have a choir?” asked Maude. + </p> + <p> + “We can't afford one, but we have good congregational singing.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad of that,” said Maude. “I hate these paid choirs with their names + and portraits in the Sunday papers.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall take the carryall and go for Uncle Ike. It is a beautiful morning + and you will all enjoy the walk,” Quincy added. + </p> + <p> + Uncle Ike, at first, gave a decided negative. “I haven't been inside a + church for many a year and it's too late to begin now.” + </p> + <p> + “That's no argument at all,” said Quincy. “But my principal reason for + wishing you to go is so you can see the people that your hospital is going + to benefit one of these days.” + </p> + <p> + “But these preachers use such highfalutin' language, and so many + 'firstlies' and 'secondlies' I lose my hold on the text.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gay is a common, everyday sort of man, does not pose when out of his + pulpit, and never talks over the heads of his audience.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know all that?” + </p> + <p> + “I sit with him at table, and I've studied him. Then he told us not to + expect a city sermon for he used simple language, and they have + congregational singing.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll go—this once,” said Uncle Ike, and Quincy assisted him + in making his preparations. On their way to the church they passed two + couples—Alice and Mrs. Hawkins, and Maude and Mr. Merry. Mr. Jonas + Hawkins could not leave home for he was afraid the cats would carry off + his last brood of chickens. Some fifty had been hatched out, but only a + dozen had survived the hot weather, heavy rains, and the many diseases + prevalent among chickens. + </p> + <p> + When Mr. Gay arose to give out the first hymn, Maude said to Mr. Merry, + “Why, he looks like a different man. His red hair is a beautiful brown.” + </p> + <p> + “It's the light from the coloured glass windows,” commented Mr. Merry. + </p> + <p> + “Then it must be the curtains in Mrs. Hawkins' dining room that colour his + hair at home,” retorted Maude. + </p> + <p> + How grandly rose the volume of tone from scores of throats! Even Uncle + Ike's quavering voice joined in. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “All hail the power of Jesus' name, + Let nations prostrate fall; + Bring forth the royal diadem, + And crown Him Lord of all.” + </pre> + <p> + The organ creaked and wheezed somewhat, but so many fresh, young voices + softened its discordant tones. + </p> + <p> + A short prayer, and Mr. Gay began his sermon, if such it can be called. + </p> + <p> + “MY BRETHREN: My text, to-day is, 'The fool hath said in his heart, There + is no God.' All nations have a God, even if all the people do not believe + in him. The majority in each nation does believe in a God. Are those who + do not believe all fools? Unhappily, no. There are many highly educated + men and women who deny the existence of God. They claim man is a part of + Nature, and Nature is all. They forget the poet who wrote + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'Man is but part of a stupendous whole, + Whose body Nature is, and God the soul.' +</pre> + <p> + “Remember, God is the Soul. Each of you has a soul, a spark of the + Divinity. + </p> + <p> + “I can best support my argument by a story—a true one. + </p> + <p> + “I once knew a young man whom we will call Richard. He had a well-to-do + father and was sent to college. When he graduated, his father, a pious + man, wished him to study for the ministry. He objected, saying his health + was poor. He wished to go into the mountains, he lived in the West, and + his father consented. + </p> + <p> + “He drifted into a mining camp and whatever regard he may have had for + religion, soon disappeared. He was not a fool, but, in his heart, he said + there was no God. + </p> + <p> + “With another young man, whom we will call Thomas, he formed a + partnership, and they went prospecting for gold,—gold that the God + whom they would not acknowledge had placed in the earth. + </p> + <p> + “They were attacked by Indians and Thomas was killed. Richard was obliged + to flee for his life. His food was soon exhausted, he had no water, he had + no God to whom he could pray for help. + </p> + <p> + “He came to a hole in the ground, near a foothill. He got upon his knees + and looked down—yes, there was water—not much, but enough for + his needs—but it was beyond his reach. He leaned over the edge to + gaze upon the life-giving fluid that God has given us, and his hat fell + into the well. In his hat was his gold-dust—his fortune—so + useless to him then. He forgot his thirst for water in his thirst for + gold. + </p> + <p> + “There was a stout branch of a tree near by. He placed it across the top + of the hole. He would drop down into the well, and recover his hat, get a + drink of water and draw himself up again. The well did not seem more than + six feet deep, and with his arms extended he could easily reach the branch + and draw himself up to safety. He dropped into the well, found his hat + with its precious gold, drank some of the muddy water which, really, was + then more precious to him than the metal, and looked up. He extended his + arms but they fell short some six feet of reaching the branch. He had + under-estimated the depth of the well—it was fifteen instead of six + feet. + </p> + <p> + “He would clamber up the sides, he would cut steps with his knife and make + a ladder. The earth was soft, and crumbled beneath his weight. That mode + of escape was impossible. He was a prisoner in a hole with only muddy + water to sustain life for a short time, and no prospect of escape. + </p> + <p> + “Night came on. He looked up at the stars. They seemed no farther away + than the top of the well. + </p> + <p> + “When a child he had been taught to say 'Our Father who art in Heaven,' + Did he have a Father in Heaven? Was Heaven where those stars were? Was + that Father in Heaven the Being that folks called God? + </p> + <p> + “He fell into a deep sleep. When he awoke the stars were still shining, + but no nearer than before. + </p> + <p> + “In his loneliness, in his despair, he cried, 'Oh, God, help me!' He + covered his face with his hands and wept. He had forsaken the belief of a + lifetime. He had acknowledged that there was a God! + </p> + <p> + “There was a rustling sound above him, and a heavy body fell to the bottom + of the well. Some wild animal! He was unarmed with the exception of his + hunting-knife. That was slight protection against a savage beast, but he + would defend himself to the last. + </p> + <p> + “He listened. The animal, whatever it was, was breathing, but it did not + move. Perhaps it was stunned by the fall, but would soon revive. He would + kill it. A few firm blows and the beast was dead. It did not breathe. Its + body was losing its warmth. He was safe from that danger. + </p> + <p> + “He slept again. When he awoke the sun was high. Beside him was the dead + body of a mountain lion. + </p> + <p> + “He drank some more of the muddy water. He was so hungry. Was there no + means of escape? Must he die there with that dead lion for a companion? + </p> + <p> + “He had an inspiration. With his knife he cut the lion's hide into strips. + He tied these together until he had a rope. He threw it over the branch + and drew himself up. The Earth looked so bright and cheerful. He threw + himself upon his knees and thanked God for his deliverance. He was an + educated 'fool' no longer. He had found God in that pool of muddy water, + and God had sent a lion to deliver him. + </p> + <p> + “How do I know that the story I have told you is true? Richard returned to + his father's home. He went back to college and entered the divinity + school. He became a clergyman, and he has preached to you, to-day, from + the text, 'The Fool hath said in his heart that there is no God!'” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. — THE RAISED CHECK + </h2> + <p> + The Rev. Mr. Gay's parishioners looked at him in astonishment. He had + disbelieved in God but had been converted in what seemed a miraculous + manner. And yet, perhaps, after all, it was only a coincidence. Alice felt + sure that Uncle Ike would be of that opinion. + </p> + <p> + The pastor, as soon as he had made his sensational declaration, said “Let + us pray.” His appeal was for those who doubted—that God would open + their eyes—but not as his had been—to acknowledge his power + and mercy. + </p> + <p> + Then followed “Old Hundred.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Praise God from whom all blessings flow, + Praise Him all creatures here below.” + </pre> + <p> + A benediction, and the service was over. + </p> + <p> + There were seats for four in the carryall. Maude preferred to walk and Mr. + Merry was of the same mind. Mrs. Hawkins sat with Quincy on the front + seat, and Alice with Uncle Ike. + </p> + <p> + “What did you think of the sermon, Uncle Ike?” Alice asked. + </p> + <p> + “A thrilling personal experience. The fear of death has a peculiar effect + on some people—it kills their will power. Did Mr. Gay know that I + was to attend his church?” + </p> + <p> + Alice flushed. “Quincy mentioned it at the breakfast table.” + </p> + <p> + “Was he informed of my opinions on religious matters?” + </p> + <p> + “They were not mentioned before him.” + </p> + <p> + “Another coincidence”—and Uncle Ike relapsed into silence. + </p> + <p> + As they were nearing the Maxwell house, Alice asked, “Uncle Ike, are you + willing to have Mr. Gay call upon you?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no objection, if he will let me choose the subjects for + conversation,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + In the evening Maude and Mr. Merry walked to the Willows and back. + </p> + <p> + “Have you become a matchmaker?” Alice asked her husband. + </p> + <p> + “What prompts the question?” + </p> + <p> + “Maude and Mr. Merry have been thrown together very much. You approve of + you would prevent their intimacy.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy laughed. “Maude undoubtedly has a heart, but she doesn't know where + it is. Mr. Merry is too sensible a fellow to imagine Maude will fall in + love with him, or that he could support her if she did.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor logic, Quincy. Such marriages take place often, but unless they are + followed with parental blessings,—and financial backing,—seldom + prove successful. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the intimacy will end to-morrow morning. He will return to the + city, and, probably, never see her again.” + </p> + <p> + “I've no objection to Mr. Merry. I consider him a very fine young man. I + was thinking of Maude's happiness.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Merry did return to Boston early the next morning, and, to all + appearances, Miss Sawyer looked upon his action as a very natural one, and + one in which she was not particularly interested. If she had any secret + thoughts concerning him they were driven from her mind by the receipt of a + telegram just as they sat down to dinner. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “REDFORD, MASS., July 2, 187—. + “MAUDE SAWYER, Care of Q. A. Sawyer, + “Fernborough, via Cottonton. + “Do please come home at once. Something terrible + has happened. FLORENCE.” + </pre> + <p> + “What can it be? What do you think is the matter? The message is so + inexplicit.” + </p> + <p> + Her brother replied, “Florence evidently is living, unless some one used + her name in the telegram. If father or mother were sick or dead she + certainly would have said so.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not,” said Maude. “She might wish to break the news gently, in + person.” + </p> + <p> + “I am willing to wager,” said Quincy, “that the trouble affects her more + than any one else. But you must go, Maude, and Alice and I will go with + you, by the first train to-morrow morning.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy had Andrew get the carryall ready and he and Alice went round to + say good-bye. He told Arthur Scates he would come or send for him soon, + and that his grandmother could go and help Mrs. Pettingill. + </p> + <p> + Andrew was told to return the saddle to Cottonton, and Quincy decided that + they would go to Boston by way of Eastborough Centre, so Mr. Parsons could + be informed that they were through with the saddle horses. They found + Uncle Ike fully committed to the idea of founding the hospital. He had + seen Squire Rundlett, who was drawing up his will. The goodbye seemed more + like a farewell in Uncle Ike's case, for he had aged much in the last year + and was really very feeble. Alice told him that Mr. Gay had promised to + call upon him in a few days. + </p> + <p> + When they reached Boston, Quincy said: + </p> + <p> + “Maude, you must take the train at once for Redford and see what the + trouble is. I will leave Alice at home and run down to see you this + afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + Maude found Florence in her room, her nose red and her eyes filled with + tears. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Florence, what is it all about?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it is horrible,” and there was a fresh flood of tears. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sick? Mother says she is well and so is father.” + </p> + <p> + “It's all about Reggie.” + </p> + <p> + “Capt. Hornaby? Is he dead?” + </p> + <p> + “Worse. I wish he was. No, I don't mean that. But the disgrace.” + </p> + <p> + Maude was getting impatient. “What has he done? Married somebody else? But + he never proposed to you, did he?” + </p> + <p> + Florence wiped away her tears. “No, not exactly. But we understood each + other.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I can't understand you. Why don't you tell me what he's done?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you know that father loaned him some money when he lost his + pocketbook in the pond.” + </p> + <p> + Maude sniffed. “I imagined he did—nobody told me so.” + </p> + <p> + “Father gave him a check for five hundred dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “And the Captain's run away and won't pay. Those foreign fellows often do + that. What an appropriate name Hornaby Hook is.” + </p> + <p> + “He has paid. He sent father the money and said he was going back to + England at once.” + </p> + <p> + “So, ho! I understand now. My sister has been deserted, jilted, snubbed, + and her Sawyer pride is hurt. If you'd written me that I'd be in + Fernborough now, and so would Quincy and Alice. Florence, it was mean of + you to send such a bloodcurdling telegram for so simple a thing.” + </p> + <p> + “But that isn't all,” cried Florence. “When the check for five hundred + dollars that father gave him came back it had been raised to five + thousand, and father has lost all that money. Oh, it is all over, and I + shall never see him again.” + </p> + <p> + Another paroxysm of sobs, and a flood of tears. Maude's sisterly sympathy + was, at last, aroused. + </p> + <p> + “Don't take on so, Flossie. Perhaps he didn't do it after all.” + </p> + <p> + “But father is so indignant. Think of his being paid back with his own + money.” + </p> + <p> + Maude could not help laughing. “That was rather nervy, I'll admit. But + that very fact makes me think he's innocent.” + </p> + <p> + She didn't really think so, but Florence was likely to go into hysterics + and something must be done. + </p> + <p> + “You know his address. You had better write to him and see what he has to + say for himself.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't. Father says if I have any further communication with him, + directly, or indirectly, he'll disown me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, wait awhile. Father'll calm down in time. Cheer up, Flossie, dry + your eyes, and do put some powder on your nose. It's as red as a beet.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * * * * * +</pre> + <p> + A little later in the season, Quincy and Alice started for their summer + home at Nantucket, where they spent a pleasant two months, Quincy going up + to Boston when needed at the State House. As autumn approached, and the + time for the state election drew near, great influence was brought to bear + on Quincy to make him rescind his decision, and run for governor a second + time, but his mind was fully made up, and in spite of the urgings of the + leaders of his own party, as well as those of the public at large, he + remained firm in his resolve. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Evans worked hard for the nomination, but his predilections were well + known among the labouring classes, and he failed to receive the necessary + votes. Benjamin Ropes, a man respected by all, was elected governor, and + in January Quincy retired from public life, and settled down to what he + thought would be a period of rest and quiet with his wife in the Mount + Vernon Street home. + </p> + <p> + About the middle of the month, however, a letter came from Aunt Ella. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * * * * * +</pre> + <h3> + “FERNBOROUGH HALL, “HEATHFIELD, SUSSEX. + </h3> + <p> + “MY DEAR QUINCY AND ALICE: I was going to write nephew and niece, but you + both seem nearer and dearer to me than those formal titles express. I see + that Quincy is now out of politics, and I know that he needs a change. + Your rooms are all ready for you here, and I want you both to come, just + as soon as you can. It will be the best for you, too, Alice, as you will + escape the very bad winter that Boston always has. I was delighted to hear + the news, and I do hope and pray it will be a boy,—then we shall + have a Quincy Adams Sawyer, Junior. + </p> + <p> + “I wish Maude could come with you. I could introduce her to society here, + and, I have found—don't think me conceited—that there is + nothing that improves an English gentleman so much as having an American + wife. If some of your nice young American gentlemen would marry some + English girls and transplant them to American soil, I think the + English-speaking race would benefit thereby. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Sir Stuart is well, and so is + “Your loving aunt, + “ELLA.” + + * * * * * * * +</pre> + <p> + “The same Aunt Ella as of old,” said Quincy, “always full of new ideas and + quaint suggestions. It would be a good thing for you to go, I think, + Alice, and I should really relish the change myself. What do you say, a + steamer sails next week from here; shall we go?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Quincy, it is rather sudden, but I should be glad to see Aunt Ella + and Linda again, and I really see no reason why we should not go.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we will call that settled, then. And Maude, do you think she would + join us?” + </p> + <p> + “Not unless you take Mr. Merry with you,” replied Alice with a good + natured laugh. + </p> + <p> + Quincy called at the Beacon Street house that afternoon, and had a talk + with Maude about going to Europe with them. He read her Aunt Ella's + letter, and added, + </p> + <p> + “You see, she wishes you to come with us.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I won't go. She wants to marry me off to some Englishman with a + title and no funds. If I ever get married, my husband will be an American. + No, take Florence, and let her hunt up Captain Hornaby, her recreant + lover,—if he was one. She says they 'understood' each other, but + it's evident none of us comprehended—I came near saying apprehended—him.” + </p> + <p> + “I will speak to father about it,” said Quincy. “Please tell him that I'll + call at his office to-morrow morning. Give my love to Florence. I won't + trouble her about it until I've seen father.” + </p> + <p> + Alice thought Florence's substitution for Maude, as regarded the trip to + England, was advisable, and certainly showed Maude's good-heartedness. + </p> + <p> + When Quincy saw his father he made no mention of the Hornaby incident in + connection with Florence joining them on their trip abroad, but in spite + of this the Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer was, at first, strongly opposed to + the idea of his daughter going away from home. Quincy knew his father too + well to argue the matter, and turned the conversation to other subjects. + </p> + <p> + “I have brought my will, father, and wish you would put it in your safe. I + have left everything to Alice to do with as she pleases. I have named you + and Dr. Paul Culver as my executors. Have you any objection to serving?” + </p> + <p> + “You will be more likely to act as my executor than I as yours, but I + accept the trust, feeling sure that I shall have no duties to perform.” + </p> + <p> + “There's another matter, father, I wish to speak about. My former private + secretary, Mr. Merry, is studying law. When my term expired he, of course, + lost his position, for my successor, naturally, wished one of his own + friends in the place. If I were a lawyer, I would take him into my office, + but—” + </p> + <p> + “You can't use him in your grocery store,” interrupted the Hon. Nathaniel. + Quincy took the sarcasm good-naturedly, and laughed. That his father had, + to some extent, overcome his displeasure at his son becoming a tradesman, + was shown by his next words. + </p> + <p> + “Our law business is increasing daily, and perhaps I can make an opening + for him in the near future. I will bear him in mind.” + </p> + <p> + The Hon. Nathaniel reserved his decision in relation to Florence's trip + until he had discussed the matter with his wife, but the next day Maude + saw Alice and told her that her father had consented, on one condition, + and that was that Quincy would bring her back with him when he returned to + America. The Hon. Nathaniel was still suspicious of Aunt Ella, and + evidently thought that she wished to get control of his daughter as she + had of his son. + </p> + <p> + Quincy gave his father the required promise. Florence must have time to + prepare for such a long journey, so Quincy was obliged to give up the plan + of sailing from Boston on a certain date as he had intended. Besides, he + wanted, personally, to see how Arthur Scates was getting along at the + Sanatorium which was at Lyndon in the Adirondacks, and so he booked + passage on the steamer <i>Altonia</i>, to sail from New York in three + weeks. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. — THE WRECK OF THE <i>ALTONIA</i> + </h2> + <p> + “Florence will be ready to start to-morrow,” said Alice. This was welcome + intelligence to Quincy, who wished several days to spare in New York + before sailing. + </p> + <p> + As soon as his wife and sister were located at a hotel in New York, he + made the trip to Lyndon in the Adirondacks to see Arthur Scates. He found + him greatly improved, and he told Quincy that he had not felt so well in + years. The doctors, too, were more than pleased with his condition, and + said that it was only a question of a few months when he would be entirely + well again. + </p> + <p> + When he returned to New York he found that Alice had been to visit Mrs. + Ernst in West 41st Street. Madame Archimbault lived with them and still + carried on the millinery establishment on Broadway, in which Quincy had + accidentally discovered the long-sought Linda Putnam masquerading under + the name of Celeste. How that discovery had operated to change the lives + of many people came forcibly to Quincy as he sought Leopold Ernst in his + down-town office. + </p> + <p> + Leopold was almost hidden behind piles of manuscripts and newspapers when + Quincy entered his room. + </p> + <p> + “Up to your neck, Leopold?” + </p> + <p> + As soon as Leopold saw who had addressed him, he jumped up, pushed a pile + of manuscripts from his desk to the floor, and grasped Quincy's extended + hand in both of his. + </p> + <p> + “Let me help you pick up your papers,” said Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “No, they're in their proper places. They're rejected. I have accepted two + out of fifty or more. The American author sends tons to the literary mill, + but it grinds out but a few pounds. But the novices are improving. They + will yet lead the world, for we have a new country full of God's wonderful + works, and a composite population whose loves and hates reproduce in new + scenes all the passions of the Old World. They are the same pictures of + human goodness and frailty in new frames—and my business is to judge + the workmanship of the frames.” + </p> + <p> + They talked about old times, particularly the success of Alice's first + romance. + </p> + <p> + “Marriage is often fatal to literary activity. Is your wife to write + another book?” + </p> + <p> + “I think not. We expect an addition—not edition—to our family + library soon after our return from England.” + </p> + <p> + “That settles it. Literature takes a back seat when Maternity becomes its + competitor. It is well. Otherwise, how could we keep up our supply of + authors?” + </p> + <p> + The evening before the sailing of the <i>Altonia</i>, a happy party + assembled in a private dining room at Quincy's hotel. Toasts were drunk. + Alice and Rosa sang and Florence accompanied and played classic selections + upon the piano. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Bon voyage,” cried Leopold, as they separated. “Make notes of something +really new, make a book of up-to-date travels, and our house will +publish it for you, for I'll recommend it no matter how bad it is. We +have to do that often for friends of the firm,—why not for our own?” + + A foggy night on the ocean. The barometer ranged low. An upward +glance disclosed a black mist—no sign of moon or stars. A bad night on +land, when trains of cars crash into others laden with humanity—some +dying mercifully without knowing the cause; others cruelly, by slow +cremation, with willing hands nearby powerless to help. +</pre> + <p> + A bad night off shore, when freight-laden craft, deceived by beacon + lights, are beached upon the treacherous sand or dashed against jagged + rocks. The life-savers, with rocket, and gun and line, and breeches-buoys, + try in vain, and, as a last resort, grasp the oars of the life-boat and + bring to safety one or two of a crew of ten. Sad hearts in homes when the + news comes; but it is only one of the scenes in the drama of life. + </p> + <p> + A bad night at sea—with a great ocean liner, its iron heart + pulsating, plunging through the black waves into dense mountains of fog. + </p> + <p> + Despite the darkness and chill of the winter night, Quincy, Alice, and + Florence were on the deck of the <i>Altonia</i>. Alice shuddered and + Quincy drew her wrap more closely about her. + </p> + <p> + “Shall we go down into the cabin?” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet. There is nothing enjoyable about this Cimmerian gloom, and yet + it has its attractions. Florence, what is it that Tom Hood wrote about + London fog?” + </p> + <p> + “I only remember one line, and I'm not sure I can quote that correctly. I + think it reads: 'No sun, no moon,' I should add 'no stars, no proper time + of day.'” + </p> + <p> + During the two days since leaving New York, Florence had been a creature + of moods: sad, when she brooded over her trouble due, she felt sure, to + another's act; light-hearted when she thought of the prospect of again + meeting Reginald and having him prove his innocence. + </p> + <p> + She had been spared newspaper publicity. Not for ten times the sum he had + lost would the Hon. Nathaniel have had his daughter's name in the public + prints. He was a lawyer, but it was his business to get other people out + of trouble, and not to get his own family into it—which shows that + great lawyers are not exempt from that very common human frailty, + selfishness. + </p> + <p> + Sounds of applause were borne to their ears. “Let us go in,” said + Florence, “some one has been singing.” + </p> + <p> + In the main saloon, all was merriment. Each passenger had faith in Capt. + Robert Haskins, who had crossed the Atlantic hundreds of times. The <i>Altonia</i> + belonged to a lucky line, the luck that follows careful foresight as + regards every detail, the luck that brings safety and success from + constant vigilance. + </p> + <p> + In the first cabin were more than two hundred souls—young and old, + maids and matrons, young and middle-aged men, and a few beyond the + allotted three score years and ten. + </p> + <p> + Mlle. Carenta, a member of a troupe of grand opera singers, whom many had + heard during the company's engagement in New York, arose from the piano + amid cries of “bravo,” for her superb vocalism. She had sung Gounod's <i>Ave + Maria</i>. + </p> + <p> + “How sweetly she sang,” said Alice, as she touched her husband's arm to + more fully draw his attention from the beautiful vocalist. “Don't you + think so, Quincy?” + </p> + <p> + “Divine,” was the reply. “One can almost fancy the doors of Heaven are + open.” + </p> + <p> + The cabin was warm—in reality, hot,—but Alice shuddered as she + had when chilled by the mist and cold. She caught quickly at her husband's + arm. + </p> + <p> + “I wish we were safe at Fernborough Hall with Aunt Ella.” + </p> + <p> + “And so do I, my dear, but the walking is poor, and we must put up with + our present method of locomotion for a few days longer. Think of the good + times we have had and those in store for us.” + </p> + <p> + Alice reassured by the words and the accompanying pressure of Quincy's + hand exclaimed: “How delightful it was in the country, and how I enjoyed + our visits. I shall always love Mason's Corner as it was called when—” + </p> + <p> + “I met my fate,” her husband added. “My line fell in a pleasant place—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't call me a fish,” said his wife, as she smiled half reprovingly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we're on the water; if we were in it, we all might wish to be fish—or + rather whales.” + </p> + <p> + The next moment all was confusion. Faces that were white became red—those + that were red turned white—even through the colour that art had + given to niggardly nature. Fully half the occupants of the saloon were + thrown violently to the floor in a promiscuous heap. Others saved + themselves from falling by grasping frantically at the nearest object. + Many of the lights went out. Some of the women swooned, while men who had + deemed themselves brave shook like palsied creatures. + </p> + <p> + A man half ran, half fell, down the stairway that led into the saloon and + stood before the affrighted passengers. No tongue could form a question, + but each eager face asked, + </p> + <p> + “What is it? What has happened?” + </p> + <p> + His voice came, thin and husky, “We've been struck by another ship in the + fog!” + </p> + <p> + At sea, at night, and that a night of winter chill—and the fog! Such + the thought. The fact—ten thousand tons of steel and wood, the + product of man's industry, fashioned by his brain, and blood, and bone, + crushed and useless, and half a thousand human beings—looking + forward to years of happiness—doomed to a terrific struggle with the + elements. Strong, courageous, creative man—now a weak, + fear-stricken, helpless creature! + </p> + <p> + “<i>To the boats!</i>” came the cry from above, and it was echoed by + hundreds of voices. In those three words were a gleam of hope: they opened + a path, but through what and to what would it lead? The other ship, a + tramp steamer, which had collided with the <i>Altonia</i> was already + sinking, and in a few minutes went down, bow foremost, only a few of the + crew having escaped in their own boats. + </p> + <p> + Quincy had been an athlete in his college days. In time of danger, whether + the man be ignorant or educated, one feeling—the instinct of + self-preservation—is paramount. Alice and Florence had stood mute, + helpless. Quincy put an arm about each and sprang to the narrow doorway. + It was blocked by two stout men who fought frantically to gain precedence. + </p> + <p> + Quincy placed his wife in front of him, and, with the hand thus + temporarily freed, he grasped one of the men by the collar and threw him + back into the saloon where he was trampled upon by the frenzied + passengers. + </p> + <p> + Regardless of the consequence of his act, Quincy mounted the stairs + quickly and gained the deck. The boats were being filled rapidly. He + placed his wife and sister in one of them. + </p> + <p> + Alice cried, “Come, Quincy, there is room here.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Alice, not yet. The women must go first.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not go without you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you will, Alice—and you know why.” + </p> + <p> + The mighty craft was filling rapidly. Captain Haskins feared that like the + tramp steamer it would founder before the passengers could get into the + boats—their frail hope for safety. For himself, he asked no place. + He had the spirit of the soldier who expires beside his dying horse, + looking fondly at the animal that has borne him so many times in safety, + and now gives up his life with his master's. + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake, come, Quincy!” cried Alice. “For our sake!” and Florence + added her entreaties. + </p> + <p> + Quincy turned and saw a woman with a child by her side. She had made her + way from the steerage. She was being deported, for she suffered from + trachoma. She had been refused permission to land and join her husband who + had stood outside the “pen” and gazed at her and the child. Quincy placed + the woman in the boat beside his wife and put the child in its mother's + arms. + </p> + <p> + “Lower away!” came a shrill cry. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Quincy, must we part thus?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Haskins grasped Quincy by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “Get into the boat, Mr. Sawyer.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy saw that the boat, filled with women, was already over-loaded. + </p> + <p> + He turned to the Captain and said: “There is more room here with you.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Nature's ways are mysterious but effective. A brisk breeze broke the +fog, and the rays of the noonday sun fell upon a placid sea. The boat +containing Alice and Florence was picked up by the <i>Macedonian</i> of +a rival line and the rescued made comfortable. For hours the steamer +cruised about rescuing hundreds of the <i>Altonia</i>'s passengers, but some +of the boats were never heard from. +</pre> + <p> + Alice and many others had hoped that the wrecked vessel was still afloat, + but the <i>Altonia</i> had disappeared,—was far below in hundreds of + fathoms of water. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. — FERNBOROUGH HALL + </h2> + <p> + Fernborough Hall,—not a hall in the town of Fernborough in the + Commonwealth of Massachusetts, but a rambling, old-fashioned brick + building in the County of Sussex in “Merrie England;” a stately home set + in the middle of hundreds of acres of upland, lowland, and woodland. Wings + had been added as required, and a tower from which, on a clear day, the + English Channel could be seen with the naked eye, while a field-glass + brought into view the myriad craft, bound east and west, north and south, + on the peaceful missions of trade. + </p> + <p> + There was no terrace upon which gaudy peacocks strutted back and forth, + but in front of the Hall was a small artificial lake in which some + transplanted fish led the lives of prisoners. Lady Fernborough begged the + Baronet to end their miserable existence, but, to him, innovation was + folly and destruction bordered on criminality. + </p> + <p> + “When I am gone, Ella,” he would say, “you may introduce your American + ideas, for everything will be yours. When the Fernborough name dies, let + the fish die too.” + </p> + <p> + The long search for his lost daughter had made him misanthropic. His + knowledge of her sad death had been accompanied, it is true, by the + pleasing intelligence that his daughter's child lived, but that + grand-daughter, though of his blood and British born, had not been + educated according to British ideas. To be sure, she was now a Countess, + but she had been transplanted to her native soil, and had not grown there. + </p> + <p> + It might be asked, if he was so insular in his ideas, why had he taken an + American wife, and she a widow? He had been charmed by her vivacity. She + lifted him out of the gloom in which he had lived so long. If she had been + tame and prosaic, she would have worn the weeds of widowhood again in a + short time. She made him comfortable; she surrounded him with the + brightest people she could find; he was not allowed to mope indoors, and + Sir Stuart Fernborough and his sprightly American wife attended all the + important social functions of the County, and many in London, and at the + houses of their friends. And now a great joy was to come to Lady + Fernborough. She expected visitors from the United States, and what she + considered needful preparations kept her in a flutter of excitement. + </p> + <p> + “How soon do you expect them?” asked Sir Stuart at breakfast. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow, or next day. They sailed on the tenth; to-morrow is the + seventeenth, but they may rest for a day in Liverpool—” + </p> + <p> + “Or stay a day or two in London,” suggested Sir Stuart. + </p> + <p> + “I hope not, for my guests will be impatient to see a real live American + ex-governor. Quincy's political advancement has been very rapid.” + </p> + <p> + “America is a rapid country, my dear,” was Sir Stuart's comment. + </p> + <p> + When Lady Fernborough reached her boudoir, she seated herself at her + writing desk and wrote rapidly for nearly an hour. + </p> + <p> + “I don't wish too many guests,” she soliloquized as she sealed the last + invitation. “Now, I must write to Linda.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Linda, + </p> + <p> + “I have a great surprise for you. You must forgive me for keeping a + secret. I do it so seldom, I wished the experience. I am like the + penniless suitor who proposed to an heiress, who, he knew, would reject + him, just to see how it would make him feel to lose a fortune. I think I + saw that in Punch, but it fits my case exactly. They will be here, <i>sure</i>, + day after to-morrow. I mean Quincy and Alice, and, I hope, Maude. Come and + bring all the children. I suppose Algernon is in London helping to make + laws for unruly Britishers, but we will make merry and defy the + constables. Despite my marital patronymic, and my armorial bearings, I am + still, your loving aunt Ella.” + </p> + <p> + Alice was not to tell the sad news to Lady Fernborough. The telegraph + outstrips the ocean liner, and a newspaper, with tidings of the great + calamity, was in Aunt Ella's hands long before the arrival of the + broken-hearted wife and disconsolate sister. The invitations were + countermanded, and days of sorrow followed instead of the anticipated time + of joyfulness. + </p> + <p> + Alice and Florence told the story of the tragedy over and over again to + sympathizing listeners. + </p> + <p> + “That was just like Quincy to give his place to that poor woman and her + child,” said Aunt Ella. “Like Bayard he was without fear and he died + without reproach.” + </p> + <p> + Alice would not abandon hope. She racked her brain for possibilities and + probabilities. Perhaps there had been another boat in which her husband + and the Captain escaped. They might have been discovered and rescued by + some vessel bound to America, or, perhaps, some faraway foreign country. + He would let them know as soon as he reached land. + </p> + <p> + Aunt Ella, though naturally optimistic, did not, in her own heart, share + Alice's hopeful anticipations. Perhaps Florence's somewhat extravagant + account of the collision and the events which followed it led her to form + the opinion that her nephew's escape from death was impossible. + </p> + <p> + Hope takes good root, but it is a flower that, too often, has no blossom. + A month passed—two—three—four—five—six—and + then despair filled the young wife's heart. She could bear up no longer, + and Dr. Parshefield made frequent visits. + </p> + <p> + Aunt Ella pressed the fatherless infant to her breast. + </p> + <p> + “What shall you name him, Alice?” + </p> + <p> + “There can be but one name for him. God sent us two little girls, but took + them back again. We both wished for a son, and Heaven has sent one, but + has taken the father from us.” + </p> + <p> + “And you will name him—” + </p> + <p> + “Quincy Adams Sawyer, Junior,” was the answer. “It is his birthright.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Aunt Ella, “they never add Junior to a boy's name unless his + father is living.” + </p> + <p> + Alice sat up in bed, and her eyes flashed as she said, + </p> + <p> + “My heart has renewed its hope with this young life. I believe my husband + still lives, and, until I have conclusive proofs of his death, our son's + name will be Quincy Adams Sawyer, Junior.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. — “HORNABY HOOK” + </h2> + <p> + Time, it is said, will dull the deepest sorrow. There are some who put out + of sight everything to remind them of the lost one, while others treasure + every memento, and never tire of recalling the virtues of the departed. + </p> + <p> + In Alice's case the presence of her little boy was a constant reminder of + her husband. In Aunt Ella she found a willing listener, and talking of her + past happy married life aided greatly in restoring her nerve power and + improving her general health. + </p> + <p> + She said one day, “Aunt Ella, don't you think it better to face your + troubles bravely than to fly away from them?” + </p> + <p> + “I certainly do. You are following the right course, Alice; the same as I + did when Robert died. Your parting with Quincy was sad, inexpressibly so, + but imagine my feelings to awake and find my husband dead in the bed + beside me. Did I try to forget him? You remember his rooms in the Mount + Vernon Street house. They became my Mecca—the place to which I went + when I had a 'blue fit,' or was depressed in any way. God has sent you a + child to keep your husband's memory fresh. I repeat, Alice, you are doing + the right thing.” + </p> + <p> + “I do it,” said Alice, “for two reasons. One is that it makes me happy. + The other is, that believing that my husband still lives, I wish to bring + up his son so that he will be proud of him.” + </p> + <p> + Florence, after awhile, made a confidante of Aunt Ella and told her about + Captain Hornaby. She confessed her interest in him and said that + notwithstanding his crime she loved him, but that her father would never + forgive him. + </p> + <p> + “What part of England did he come from?” asked Aunt Ella. + </p> + <p> + “He said from Hornaby—that the place was named after his family. + Their home was called Hornaby Hook, because, as he said, it was built upon + a promontory in the form of a hook.” + </p> + <p> + “What is his father's name?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Wilfred, and Reginald is the fourth son.” + </p> + <p> + “No chance of his ever getting the title,” remarked Aunt Ella. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder where Hornaby Hook is,” said Florence. + </p> + <p> + “That's easily found out. Linda has <i>Burke's Peerage</i> and I'll write + to her to-day.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Fernborough more than kept her promise, for in her letter she told + the Countess Florence's unhappy love story besides asking for information + about the Hornaby family. + </p> + <p> + Linda's reply was a revelation. + </p> + <h3> + “MY DEAR AUNT ELLA, + </h3> + <p> + “I was very sorry to hear that Quincy's sister has been so unfortunate in + her love affair, and astonished to find that Captain Hornaby is the cause + of it. You will be surprised to learn that Algernon is well acquainted + with Sir Wilfred who is an old-fashioned English gentleman and the soul of + honour. He has met the Captain and thought him a fine young fellow. + Hornaby Hook is on the Sussex coast about ten miles from us. Come and see + us and bring Florence with you. Perhaps there is an explanation of the + affair which the Captain can give. He should not be condemned without a + hearing. Give my love to Alice and tell her I'm coming to see that baby + very soon. With love, ever yours, LINDA.” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Ella was now in her element. There was a mystery to be explained and + she held the key. She told Florence where Hornaby Hook was, and that the + Hornaby family was a fine one, and that Sir Wilfred was held in the + highest respect by everybody, but did not mention Linda's suggestion of a + visit, and a possible explanation. She knew Florence would not accompany + her if there was any possibility of her meeting the Captain. It would + appear as though she was running after him, and no American girl, + especially a Sawyer, would do that. + </p> + <p> + Sir Stuart was greatly interested in young Quincy, and Mrs. Villiers, the + housekeeper, thought him the handsomest and best baby she had ever seen. + Thus the way was paved for the first step in Aunt Ella's plot. + </p> + <p> + “Alice, do you think you would be very lonesome if I went away for a + week?” + </p> + <p> + “Why no, Aunt Ella. Why should I be? I have the baby, and Sir Stuart and + Mrs. Villiers are both goodness itself to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Florence is not looking very well. Don't you think a week at the seashore + would do her good?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish she could go, poor girl. When I think of her, I say to myself that + I have no right to be unhappy. If Quincy is dead, he died nobly, to save + others. But the shame connected with Captain Hornaby is what Florence + feels so deeply.” + </p> + <p> + That same day Aunt Ella wrote to Linda that she was coming with Florence, + and that Algernon and she must arrange in some way to bring about that + “explanation.” + </p> + <p> + Algernon, Earl of Sussex, and the Countess Linda lived at Ellersleigh in + the County of Sussex, not many miles from historic Hastings. To Aunt Ella + and Florence they extended a warm and heartfelt welcome, and Florence, + used as she was to the luxuries of life, could not but marvel at the + beauty and even splendour that surrounded the Countess—once an + American country girl named Linda Putnam. + </p> + <p> + “I have sent out cards for a dinner party next Thursday,” said Linda to + Aunt Ella. “There will be an opportunity for that 'explanation,' but you + must assume the responsibility if there should be a tragic ending.” + </p> + <p> + “We must hope for the best,” replied Aunt Ella. “I will gather up the + fragments after the explosion.” + </p> + <p> + From the expression on Florence's face, when Sir Wilfred Hornaby and + Captain Reginald Hornaby were announced as guests, the explosion seemed + imminent. + </p> + <p> + In her mind, she had looked forward to such a meeting with a sensation of + delight. Now that it had come her pride was up in arms. She had been + tricked into coming. The Countess and Aunt Ella had arranged this meeting. + Perhaps he had been told that she would be present. Well, if they did + meet, he would have to do the talking. She had no explanation to make. If + he had one, he must introduce the subject. + </p> + <p> + At the dinner Florence sat next to Sir Wilfred, but the Captain was far + removed on the other side of the long table. Sir Wilfred was politely + attentive. Did he know of his son's crime? Evidently not—but, if he + did, he had condoned the offence. But how could he if he was the man of + honour that the Countess had pictured him in her letter to Aunt Ella? No, + the son had deceived <i>his</i> father as he had <i>her</i> father. Did + she really love him? Had she forgiven him? If he had proposed when + Florence was in that state of uncertainty, his rejection would have been + swift and positive. + </p> + <p> + When the dinner was over, the Captain, apparently unconscious of guilt, + approached Florence. He offered his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Will you come with me, Miss Sawyer? I have a very important question to + ask you.” + </p> + <p> + Should she go? He was going to ask her a question. She had many to ask + him. This unpleasant uncertainty must end—now, was the accepted + time. + </p> + <p> + She took his arm, and he made his way to the conservatory—that haven + of confidences, where so many lovers have been made happy, or unhappy. + </p> + <p> + “Why have you not answered my letters?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I never received them.” Her voice was cold, and she removed her hand from + his arm. + </p> + <p> + “I sent them in your father's care.” + </p> + <p> + “That is probably the reason why I did not get them.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should he refuse to give them to you? I borrowed money from him but I + repaid him before I left America.” + </p> + <p> + He thought she was not acquainted with his perfidy. She would undeceive + him. + </p> + <p> + “Did you tell him the truth when you borrowed it?” + </p> + <p> + His face flushed. How could she know? But she did. He would be honest with + her. + </p> + <p> + “No, I did not.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew it. My sister Maude recovered your coat, but there was no money or + bills of exchange in your pocket book—only a few visiting cards + bearing the name of Col. Arthur Spencer.” + </p> + <p> + The young man bowed his head. He was guilty. She would leave him without + another word. She turned to go. He caught her hand, which she, + indignantly, withdrew from his grasp. + </p> + <p> + “I will explain, Miss Sawyer.” Was he going to tell the truth, or invent + another story? + </p> + <p> + “Arthur Spencer was the Colonel of the first regiment with which I was + connected. I do not belong to it now. He is a poor man, and an inveterate + gambler. I had not seen him for two years, when we met in New York just + before I went to Boston. You are tired, Miss Sawyer.” + </p> + <p> + He pointed to a seat beneath some palms, and led her, unresistingly, to + it. + </p> + <p> + “He asked me to dinner with him, and I went. Then he suggested a game of + cards while we smoked and I foolishly consented. The stakes, at first, + were small, and he won rapidly. He increased his bets and I was forced, + against my will, to meet them. When we stopped playing, he had not only + won all my money, but had my 'I O U' for three hundred dollars. I had to + borrow money from him to pay my hotel bill and fare to Boston.” + </p> + <p> + Florence nodded. She could not speak. + </p> + <p> + “I had letters of introduction to Boston families—among them, your + own. When that accident happened—” she looked up at him inquiringly— + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “You have acknowledged that you are a gambler} + </p> + <p> + “No, don't think that of me—it was not intentional on my part—I + was without money—the Colonel must be paid—my allowance was + not due for ten days—I invented the story that I told your father.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a lie!” Florence choked as she uttered the accusing words. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it was a lie, and one for which I have sincerely repented, I told my + father, and he forgave me, but said, as the coat was gone, to let the + matter drop, that nothing would be gained by confessing to your father as + he had been paid, and had met with no loss.” + </p> + <p> + Florence sprang to her feet. “No loss!” she cried. “How can you say that? + You have acknowledged that you are a gambler and a liar—why not + finish the story and confess your crime?” + </p> + <p> + “Crime, Florence! What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + Her lips curled + </p> + <p> + “You do not know what I mean?” + </p> + <p> + “No, as God hears me, I do not. You accuse me—of what?” + </p> + <p> + She felt that the crux was reached. “Did you not know when the check for + five hundred dollars came back to my father's bank that it had been raised + to five thousand dollars?” + </p> + <p> + The Captain reeled, and came near falling. He clutched at the palm tree + which sustained him until he regained his footing. + </p> + <p> + “My God! And you have thought me the thief!” + </p> + <p> + “What else could I think?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't understand.... I met Col. Spencer in Boston—those birds of + prey always follow their victims, and gave him the check, receiving two + hundred dollars in return. He must have—and yet I cannot believe he + would do such a thing. He is in London now. To-morrow I will go and find + him.” + </p> + <p> + “But if he denies it—how can you prove him guilty?” + </p> + <p> + “Unless he frees my name from such a charge—I will challenge him—and + kill him!” + </p> + <p> + Florence could no longer act as accuser. Her heart plead for the young + Englishman who had confessed his error, but who so strenuously denied his + participation in a crime. “Miss Sawyer, will you mercifully suspend + judgment until my return from London?” + </p> + <p> + She did not reply in words, but gave him her hand. + </p> + <p> + When they rejoined the company both Linda and Aunt Ella noticed Florence's + heightened colour and the brightness of her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “He must have explained,” said Linda, “when an occasion offered.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so,” was Aunt Ella's reply, and she felicitated herself upon the + success of their joint plot. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. — AN AMERICAN HEIRESS + </h2> + <p> + For some time after rejoining the company, Florence was so busy with her + thoughts that she paid little attention to what was going on about her. + She was aroused from her abstraction by a sharp voice: + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think Captain Hornaby is a very handsome young man?” Florence + looked and found that her questioner was Lady Elfrida Hastings, the only + sister of the Earl. When that lady had visited them at Nahant, she had + considered her the embodiment of all the female virtues. She recalled her + statuesque repose, and her aristocratic manner which had so pleased her + father. She also remembered the morning when she was discovered by Maude + practising the Lady Elfrida's poses, and her sister's inquiry as to + whether she had a chill and wanted the quinine pills. + </p> + <p> + Feeling the necessity of saying something, she replied: “I haven't noticed + him particularly.” + </p> + <p> + The Lady Elfrida, perfect gentlewoman that she was, said severely, for + her, “Your failure to do so, certainly was not due to lack of + opportunity.” + </p> + <p> + So, her long absence in his company had been noticed. She was at a loss + for a reply, when to her great relief the Earl approached and asked if she + would play a certain piece which he had admired very much when in America. + </p> + <p> + “What was its name?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't remember,” said the Earl. “It ran something like this,” and he + hummed a few measures. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” cried Florence, “Old Folks at Home.” The scene through which she had + gone with the Captain had awakened deep emotions, and her voice was in the + temperamental condition to give a sadly-weird effect to the lines of the + chorus. When she sang + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Oh, my heart is sad and weary” + </pre> + <p> + the Lady Elfrida turned to Mrs. Ellice, the Rector's wife, and remarked, + “There was a rumour that Captain Hornaby was greatly interested in Miss + Sawyer, but from something she told me to-night I do not think it will be + a match.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what did she say?” asked Mrs. Ellice with natural feminine curiosity + as regards love affairs. + </p> + <p> + “I hardly feel warranted in repeating it,” said the Lady Elfrida, “as it + was given to me in confidence.” + </p> + <p> + Later in the evening the Lady Elfrida sought Captain Hornaby. “My dear + Captain, don't you think Miss Sawyer sings divinely?” + </p> + <p> + The Captain, with his mind on Col. Spencer and the tenfold check, replied, + rather brusquely, “I'm not a great lover of negro melodies.” + </p> + <p> + The Lady Elfrida felt sure that Captain Hornaby was still an “eligible,” + but she reflected that he was a fourth son and dependent upon the bounty + of his father and elder brother, and that her dowry must come from her + brother who, in her opinion, had a very extravagant wife—but none of + those American girls had any idea of economy. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, Captain Hornaby went to London in search of Colonel + Spencer. He visited his clubs, and, because it was necessary, many of the + gambling places, but his quest was fruitless. As a last resort he went to + the War Office and learned that the Colonel had sailed the day before to + join his regiment in India. + </p> + <p> + The Captain reported the failure of his mission to Florence. + </p> + <p> + “I have been talking the matter over with Aunt Ella. She advises me to + send a cable message to father asking what bank the check was deposited in + and by whom.” + </p> + <p> + “He may have cashed it at your father's bank,” said the Captain. + </p> + <p> + “Then Aunt Ella says my father can see the bank officers and make sure + that the Colonel got the money.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go back to London to-morrow and send the message in your name.” + </p> + <p> + “The story deepens,” said the Captain, when he returned with the reply + from the Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer. It read, + </p> + <p> + “State National. Deposited five hundred. Revere House. Interviewed my + bank.” + </p> + <p> + “What does it mean?” asked Florence. “So many words are omitted. I can't + make sense of it.” + </p> + <p> + “It means,” said the Captain, “that Col. Spencer is innocent. He was + staying at the Revere House when I paid him his three hundred dollars. He + must have cashed your father's check at the hotel, they paying him five + hundred dollars only, and they, I mean the hotel proprietors, deposited it + in their bank, the State National.” + </p> + <p> + “But what do the last three words mean?” + </p> + <p> + “They mean that some one in your father's bank raised the check and he has + seen the bank officers about it.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm so glad,” cried Florence. “You must come and explain it all to Aunt + Ella.” + </p> + <p> + She was greatly pleased to learn that Captain Hornaby was innocent of any + complicity in the embezzlement, and said to Florence: “You will get a + letter from your father telling you who the real criminal is,” and turning + to the Captain, continued, “We go back to Fernborough Hall to-morrow, + Captain Hornaby, but when that letter comes we will send for you.” + </p> + <p> + “I can bear the suspense now that Colonel Spencer and myself are free from + any charge of criminality, but I greatly regret, Miss Sawyer, that your + father has met with such a heavy loss.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry, yet, Captain,” said Aunt Ella. “Florence's father won't be + out any money if there's any legal way of making the bank bear the loss.” + </p> + <p> + When Aunt Ella and Florence returned to Fernborough Hall they told Alice + the wonderful story. + </p> + <p> + “I am so glad for your sake, Florence, and the Captain's too. I think Aunt + Ella's suggestion about sending the cablegram to your father was an + excellent one.” + </p> + <p> + The story was told, also, to Sir Stuart. He was gratified to learn that + two officers of Her Majesty's army had been freed from the charge of + embezzlement, but deplored the fact that gambling was so prevalent among + them. + </p> + <p> + “I am an Englishman born and bred,” said he, “but I think the law of + primogeniture is, as a general rule, a bad one. Driving, as it does, the + younger sons into the army, the navy, the church, and the law may be + beneficial, for the branches of our national defence and the professions + must be recruited from a stratum of intelligent men; the lack of money may + be a spur to ambition in many instances, but it often leads to devious + practices, and—” he saw that he had three interested listeners—“the + whole system is contrary to your countrymen's idea that all men are + created free and equal. While I cannot accept that doctrine <i>in toto</i>, + I do believe that the bestowal of titles and fortune upon the eldest son + is attended with grave evils, not only among our nobility, but in our + royal successions. The Almighty does not follow such a law in endowing his + children, and it is contrary to Nature's <i>dictum</i> 'the survival of + the fittest.'” + </p> + <p> + Sir Stuart had expressed such opinions during his term in Parliament. The + path of the political pioneer is strewn with temporary defeats, but all + reforms, based upon truth, are ultimately successful, or life would be a + stagnant pool instead of a river of progress. + </p> + <p> + A letter from Maude contained a solution of the mystery. + </p> + <p> + “DEAR AUNT ELLA AND SISTER FLO:—What a rumpus there has been about + that raised check. Father was as dumb as an oyster about the affair until + he had it all settled, then he told ma and me. + </p> + <p> + “How you two feminines must have suffered—one from hopeless love—and + the other from helpless sympathy. But it is all over now, and the probity + of two, presumably, gallant officers is vindicated, while the paying + teller of father's bank is behind the bars with a certain prospect of + years of manual labour for bed and board. Why will men be so foolish? + Easily answered. The love of gold, not made in an honest way, but by + speculating with other folks' money. Mr. Barr, the aforesaid teller, is a + nice young fellow with a wife and two children, but his life is wrecked. + Of course she will get a divorce and try to find a better man. We are all + well, including Mr. Merry. He intended to take the place in father's + office that Quincy spoke about, but Harry—there, I've written it, so + will let it go—had a better position offered him by Mr. Curtis + Carter, one of Quincy's old friends, and he's doing splendidly Mr. Carter + told me. + </p> + <p> + “I am heartbroken about Quincy. I trust Alice's hopes may be realized and + most of the time I share them. + </p> + <p> + “How's that nephew of mine? Send him over and we'll bring him up a Yankee + boy. He's no Englishman. + </p> + <p> + “We are all well, and everybody sends love to everybody. MAUDE. + </p> + <p> + “P. S. Father didn't lose anything on the check. The bank paid the money + back to him.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * * * * * +</pre> + <p> + Aunt Ella kept her promise to the Captain and the part of Maude's letter + which concerned the check was read to him. He improved his opportunity by + asking Florence to be his wife. + </p> + <p> + “My father was greatly pleased with you and will welcome you as a + daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “Whether my father will welcome you as a son is the question,” said + Florence. “My father is a very wealthy man. I know the conventionalities + and requirements of English life, and although my love for you is not + dependent upon your having or not having a fortune, I cannot become a + burden to you, or dependent upon your family, as I might become if my + father refused his consent.” + </p> + <p> + “You American girls are intensely practical.” + </p> + <p> + “Are not Englishmen equally so when they pay court to American heiresses? + I don't mean you, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “My father and brothers will allow me twenty-five hundred pounds a year, + about twelve thousand dollars of your money.” + </p> + <p> + “Could we live, as we have both lived, on that income, Reginald?” + </p> + <p> + “To be honest, Florence, I don't think we could have a town house, a place + in the country, and entertain much.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not, Reginald. If my father gives his consent, I will be your + wife whenever you say. If he refuses, we must wait.” + </p> + <p> + The next mail brought a short letter for Florence from her sister. + </p> + <p> + “DEAR FLO:—I didn't want to put what I'm going to write now in my + other letter. I suppose Reggie will propose now. Don't you accept him + until Father is told. You love money and style, and the first enables you + to indulge in the second. + </p> + <p> + “I don't blame Reggie for borrowing if he was hard up, but knew he could + pay. But most men are deceitful creatures, anyway. Don't let Aunt Ella + write to father. He was always sore about her influence over Quincy, and + he mustn't think Aunt Ella made this match. If the Countess would write + him, puffing up Reggie's ancestors, and his blue blood and ancestral home, + and a hint (I hope it is so) that the Hornaby's are a very wealthy family + and related (distantly of course) to royalty, Pater may say 'yes,' and + give you his blessing. I do, if that will help any. Your loving sister, + </p> + <h3> + “MAUDE.” + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * * * * * +</pre> + <p> + Florence had to make confidantes of Aunt Ella and Alice. She repeated her + conversation with Reginald and allowed them to read Maude's letter. + </p> + <p> + “Maude has a level head,” was Aunt Ella's comment. “I'll go and have a + talk with Linda. If she will write your father in the Captain's behalf, I + think things will come out all right.” + </p> + <p> + Linda was not only willing to assure the Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer that + Capt. Hornaby belonged to an old and honourable family, but also that he + did not seek his daughter's hand because her father was a wealthy man, for + the Hornaby estate was a large one, and the rentals sufficient to allow + the Captain an adequate income, although there were other brothers to + share the patrimony. + </p> + <p> + The Hon. Nathaniel deliberated before answering. Florence had always been + a dutiful daughter and the fact that she would not become engaged without + his consent was an acknowledgment of his parental influence which was + vastly pleasing to his vanity. He had been tricked into accepting Alice as + his son's wife, and he knew that Maude, when she made up her mind to marry + would be guided little, if any, by his advice. Filial love and respect + deserved their reward. + </p> + <p> + He wrote the Countess giving his consent to the marriage, and, what was + most important, declared his intention of allowing Mrs. Captain Hornaby an + income of fifteen thousand dollars annually, and a liberal provision at + his death. He was very sorry, but pressing legal duties would prevent his + attendance at the wedding if it took place in England. + </p> + <p> + The Countess insisted upon the wedding taking place at Ellersleigh. She + had obtained the, otherwise, obdurate father's consent, and demanded + compensation for her services. + </p> + <p> + So many weddings have been described that novelty in that line is + impossible. Sufficient to say that the Countess fulfilled expectations and + more, and the event was the year's sensation in Sussex, the echoes of + which reached imperial London, and far off democratic America. + </p> + <p> + The Lady Elfrida Hastings was present at the wedding. She congratulated + the Captain and his bride, but took occasion to say to the latter,— + </p> + <p> + “My dear, don't sing those sentimental American songs any more. That night + you looked so <i>triste</i> I was afraid the present delightful affair + would never become a reality.” + </p> + <p> + Florence did not confess that, on the evening in question, she had + misgivings herself. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. — AN ELOPEMENT + </h2> + <p> + The Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer sat in his library reading a ponderous + legal document. It was full of knotty points requiring deep thinking, and + the Hon. Nathaniel was breathing deeply and thinking deeply when the door + was opened quietly and a young girl looked in. She stood for a moment + regarding the reader. + </p> + <p> + “Father, are you very busy?” + </p> + <p> + The man finished reading the page before noticing the speaker. + </p> + <p> + “I am always busy, Maude, except when asleep, and I sometimes think my + subliminal consciousness is active then.” + </p> + <p> + Maude's inclination was to say “Oh, my!” but she repressed the + ejaculation. + </p> + <p> + “I can give you a few minutes, Maude, if the subject is an important one. + Come in.” + </p> + <p> + Maude entered, seated herself, folded her hands in her lap and regarded + her father as a disobedient pupil would a teacher. + </p> + <p> + “Father—” + </p> + <p> + The Hon. Nathaniel was listening attentively. + </p> + <p> + “Father—” + </p> + <p> + “Repetition is effective if not indulged in to excess. I often use it in + my arguments before juries.” + </p> + <p> + Maude flushed. She was particularly sensitive to sarcasm, but could stand + any amount of good-natured raillery. + </p> + <p> + “Father, I'm going to be married.” + </p> + <p> + The Hon. Nathaniel readjusted his glasses and regarded the speaker. + </p> + <p> + “It must be a clandestine attachment. I am not aware of meeting any + gentleman who declared any desire to make you his wife. At whose house + have you met your intended? I have no reason to suspect your Aunt Ella + owing to her absence in Europe.” + </p> + <p> + “I've never been to anybody's house. I've walked with him on the Common + and in the Public Garden.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, two parks frequented by the elite of the city.” + </p> + <p> + Maude resented his last remark. “Just as good people as I am go there.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that you are no better than those who go there?” + </p> + <p> + His voice was stern. Maude saw that she had made a mistake. “Some of + them,” she said in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “Who is the favoured gentleman? Have I the honour of his acquaintance?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, you've met him. It's Harry, I mean Mr. Merry.” + </p> + <p> + “The young man who was Quincy's private secretary. Quincy wished me to + take him into my office, but he never appeared in person.” + </p> + <p> + “He's with Mr. Curtis Carter on Tremont Street. Mr. Carter was one of + Quincy's most intimate friends.” + </p> + <p> + “And Mr. Merry preferred going to one of Quincy's friends, than to me, and + criminal cases rather than civil procedure. Mr. Carter revels in murder + trials. But why has this young man failed to consult me on a matter so + greatly affecting your future? Why have you assumed the initiative? This + is not leap year.” + </p> + <p> + Maude was ready to cry, but she choked down her rising temper. + </p> + <p> + “I think he's afraid to.” + </p> + <p> + “What has he done that he should fear me?” + </p> + <p> + Maude made another mistake. “He never borrowed any money of you.” + </p> + <p> + The Hon. Nathaniel disliked any reference to that raised check. “If he + marries you, perhaps he will find it difficult to support you without + borrowing money—but I shall not loan him any.” + </p> + <p> + “He says he can support me as well as I wish, and I am going to marry + him.” + </p> + <p> + This was flat-footed defiance, and the Hon. Nathaniel grew red in the face + at being thus bearded in his den. + </p> + <p> + “Maude, I am astonished. I command you not to meet this young man again + unless in my presence or that of your mother. When I meet him, I shall + have something to say to him.” + </p> + <p> + He resumed the reading of the document, and Maude, knowing that it was + useless to say more, left the room. + </p> + <p> + The next day at noon, Maude told her mother she was going to make some + purchases on Winter Street. As no objection was made, Maude felt sure that + her father had not mentioned their conversation to her mother. She met + Harry and they walked down the “Long Path” on the Common, made famous by + the genial “Autocrat,” not only of one breakfast table, but of thousands + of others. + </p> + <p> + “He will never consent,” said Maude. + </p> + <p> + “I thought so.” + </p> + <p> + “He was real mean to me—as sarcastic as he could be.” + </p> + <p> + “Rich fathers are usually indignant when their daughters wish to marry + poor men. He can have no other objection to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any money saved up, Harry?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I've got two thousand dollars in the bank to furnish our flat with.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall have to go to a justice of the peace, for father will not let me + be married at home. Oh, if Aunt Ella were here.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is she?” + </p> + <p> + “In England. She's the wife of a baronet, and he is rich and so is Aunt + Ella.” + </p> + <p> + “Maude, let's elope and go to England for our honeymoon.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * * * * * +</pre> + <p> + Aunt Ella and Alice had been to Ketchley to make some purchases for young + Quincy's wardrobe. As they entered the house a maid said that a young lady + and gentleman were waiting to see them. + </p> + <p> + “Both of us?” queried Aunt Ella. + </p> + <p> + The maid replied: “They said they wished to see Lady Fernborough and Mrs. + Quincy Adams Sawyer.” + </p> + <p> + “I will see if baby is all right and join you in a few minutes,” said + Alice. + </p> + <p> + Aunt Ella passed her hat and wrap to the maid, and entered the drawing + room. + </p> + <p> + “Maude Sawyer, what cloud did you drop from? Where did you come from? + Excuse me,” said Aunt Ella as she espied Maude's companion, who had kept + in the background. + </p> + <p> + “This is my husband, Mr. Harry Merry. We're just from London. We've been + doing the town. What a big noisy place.” + </p> + <p> + Alice came in and the introduction was repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Maude,” said Aunt Ella, “we're delighted to see you and your + husband, but your arrival was so unexpected that you must pardon my + evidences of surprise.” + </p> + <p> + “They're very excusable,” said Maude. “I can hardly realize, myself, that + we are here. You and Alice are wondering what brought us, and you are + entitled to an explanation. We just eloped because father would not give + his consent.” + </p> + <p> + The presence of Mr. Merry made the situation an awkward one, but Aunt Ella + was a woman with opinions and was not afraid to express them. So she said: + </p> + <p> + “I suppose your father will disinherit you. I hope that will not mar your + future happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think it will. Harry has a good position, we've got some money in + the bank, and we're going to have a nice little flat in Cambridge or + Roxbury. I want to see my little nephew, Quincy's boy, and then we are + going right back to London.” + </p> + <p> + “Come with me,” said Alice, “and see the baby, but Aunt Ella and I will + never consent to your leaving us so soon. You must pay us a long visit.” + </p> + <p> + “I would,” replied Maude, “but for one thing father said to me. We will + stay over night, for I have so much to tell both of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Come to the library,” said Aunt Ella. “I will introduce your husband to + Sir Stuart, and then we will go to the nursery where we can talk as long + as we wish.” + </p> + <p> + When they reached the nursery, Maude's first wish was gratified—she + held, and hugged and kissed, and praised her brother's boy. Alice's face + beamed with delight. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Maude,” exclaimed Aunt Ella, “why this runaway marriage? Tell us all + about it.” + </p> + <p> + Maude laughed. “It's so funny. I told father I was going to marry Mr. + Merry, and he about the same as said I shouldn't. He told me not to meet + him again unless in his presence or mother's.” + </p> + <p> + “That was reasonable. Why did you object?” asked Aunt Ella. + </p> + <p> + “It wouldn't have done any good. He's opposed to Harry because he isn't + rich. Was Nathaniel Adams Sawyer rich when he married your sister, Aunt + Ella?” + </p> + <p> + “I should say not. They began housekeeping in three rooms, but my + brother-in-law is a born money-maker.” + </p> + <p> + “We're going to have five rooms, and I think Harry has it in him to make + money—at any rate I'm going to give him a chance and help him all I + can.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you manage to get away?” asked Alice. She remembered that Quincy + married her without his father's consent. But for the fact that she became + famous by writing a popular book, he would never have welcomed her into + the family. In fact, he had been “cornered” and had to surrender. So, she + was full of sympathy for Maude, for her own fate might have been similar. + </p> + <p> + “That's the funny part,” said Maude. “I could get away easily enough, but + I wanted my clothes and many things that I prized. I knew it was wrong, + but I deceived my father. I am sorry for that, but I couldn't give Harry + up.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you do?” asked Aunt Ella. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I told father if he wanted to get me away from Harry that he must + let me come to England and see Florence. I didn't say I was coming to see + you—” + </p> + <p> + “That wouldn't have appealed to him,” interrupted Aunt Ella. + </p> + <p> + Maude continued: “Then everything was plain sailing. He gave me money for + an outfit, bought my ticket and return, found me a chaperone, a brother + lawyer and his wife were coming over, and gave me five hundred dollars to + spend. I consider that is my dowry, for I don't expect any more. Florence + gets fifteen thousand a year and I get five hundred all in a lump. But I + am not envious of Florence. She needs the money, and I don't.” + </p> + <p> + “Then your father does not know that you are married?” said Alice. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not. Harry was on the same boat, but we never spoke to each + other all the way over. We suspected that father had spoken to Mr. Harding + or his wife about Harry, and so we were very circumspect and gave no cause + for suspicion.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Aunt Ella, “I will go with you to see Florence, but Mr. Merry—” + </p> + <p> + “Please call him Harry, Aunt Ella. Isn't he your nephew—in-law?” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” Aunt Ella continued, “Harry must stay here. Alice and I will think + out some way of breaking the news to your father. I'm glad you told me the + whole story, for I think I see a way to overcome his objections.” + </p> + <p> + The visit to Mrs. Captain Hornaby was paid, and Maude Sawyer was obliged + to kiss and be kissed by her brother-in-law. + </p> + <p> + “You didn't win the canoe race,” said Maude, “but you were determined to + have that kiss and so you married Florence;” but her sister was not + present when she made the remark. + </p> + <p> + “Where is your friend, Colonel Spencer?” + </p> + <p> + “In India. I have never seen him since I gave him that check.” + </p> + <p> + “That paying teller got twenty years in prison for his penmanship,” said + Maude. “Father thought you were the bad man until Aunt Ella sent the + message that led father to investigate and find out who deposited the + check. I was awful glad that you got out of it so nicely.” + </p> + <p> + “So was I,” said Reginald. “I hope some day I can help somebody else out + of a bad box just to show my gratitude.” + </p> + <p> + Maude thought of her “bad box,” but Reginald could not help her or Harry. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to India?” she asked. “How is it that you are not with the + army?” + </p> + <p> + “I have sold my captaincy. Florence did not wish me to leave her, and my + eldest brother decided the matter. He hates farming and accounts. I love + both, so I am in charge of the estate. My brother Paul has been given a + living as they call it in the church, and Geoffrey has entered the navy. + My brother Wilfred will inherit the title, so we are all provided for.” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Ella and Alice had many long confabs about the young couple, and how + to reinstate Maude in her father's good graces when the truth became known + to him. + </p> + <p> + “I have an idea,” said Alice one morning to Aunt Ella. “Yesterday I had a + letter from Dr. Paul Culver, one of the executors of Quincy's will. He + says his practice is so great that he cannot do justice to my interests, + and asks me to suggest some one to be appointed in his stead.” + </p> + <p> + “What's your idea? Though perhaps I can guess,” said Aunt Ella. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to suggest Mr. Merry. I had many talks with him while you were + away with Maude, and I am deeply impressed in his favour. Are you + surprised?” + </p> + <p> + “Not so much as you will be when I tell you that Florence and her husband + are going back with Maude. Harry will have to go too, so something must be + done. Now, you know that I gave Quincy an allowance of five thousand + dollars a year when he was married. I am going to give it to Harry.” + </p> + <p> + “And why not let them live in the Mount Vernon Street house—until—” + Her voice broke. + </p> + <p> + “I know what you were going to say, Alice. It is a good idea—all + furnished and ready for occupancy. I shall never see it again—and + you may not for years—for I can't spare you.” + </p> + <p> + “When do they sail?” Alice asked. + </p> + <p> + “In about a week. I'm going to write a letter to Sarah to-night to pave + the way.” + </p> + <p> + It was midnight when Aunt Ella completed a letter that seemed to fit the + case. + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR SISTER SARAH:—I write to let you know that Florence and her + husband will sail for America in about a week. This may not be news to + you, for probably Florence has written you, but it will be news when I + tell you that Maude and her husband, Mr. Merry, will sail on the same + steamer. They have visited Florence and are now here with me. + </p> + <p> + “I presume Nathaniel will be very angry, and he may say that I am + responsible, as he did in Quincy's case. I did help Quincy and Alice and I + am going to help Maude and Harry. I am going to allow them five thousand a + year and Alice gives them the free use of the Mount Vernon Street house. + She has written Nathaniel about Mr. Merry taking Dr. Culver's place as one + of Quincy's executors. + </p> + <p> + “Now, if Nathaniel gets very angry and threatens to disinherit Maude, just + ask him, for me, why it is that all his children have been married away + from home. Has it always been their fault, or is his home discipline in + part, or wholly, the cause? It didn't make so much difference in Quincy's + case, but here in England no girl is married outside of her father's + house, unless it be in church. + </p> + <p> + “Your children are now all married, and, I think, well married. Let + Nathaniel make the best of it, and, instead of keeping up a family + warfare, change his tactics and become an indulgent, loving father. + </p> + <p> + “Your sister, + </p> + <h3> + “ELLA. + </h3> + <p> + “P. S. Let Nathaniel read this letter. It will do him good.” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Ella read her letter over before sealing it. There was a quiet smile + on her face as she pressed the seal upon the melted wax. Then she + soliloquized: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it will do him good to read that letter. He has no one else to boss + now but Sarah, but she doesn't resist, and ready acquiescence takes away + the pleasure of domineering. The boss wishes to break stout twigs, not + simply press down pliant willows.” There came a sharp rap upon the door—it + was thrown open, and Alice entered. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Aunt Ella, Quincy is very sick. He is choked up so he can hardly + breathe. I'm afraid it is the croup.” + </p> + <p> + “We must send for Dr. Parshefield at once. But who can go? Henry injured + his foot to-day and cannot walk. Lennon, the butler, cannot ride a horse, + and Simon, the stable boy, would be frightened to death so late at night.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what shall we do?” cried Alice. + </p> + <p> + “Do?” exclaimed Aunt Ella. “I'll go myself. It's only two miles to + Ketchley and I can ride back with the Doctor. I'll get Harry to help me + harness the horse. Open the windows to give your boy plenty of air, and + fan him.” + </p> + <p> + She took up the oil lamp that stood upon her writing table. “This is whale + oil—a nauseous smelling compound. Rub his neck and chest well with + it.” + </p> + <p> + Alice sought the nursery and followed Aunt Ella's directions. She was + sitting by the crib watching her child's laboured breathing when her aunt + returned. + </p> + <p> + “Harry is going on horseback. He knows the road to Ketchley and where the + Doctor lives. Give him some more of the oil.” + </p> + <p> + It was administered and the child began to choke—he seemed to be + strangling—then the phlegm that had impeded his breathing was thrown + off, and his face resumed its natural colour. When the Doctor arrived an + hour later, he was sleeping quietly. Aunt Ella told what they had done by + way of emergency treatment. + </p> + <p> + “Evidently a very effective treatment,” said Dr. Parshefield. “I could not + have done better myself.” + </p> + <p> + “It was so good of you, Harry,” said Alice. “I shall never forget your + kindness.” + </p> + <p> + Then she threw her arms about Aunt Ella's neck. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Auntie, if he had been taken from me, I could not have borne it.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. — YOUNG QUINCY + </h2> + <p> + It had been arranged while Aunt Ella and Maude were at Ellersleigh that + Florence and her husband should come to Fernborough Hall and make a visit + before their departure for the United States. Owing to Harry's presence at + the Hall it became necessary, when they arrived, to divulge the well-kept + secret of Maude's unconventional marriage. + </p> + <p> + Aunt Ella managed the introduction with her usual straightforwardness, + treating it as a matter of course. Florence and her husband were naturally + surprised, but both of them liked Harry Merry. Had Florence been married + at home, with the usual family friends and accessories, she would have + looked with less tolerance on Maude's elopement. To be sure she had not + eloped, but when she looked into her own heart she had to confess to + herself that she would have married Reginald even if her parents had + refused their consent. So, as the intent makes the offence, she forgave + Maude for her escapade, and during their stay at the Hall they manifested + more sisterly regard for each other than they had ever before shown. + </p> + <p> + Reginald and Harry “hitched horses” at once. Men who marry sisters are + united by a stronger tie than the usual brother-in-law bond, and the + Englishman and the American felicitated themselves upon their capture of + the Sawyer sisters. They played billiards on a table where the balls had + not clicked for a generation. They smoked in a room which had been free + from the odour of tobacco for a score of years. They rode horseback upon + steeds whose principal duty, as Harry expressed it, had been to “heat + their 'eads horff.” They even fished in the miniature lake and gave their + catch to dogs who knew so little about real sport that they thought the + fish were game. They took long walks together and knew by name every man, + woman, and child on the estate. The conservative Englishman, if alone, + would not have gone so far, but the democratic American took the lead, and + politeness, if not inclination, forced his companion to follow. + </p> + <p> + They often passed an evening with Sir Stuart in his library. The Captain + related incidents in his military life, while Harry, who had been a great + reader, drew on both memory and imagination for tales of the Great West, + with an occasional ghost story, supported by irrefutable witnesses. The + day before their departure, Aunt Ella took Florence to her boudoir and + told her what she had written to <i>her</i> sister, Nathaniel's wife, + about her children's marriages. + </p> + <p> + “I hope Sarah will let your father read my letter. I said just what I + thought, and I shall stand by Maude and her husband come what may.” + </p> + <p> + “And so will I,” cried Florence. “You helped Reginald by solving the + mystery of that check, and I will do all I can to help Maude and Harry. I + think he is a fine fellow, and Reggie says they have become like two + brothers.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to hear,” said Aunt Ella, “that they are bound by love as well + as by law.” + </p> + <p> + In about a month there came a long letter from Maude. + </p> + <p> + “DEAR AUNT ELLA AND SISTER ALICE:—I have so much to tell you that I + hardly know where to begin. We had a fine trip—no storms—and + none of us missed a meal, which was bad for the company. But they made up + their loss on others who ate a supper on leaving England and a breakfast + on reaching America. + </p> + <p> + “Mother was delighted to see us and father was so nice to us all that I + came near fainting. He is a changed man. I wonder what drug he has been + taking.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * * * * * +</pre> + <p> + “Didn't you tell Maude about your letter to her mother?” asked Alice. + </p> + <p> + “No, I told Florence, but thought Maude would appreciate the change now, + <i>if</i> it took place, if she was ignorant of what influence had been + brought to bear on her father.” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Ella continued the reading. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * * * * * +</pre> + <p> + “Harry and I have been to Fernborough. Alice's brother sent us word that + Uncle Isaac Pettingill was dead and we went to the funeral. He had no + complaint. He was tired out, so Mrs. Maxwell told us, and went to sleep. + He left each of Mrs. Maxwell's boys five thousand dollars, and the same + amount to Quincy Adams Pettingill. The remainder of his fortune, I don't + know how much, is bequeathed to build a free hospital in Fernborough. + </p> + <p> + “There's another good man dead—Deacon Mason,—and his wife has + gone to live with her daughter, Mrs. Pettingill. That funny little man, + Mr. Stiles, has gone there too. + </p> + <p> + “I saw Mrs. Hawkins, and she said: 'I mos' cried my eyes out when I heerd + 'bout that collision at sea, an' what it did. I can't see no sense in them + captains bein' so careless and reckless. Tell Miss Alice I wish she'd come + home and bring that boy. I want ter see ef he looks like his father.' + </p> + <p> + “I came near forgetting what to me is the most important part of my + letter. Harry has been appointed as Quincy's executor in place of Dr. + Culver, and, this is the wonderful thing, father has induced Harry to + leave Mr. Carter's office and go into his office. He told Harry that they + were all getting old and they needed young blood in the firm—but + Harry's not in the firm yet. No more this time from your loving, + </p> + <h3> + “MAUDE MERRY.” + </h3> + <p> + “My letter to Sarah did do some good,” said Aunt Ella triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Uncle Ike, I wish I could have been with him. I wonder if I shall + ever see Fernborough again?” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Ella did not answer the question as she would have liked to, and + Alice went to her room to recall those former happy days which would never + come again. + </p> + <p> + Nearly nine years had passed since young Quincy's birth, and Alice was + still at Fernborough Hall. She could not leave it now, for Aunt Ella was + again a widow. Her mind was troubled about her boy. He had recurrent + attacks of throat trouble, and was not strong as she wished him to be. + </p> + <p> + “It's the damp, foggy weather,” said Aunt Ella. “We're too near the water, + and this country, beautiful as it is, is not like our bright America.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Parshefield suggested a trip to the South of France, but Alice + declared that was impossible. + </p> + <p> + “Something must be done—now what shall it be?” was Aunt Ella's + declaration and inquiry. Then Alice remembered what Maude had said in one + of her letters—that young Quincy should be brought up as an + American. She spoke to Aunt Ella about the matter, repeating what Maude + had written. + </p> + <p> + “Where could we send him?” + </p> + <p> + “The <i>where</i> is not so important” Aunt Ella remarked, “as the <i>to + whom</i>. Florence and Maude are both out of the question for they have + young children of their own who might, or might not, take to an outsider. + Quincy's mother would be delighted to have him for he is her son's son, + but Boston, with its east winds would be no better than here. Besides, his + grandfather would say that he'd raised one family of disobedient children + and he wanted a quiet life.” + </p> + <p> + The question remained unsettled that day, but the next morning Aunt Ella + burst into Alice's room with a loud cry— + </p> + <p> + “Eureka! I have it! Why didn't we think of it before?” + </p> + <p> + “You say you have it,” said Alice, “but what is it? That pattern that you + were looking for?” + </p> + <p> + “No, a happy home for this youngster,” as she patted his curly head + lovingly. + </p> + <p> + “Now, can't you guess?” + </p> + <p> + Alice shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I must say, you are not a very thoughtful <i>sister</i>,” and the + last word was strongly emphasized. + </p> + <p> + “What, do you mean—'Zekiel?” cried Alice. + </p> + <p> + “The very man, and Fernborough is the place. You must write to your + brother at once.” + </p> + <p> + As Alice was writing the thought came to her, “Perhaps if my boy goes to + Fernborough, some day I may go to see him, and the old town, and the + people there, once more.” + </p> + <p> + In due time a reply came from 'Zekiel. It was short, but to the point. + “Huldy will be delighted to have him. Our boy Quincy is nearly fourteen + years old now and he'll take good care of his little cousin. I'll try and + be a father to him until you come for him.” + </p> + <p> + The important question, “How was the boy to reach America?” was answered + by one of those happy coincidences which happen often in books and + occasionally in real life, such as is being depicted. The Rev. Mr. Gay, + who had been a constant visitor to Uncle Ike during his last days, paid a + visit to Fernborough Hall on his return from a trip to the Holy Land. + </p> + <p> + “Heaven must have sent you,” said Alice, and she told him of her desire to + have her boy go to Fernborough. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gay consented to take charge of young Quincy. In a few days the + parting came. The mother's heart was sorely tried. But mother-love is + unselfish, and Alice's only consolation came from the conviction that her + temporary loss was for her son's permanent good. + </p> + <p> + Her nights were sleepless, filled with thoughts of accidents, and storms + and collisions at sea, until a welcome letter dispelled her imaginings, + for it brought the intelligence that young Quincy was safe with his + father's friends. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. — HIS FATHER'S FRIENDS + </h2> + <p> + It is the good fortune of some fatherless or motherless children to be + adopted into good families where the natural love and care that have been + denied them are supplied, as it were, by proxy. With young Quincy it was + so, only much more so. It fell to his lot to be adopted by an entire town. + Its residents had been, with few exceptions, his father's friends. The sad + story of his father's loss at sea was known to all, and the town's heart + warmed towards him; the town's arms were open to embrace him, and care for + him. + </p> + <p> + To his Aunt Huldah Pettingill he seemed as though sent from another world. + He was her husband's nephew, and hers—but there was a closer tie + acknowledged within her own heart, and kept there as a precious secret. He + was Quincy Adams Sawyer's son—the son of the man who had taught her + what love was. It had been a bitter lesson, for when her heart was + awakened, it was but to find that the one who had played upon its + sensitive strings did not love her, and that her duty was to another who + did love her. She had been a true and loving wife with no unsatisfied + heart-longings, but— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “You may break, you may shatter the vase, if you will, + But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.” + </pre> + <p> + So Huldah Mason still kept within a secret corner of her heart a fond + remembrance of happy days gone by. And now Quincy's son was one of her + family; she could be a mother to him and no one would have a right to + question her manifestations of affection. It is often that the human heart + thus finds solace for past sad experiences or suffering. + </p> + <p> + It was only natural that Huldah, after her father's death, should take her + mother to her own home. The old Deacon had acquired enough of this world's + goods to avoid the necessity of hard labour during the last years of his + life. Good books had been his constant companions, and an old-fashioned + cane-bottomed rocking chair his favourite seat upon the piazza or by the + kitchen fire. Abner Stiles had done the necessary farm work and the + household chores. When the Deacon passed away, the town lost one of its + broadest-minded, most honest, most helpful citizens. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mason, still hale and hearty, assisted her daughter in her household + duties, but allowed Abner to put up the clothes line and take it in. + </p> + <p> + “And this is his son, and his poor father—” The Deacon's good wife + could say no more, but clasped little Quincy close to her motherly breast. + </p> + <p> + “You told me how it happened, Huldy, and I told father, but it don't seem + real even now. His father was such a fine man.” + </p> + <p> + She stopped, for her daughter had turned her head away, and her mother + knew that it was to brush away some tears that could not be kept back. + </p> + <p> + To 'Zekiel Pettingill, the boy was Alice's child. His only sister had been + the apple of his eye, and his great, honest heart welcomed the boy as if + he were his own. + </p> + <p> + His own son, Quincy Adams Pettingill, was in his fourteenth year and upon + him devolved the outdoor education of his young cousin. In this pleasant + task he was aided by his sister Sophie who was a year younger than the + newcomer. + </p> + <p> + There was a scene of wild excitement when young Quincy paid his first + visit to the old Pettingill place where his mother was born. It was still + the home of Hiram Maxwell and his wife, formerly Mandy Skinner. The two + boys, Abraham Mason Maxwell and Obadiah Strout Maxwell had been told often + the story of Mr. Sawyer's visit to Eastborough, and how he boarded in that + house, and little Mandy was glad to see “Kirwinzee.” + </p> + <p> + The old dog, Swiss, had, with difficulty, been dragged from the grave of + his former master, Uncle Ike, but no force, or persuasion, could induce + him to leave the old house. Probably the name “Quincy” had a familiar + sound and he wagged his tail slowly as an evidence of recognition and + welcome. + </p> + <p> + The most explosive greeting came from Mrs. Crowley. + </p> + <p> + “An' it's the foine young man he is, the picter of his feyther.” She would + have taken him in her arms and hugged him but for the presence of others, + but, afterwards, when alone with him she patted his curly head and told + him that he would have to be a fine man to be as good as his father. + Everywhere he went his father was talked about and praised, and his mother + had taught him to love his father's memory. Thus early the ambition to be + like his father was instilled in the boy's mind. Confident as Alice was + that her husband was still living, Aunt Ella had protested effectually + against her implanting any such hope in the child's mind, and he had been + brought up with the belief that his father had died before he was born. + There was one place where his father's praises were faint, and that was at + the grocery store. + </p> + <p> + {ILLUSTRATION: “'I S'POSE ONE OF THESE DAYS YOU'LL BE WEIGHIN' SUGAR AND + DRAWIN' 'LASSES.'”} + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my young man,” said Mr. Obadiah Strout, on his first visit, “your + father's money started this business, but I've worked mighty hard to build + it up to what it is now. I s'pose one of these days you'll be weighin' + sugar and drawin' 'lasses.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess not,” exclaimed Hiram. “Rich men's sons don't us'ally take to + their father's business.” + </p> + <p> + “You're right for once, Hiram,” Mr. Strout acknowledged. “They uzally run + through the money, bust the biz'ness and bring up in jail.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, this young fellow won't,” cried Hiram, hotly. “He's goin' to be a + great man like his father, won't you, Bub?” + </p> + <p> + “Bub” took a handful of raisins from an open box, and eyed his questioner + wonderingly. + </p> + <p> + “There's many a slip 'twixt the cow and the churn,” said Mr. Strout as he + took a ten cent cigar from the case and lighted it. Perhaps the sight of + the son recalled a scene in the same shop many years before on Quincy's + first visit to Mason's Corner when a box of cigars had been the subject of + an animated discussion between the boy's father and himself, followed by a + passage-at-arms—or, more correctly speaking—fists. We humans + are only veneered with politeness or good nature; underneath, man's + revengeful nature lies dormant—but not dead. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hawkins was delighted to see him. “Olive, don't you think he's the + likeness of his father?” + </p> + <p> + Olive agreed, because she had found that agreement with her employer's + opinions made life pleasant, and also led to many desirable additions to + her wardrobe. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hawkins surveyed him again. “I'll never forget what a poor appetite + his father had when he boarded here. He never came to his meals reg'lar. + But he was in love, head over heels an' an extry dip,—an' I don't + blame him, for 'Zeke Pettingill's sister was good enough for any man, even + if he did git to be guv'nor. Have a cookey?” and Quincy's pockets were + filled with cakes that contained raisins and citron. + </p> + <p> + “Them's seedless raisins, Quincy. I had a boarder once, a reg'lar hayseed + who came down here from Montrose to work hayin' time, an' he asked me how + I got the stuns out of the raisins. Jes' to fool him, I said I bit 'em + out, an' do you know, that old fool never teched another bit o' cake while + he stopped here.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Jonas Hawkins took him out to see the hens and chickens, and told him + that he “kalkilated that mos' on 'em eggs that was bein' sot on would + hatch out.” Quincy's great delight was going with Hiram in the grocery + wagon. One day they went over the same road from the Pettingill farm to + Eastborough Centre that his father had travelled so many times. + </p> + <p> + The old sign board “Three Miles to Mason's Corner” was still there, but + how changed the other conditions. No consumptive uncle in the Poor House, + no philosophical Uncle Ike living in a chicken coop, no inquisitive Mrs. + Putnam, no mysterious Lindy, no battle royal with the music teacher, no + town meeting to engineer, no grocery store to buy, no Deacon's daughter to + go driving with, no singing school, no surprise party, no blind girl to + comfort and aid—and finally marry. + </p> + <p> + There were none of the incidents that had made his father's life at + Mason's Corner so exciting and interesting. Now, there was only a little + boy riding in a red wagon with yellow wheels, inhaling the pure air and + sweetness of the wild flowers, listening to the songs of birds, and + wishing that Uncle Hiram would make the horse go faster. + </p> + <p> + It is safe to leave him with his father's friends, for surely his lines + had fallen in a pleasant place. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. — AN OLD STRIFE RENEWED + </h2> + <p> + It was February and the air was stinging cold. It was one of those nights + such as Lowell wrote about in “The Courtin'.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “God makes sech nights, all white an' still + Fur'z you can look or listen, + Moonshine an' snow on field an' hill, + All silence an' all glisten.” + </pre> + <p> + In the store of the Strout and Maxwell Company quite a number of the + town's people were gathered about the big air-tight stove which was kept + stuffed full of wood by willing hands and from which came great waves of + almost scorching heat. + </p> + <p> + Such congregations of villagers are often said to be composed of loafers + and loungers, but it was not so at Fernborough. The men who represented + the brains and marrow of the town met there. It was the home of the town + debating society and supplied a free forum for the discussion of public + questions. If the advanced ideas in statesmanship and social economy + incubated there could have become the property of the nation, our country + would have grown wiser and better. + </p> + <p> + But for the intense cold the company gathered there on the evening in + question would have been much larger. Benoni Hill, the former proprietor + of the store and the richest man in town, did not think his wealth was any + reason why he should hold aloof or consider himself above his neighbours, + whose patronage had been the foundation of his fortune. He was given an + old arm-chair while the others sat upon soap-boxes and nail-kegs. Cobb's + Twins, William and James, were there, Emmanuel Howe, the minister's son, + and Bob Wood who still sang bass in the village church choir. + </p> + <p> + The store door was opened letting in a gust of cold air which made all + draw nearer to the red-hot stove. The newcomer was Samuel Hill, Benoni's + son. + </p> + <p> + A chorus of voices cried: “Hello, Sam!” and a place was made for him so he + could thaw out his almost frozen fingers. + </p> + <p> + “It's mighty cold, ain't it?” said his father. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I should smile,” replied Sam. This expression he had heard the last + time he was in the city, and he derived great pleasure from its + repetition. + </p> + <p> + “How's Tilly?” asked Bob Wood. + </p> + <p> + “Able to be up and have her bed made.” + </p> + <p> + All laughed at the rejoinder. Smiles and laughter are easily evoked in a + village grocery. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Obadiah Strout and Mr. Hiram Maxwell, general partners, were in the + private office, a small room adjoining the post-office. Mr. Strout was + smoking a cigar and reading a letter between the puffs. Hiram, with his + chair tilted back against the wall, was smoking his after-supper pipe, for + it was after seven o'clock in the evening. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Maxwell,” said Obadiah, laying down the letter he had been reading, + “this is from the trustees of the estate of the Honourable Quincy Adams + Sawyer, formerly our special partner, and the ex-Governor of this + Commonwealth. I mention the fact of him being our former special partner + first, before I said anything about his political elevation, for I don't + believe, Mr. Maxwell, that he would ever have been Governor if he hadn't + jined in with us.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout always called Hiram “Mr. Maxwell,” when they talked over + business affairs. + </p> + <p> + Hiram blew a cloud from his pipe. “Wall, I guess they're putty well + satisfied with what we've been doin', ain't they?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout leaned back in his chair with a self-satisfied look on his + face. + </p> + <p> + “Wall, they must be a pretty near set if they expect more'n twelve per + cent, on the capital. No, they're all right, 'though one of 'em, that Mr. + Merry, is mighty inquisitive 'bout small things. Marryin' inter the Sawyer + family 'counts for it, I s'pose.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram was used to hearing covert slurs and open flings at the Sawyer + family, but had found replies only provocative of attacks upon himself, so + he listened in silence. Mr. Strout took up the letter. “I wrote 'em 'bout + startin' that new branch over to Westvale, and although they answered in a + kinder top-lofty style—I reckon that young Merry writ the letter—I + 'magine they're in for it, horse, foot, and dragoons. They'll put up the + money. An' the question now is who'll go over and take charge of it.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram put his pipe on the table. “There's two folks that don't want to go, + an' that's Mandy an' me. I don't s'pose the children would find any fault, + but they're not old enough to vote on the question.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram knew that his partner was anxious to get him out of the Fernborough + store, and so he filed his objections at once. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Strout, “of course I didn't have no sech idee as askin' you to + go, even if you did know who was the best man for the job. The snail + thinks he's travelled a long ways when he goes a foot, an' some men are + jus' like him.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram ignored the personal application. + </p> + <p> + “Well, bein's you didn't want me to go, I s'pose you've somebody in mind. + Suit yourself, as us'al.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I've thought it all over, an' I think Billy Ricker's our man. He'll + be over from Montrose to-morrow an' I'll talk it over with him. We've got + that Montrose trade so solid he can be spared from there now. Guess there + ain't any trade tonight or Bob would have called us in afore this.” + </p> + <p> + “Ef we sold cord wood we might be doin' somethin',” and, laughing in his + old way at his own joke, Hiram started to follow his partner into the + store. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Hiram,” called out Strout in a loud voice, “bring in them two chairs—everything's + occupied out here 'cept the counter.” + </p> + <p> + As the proprietors took their seats, the store door was opened again, this + time admitting Mr. Abner Stiles. His teeth were chattering, and he stamped + his feet upon the floor, and beat his hands against his shoulders in + old-fashioned country style. + </p> + <p> + “Moses Williams!” he cried. “I kinder think the North Pole must have slid + down an' come to stop in this 'ere town. I say, Strout, if that organ of + yourn was pumped to-night you'd have to play 'From Greenland's Icy + Mountains,' or some sech tune.” + </p> + <p> + “Where have you been?” asked Mr. Strout. + </p> + <p> + “Hain't been nowhere. Jes' came from the Pettingill house. Young Master + Sawyer wants some brown sugar to make some candy. Give me five pounds.” + </p> + <p> + “So it's Master Sawyer, is it?” said Strout as he weighed the saccharine + substance. “I thought it was Mister before a man was a Master.” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't a talkin' about men—he's only a boy, and a mighty smart boy + too.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm tired hearing about him,” said Strout. “Can't you give us something + new?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I kin,” said Abner. “Boys, I've got something funny to tell you. I + went to Cottonton this afternoon and I'd jest got back when they sent me + for the sugar.” + </p> + <p> + “What ye doin' over there?” asked Benoni. + </p> + <p> + Abner scratched his head then winked at Benoni. + </p> + <p> + “I went to buy somethin' for an individual who shall be nameless out of + respect—” + </p> + <p> + “Go on with your story,” shouted Strout. “You'd better hurry home with + that sugar or the 'Master' may make it hot for you.” + </p> + <p> + This remark caused a laugh at Abner's expense. + </p> + <p> + “Jes' go ahead, Abner,” said Benoni, “we're all a-waitin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I met a feller on the train and he buzzed me all the way here. He + wanted to know where I lived, an' when I told him I lived in Fernborough, + that used to be a part of Eastborough, he jest piled me full of questions. + I told him all I knew—” + </p> + <p> + “An' added a little something” broke in Strout. + </p> + <p> + “No, I jest stuck close to the truth. He wanted to know about Mr. Quincy + Adams Sawyer. I told him he was dead, but he said he wanted to know about + him when he lived here. Then I told him there was a man in town who could + tell him more'n I could about that, an' I jest giv' him your name, + Obadiah.” + </p> + <p> + This sally turned the laugh on Strout who was about to make a sharp + rejoinder, when the store door opened and a strong current of cold air + caused all to turn. + </p> + <p> + “Shut the door!” cried Bob Wood in his gruff voice. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” said the man, as he complied. + </p> + <p> + He was very tall,—more than six feet in height. He was dressed in a + suit of shiny black; his coat was buttoned tightly and the collar was + turned up. The most noticeable part of his costume was a broad-brimmed + straw hat. He wore no overcoat and his hands were ungloved. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, I must beg pardon for this intrusion, but I used to live in + these parts many years ago, and I am here to inquire whether any of my + family are awaiting the return of a long-lost relative.” + </p> + <p> + Abner nudged Mr. Strout and said in a whisper: “That's the feller.” + </p> + <p> + “What might your name be?” asked Mr. Benoni Hill in his genial manner. + </p> + <p> + “I have occupied many stations in life, and whether high or low have + always assumed a cognomen to match my position.” + </p> + <p> + “A cog what?” asked Bill Cobb in a voice so low that he thought only his + brother Jim could hear; but his question reached the stranger's ear. + </p> + <p> + “By cognomen I mean a desirable <i>alias</i> or a characteristic + appellation.” + </p> + <p> + This explanation gave rise to a chorus of “Oh's.” + </p> + <p> + “Kerzactly,” remarked Benoni, and then all laughed. + </p> + <p> + “When I left this town thirty years ago, my name was Richard Ricker. On + returning to those paths which my childish feet so often trod—I have + just come from the West Indies where the climate is hotter than that stove—it + seems appropriate that I should assume my family name. It is done. I am + now Richard Ricker.” + </p> + <p> + Abner nudged Strout again, who resented it, but Mr. Stiles remarked in a + whisper: “He's crazy—mad as a March hare.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ricker did not hear his opinion of his sanity. + </p> + <p> + “My father's name was Benjamin, Martha was my mother, and I had a brother + William—that is, I had them all when I ran away to sea at the age of + seventeen years, ten months, and fifteen days. I always remember my exact + age for I wished to know just how long I had been gone when I got back.” + </p> + <p> + The villagers looked at the stranger with marked variations in expression, + but no one spoke until Abner remarked: + </p> + <p> + “I guess you've struck the right place. There's a young feller named Billy + Ricker that works for Mr. Strout here,” and he pointed to that gentleman. + “Billy's father was named Bill, but he's dead; so's Ben and Marthy. I + know'd 'em all.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to learn that I have a nephew in the land of the living. Where + is he?” + </p> + <p> + “He lives in Montrose, the next town north of us,” said Mr. Strout. “We + have a branch store there an' Billy has charge of it.” + </p> + <p> + “If he had some capital, I suppose he could become a partner,” remarked + Mr. Ricker. + </p> + <p> + “Not much,” said Strout. “We have all the money we need, and know where to + get more. What we want is men, an' we have a good one in Billy.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ricker removed his unseasonable headgear and moved nearer to the + stove. + </p> + <p> + “I have heard of the late Mr. Sawyer and was sorry to hear of his early + demise.” He looked at Abner, then at Mr. Strout. + </p> + <p> + “Your friend here has told me about his wonderful exploits—how he + thrashed the town bully, and beat the singing-master at his own game.” + </p> + <p> + Bob Wood and Strout glared at Abner. + </p> + <p> + “But his experiences, which I have been told have appeared in print,” the + stranger continued, “are trifling compared with the perils and adventures + which have fallen to my lot. I could make your blood run cold.” + </p> + <p> + “Ef we open the front door, I guess the weather will do that,” said Hiram, + and it was the general opinion, though not verbally expressed, that Hiram + had got one on the stranger. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Emmanuel Howe, the clergyman's son, was noted for his extreme + politeness. He had attended one term at a divinity school before he met + Miss Dixie Schaffer. He arose from the nail-keg upon which he had been + sitting, and motioned for the stranger to take his place. + </p> + <p> + As he accepted the mute invitation, Mr. Ricker turned to the company and + said: “Gentlemen, shall I intrude upon your time if I relate just one of + my adventures?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, go ahead,” said Strout. “It's our rule to let a man talk until we get + enough, and then—” + </p> + <p> + He raised his right foot, suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” said Mr. Ricker. “When I was about twenty-two years old + our vessel was wrecked and I, the only one saved, was cast ashore on a + cannibal island—or, to be more correct ethnologically, an island + inhabited by cannibals. I was a handsome young fellow, and it is not at + all surprising that the Queen, who was young, unmarried, and, fortunately, + very pretty, fell in love with me and wished to become my wife. + </p> + <p> + “But the Prime Minister, or Great Panjandrum, as he was called, wished his + son to marry the Queen and become King, so he, and his minions planned to + get rid of me. + </p> + <p> + “Lola-Akwa, that was the Queen's name, discovered the plot, and resolved + to save me. + </p> + <p> + “You all read your Bibles, and you will remember that in the olden days + there were places that were called 'Cities of Refuge.' On that island + there was a Tree of Refuge. It was at least one hundred feet high and for + two hundred feet from it, in every direction, not a tree or shrub could be + found. This open space gave the pursuers a fine chance for an arrow shot + before the refugee reached the tree. + </p> + <p> + “Lola-Akwa told me to climb to the top of that tree and stay there until + she sent word for me to come down. + </p> + <p> + “But the Great Panjandrum discovered my hiding place. The Queen declared + that I was protected by all that was sacred in their religion, but the + Great Panjandrum proved by the cannibal Bible that only cannibals were + entitled to its protection. He said they would roast a man, and if I would + eat him and pick his bones I might go free. I declined, for I am rather + particular about my diet. + </p> + <p> + “Then the Great Panjandrum seized an axe and struck at the foot of the + tree. Others followed his wicked example and it soon began to totter. They + next tied a rope about the trunk of the tree. The plotters were sixteen in + number—I counted them. They stood in line, tugging at the rope. + </p> + <p> + “Lola-Akwa stood far back awaiting the terrible moment of my death. I + could see that her eyes were filled with tears. The tree fell, and I went + flying through the air—to certain death! + </p> + <p> + “When I came to, I found myself clasped in Lola-Akwa's arms. 'Where am I?' + I asked. 'Look' she said. I did, and learned the wonderful truth. + </p> + <p> + “The Great Tree had fallen upon the Great Panjandrum and his fifteen + conspirators and killed them all.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment there was silence, then a chorus of voices exclaimed: “Did + you marry the Queen?” + </p> + <p> + The stranger pressed his hand upon his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “No. If I remember correctly some one held an ace and took my Queen.” + </p> + <p> + He rose from the nail-keg. + </p> + <p> + “I'm hungry. I would like some supper and a bed for the night. To-morrow I + will embrace my only living relative. Is there a boarding house in town?” + </p> + <p> + “Somethin' better'n that,” said Abner. “We've got a Hotel—the + Hawkins House. Mrs. Hawkins keeps it. I'm going along that way and I'll + interduce you. She's a pretty good talker herself,” and Abner winked with + both eyes as they went out. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Benoni, as the door closed after them. “The Bible says + Ananias was a pretty good story teller, but that gentleman seems to have + added some modern improvements.” + </p> + <p> + “He's a cussed liar,” said Bob Wood. + </p> + <p> + “And if Mrs. Hawkins is smart she'll make him pay in advance.” + </p> + <p> + The door was thrown open full width and two men rushed in. + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen him?” cried one. + </p> + <p> + “Seen who?” asked Strout. + </p> + <p> + “He's tall—black clothes—had on a straw hat—” + </p> + <p> + “Who in thunder is he?” cried Strout. + </p> + <p> + “He's a lunatic—just escaped from the asylum. We tracked him to this + town—” + </p> + <p> + “He's gone to the hotel,” said Bob Wood. “You can nab him easy there. I'll + show you the way.” + </p> + <p> + The men started on the run, led by Bob Wood, and followed by all who had + been enjoying the hospitality afforded by the soap-boxes, nail-kegs, and + the red-hot stove. + </p> + <p> + “What beats me,” said Hiram, “is how he knew all about the Ricker family.” + </p> + <p> + “Simple enough,” said Strout with a sneer, “That ass Abner told him the + whole business. He never could keep his mouth shet. That's the reason I + wouldn't give him a job in this store.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout extinguished some of the lights, locked the door, and resumed + his seat by the stove. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't you going home?” asked Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “Not jest yet; I've some thinkin' to do. I don't take much stock in + fightin' but I'd like to punch Abner Stiles' head.” + </p> + <p> + “What's he been doing?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, didn't you hear what he said he said to that crazy fellow about + Sawyer getting the best of me at my own game?” + </p> + <p> + “Wall, he told the truth, didn't he, Strout?” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Mr. Hiram Maxwell, I want you to understand that if we are to + continue together as partners in this 'ere grocery business, there must be + mutual respect atween us.” + </p> + <p> + “Wall,” said Hiram, “I s'pose you mean by that, that ef I ain't what you + consider respec'ful to you, you'll get out and leave me the business. You + see, Obadiah, it's not for you or me to say who'll stay in—that's + for the trustees. So, I wouldn't lay down the law too fine, Obadiah.” + </p> + <p> + “Wall, I hoped,” said Strout, “that when that Sawyer married 'Zeke + Pettingill's sister and left this town that we'd be able to have a little + peace round here and run things our own way. Course, I don't want any man + to get drowned, but it wasn't my fault that the ship he was on ran into + another. He was allus runnin' into somethin' that didn't concern him. But + bein' he's gone, and no blame can be laid at my door, I thought we'd heard + the last of him, but since he's died the air's fuller of Sawyer than it + was afore. It makes me sick the way everybody tumbles over themselves to + make of that boy of his'n. I don't think there's much to him.” + </p> + <p> + “He's got a big head, an' he's a mighty bright little fellow,” said Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “Wall, then he resembles his father in one respect—<i>he</i> had a + big head.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm surprised, Obadiah, to hear you talk the way you do. I ain't forgot + that meetin' in the Town Hall where you got up and owned up that he was + 'bout right, and thet you'd been mean as dirt, but he shook hands with + you, and forgave you like a gentleman as he was, and I thought you were + good friends.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm good friends with anybody that keeps out of my way,” said Strout. + “But that Sawyer was like that <i>malary</i> that the boys got off to war. + It gets into your blood and you can't get it out. Why, he snubbed 'Zeke + Pettingill jest the same as he did me when they had that sleigh ride, and + he didn't have spunk enough to hit back. If 'Zeke had jined in with me + we'd had him out o' town lively. And then the way he butted in at my + concert and turned a high-class musical entertainment inter a nigger + minstrel show by whistling a tune vas enough to make anybody mad clean + through.” + </p> + <p> + “Wall, you got mad, didn't you?” said Hiram. “What good did it do yer?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout's newly aroused wrath was not appeased. + </p> + <p> + “Then again, the way he squeezed himself in at that surprise party. Since + I married Bessie Chisholm, I've talked to her a good many times 'bout the + way she danced with him that night.” + </p> + <p> + “Come now, Strout, what did she say? She wasn't engaged to you then. What + did she say? Now be honest.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout could not restrain a grim smile. + </p> + <p> + “Wall, to tell the truth, Hiram, she told me it was none of my business, + an' when I came to think it over I didn't believe it was—but it + would be now.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout's vials of wrath had not all been emptied. He seemed to be + enjoying a rehearsal of all his past troubles and grievances. + </p> + <p> + “I guess that if the folks had known at first that the Jim Sawyer who died + in the Poor House was his uncle, they wouldn't have considered him such + great shucks after all. An' the way he tried to get Huldy Mason to marry + him and throw over 'Zeke Pettingill, who had loved her ever since she was + a baby, was a mighty mean piece of business in my opinion.” + </p> + <p> + This remark gave Hiram an opportunity which he was not slow in improving. + </p> + <p> + “I heerd as how there was another feller in town who tried to get Huldy to + marry him and throw poor 'Zeke over.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout puckered up his mouth and there was a strained look on his face + which indicated that the shot had gone home. But his verbal ammunition was + not all expended. + </p> + <p> + “You can tell me what you've a mind to, but I know that he tried mighty + hard to get Lindy Putnam to marry him, an' I don't imagine he'd have taken + up with a blind girl if he hadn't heard that Heppy Putnam was going to + leave her all her money. I had him looked up by some friends of mine in + the city. They said he didn't have much himself, but his father paid his + bills. His father jest gave him to understand that if he didn't marry the + right girl, with plenty of dough, he wouldn't get much from him.” + </p> + <p> + “Wall, you may be right and you may be wrong, Obadiah. But when a man's + dead I don't think it does you any good to roast him and pick his bones. + It's too much like those <i>cannibiles</i> that crazy feller told us + about. Quincy Adams Sawyer was always a good friend to me, and a better + one to you, Strout, than you deserved, judgin' from the way you've been + talkin'. His money has been the makin' of both on us, and while we do + business together I hope we'll let Mr. Sawyer, as the church folks say, + rest in pieces.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. — BOYHOOD TO MANHOOD + </h2> + <p> + Until he was fourteen years of age, young Quincy attended the public + schools in Fernborough and Cottonton. While in England he had had a + governess and later a tutor, so that when he reached America he was much + farther advanced than Fernborough boys of his own age. Methods in the New + England town were different, however, and his Uncle Ezekiel was satisfied + to have him keep pace with the others, and not arouse antagonism by asking + for any special promotion. + </p> + <p> + Ezekiel's son Quincy had decided to become a farmer, following in his + father's footsteps. But scientific farming was supplanting old methods, + and he had taken the course at the Agricultural College and received his + diploma. + </p> + <p> + Young Quincy wished a college education. To obtain admission it was + necessary for him to attend a preparatory school, and, relying upon Mr. + Gay's description of its advantages, Andover was selected. + </p> + <p> + While at the Cottonton High School, Quincy's chum had been a boy two years + older than himself, named Thomas Chripp. He was the son of a weaver at + Cottonton. Like Quincy, he had been born in England, but his father had + been drawn to America by the lure of higher wages, nothing having been + said to him, however, about the increased cost of living. + </p> + <p> + Thomas's father would not let him become a back-boy in the mill. + </p> + <p> + “I've breathed cotton all my life,” said Mr. Chripp to Ezekiel, “and I + think too much of my only boy to condemn him to a life in a hot room, + where the only music is the whizzing shuttles. No, my boy Tom shall + breathe God's fresh air and become a big, strong man instead of a + wizened-up little fellow like me. Why, would you believe it, Mr. + Pettingill, I began work in a cotton mill when I was eight years old, and + I've lived in one ever since—forty years! Sundays when I walk out in + the fields I can't get the din out of my ears, and I told Susan, my old + wife, the other day, that if I died before she did to have the lid screwed + down extra tight so I could be sure of a little quiet.” + </p> + <p> + “My nephew,” said 'Zekiel, “thinks a lot of your boy and wants him to go + to college with him.” + </p> + <p> + “But I haven't got the money to pay his way,” said Mr. Chripp. + </p> + <p> + “My nephew has plenty of money, and if he's willing to help your boy along + in the world there's nobody to object that I know of.” + </p> + <p> + So it was arranged that Tom Chripp should go to the preparatory school and + college with Quincy, the latter to pay the expenses of both. “'Twas a + lucky day for Tom that sent that Sawyer boy to school in Cottonton,” said + Mr. Chripp to his wife. + </p> + <p> + “It'll be the making of Tom,” he added, and the happy mother thought so + too. + </p> + <p> + When Mr. Strout heard of it, he remarked to his partner Mr. Maxwell, + </p> + <p> + “More of the arrogance of wealth. If I was a young man like Tom Chripp I'd + make my own way in the world.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram swallowed some smoke, coughed, and then replied: “Probably he will, + when he gits his eddikation. Money makes the mare go now as it always has, + Obadiah, an' you an' me can't stop it.” + </p> + <p> + “Like father, like son, I guess, Hiram. His father used to enjoy throwing + his money away an' the son's goin' to sail in the same boat. I shouldn't + be surprised if he came back to town some day and licked somebody jest to + be like his father.” + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn't nuther,” said Hiram as he began putting up an order for the + Hawkins House. + </p> + <p> + While Quincy was attending the public schools, Mrs. Nathaniel Sawyer made + two visits each year to Fernborough to learn of her grandson's progress. + Thanksgiving he passed at his Uncle 'Zekiel's where he had eagerly watched + the growth of the turkey that was destined to grace the festal board on + that day. At Christmas he went to Boston and returned laden with gifts, + many of which were immediately donated to his cousins and Mandy Maxwell's + children. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout's ire was kindled when Hiram described the presents his + children had received from Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “Thank the Lord I've got money enough to buy my children's presents myself + without dependin' on second-hand things that other folks don't want.” + </p> + <p> + “So've I,” said Hiram, “but what I save that way I puts in the bank, for + I'm bound to own the old Pettingill Place some day.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, spend your money, Hiram. Your rich friends will give you the house + some day.” He was so pleased with the subtle humour of his last remark + that he tossed a scoop half full of coffee into the sugar barrel, much to + Hiram's amusement. + </p> + <p> + During Quincy's first year at Andover he was twice called from his + studies. The Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer after his return home from a bank + directors' banquet was taken with an attack of acute indigestion. He was + in great pain. One of the most prominent physicians in the city was + summoned. He gave a strong hypodermic injection of morphine to stop the + pain, but did nothing to remove the cause. The pain itself was stopped by + the anodyne, but the cause of the pain—the indigestion—stopped + the beating of Mr. Sawyer's heart within an hour. + </p> + <p> + By his will, $250,000 were left to his daughter Florence, and $100,000 to + his daughter Maude. To compensate for the $150,000 difference in the + bequests, the Hon. Nathaniel Sawyer's interest in the firm of Sawyer, + Crowninshield, and Lawrence was conveyed to Mr. Harry Merry, provided that + one-third of his share from the income of the law-business was paid to the + trustees of the estate of his grandson Quincy Adams Sawyer. The remainder + of his property, both real and personal, was left to his wife, Sarah + Quincy Sawyer. + </p> + <p> + Quincy's grandmother did not live long to enjoy her fortune. Maude wished + her to sell the Beacon Street house and come to Mount Vernon Street. Her + mother wished her to come to Beacon Street. While the <i>pros</i> and <i>cons</i> + were being considered, the old lady died of absolute inanition. She had + been dominated so long by a superior will power, she had been so dependent + upon her late husband in every event of her life, that without him she was + a helpless creature, and so willing to drop her burden, that she did not + cling to life but gave up without the semblance of a struggle. Her last + will and testament was very short, containing but one clause, which gave + all her property to her grandson Quincy Adams Sawyer. When Aunt Ella heard + of her sister's death, she said to Alice: + </p> + <p> + “They were not two distinct beings, Nathaniel was one and a half, and + Sarah only a half.” + </p> + <p> + “That boy will sure go to the devil now,” was Mr. Strout's comment. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think so,” said Hiram. “He's too much like his father.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know where his father has gone?” snapped Mr. Strout, who did + not believe, evidently, that good works were a sure passport to future + bliss. + </p> + <p> + Quincy's vacation after his first year at Andover was passed at + Fernborough. He was warmly welcomed and congratulated upon the great + fortune that had fallen to him. + </p> + <p> + “He's got a big head, sure enough,” said Mr. Strout, “but I think he's a + little weak in the legs. He won't disgust the community by fightin' as his + father did.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish he'd thrash Bob Wood's son—he's too impudent to live,” said + Mrs. Amanda Maxwell, to whom Mr. Strout had addressed his remark. + </p> + <p> + “No danger o' that,” and Mr. Strout laughed gleefully. “Young Bob's as + good with his fists as his father was.” + </p> + <p> + “He didn't amount to much when Mr. Sawyer tackled him,” and with a + scornful laugh Mrs. Maxwell flounced out of the store. + </p> + <p> + “Your wife's as bad as the rest on 'em, Hiram.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Obadiah; it seems to be whoopedemic, as the doctors say.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy's second and third years at Andover passed quickly and again + vacation time had come. + </p> + <p> + “Let's go to Fernborough as usual,” said Quincy, and Tom, without + argument, seconded the motion. This time, Tom was Quincy's guest. They + were young men now. Quincy was seventeen and Tom nineteen, but the fields + were as green, the fruit as sweet, the vegetables as crisp and fresh, and + their friends as glad to see them as when they were children. + </p> + <p> + A year had brought some changes. Mrs. Maxwell mourned the loss of her son + Obadiah, who had been gored by an angry bull and found dead in the West + pasture. For a wonder, Mr. Strout showed some sympathy, perhaps because + the little boy was his namesake. + </p> + <p> + The Rev. Caleb Howe had passed away. In his place the church had called + the Rev. Hudson Quarles, a bachelor of forty, whose hobby was fancy fowls. + He joined the Grange and talked on “Poultry Raising” and “A Small Fortune + in Squabs.” His hens were the heaviest for their age in the community, and + to prove it he was always willing to “weigh up” at the grocery store. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout called him a crank and played a joke on him that led to a + division in the church and came near costing Mr. Strout his position as + organist. + </p> + <p> + There were two scales on the long grocery counter. Mr. Strout tampered + with one of them by affixing two pounds of lead to it which he covered + with gold paint to hide the deception. + </p> + <p> + Bob Wood's hen was weighed in the fraudulent scales and beat Mr. Quarles' + by a half pound, the clergyman's being really a pound and a half the + heavier. The plot would have been a success but for the keen-eyed Quincy + who examined the scales and discovered the imposition. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout declared it was all a joke and that he was going to own up when + he got ready to do so. This explanation was accepted by some and scoffed + at by others. Naturally, Mr. Strout looked upon Quincy as a meddler. + </p> + <p> + “By Godfrey!” he exclaimed to Hiram, “either that Sawyer boy or me has got + to leave town.” + </p> + <p> + “When are yer goin'?” asked Hiram, quietly, but he got no reply. + </p> + <p> + Miss Dixie Schaffer retired from the stage and settled down. Her + mother-in-law, being an invalid confined to her room, prevented any + interference in her household affairs, and she was free from suggestions + as to what she should give, and what she shouldn't give her son, who had + been named Hugh after her own father. + </p> + <p> + Many new people had moved into the town. Among the newcomers was a former + detective on the Boston police force named Horace Dana. Through an injury + received in making an important arrest, he had become a cripple, able to + get around only slowly and with crutches. He was a widower with one + daughter, about fifteen years of age, named Mary. + </p> + <p> + The young lady was as old in appearance as many girls of eighteen, and her + looks so belied her age, that the village beaux paid court to her at once. + Her most persistent suitor was young Bob Wood who had just reached his + majority. + </p> + <p> + As she was walking one day in the Center Road, far from any dwelling, she + met Bob. He improved the opportunity by asking her to be his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mr. Wood, I'm too young to marry.” + </p> + <p> + “But I'm just old enough,” said Bob, “and you suit me exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wood, I'm going to tell you the truth. I'm not yet fifteen years old. + Father says I can't have a beau till I'm eighteen, and I'm sure I don't + want one.” + </p> + <p> + Bob had learned much street slang during his visits to Cottonton, and + considered its acquisition a benefit and its use an accomplishment. + </p> + <p> + “You've said it. Now sneeze it, and dust your brain.” + </p> + <p> + Mary regarded him with astonishment. “I don't understand such language, + Mr. Wood. What do you mean? I haven't a cold in my head.” + </p> + <p> + Bob laughed insolently. + </p> + <p> + “No, but you've got a cold heart. What I meant by my French was that + you're bluffing. If you ain't eighteen, I'm a primary school boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you don't believe me!” Mary's blue eyes opened to their fullest + extent. + </p> + <p> + Bob thought those blue eyes and light brown hair, golden in the sunlight, + those rosy cheeks, and pretty mouth made a most attractive picture, and, + in his rough way, he really loved her. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going home,” said Mary, “and I shall tell my father you said I lied + to you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you don't,” cried Bob, and he grasped her arm so tightly that she + winced. “You don't go until you promise me not to say anything to your + father.” + </p> + <p> + “I won't promise!” Hot tears filled her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Then you don't go,” and Bob tightened his grip. + </p> + <p> + The next moment a hand clutched his coat collar and he was thrown + violently on his back. + </p> + <p> + Bob, who was agile, was quickly on his feet again and faced his assailant. + “Oh, that's you, Sawyer, is it? Why do you interfere with what's none of + your business?” + </p> + <p> + “I think it is,” said Quincy, calmly. “My, friend and I—” He turned, + and at that moment Tom emerged from behind a clump of bushes at the + roadside. + </p> + <p> + “My friend and I,” Quincy repeated, “were behind those bushes and + overheard your insulting language to this young lady and your brutal + treatment of her.” + </p> + <p> + “Hiding to see what you could hear,” said Bob, sneeringly. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. We came 'cross lots and were just stepping into the road when + we espied you, and retreated, awaiting your departure.” + </p> + <p> + “Very prettily said, Master Sawyer, but I don't believe a word of it.” + </p> + <p> + “You called this young lady a liar and she was powerless to resent it, but + I'm not. Tom, hold my coat.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, please don't fight,” pleaded Mary. “I'll never speak to him again.” + </p> + <p> + “Say, Quincy,” exclaimed Tom, “he's too heavily built for you. Let me + tackle him.” + </p> + <p> + “Two to one! I s'pose that's what you city snobs call fair play.” + </p> + <p> + Bob removed his coat and threw it on the ground. “If you'll come one at a + time, I'll lick you both.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy addressed Mary. “Don't be distressed. You may pardon his offence to + you if you choose, but I'm going to settle my personal account with him. + He doubted my word. I'm going to make him believe what I said, and by that + time he'll be ready to apologize to you.” + </p> + <p> + Bob squared off, but Quincy did not raise his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Are you 'fraid? Don't you know how to put up your dukes?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not a boxer,” said Quincy, “if that's what you mean. I'll look out + for myself, rough and tumble.” + </p> + <p> + Bob rushed forward and aimed a blow at Quincy's face. It fell short, for + Quincy retreated; then, springing forward, he gave Bob a violent kick on + his left knee. As his opponent threw his right leg over to keep his + balance he was obliged to lean forward; Quincy caught him by the collar + and Bob went sprawling upon the ground. He leaped to his feet, red with + rage. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you fight fair?” he bellowed. + </p> + <p> + “You fight your way and I'll fight mine,” was Quincy's reply. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” cried Bob, “I'll try your way.” + </p> + <p> + He sprang upon Quincy and grabbed him by the collar with both hands and + pulled him forward. This just suited Quincy, for, catching Bob around the + legs, he lifted him high in the air and threw him backwards over his head. + Bob's face was cut and bleeding, when he arose. + </p> + <p> + “Time's up,” cried Tom. “Three straight falls settle it.” + </p> + <p> + “The first one don't count,” growled Bob. “He sneaked in on me and I had + no show.” + </p> + <p> + “He's right, Tom,” said Quincy. “We'll have one more after this if he + wants it.” + </p> + <p> + This time Bob profited by having observed his antagonist's tactics. He + caught Quincy around the body and tried to crush him with his brawny, + muscular arms. + </p> + <p> + Tom gave a cry of alarm and came close to the wrestlers. + </p> + <p> + “Keep back, Tom,” cried Quincy. As he spoke he fell backwards, carrying + Bob with him, who gave a yell of exultation as Quincy's shoulders struck + the ground. His hold was relaxed while falling. Quincy doubled his legs + up, put both feet against Bob's stomach, gave him a violent kick, and Bob + was once more upon his back. + </p> + <p> + “'Twarn't fair,” he yelled. “I had him down first.” + </p> + <p> + “We weren't playing for points,” said Quincy, “and everything's fair in + rough and tumble. If you want some more, I'm ready.” + </p> + <p> + Bob stood sullenly, but made no move forward. + </p> + <p> + “Now, let's talk it over,” said Tom. “Do you think this young lady or my + friend lied to you? Before you answer, just remember this is my fight now, + and unless you take back the lie and apologize for what you said and did + to this young lady, I'll thrash you so they'll have to send a wagon to + carry you home.” + </p> + <p> + Bob did not speak. + </p> + <p> + “Quincy,” said Tom, “you go along with the young lady, and I'll settle my + account after you're gone. You look a little white around the gills. You + had no right to fight a heavy-weight like him.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish to thank you both,” said Mary, “but I'm a stranger in this town—I + have lived here only a few months, and—I don't know your names.” + </p> + <p> + She blushed prettily and the lids modestly covered the blue eyes. The + three had moved along the road a short distance while she was speaking. + </p> + <p> + “My name is Quincy Adams Sawyer, and this is my friend and classmate at + Andover, Thomas Chripp.” + </p> + <p> + The lids were lifted but the blush deepened. “My name is Mary Dana. I live + with my father on Pettingill Street.” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” cried Quincy, “Ezekiel Pettingill is my uncle—I live with + him. I'm going home your way, and, with your permission, I will escort you + to your father's house.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, Quincy—you go ahead,” said Tom. “But you must excuse me. + I've kept Mr. Wood waiting.” + </p> + <p> + They were around a bend in the road by this time. When Tom returned to the + scene of the encounter, Mr. Wood was not in sight. Mr. Chripp laughed, and + paraphrased an old couplet. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “He who fights, then runs away, + Will have to fight some other day.” + </pre> + <p> + Quincy walked beside Mary, but said little. He would not acknowledge it, + but the exertion had been too much for him. His knees felt weak, his sight + grew dim, and, before Mary was aware of his condition, he sank upon the + grass by the roadside. + </p> + <p> + She knelt beside him, took off his straw hat and fanned him. Then she + lifted his head upon her knee and fanned more vigorously. Her big blue + eyes were gazing at him when he opened his and looked up into her face. + Again, a rosy flush came to her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “I'm better now,” said he. “I'm not very strong, but I can walk now.” + </p> + <p> + He got up with a show of vigour that did not deceive Mary. + </p> + <p> + “You rest here, and I'll send your uncle for you with a carriage.” + </p> + <p> + “By no means, Miss Mary, It was only a momentary feeling. Throwing him + over my head is what did it.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm so sorry you met Mr. Wood and me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm not, Miss Mary. Uncle 'Zeke told me that Bob Wood's father used + to be the town bully, and that my father, when they were both young, gave + him a good thrashing. I've watched Bob—we were in school together, + and he was always impudent and overbearing to me when I was a little + fellow. I've felt that some day we'd have it out together. I'm glad it's + over, and that I had the good fortune to serve you at the same time.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dana thanked Quincy for his defence of his daughter from further + insult and perhaps injury. + </p> + <p> + “I've been in a good many scraps myself, Mr. Sawyer. For seventeen years I + was a member of the detective squad in Boston. I resigned because of + injuries received in a fight with some bank robbers,” and he pointed to + the crutches beside his chair, “and although they wanted me to stay at + police headquarters I wouldn't hang onto a job I couldn't do to my own + satisfaction.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope your daughter will have no further trouble with Mr. Wood.” + </p> + <p> + “No danger, Mr. Sawyer. She is going to boarding school very soon to + finish her education. Why, Mary, we have been very remiss. Can you not + offer Mr. Sawyer some refreshment?” + </p> + <p> + Mary smiled and ran from the room. + </p> + <p> + “You'll be lonely without her,” remarked Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, certainly, but I shall not be alone. It's a secret as yet, but the + fact is I'm going to marry a young lady who lives in Westvale, part of + Eastborough, you know, and I don't wish to force Mary to live with a + step-mother. I think they would agree all right, but my plan will prevent + any possible unpleasantness. I love them both too well to make them, and + myself, unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + Some dainty cakes, fruit, and cold well water were served in the dining + room. Quincy ate slowly, but his thoughts were not about the food. He had + shown little interest in the Fernborough girls with the exception of those + in the families of his relatives and closest friends. But he was nearing + the susceptible age, when, to a pure-minded boy, a girl playmate, by some + mysterious transformation, becomes an object of admiration, and even + veneration. That delicious mystery that surrounds young womanhood was + attracting him. Mary was the cause of his newly-awakened interest, and + soon a strong friendship sprang up between the two. + </p> + <p> + When Hiram heard that Quincy had got the best of young Bob Wood he ran + back to the store and told his partner. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Strout, you can run the store for an hour or so. I must tell Mandy. + She'll be 'mos' tickled to death.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout's disgust was shown in both voice and manner when Abner Stiles + came in. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Abner, is it true that Sawyer boy licked Bob?” + </p> + <p> + “I should say so,” said Abner. “He must have got an all-fired trouncing, + for his face looks like a raw beefsteak, an' one of the fellers said he'd + been spittin' blood.” + </p> + <p> + “Them Sawyers is brutes,” was Mr. Strout's comment. “I hope to the Lord + that he is the last one of that brood to come to this town. Their money's + the best part of 'em, but it ain't any better, when you come to that, than + other folkses.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. — MARY DANA + </h2> + <p> + Quincy and Tom spent one more year at Andover. When they parted from the + old school it was with feelings of deep regret. + </p> + <p> + “I could be happy here for ten years more,” said Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “So could I,” replied Tom. “But, after all, this is only a narrow path in + the world of knowledge. Harvard is but a street and when we get out into + the world I suppose we shall find a boulevard.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to look down upon the world before I investigate its + thoroughfares,” remarked Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall visit Fernborough for only a short time this summer, a few days + in which to see the folks, and then I shall go to the White Mountains. I'm + going to stand on the top of Mount Washington, and look down on the busy + hives of men.” + </p> + <p> + Tom knew Quincy had received a letter from Mary, saying that she and her + aunt intended spending the summer at Fabyans, and he felt that Quincy, + being near Mary, would probably be on a higher pinnacle than any mountain + could supply, and the “eternal hills” would become objects of secondary + importance. But, Tom wisely refrained from mentioning these thoughts, for + lovers do not seek confidants unless help is needed. + </p> + <p> + Quincy found Fernborough but little changed, During the fourteen years + that he had been a resident of, or a visitor to, the town there had been + but little to disturb its serenity. Goldsmith's “Deserted Village” could + not have had a better record for unbroken placidity. The wrestling match + between young Quincy and Bob Wood had been an incentive to some animated + conversations at meal times and at the grocery, but the “locals” in the <i>Fernborough + Gazette</i> had never risen above the usual level of, + </p> + <p> + Hal Prentiss has bought a Jersey cow, + </p> + <p> + Strout and Maxwell have a new wagon, + </p> + <p> + William Jones has painted his fence green, + </p> + <p> + Sol. Peters cut twenty tons of hay from his lot on the Center Road, + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Jerusha May is visiting her daughter Hannah at Westvale, + </p> + <p> + And more of the same kind, interesting to a rural community but considered + inconsequential by those conversant with more exciting intelligence. + </p> + <p> + But Fernborough was destined to have its share of important events, which + incidentally interfered with the well laid plans of both Quincy and Mary + for the vacation in the mountains. + </p> + <p> + For the first time in the town's history newsboys went through its + streets, calling out “All about the Murder at Cottonton,” and offering for + sale copies of the <i>Cottonton Journal</i>. The boys held up the papers + so the headlines in large type could be seen. The word “Fernborough” + caught the eyes of those attracted by the word “Murder” and the copies + were soon disposed of, obliging many intending purchasers to share the + news with those who had been fortunate enough to obtain copies. + </p> + <p> + Quincy was in Mason Square when the newsboys arrived and he purchased a + paper. He glanced at the headlines and saw a name that caused him to utter + an exclamation of astonishment. He did not stop to discuss the matter with + any of the large crowd that had been collected, but whipping up his horse + soon reached Mary's home. Leaving the animal standing in the yard he burst + into the sitting room crying loudly, “Mary! Mary!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what is the matter, Quincy—are you hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “No, but something has happened in Cottonton and they sent newsboys over + here with the papers.” + </p> + <p> + “Somebody living in Fernborough must be mixed up in the affair,” said Mr. + Dana, who was sitting in his rocking chair near the window. + </p> + <p> + “I should say there was, decidedly so. Sit down, and I'll read what it + says.” + </p> + <h3> + “THE MURDER AT COTTONTON + </h3> + <p> + “A YOUNG MAN NAMED ROBERT WOOD, A NATIVE OF FERNBOROUGH, ARRESTED AS THE + CRIMINAL AND LOCKED UP WITHOUT BAIL. ANOTHER CANDIDATE FOR THE ELECTRIC + CHAIR!” + </p> + <p> + “Bob Wood, he was the one who insulted you, wasn't he?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father, but that was a long time ago,” said Mary. “Do let Quincy + read the rest of it.” + </p> + <p> + “A brutal murder was committed last night at the Ellicott Mills,” Quincy + continued. “The unfortunate victim was Mr. Samuel Ellicott, the treasurer + and principal owner. He was found sitting at his desk with his head + crushed in. The blood-stained implement of destruction has been + discovered. Robert Wood, Jr., a native of the adjoining town of + Fernborough, has been arrested and held without bail. Young Wood has been + an employee at the mill, but had aspired to the hand of Mr. Ellicott's + only daughter Mabel. Mr. Ellicott was firmly opposed to the match, and, + with the view, probably, of forcing the young man to leave the city, had + discharged him from his employ. Mr. Ellicott was busily engaged in making + preparations for pay day, which occurs to-day, and was alone in his office + at the time. There seems to be no doubt of the guilt of the accused. His + cane was found in Mr. Ellicott's office and must have been used to inflict + the murderous blows which have deprived Cottonton of one of its most + enterprising and respected citizens.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of that, Mary?” asked Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know yet. What do you think, father?” + </p> + <p> + “The case has no mystery—no charm for the detective's mind. I was + thinking that naughty boys who plague little girls often become wicked + men. Now, what do you think?” + </p> + <p> + Mary did not answer at once. When she did speak it was the result of + deliberation. In a small way she had often tried to help her father out in + solving some of the mysteries that had come up in his line of work, and + now the detective instinct in her was strongly aroused as Quincy knew it + would be. + </p> + <p> + “Quincy and I both know the young man,—not pleasurably, I'll admit,” + she said, finally. “Everybody thinks him guilty, but we have no right to + join the multitude without cause. He may be innocent. It would be a double + victory to repay an enemy with kindness, and, perhaps, save an innocent + man's life.” + </p> + <p> + “Just what I thought you would say,” cried Quincy. “I feel too that there + is a chance that Wood is not the one. But what can we do?” he continued. + </p> + <p> + “First, you must go and see Bob Wood's father, Quincy, and tell him that I + am going to investigate the affair, with my father's help. But tell him he + must be quiet about it. If we are to accomplish anything, it must be done + without any one knowing we are interested in the matter. Father and I will + look over all the papers that have reports of the trial, and, perhaps you + had better attend the trial yourself, and make careful notes, for the + papers do not always get things just straight. Then, I want to see Miss + Mabel myself, and see what she says.” + </p> + <p> + “But, why do you wish to do all this, Mary?” said Mr. Dana. “It strikes me + as being a simple case of a very brutal murder, and one in which there is + no doubt that the authorities have got the right man.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe him guilty, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “That's an opinion,—not a reason.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it, but woman's intuition often comes nearer to the truth than + man's judgment.” + </p> + <p> + She threw her arms about her father's neck, and her eyes looked down into + his, “You'll help all you can, won't you, father?” she pleaded. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I have nothing else to do, and this affair awakens my interest. But + from what I know of the case now, I think they have the right man.” + </p> + <p> + “You're a dear, good father to help,” and she gave him another embrace and + a kiss. + </p> + <p> + The next day there was a preliminary meeting which Quincy attended at + Mary's request. It was with difficulty that Mary waited until he made his + report. + </p> + <p> + “The principal witness was Gustave Pinchot, the night watchman. He heard + loud voices but as Mr. Ellicott was quite deaf he did not attach much + importance to that. Pinchot didn't see anyone come in or go out.” + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't Bob Wood prove an alibi?” + </p> + <p> + “Hardly, for he testified that he went to the office that evening, and + Miss Ellicott said that he told her he was going.” + </p> + <p> + “No alibi—and no evidence yet,” said Mr. Dana. + </p> + <p> + “It's coming,” said Quincy. “Mrs. Larrabee with whom Wood boarded + testified that he had a heavy oaken staff and that he took it with him + when he went out that evening because he had sprained his ankle.” + </p> + <p> + “Did Mr. Wood acknowledge that the staff was his?” + </p> + <p> + “He did finally. He injured his case by saying, at first, that he didn't + take it with him, but Mrs. Larrabee's testimony knocked that.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that all the testimony against him?” inquired Mary. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” continued Quincy. “Wood made a damaging statement that will make + it go hard with him. When he asked Ellicott for his daughter's hand, the + old man got mad and threatened to kick him out. Then the judge asked Wood + what he said when Ellicott threatened him and the young fellow + incriminated himself by saying that he told Ellicott if he did that he + would not live to do it again.” + </p> + <p> + “Did it appear that he had been kicked out?” inquired Mary. + </p> + <p> + “No; and Wood denied it as well.” + </p> + <p> + “And you saw his father, Quincy? What did he have to say?” + </p> + <p> + “He's all broken up, but says that his son is innocent.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, that's to be expected,” said Mary, and then continued, “I saw + Mabel Ellicott yesterday. She's in love with him, sure, and of course does + not think him guilty. She told me, though, that Bob Wood had said to her + that if she were an orphan there would be no objection to their marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “That would probably go against him, if the prosecution calls her at the + trial, and she testifies to that. But, what do you really think about it, + Mr. Dana?” asked Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “I have my suspicions, but I am not going to mention them yet. You two + young people are taking hold of the matter in good shape, and I want to + see what you can do about it; but, although, I do not say that Wood is not + guilty, I do say that I doubt if the government has sufficient evidence to + convict him.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * * * * * +</pre> + <p> + Mary became so interested in the case that she decided not to go to the + White Mountains for the summer, and Quincy also remained in Fernborough, + helping Mary as much as he could. Often they would go off on long tramps + in the surrounding country, and once Quincy went to Boston and was gone + several days. That they procured some evidence was clear from the + satisfied remarks made by Mr. Dana, who approved of the lines on which + they were working. + </p> + <p> + Although they had made some headway they were not ready to present their + theories when the time came for Bob Wood's trial. Many thought him + innocent, but the jury were of a different opinion, and brought in a + verdict of murder in the first degree. + </p> + <p> + The day after the close of the trial, the district attorney of Normouth + County was sitting in his office opposite the Court House. He was + preparing his address opposing the granting of a new trial, which he knew + would be proposed the next day by the counsel for the defence. + </p> + <p> + He had gone over the evidence time and time again. He was a conscientious + man. He felt that the law of the State had been defied—had been + outraged—and yet within his heart was that natural feeling of + sympathy and pity for the unfortunate being for whom but a few short weeks + of life remained, and he could not help regretting the part he had been + obliged to take in convicting the young man. + </p> + <p> + At that moment, a clerk entered and said that a young lady wished to see + him. In obedience to the direction given, the clerk withdrew; the door was + opened again, and a blue eyed, fair-haired girl entered. Standing near the + district attorney's desk, she said: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Harlow, as there is no one here to introduce me, I will introduce + myself. My name is Mary Dana. My father is, or rather was, a detective for + seventeen years in Boston, but our present abiding place is the town of + Fernborough. In the city he often used to tell me of the cases on which he + was working, and I would try to solve them with him. Robert Wood lived in + Fernborough, and from the day of his arrest I have been much interested in + the case, and with the help of my father and a friend of mine, Quincy + Adams Sawyer, the son of the former governor, I have been trying to find + the man who murdered Mr. Ellicott,—for I have never believed that + Robert Wood was the guilty person.” She smiled, and added, “Detectives, I + believe, are more often interested in strengthening evidence, and bringing + about imprisonment and executions than they are in trying to prove people + innocent.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear young lady,” said the district attorney, “the young man whom + you speak of has already been proved guilty by a fair-minded jury. There + seems to be no question of his being innocent, and, after the jury have + returned their verdict it is rather late to still try to prove him not + guilty.” + </p> + <p> + “What I have to tell you I think is important. Can't you spare me a little + time?” + </p> + <p> + “I have a luncheon engagement in half an hour, and can give you twenty + minutes, but it will do no good, I am sure. Won't you sit down?” and Mr. + Harlow placed a chair for her near his desk. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Mary, as she seated herself, “I will be as brief as + possible. I have read of many murder cases, but I believe I never knew of + one in which there was more conclusive evidence against the person accused + than in this instance. When I first took up the case, my father did not + think there was a possible loophole of escape for him; but the truth does + not always appear on the surface. Then, jurors get wrong impressions. + Witnesses are often prejudiced. Sometimes the judge is not impartial. Then + there are coincidences which are fatal so far as appearances go, but which + can be satisfactorily explained.” + </p> + <p> + The district attorney nodded, somewhat impatiently, and fingered his + watch-chain. + </p> + <p> + “The day after the murder I called on Mabel Ellicott, primarily to ask her + some questions about Robert Wood, but I also had a chance to see the body + of her father, and to examine the wound upon the murdered man's head. I + decided that Mr. Ellicott had been struck with something else beside the + oaken staff which, covered with blood, was found near his chair. In fact, + I found in the wound certain foreign substances which could not have + formed part of an oaken staff. + </p> + <p> + “That was a clue, but I told it only to my father and Mr. Sawyer. It led + us to look for something else. I must confess that a week passed without + our discovering anything to bolster up my opinion. Finally, it occurred to + me that perhaps the foreign substances I had found in the wound might have + been on that part of the cane that comes in contact with the ground. But + we will drop that for the present. + </p> + <p> + “Back of the mill is a piece of sunken ground. During the night, after Mr. + Ellicott was murdered, there was a heavy fall of rain, and this piece of + sunken ground was covered with water to the depth of several inches, in + some places, at least six. I do not mean that the rainfall was so great, + but the water ran down from higher elevations until it made, what appeared + to be, quite an extensive pond. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Sawyer and I made several circuits of this temporary pond; why, I + could not exactly tell you. A detective, I have been told, can seldom tell + why he examines certain objects so closely, but something seemed to draw + me towards that improvised lake. + </p> + <p> + “While looking at the water, I saw something which projected several + inches above its surface, and I had a curiosity to know what it was. Mr. + Sawyer put on a pair of rubber boots, and waded out to it, lifted it from + the water, and found it to be a large, irregular shaped stone weighing at + least ten pounds, which he brought back to me. He then went back and + splashed round in the pond with the hope of finding something else of + interest, but could discover nothing. + </p> + <p> + “I wondered how that stone came to be in the middle of that pond, and we + devoted several days after that to an examination of the surrounding + country. Back from the mill, some four or five hundred feet away, was a + ledge of rock. We, that is Mr. Sawyer and I, for I forgot to tell you my + father is now a cripple and could only help us with his advice at home, + examined its surface very carefully, using a magnifying glass and, to my + great satisfaction, I finally located a place into which the stone found + in the pond fitted nicely. Evidently, then, the stone had been detached + for some purpose, and that purpose having been accomplished, the stone had + been thrown into the pond.” + </p> + <p> + The district attorney looked at his watch again and betrayed signs of + uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, Mr. Harlow, but would you not rather lose a dinner than send + an innocent man to his death?” + </p> + <p> + “You still have ten minutes,” was the district attorney's reply, “But, I + cannot see the connection between what you are relating and your idea that + Robert Wood is not guilty.” + </p> + <p> + Mary continued her narration. + </p> + <p> + “I asked Mr. Sawyer to examine the tools and implements in the mill + workshop and he found a pickaxe, one point of which had been subjected to + rather rough treatment. I naturally connected that pickaxe with the ledge + of rock that had been found in the pond. + </p> + <p> + “An examination of the night watchman's quarters followed. Mr. Sawyer + could discover nothing until he came to a small cupboard which was locked. + Locks, however, do not keep detectives, or criminals either, from making + further investigations. In the cupboard, he found a coil of rope. There + was a certain peculiarity about that rope of which I will speak later. + </p> + <p> + “After that Mr. Sawyer loafed around the mill quite a good deal in the + evenings and became acquainted with Mr. Pinchot the night watchman. He is + a French Canadian. He told Mr. Sawyer that his parents lived in a small + town near Montreal, that they were both quite old and he was their only + living son, although he had five sisters, all working in the States. + </p> + <p> + “He had saved some money, and as his parents had a farm, and needed his + assistance, he had resigned his position and the day following the murder + was to have been the last one at the mill. He had withdrawn his + resignation when told that the law would require him as a witness, and has + continued in service. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Sawyer then made a trip to Boston and found that Mr. Pinchot had not + intended to go to Canada but had been making inquiries as to when a + steamer would sail for France. He had been told he would have to go to New + York. Am I taking up too much of your time, Mr. Harlow?” + </p> + <p> + “It makes no difference now. I am too late for the dinner. Pray proceed.” + </p> + <p> + “While in the city Mr. Sawyer called upon the architects who drew the + plans for the Ellicott Mills. I mean the original plan, for many changes + have been made in the interior. He procured a copy of this, and we found + that when the mill was first constructed, the part used by the treasurer + at the time of the murder had been the receiving room for raw materials. I + next made an excuse for us to visit the mills one Sunday and we + investigated the second story of the mill. The floor was covered with + grease and dirt and was black with age. I got upon my hands and knees and, + with my magnifying glass, examined every foot of the floor. + </p> + <p> + “For a long time, my search was not rewarded, but, finally, I found a + white place in the wood. A splinter had been detached. With a knife, I + scraped the dirt from the floor. My search was rewarded. I had found a + trap door! Its former use was apparent. On the wall, above the trap door, + was a stout hook. Upon this hook the tackle had been put and goods lifted + from the receiving room to the story above.” + </p> + <p> + “Well what does all this lead up to?” asked the district attorney. + </p> + <p> + “I will show you very soon, now, Mr. Harlow. If you remember, the safe at + the mill was found open the morning after the murder but had been closed + and locked by the superintendent. This was a very foolish thing to do, as + the combination had been known only to the treasurer, and it was several + days before it was opened by an expert sent by the manufacturers. It was + then found that the money drawn by Mr. Ellicott for the payroll, some + three thousand dollars, had disappeared.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I remember,” said the district attorney, “the thief was never found, + and with the more important matter of the murder on our hands little + attention was paid to the loss of the money. It was clear from the start + that Robert Wood had nothing to do with it, because revenge, not robbery + was his motive. But, what does all this mean that you are telling me?” + </p> + <p> + “I forgot to state, or, rather postponed saying it, that the coil of rope + that was found in the cupboard had a noose in one end of it, and that in + Mr. Ellicott's wound I found small particles of stone. I summed up the + case thus: Pinchot plotted to steal the money drawn for payday and to kill + Mr. Ellicott if it became necessary. He lifted the trap door, having + thrown the noose in the rope over the hook in the wall. Mr. Ellicott was + quite deaf and did not notice the opening of the trap door or the man's + descent by means of the rope. He used the stone because he could throw it + away and no weapon could be found. The murderer saw the oaken staff. He + knew that Mr. Ellicott had a visitor that evening so he used the staff to + complete his deadly work and left it behind as a witness against an + innocent man. He took the money from the safe, drew himself up by the + rope, closed the trap door, locked up the rope and threw the stone into + the pond. In France he would be safe to spend the proceeds of his crime. A + nice bit of circumstantial evidence, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Then you believe in circumstantial evidence, Miss Dana?” + </p> + <p> + “In certain cases. But I think it would render the community just as safe, + and be more just to the accused if, in cases of circumstantial evidence + where there is the least doubt, the sentence should be imprisonment for + life with a provision in the law that there should be no pardon unless the + innocence of the life convict was conclusively proven. When a murderer is + taken red-handed, I would not abate one jot or tittle of the old Mosaic + law—an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a life for a life. But + you know that many murderers of whose premeditated guilt there could be no + doubt have been much more leniently dealt with by our judges and juries + than those caught in the coils of circumstantial evidence.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is the watchman now?” asked the district attorney. + </p> + <p> + “Here in Cottonton, but he is intending to leave to-night for New York, I + found out this morning. Of course, he was not able to leave before this as + he had to stay in the vicinity, being a witness at the trial, but his + leaving so soon now simply seemed to confirm my suspicions, and I thought + it time to bring the matter to your attention.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dana,” said the district attorney, rising, and holding out his hand + to her. “I have done the best I could to convict Robert Wood of the murder + of Samuel Ellicott, because I really believed him guilty, and my oath of + office bound me to do my duty; but, if he is innocent, I believe it as + much my duty to right the wrong done him. You have built up a careful + case, and I myself shall ask for a stay of sentence until after this new + evidence can be presented to the Grand Jury. I believe you have saved an + innocent man, and I feel your future as a great detective is assured.” + </p> + <p> + It was unnecessary for Mr. Harlow to apply for stay of sentence in the + case of The Commonwealth of Massachusetts <i>vs.</i> Robert Wood. Within + an hour after Mary Dana had left the district attorney's office, Gustave + Pinchot was under arrest, and, sitting in the same chair which Mary had + occupied, was confessing his crime. + </p> + <p> + The day that Robert Wood was discharged, with no stain upon his name, + Quincy and Mary took her father to Cottonton. At the prison they met + Robert's father who had come to take his son home. He was profuse in his + thanks to Mr. Dana, for to him he considered his son's escape from death + was due. + </p> + <p> + “You are wrong, Mr. Wood,” said Mr. Dana. “Your son owes his life not so + much to me as to my daughter here, and to Mr. Sawyer. She practically + worked up the case herself; I made but few suggestions, and it was at her + request that Mr. Sawyer made certain investigations that fitted in with + her own ideas and made success possible.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dana,” said young Robert, “a year ago I insulted you, and was + properly treated for my words and actions by Mr. Sawyer. I owe you both an + apology which I now make and ask your forgiveness. But for you, and Mr. + Sawyer, I should have died a felon. You have, indeed, heaped coals of fire + on my head.” + </p> + <p> + Mary answered, “That was forgiven long ago, but if you wish my forgiveness + you have it freely. How does Miss Ellicott feel now that you are declared + innocent?” + </p> + <p> + “She came to see me this morning and we are to be married as soon as + possible, and I am to become the treasurer of the mill. She will own + three-quarters of the stock.” + </p> + <p> + When Mr. Strout learned that Robert's release was due to the exertions of + Mary and Quincy he sniffed and exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Folks in love will do all sorts of things. She's gone on that young + Sawyer, and she only started in on the thing so she could have a chance to + traipse around the country with him. He'll come back here for her some + day, and her market'll be made. All I hope is that he'll take her to + Boston, or some other foreign place to live an' we shall see and hear the + last of 'em.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. — AT HARVARD + </h2> + <p> + The newspapers gave much space to the near approach to miscarriage of + justice in the Wood's case, and many editorials were written on the + fallacy of allowing circumstantial evidence to carry as much weight as it + did. But what was spoken of most was the clever detective work of Mary + Dana. She was the recipient of congratulatory letters for her work from + all parts of the country, and the press could not say too much in her + praise. + </p> + <p> + Mary received a most flattering offer to join the Isburn Detective Bureau + in Boston. Mr. Irving Isburn, the proprietor of the world-wide known + agency, had for more than fifty years been engaged in solving mysteries + and apprehending offenders against the law. His success had been + phenomenal, and if his agency had been called “The Scotland Yard of + America” it would have been a derogation rather than a compliment. He had + surrounded himself with the most expert men and women in the profession, + and in a letter to Mr. Dana he said he considered Miss Dana would be a + most important and valuable acquisition to his staff. Mr. Dana, however, + decided that Mary was too young to start business life, so she was sent to + Boston to boarding school for a year. At the expiration of that time she + joined Mr. Is burn's staff, and soon that gentleman wrote her father that + in certain lines of investigation she was unexcelled. + </p> + <p> + With the coming of autumn, after Bob Wood's release, Quincy and Tom + started in on their four years at Harvard. They had passed their entrance + examinations without conditions, so the few days in the last of September, + spent so anxiously by many of the freshman class in trying to make up + conditions given them the spring before, allowed Quincy and Tom to live in + Arcady until the portals of the temple of learning were ajar. Rooms were + engaged at Beck Hall, and the young men began their inspection of the + classic city on the Charles. + </p> + <p> + “This city is on the square,” remarked Tom. “Lafayette, Central, Putnam, + Harvard, Brattle, and some more on the East side I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “The college is on the square too,” said Quincy, “as long as Dr. Eliot is + Prexie.” + </p> + <p> + College life has been depicted many times in books, and Quincy and Tom's + four years probably contained few events that had not had their + counterparts in the lives of other young Harvard men. They joined many + clubs and societies the initiation ceremonies being, in reality, a mild + form of hazing. + </p> + <p> + Quincy and his chum were not goody-goody boys, but they had mutually + pledged each other that they would lead temperate lives and refrain from + all dissipation that would prejudice their standing as students. Quincy + saw Mary frequently, and, after she was employed by Mr. Isburn, they + talked over some of the most interesting of Mary's cases. + </p> + <p> + In their college life, Tom and Quincy were unsuspecting, and became the + butt of many good-natured and some unkind jokes. On one occasion they were + invited to join a theatre party. It was a variety or vaudeville show and + ended with a pantomime, the closing scene in which was a skating carnival. + </p> + <p> + When the skaters came on, the members of the theatre party rose in their + seats and pelted the performers with paper snowballs made hard by the + liberal use of paste. The police were called in. Quincy and Tom had taken + no part in the snowballing but, as examination showed their pockets were + full of the substitutes for the natural product, they were adjudged as + guilty as the others. + </p> + <p> + One evening Quincy and Tom went to the theatre together. During a pathetic + speech by the heroine the clang of a big cow bell was heard. The audience + vented its displeasure in hisses. Again came the clangour and all eyes + were turned towards the unconscious youths, Quincy and Tom. Again were the + policemen called in. Two young men who sat behind Quincy and his friend + were accused of causing the disturbance. They indignantly denied any + knowledge of it and left the theatre threatening a suit for damages. + Further investigation by the minions of the law discovered the bell + fastened to the hat-holder beneath Quincy's seat, while the string that + served as a bell pull was under Tom's foot. Denial of such strong + circumstantial evidence was useless and Quincy and Tom promised to cause + no further annoyance. On their way home in the car they discussed the + situation. + </p> + <p> + “It's Dupont and Kidder that put that up on us, and we must get even,” + said Tom. + </p> + <p> + “But how?” was the question. + </p> + <p> + A week later Tom purchased tickets for a whole row of seats at one of the + principal theatres, explaining that they were for a large theatre party. + Dupont and Kidder had been recipients of complimentary tickets which + entitled them to seats in the middle of the row. They expected that Quincy + and Tom and other students would complete the party. Not so, as events + proved. Dupont and Kidder, immaculately dressed, had for companions two + waitresses at a well-known Cambridge café, two Harvard Square + hairdressers, and a number of individuals whose dress and general + appearance indicated physical strength rather than mental powers. Dupont + and Kidder went out at the end of the first act and did not return. + </p> + <p> + The next time that Tom met Fred Dupont he asked, + </p> + <p> + “Do you believe in the Declaration of Independence?” + </p> + <p> + “My great-grandfather signed it,” said Dupont proudly. + </p> + <p> + “How does it read?” asked Tom—“something about men being born free + and equal—a barber's as good as a millionaire's son—isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “It's all right,” replied Dupont, “Kidder and I only took one bell to the + theatre, but you kindly supplied us with two. Nothing's too good for us at + that café now, and we've invited Kitty and May to go to the theatre with + us to-morrow night.” + </p> + <p> + “It's no use, Quincy,” said Tom. “Dupont and Kidder took their medicine as + patiently as we did, and they liked it so well they're going to have more + of it.” + </p> + <p> + Then he told Quincy what Dupont had said. + </p> + <p> + “The victory's ours,” cried Quincy. “That shows that Americans, rich or + poor, are democratic at heart. All that keeps them apart is the foolish + idea that the possession of money lifts them above their fellows. Put them + on a money equality, and only the very exclusive ones will care about the + colour of their blood. It was a good lesson for Dupont and Kidder whose + fathers are wealthy men, and they have wisely profited by it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you don't believe in social castes?” said Tom. + </p> + <p> + “Why should I? My father married a poor girl and I don't expect to find my + wife on Beacon Street or Commonwealth Avenue.” + </p> + <p> + After Tom had asked his question the thought came to him that if Quincy + had believed in social distinctions on account of wealth he would not have + chosen the son of a cotton weaver as his boon companion, but it was too + late to take back the question, and Quincy had answered it. + </p> + <p> + The four years of study were at an end. Quincy was loaded with scholastic + honours while Tom's prowess has been most effectually shown on the ball + team and in the 'Varsity Eight, which came near winning a trophy for the + Crimson. + </p> + <p> + Just before Class Day, Quincy went into the office of Sawyer, + Crowninshield, Lawrence & Merry to see Harry Merry about some matters + connected with his income. + </p> + <p> + “Quincy, I am glad to see you,” exclaimed Mr. Merry. “I was on the point + of sending a messenger out to Cambridge to have you come right in. + Something very strange has happened this morning and it may be a question + which even your friend Miss Dana may find worthy of her skill in + attempting to solve.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Uncle Harry? There is nothing I love like a mystery, and Miss + Dana often talks her cases over with me.” + </p> + <p> + “This is a mystery in which you and your mother in England may be greatly + concerned; but before letting her know anything about it I think it better + to find out what it really means. For you to understand the matter + clearly, I will have to go back a number of years. In your father's will + your grandfather and Dr. Paul Culver were named as executors. After a + while the doctor wished to resign, and as you know I was appointed in his + place.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and you have always done more than your duty, and I am truly + grateful. But, pardon me for interrupting you. Please go on.” + </p> + <p> + “To make myself thoroughly familiar with all the details of my trust, I + went over all the old accounts. When your father and mother started on + that unfortunate trip to Europe, your father took with him some English + gold, some bank notes, and, to last him for his further expenses while + abroad, five bills of exchange, each for two hundred pounds, Sterling, a + total of about five thousand dollars. These bills of exchange were drawn + by his bank here in Boston, and in favour of the bank's agents in London. + About six years ago I changed the deposits of your trust account to + another bank. Until then I had always kept that five thousand still + intact, as it was drawing fair interest, and as, you may not know, your + mother has always had an idea that your father was not drowned. But, when + I changed the account, it seemed foolish to leave that money still there, + and as the bills of exchange had never been presented for payment, I had + no trouble in having them cancelled, and receiving the money. + </p> + <p> + “But, and here is where the important part of the matter comes in for you, + one of those bills of exchange, drawn over twenty-three years ago, has + to-day been returned to the bank here in Boston from the London agents.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Uncle Harry,” cried Quincy, “what can it mean? Is it possible that + my father is still alive? I can't understand it, I am bewildered,” and + strong man as he was he was unnerved. + </p> + <p> + “Calm yourself, Quincy,” said Harry Merry, “I am afraid that would be + entirely too good news to be true, but at least it must mean that your + father's body was found some time or other, and probably the bill of + exchange got into the hands of some dishonest person who has cashed it.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you got it here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” and Mr. Merry handed a paper to him. + </p> + <p> + “Is the signature that of my father?” asked Quincy turning the bill over, + and looking at the various endorsements on the back. + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure. If I were, there would be one great question solved, for + he would never have put his name to it, of course, until he was ready to + cash it. In a way it looks a little like his writing, but it may be, and I + think it is, a rather bungling forgery. It is more than likely that in the + wallet in which he kept the bills of exchange he may have had some papers + to which he had signed his name, and the signature was copied from that.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to show this to Miss Dana,” said Quincy, “perhaps she can help me + solve the problem. Have you got any paper with my father's signature to + it?” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a few minutes, and I will see if I can find any in the old files.” + </p> + <p> + After a good quarter of an hour, which to Quincy seemed as though it would + never end, Mr. Merry came back, covered with dust, but with the required + paper in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “A lawyer should never destroy a paper,” said Mr. Merry, “and I am glad to + say this firm never does. Here is a letter your father wrote to your + grandfather nearly thirty years ago, and is dated from Mason's Corner. + Take it, and the bill of exchange with you. I hope you can solve the + mystery, and let's pray it will turn out to mean that you are Quincy Adams + Sawyer, Junior; but, my boy,” and Harry put his hand on Quincy's shoulder, + “do not build too many air castles on it. If you do, I am afraid you have + a bitter disappointment before you.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy immediately called on Mary Dana, and had a long talk with her about + the matter. He told her all his conversation with Harry Merry and showed + her the bill of exchange, and the signature of his father's which he knew + to be genuine. After examining them both Mary said, + </p> + <p> + “In many ways, this looks like a very clever forgery. The characters are + all made the same as in the signature to the letter,—notice the + peculiar little twist to the S in the word Adams, but your father wrote a + very firm, strong hand, and the writing on the bill of exchange is weaker + and a little shaky. That is undoubtedly due partly to the fact that the + signature on the bill of exchange is written with a very fine steel pen, + while that in the letter was written with a quill. But, what makes me + doubt the genuineness of the signature is this,—although the + characters are practically the same on the two pieces of paper, your + father's name in the letter is the writing of an educated man, that on the + bill of exchange looks like the efforts of a man unaccustomed to write, + probably through ignorance, but perhaps due to the fact that he has not + held a pen for a long time.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Mary,” asked Quincy, “how are we going to find out about it, how can + we learn who did sign it?” + </p> + <p> + “There are the endorsements on the back. They are the only clues. Below + your father's name appears that of Jonathan Drake; then that of Agostino + Tombini, and, below that, Macquay Hooker. There is also the stamp of the + London bank. Where the bill of exchange was cashed does not appear. It is + evident, however, that the last person who signed it before it reached the + bank in London was Macquay Hooker. We will cable London now, and in the + morning will have an answer. Be in to see me early, but, if I were you, I + would hold myself in readiness to leave for Europe at a moment's notice. + Is your work all finished at Cambridge?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I had my last examination yesterday, and I should leave for the + summer in a few days. Class Day is all that keeps me now, but I am + perfectly willing to recall the invitations I have sent out, and can leave + at any time.” + </p> + <p> + On his return to his rooms Quincy told Tom what had happened. + </p> + <p> + “I had been intending to speak about our going abroad anyway this summer,” + said Quincy. “It's the style for college boys after being graduated to go + to Europe. I want to see my mother and aunt, too. To be sure, I have had + nice long, loving letters from them, and I've kept them fully posted as to + my doings, but that doesn't quite come up to seeing them. Now, with this + mystery on my hands, with all it may mean to me, I must go anyway. Will + you come along with me?” + </p> + <p> + “If dad don't mind, I'll go.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll run down to Fernborough for a day or two to say good-bye, if there + is time, and you can see your father about it.” + </p> + <p> + At ten o'clock the next morning, Quincy entered the office of the Isburn + Detective Bureau. + </p> + <p> + “I have good news for you, Quincy,” said Mary. “I have found out from + London that Macquay Hooker is a banker in Rome, and I have cabled him, + asking who the other two endorsers are. We should receive a reply by noon + at the latest.” + </p> + <p> + A good half hour before noon a messenger boy came in and handed Mary an + envelope. She scanned the cablegram quickly, and handed it over to Quincy. + It read, “Tombini banker, Drake American consul, Palermo, Sicily.” + </p> + <p> + “You see,” said Mary, with a smile, “matters are simplifying themselves + considerably. I shall cable now to Drake at Palermo, and find out what I + can about the original signer of the bill of exchange. This is Wednesday. + The Gallia sails from here to England on Saturday. You had better engage + passage, and make arrangements to go then. Come back late this afternoon, + and I will tell you what has developed in the meantime.” + </p> + <p> + After engaging a stateroom for Saturday, Quincy returned to Cambridge, + packed what things he needed for a couple of days, and with Tom came back + to Boston, intending to go to Fernborough on the late train in the + evening. + </p> + <p> + “The answer has just come,” said Mary, when Quincy saw her later in the + day, “but, I am sorry it is not as satisfactory as I could wish. Mr. Drake + is away from Palermo at present, and beyond the fact that a Quincy Adams + Sawyer had registered at the consulate about a month ago and has since + left the town, they seem to know nothing about the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Quincy, “we have a starting point anyway, and more than we + had in Bob Wood's case in the beginning. I shall go directly to + Fernborough Hall to see my mother for a day or so, but I think I will not + mention the real reason for my trip abroad until I have found out more. I + will tell her that Tom and I are anxious to get to the continent as soon + as possible, and that we will return to England later on. Then we will go + down through Italy to Sicily, and start in there tracing the signer of + that bill of exchange.” + </p> + <p> + “I think that is the best plan,” said Mary. “In the meantime I will keep + in close touch with Mr. Merry here, and if another one of those bills of + exchange comes in I will cable you, care of your bankers in London, the + names of the endorsers.” + </p> + <p> + “Mary,” said Quincy as he took her hand at parting, and held it perhaps a + little longer than was really necessary, “I can't thank you for all you + have done for me. I am truly grateful, and wish there were some way in + which I could show you my true appreciation.” + </p> + <p> + “Your thanks are all I want. Besides, you may be the means of bringing a + very clever criminal to justice,” and the smile left her face as she said + it, “for I am afraid that is all you will find. You must not hope too much + for what seems the impossible.” + </p> + <p> + On their way to Fernborough that evening, Quincy and Tom decided it would + be best not to mention the real object of their going to Europe, so Mr. + Chripp thought it was only a pleasure trip. He did not object to his son + going,—but he made one condition, that Tom should visit the village + in old England in which he was born and bring him back a picture of the + little thatched cottage in which Mr. Chripp had lived until the tales of + high wages and better prospects in America had drawn him from his native + land. + </p> + <p> + Quincy had said good-bye to all his relatives, friends, and acquaintances + except Mr. Obadiah Strout. That gentleman should have no reason to say he + had been snubbed. + </p> + <p> + When Quincy entered the store Mr. Strout was weighing some butter. Quincy + noticed that the wooden plate and a sheet of thick paper were put on the + scales before the butter was cut from the tub. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what can I do for you, Master Sawyer?” said Strout when the + customer who had paid thirty cents a pound for butter including wood and + paper had departed. + </p> + <p> + “I came to say good-bye. I am going to Europe.” + </p> + <p> + “I s'pose you'll like England with its 'ristocrats and kings so well that + you won't come back to these ordinary United States.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy knew that Mr. Strout wished he would stay in England, so he + replied, + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. I'm coming back sure. I know a little about weighing groceries + and I've decided to come back and go into business.” + </p> + <p> + “What good will your book larnin' do you then?” + </p> + <p> + “For one thing, they teach something besides dead languages in colleges + nowadays. I studied moral philosophy, which points out the difference + between right and wrong, between honesty and dishonesty, between fifteen + ounces of butter and one ounce of wood and paper, and sixteen ounces of + butter to the pound.” + </p> + <p> + With this parting shot, Quincy joined Tom in front of the store and they + started for Boston, from which port the <i>Gallia</i> was to sail two days + later. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. — ALICE'S DREAM + </h2> + <p> + “Do you believe in dreams, Aunt Ella?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Alice, I do not.” + </p> + <p> + “Not if they come true?” + </p> + <p> + “Only a coincidence. If they don't come true are you willing to + acknowledge that all are unreliable? Or, if some prove true do you + consider them all reliable? You can have either horn of the dilemma.” + </p> + <p> + “What causes dreams, Aunt Ella?” + </p> + <p> + “Usually what's on your mind. Your brain doesn't wake up all at once and + dreams flit through it until it gets full control.” + </p> + <p> + “What if a person dreams the same thing three nights in succession?” + </p> + <p> + “That proves nothing. When my first husband died I dreamed for a month or + more that he was still alive and that I must wake him at a certain time + because the morning he died he was to take a train at an early hour. You + make your own dreams.” + </p> + <p> + “But supposing you see something in your dreams that you never saw before—that + you never knew existed until you viewed it when asleep?” + </p> + <p> + “What have you been dreaming, Alice?” + </p> + <p> + “You won't laugh at me?” + </p> + <p> + “I promise not to laugh, but I won't promise to believe.” + </p> + <p> + “If my husband is dead,” said Alice, “he is dead and I shall never see him + again in this world; if he is still living, he is somewhere in this world, + and it's my duty to find him.” + </p> + <p> + “I will agree to that,” assented her hearer, “but you know that I have no + faith that he is alive. Just think, twenty-three years have passed away + and you have had no word from him. Out of deference to your feelings, + Alice, I had put off making my will since Sir Stuart died until yesterday. + It is now signed and in my lawyer's hands. It is no secret, I have left + all I possess to your son Quincy.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you do that?” + </p> + <p> + “I promised his father that he should have it, but as I think he will + never come to claim it, I gave it to his son, as he or you would do if it + was yours. Now, your dreams have put some idea into your head. Where do + you think your husband is?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what country it is, but, in my dreams, thrice repeated, I + have seen him standing in a grove of trees filled with fruit—lemons + and oranges they appeared to be.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he speak to you or you to him?” + </p> + <p> + “He looked at me but gave no sign of recognition. I called his name, but + he did not answer me.” + </p> + <p> + “That proves what I said. You are always thinking about him, and your mind + made up your dream.” + </p> + <p> + “Where do lemons and oranges grow?” + </p> + <p> + “In so many countries that you would have to go round the world to visit + them all.” She thought to herself, “they don't grow in the ocean.” + </p> + <p> + “You speak of twenty-three years having passed. That's not so long. I have + read of sailors being away longer than that and finally returning home. + Men have stayed in prison longer than that and have come out into the + world again. Why, Quincy is only fifty-three now.” + </p> + <p> + “And I'm seventy—an old woman some think me, and others call me so, + but if I were sure that by living I could see Quincy again, I'd manage + some way to keep alive until he came.” + </p> + <p> + “You are just lovely, Aunt Ella, and I love you more than ever for those + words. I believe that Quincy wants me to come to him—and I am + going!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Alice, I'm sure the only way you will ever see Quincy is by going + to him, for he can never come to you.” + </p> + <p> + The next day Alice spent in studying the cyclopedias and maps. She + estimated the cost of a six months' trip to the citron groves of Europe + and America. For a week she pondered over the matter. + </p> + <p> + Then something occurred that led her to make up her mind definitely. She + had the same dream for the fourth time. She awoke screaming, and shaking + with terror. Her aunt was awakened and ran to her room. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Alice? Dreaming again?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the same and yet different. I saw a big man raise a club and strike + Quincy on the head. He fell and I awoke.” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Ella grew cynical. “Why didn't you wait long enough to see the effect + of the blow?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Auntie,” and Alice burst into tears. “What shall I do?” + </p> + <p> + “I know what I'm going to do. I shall send for Dr. Parshefield and have + him give you a sleeping potion.” + </p> + <p> + The next day Alice began making preparations for her journey. Aunt Ella's + arguments and appeals were in vain. + </p> + <p> + “I must go,” said Alice. “Where, I do not know, but God will direct me.” + </p> + <p> + “God won't do anything of the kind,” exclaimed Aunt Ella. + </p> + <p> + Her patience was exhausted. Then her manner changed. She accepted the + inevitable, and did all she could to help her niece. One thing she + insisted upon, and that was that Alice should have a companion. One who + could speak French and German was found and Alice started upon her quest + into, to her, unknown lands. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. — “BY THE BEAUTIFUL BLUE DANUBE” + </h2> + <p> + Alice did not tell Aunt Ella where she was going. To have done so would + have led her aunt to say that it was foolish to go there, for although she + aided Alice in getting ready for her journey she was decidedly opposed to + it. In fact, in her own mind she called it “a wild goose chase.” But she + had learned that Alice had an indomitable will and she fully realized that + further argument and opposition were useless. + </p> + <p> + Alice went on board the boat at Dover with some foreboding. She had read + and had been told of the rigours of the Channel passage and her experience + was equal to the descriptions. Had it not been for the presence of + Babette, the maid so wisely provided by her aunt, her journey might have + ended at Calais, or even before. She had a horror of the water and it was + with a sense of great mental and physical satisfaction that her feet + touched solid ground again. + </p> + <p> + They went to Paris, but spent no time in the gay city. Their objective + point was the south of Italy, and then the island of Sicily. Did not the + guide books say that Sicily was the home of the orange and the lemon? + </p> + <p> + They would stop a short time in each important town. Carriages were taken + from day to day and inquiry was made at the principal groves in the near + vicinity of the towns. Then trips were made into the country, but + everywhere Alice's questions were answered in the negative. She was + allowed to talk to the labourers, by the aid of an interpreter, but none + had any remembrance or had heard of any such man as she described. + </p> + <p> + At only one grove, near Palermo, was she refused admittance. The + proprietor, Silvio Matrosa, said he had no authority to admit strangers. + Besides, two of the men had been fighting and one was so seriously injured + by a blow upon his head by a club, that he had been sent to the hospital + and it was thought he would die. Under the circumstances “Would the ladies + excuse him?” and Alice was obliged to give up her search in that + direction. + </p> + <p> + She had been so impressed with the reality of her dreams that she had + thought she could easily recognize her husband's surroundings, but she + confessed to Babette, who was sympathetic and engaged eagerly in the + search, that she had seen no place that resembled the scene of her dreams. + </p> + <p> + More weary wandering without result followed, and so intent was she on the + object of her search that the beauties of “Sunny Italy” were lost upon + her. The weather was hot and enervating and Babette suggested that her + mistress should go to Switzerland and rest before continuing her search. + Alice consented, but when they reached Vienna she was too ill to proceed + farther. Babette was at home in Vienna for she could speak German, and she + soon learned that the Hospital of St. Stephen's would give her mistress + the rest and medical treatment that her condition required—for she + was on the verge of nervous prostration. The discomfort of travelling was + not the cause of her physical break-down for Aunt Ella had told her “that + nothing was too good for a traveller” and every comfort and convenience + that money could supply had been hers. Her mental disquietude had produced + the physical relapse. She had been so confident of the truth of her + dreams, and that some power, she knew not what, but which she trusted + implicitly, would lead her to her husband, that her disappointment was + more than her strained nervous system could bear. + </p> + <p> + After a week's rest, although unable to rise, she called Babette to her + bedside. “I wish to send word to my aunt in England but I do not feel able + to sit up and write. I will dictate, you can write, and I will sign it.” + </p> + <p> + Then Babette wrote: + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR AUNT ELLA: Confession, they say, is good for the soul. My body is + weak to-day and so Babette is writing my confession. I have been to Sicily + and all over the southern part of Italy, but no success has come to me. If + Quincy had been in one of those orange or lemon groves he could not have + lived there for so many years; the work is too hard, and he was never used + to manual labour. So, as soon as I am able, I am coming home. I will never + trouble you with any more dreams. I believe, as you do, that they are + products of imagination. I am not sick, only tired out, and naturally, at + first, very much disheartened. I shall be with you very soon, never more + to leave you.” ALICE. + </p> + <p> + “P. S. As soon as I am able to take a drive I am going to view the + attractions of this city—which Babette says is even more beautiful + than Paris. I must see 'The Beautiful Blue Danube,' and I must hear Johann + Strauss's orchestra. They will be the only happy memories of my fruitless + journey.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. — “WE THREE” + </h2> + <p> + Nothing marred the pleasure of the trip on the <i>Gallia</i> and young + Quincy and Tom could not have been happier than they were when the great + steamer made its way up the Mersey towards its Liverpool pier. + </p> + <p> + A few hours only in the great bustling city and then they were off to find + the house in which Tom's father was born and lived. It was near Chester, + that modernized reminder of the old Roman days, and on their way to + Fernborough Hall. + </p> + <p> + They found it uninhabited. The thatched roof was full of holes and the + interior showed the devastation that wind and water had worked. Tall weeds + filled the little garden and the general effect was dismal indeed. + </p> + <p> + “It won't do to take Dad a picture of this old shanty,” said Tom. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps we can find a house that looks like it,” Quincy suggested. + </p> + <p> + They had no difficulty in doing that, for the same architectural plan, if + the design be worthy the name, had plainly been followed in the + construction of many cottages. They found one with the roof covered with + moss and a garden full of old-fashioned flowers, and several views were + taken with Quincy's camera. + </p> + <p> + “It's cheating in one way,” said Tom, “but it would break Dad's heart to + see a picture of his old home as it really is—so we'll show him one + as it ought to be.” + </p> + <p> + “And as it shall be,” said Quincy. “It won't cost much to fix it up, all + but the moss, and that will come on it in time. You get a man, Tom, find + out the cost of renovating the house, and I'll pay the bill. So will the + sense of untruthfulness be removed from our sensitive feelings.” This was + quickly arranged, for work, with the pay in advance, was a delectable + possession in those parts. + </p> + <p> + When they reached Fernborough Hall, and Quincy was told of the search on + which his mother had started out, he pretended to agree with his aunt that + it was useless, and the height of folly, but from that moment hope sprang + up within him, that, by some miracle, his father was still alive. He did + not confide his hopes to Aunt Ella, and gave her no inkling of the real + reason for his trip to Europe. + </p> + <p> + “It would make me very happy to know that my father was living,” he said, + “but after so long a time it seems foolish to think it, does it not? When + do you expect mother home, Aunt Ella?” + </p> + <p> + “The letter was written a month ago from Vienna, but, unfortunately, she + did not give her address. If she were well, she should have been here + before this. I have an idea that she may have gone to Switzerland on her + way home, and charmed by its scenery, or forced by her weak condition, has + remained there. Stay here for a week with your friend, and perhaps some + word will come.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Auntie,” said Quincy, “Tom and I will run over to Vienna, and if we + don't find her we will push on to William Tell's republic. We will write + you often—Tom one day and I the next.” + </p> + <p> + “I have often wondered,” said Quincy to Tom two days later as they were on + the cars speeding to Vienna—“I have often wondered,” he repeated, + “how my mother could let me go away and stay away from her for fourteen + long years. That she loves me, her letters show plainly. She says often + that I am all she has in the world, but she never sent for me to come and + see her nor did she ever come to see me. How do you explain it, Tom?” + </p> + <p> + “Very easily. That disaster at sea and the loss of your father has given + her a horror of the ocean which she cannot overcome. She fears to trust + herself or one she loves to its mercies again. Perhaps we can't understand + her feelings, but you must respect them.” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” replied Quincy. “I have never doubted her love for me, and your + theory, perhaps, explains her failure to manifest her love more forcibly.” + </p> + <p> + On the train they made a most agreeable acquaintance and regretted their + inability to accept his invitation to visit him. His name was Louis + Wallingford. He was an American, born in Missouri. He had been a reporter, + then editor. His passion was music and he had forsaken a literary life for + that of a musician. He had joined an orchestra much in demand at private + parties given by the wealthy residents of St. Louis. At one of these, he + had become infatuated with the daughter of a railroad magnate who counted + his wealth by millions. A poor violinist, he knew it was useless to ask + her father for his daughter's hand. The young lady's mother was dead. The + father died suddenly of apoplexy, and Miss Edith Winser came into + possession of the millions. Then he had spoken and been accepted. + Conscious that her husband, talented as he was, would not be accepted, + without a hard struggle, by the upper class, they decided to live in + Europe. + </p> + <p> + He had found a deserted chateau on the borders of Lake Maggiore. Money + bought it, and money had transformed it into an earthly Paradise. The + building, of white marble, was adapted for classic treatment, and Greek + and Roman art were symbolized therein. + </p> + <p> + The chateau contained a large music room and a miniature theatre in which + Mr. Wallingford's musical compositions and operas were performed. + </p> + <p> + “I have just come from Paris,” said Mr. Wallingford, “where I have made + arrangements for six concerts by my orchestra which will play many of my + own pieces. Can you not be in Paris in a month and hear them?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell him your story,” whispered Tom to Quincy, and he did so. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wallingford was deeply interested. + </p> + <p> + “If you find both your father and mother, they deserve another honeymoon. + Bring them to Vertano and in the joys of the present we will make them + forget the sorrows of the past.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” said Quincy, “that such good fortune would be more than + miraculous.” + </p> + <p> + “Come with your mother and friend then,” said Mr. Wallingford as he left + them to change cars. + </p> + <p> + They went to the Hotel Metropole in Vienna. Quincy consulted his guide + book. + </p> + <p> + “Everybody lives in apartment houses in Vienna, so this book says. The + question is, in which one shall we find my mother and her maid?” + </p> + <p> + “All we can do,” said Tom, “is to plug away every day. Keep a-going, keep + asking questions, keep our eyes and ears open, and keep up our courage.” + </p> + <p> + “Your plan is certainly 'for keeps,' as we children used to say. Come + along. Your plan is adopted. Have you written Lady Fernborough? 'Tis your + turn.” + </p> + <p> + Many days of fruitless travel and the young men began to despair of + success. Quincy was debating with himself whether it would not be better + to give up the search for his mother, and follow up the clue about his + father. He felt that every day was precious. + </p> + <p> + “I have an idea, Quincy,” Tom said one morning. “Perhaps your mother is + quite sick and has gone to a public hospital or a private one of some + kind.” + </p> + <p> + “That's a fine idea, Tom. We'll begin on them after breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + The sharp reports of gun shots and the softer cracking of pistols were + heard. + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” cried Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “Some men are on a strike. They had trouble with the police last night and + this morning's paper says the strikers have thrown up barricades. Probably + the police and soldiers are trying to dislodge them.” + </p> + <p> + The firing continued, and from their windows the soldiers and people could + be seen moving towards the scene of disturbance. + </p> + <p> + “Let's go out and see what is going on,” said Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “Let's stay in and keep out of trouble,” was Tom's reply. “It is the + innocent bystander who always gets shot.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going down to the office to find out about it,” and Quincy took his + hat and left the room. + </p> + <p> + Tom was suspicious of his intentions and followed him. Quincy had left the + hotel and was walking rapidly towards the scene of disturbance. Tom ran + after him, and kept him in sight, but did not speak to him. At first he + felt offended that Quincy had not asked him to go with him. Then he + reflected: “I virtually told him in advance that I wouldn't go. He's his + own master.” + </p> + <p> + They were nearing a street from which came the sounds of conflict—loud + cries, curses, and the reports of firearms. Tom ram forward to prevent + Quincy from turning into the street. He was too late—Quincy had + turned the corner. Tom, regardless of danger, followed him. He started + back with a cry of horror. Quincy had been shot and was lying upon the + sidewalk, the blood streaming from a gun-shot wound in his right arm. Tom + took him up in his arms, as though he had been a child, and returned to + the safety of the unexposed street. + </p> + <p> + As he lay Quincy upon the sidewalk and took out his handkerchief to make a + tourniquet with which to stanch the flow of blood, he cried: “Oh, Quincy, + why did you walk right into danger?” + </p> + <p> + As he uttered the words, a man who was standing nearby, whose dress and + swarthy face proclaimed him to be a foreigner, stepped forward and grasped + Tom roughly by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “What did you call that young man,” asked the stranger, his voice + trembling, perceptibly. + </p> + <p> + “I called him by his name—Quincy.” + </p> + <p> + “Quincy what? Pardon me, but I have a reason for asking.” + </p> + <p> + “His name is no secret,” said Tom, as he twisted the handkerchief tightly + above the wound. “I can't understand your interest in him, but his name is + Quincy Adams Sawyer.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank Heaven,” exclaimed the man. “And thank you,” he added, grasping + Tom's hand—“Is he English?” + </p> + <p> + “No, we're both Yankees, from Fernborough, Massachusetts.” + </p> + <p> + The man knelt beside Quincy and gazed at him earnestly. He looked up at + Tom. + </p> + <p> + “I could bless the man who fired that shot. My name is Quincy Adams Sawyer + and this young man is my son!” + </p> + <p> + Tom's surmise had been correct. Alice did not improve and a long stay at + the Hospital became necessary before the return to England would be + possible. + </p> + <p> + “What's that noise, Babette?” asked Alice. + </p> + <p> + “There must be a riot somewhere,” was the reply. “The soldiers are + marching past. They are fighting in a street nearby.” + </p> + <p> + Alice said no more. What had she to do with fighting and bloodshed? Her + suffering was greater than any bullet could inflict. She fell into a doze + from which she was awakened by a loud cry from Babette. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Madame, a carriage has just stopped here, and they are bringing a + wounded man into the Hospital. There are two men with him—one looks + like an Englishman or American.” + </p> + <p> + “Go down, Babette, and see if you can find out who they are. I should be + glad if I could be of help to one of my own countrymen.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed a very long time before the maid returned. When she did, the + usually self-confident Babette seemed dazed. She did not speak until her + mistress asked: + </p> + <p> + “Did you find out anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Madame.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “They are all Americans, Madame. A young man and his friend; the older man + is the father.” + </p> + <p> + “The companion's?” + </p> + <p> + “No, the young man's.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you learn their names or where they are from?” + </p> + <p> + Babette sank upon her knees by the bedside. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Madame, I am so happy.” + </p> + <p> + Alice regarded her with astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Happy! Happy because a young man has been shot. You must have a + bloodthirsty nature, Babette.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't the shooting, Madame. It's the name.” + </p> + <p> + “The name? What name? You are nervous, Babette. You must lie down and + rest. I keep you up too late nights reading and writing.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Madame, how can I say it? Can you bear it?” + </p> + <p> + “I have borne suspense for twenty-three years. I can bear much. What is it + you would tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “You know, Madame, I said the older man was the young man's father. They + both have the same name.” + </p> + <p> + “That's not uncommon, especially in America. The young man is called + Junior. Sometimes when they are very proud of a family name they number + them. Supposing my husband were living, and my son had a son, named after + himself, the little boy would be Quincy Adams Sawyer 3rd.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, I must tell you. The father and the son bear the name of Quincy + Adams Sawyer!” + </p> + <p> + Alice regarded her as if affrighted. Then she leaped from the bed and + cried: “Bring me my clothes, Babette. My husband and son! We three, + brought together by the hand of God once more.” + </p> + <p> + The revulsion was too great. The pent-up agony of twenty-three years + dissolved in a moment. Alice fainted and fell into Babette's arms. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. — A PERIOD OF TWENTY-THREE YEARS + </h2> + <p> + It took hours for the overjoyed wife and mother and the long-lost husband + and father to tell their stories. Alice's was told first, and was followed + by young Quincy's recital of his life at Fernborough, his four years at + Harvard, and the story of the returned bill of exchange leading him to + Europe, and his search for his mother in Vienna which ended with such + happiness for all. Finally, the father began: + </p> + <p> + “On the night of the collision, after seeing you safely started in the + life-boat with the last of the passengers, Captain Hawkins thought of a + small boat on the upper deck which had been overlooked in the general + scramble to get away from the doomed <i>Altonia</i>. Shouting to me to + follow him, the Captain rushed up the ladder to the railing, and together + we started to lower the boat. It was raised about three feet above the + deck, being held in position by two supports shaped like a letter X. I had + already loosened the ropes on my side, and then tried to kick out the + support nearest me. It stuck, and finally I got down on my hands and knees + thinking I could force it out better in that position. The water was + steadily pouring in at the ship's side, and it was only a question of a + few minutes before the <i>Altonia</i> would founder. Finally I gave one + mighty push, the support gave away, the boat came down upon me like a ton + weight,—and that was the last I knew until I awoke in a large room + full of single beds, and a kindly faced old priest told me I was in the + Hospital of San Marco, Palermo, Sicily. + </p> + <p> + “My God, the shock when I found that my sleep,—for such it was to + me,—had lasted over twenty-three years! What thoughts went through + my mind! Had you, Alice, been saved or lost? If saved, were you still + living, and my son, whom I had never seen, was he living? Were Aunt Ella + and my father and mother and my sisters still alive? I was roused from my + revery by the good Father Paolo. + </p> + <p> + “He told me that the week before he had been summoned to the death-bed of + an old seaman, Captain Vando, who had confessed that over twenty years + before, while sailing from Boston to Palermo, two days after a very bad + fog, he had picked up at sea a small open boat in which were two men, both + of whom at first seemed dead. One, it was Captain Hawkins, was beyond all + help; he was frozen to death,—frozen to death, Alice, in an effort + to save my life, for, besides my own coat, his was found tucked around me. + </p> + <p> + “After hours of work, I was brought back to life,—but a life worse + than death. The Captain told Father Paolo that my mind was a blank, I + could remember nothing of my past, I did not know my name. Then temptation + came to Captain Vando. He took from me my belt, in which I had some + English gold, a few English bank-notes, and the five bills of exchange, + each for a thousand pounds. The latter he did not dare to dispose of, but + the money he appropriated to his own use. He soon found I could be of no + use to him on ship-board, so, on his arrival at Palermo, he sold me to a + rich planter, for a hundred lire, and I was put to work in the orange + groves. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Vando in his confession told Father Paolo that he still had my + belt containing the bills of exchange, and before his death he delivered + these over to the priest. After the Captain's death, Father Paolo went to + Signor Matrosa, who, when confronted with the facts, admitted I had been + sold to him, and that I was known under the name of Alessandro Nondra, but + he told him that I had been mixed up in a fight, and had received such a + bad wound that I had been sent to the hospital. One of his managers, an + Italian, had married an English girl, and they had a daughter with light + hair, and blue eyes. It seems I had been sent to his house one day with a + message, and when I saw his daughter, I cried out, 'Alice, Alice,' and + caught the girl in my arms. Her father was so enraged that he picked up a + gun lying near at hand, and gave me such a terrific blow on the head that + I was knocked senseless. I remember nothing of it, but mistaking Anita for + you was, undoubtedly, my first approach to my former consciousness. That + scene was probably the one which you saw in your dream, Alice, and to + think that afterwards you should be so near me in Palermo, and neither of + us know it! + </p> + <p> + “At the hospital the doctors found that the blow on my head had caused but + a comparatively unimportant scalp wound, but, in dressing it, they found + that at some earlier time my skull had been crushed. They performed the + delicate operation of trepanning the skull, and when I came out from the + effects of the ether, my mind was in the same state as it had been + twenty-three years before. + </p> + <p> + “After that my recovery was rapid. Father Paolo made Signor Matrosa pay me + thirty-three hundred lire as my wages for the many years I had worked for + him, and I gave a thousand of it to the manager's daughter, to whom, in a + way, I owed my return to my natural self. The rest I gave to Father Paolo + for the use of his church. + </p> + <p> + “Luckily, in my belt that Captain Vando had appropriated was my passport. + I went to the United States consul at Palermo, Mr. Drake, had the passport + viséd, and got him to cash one of the bills of exchange for me. Suddenly, + one day, the thought came into my mind, had you, Alice, thinking me dead, + married again? I decided to find out before the announcement of my return + to the land of the living could be spread broadcast, and I persuaded Mr. + Drake to keep back the information from his official report for a while, + at least. This he was able to do easily, as he was on the point of going + away for a vacation of a few months, and the other members of the + consulate knew very little of my case. + </p> + <p> + “I decided to continue bearing the name of Alessandro Nondra for a while, + at least, and I knew I could make a living in some way when my present + funds were exhausted. How I regretted the cashing of that bill of + exchange, because I knew it would eventually lead to my discovery; but I + was so changed, with my iron-gray hair, and Van Dyke beard, that I felt I + could escape detection until I knew whether my wife still waited for me or + not. + </p> + <p> + “I decided to make my way north to Ostend, and would cross from there to + England, where I felt sure I could find some news of you, or Aunt Ella. I + stopped off here in Vienna for a day or two. When I heard my son called by + name this morning I could not resist, and instead of finding my son alone, + I have also found his mother, my wife.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. — “CATESSA” + </h2> + <p> + Quincy gloried in his wife's faith and constancy. Alice, while she + rejoiced in her husband's return bewailed his lost opportunities. + </p> + <p> + “Think what you have lost, Quincy. You might have been President.” + </p> + <p> + “If I have escaped that I shall not regret my long imprisonment.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Quincy, would you have refused a nomination?” + </p> + <p> + “Many are called, but few are chosen. I have never cherished any such + ambition. I am not in love with politics and I detest the average + politician. Our country produces few statesmen and it never will until the + civil service law is made applicable to legislators and to high officials. + We have much to learn from China in this respect.” + </p> + <p> + Telegrams had been sent to Aunt Ella and Mr. Wallingford apprising them of + the happy reunion. From the latter came a message extending a hearty + invitation to come to Vertano. + </p> + <p> + Young Quincy's wound though painful, and particularly uncomfortable, was + not serious. Tom was his constant companion and attendant while Quincy + passed nearly all his time with his wife. She improved rapidly and their + departure was delayed only until young Quincy's wound was healed. + </p> + <p> + “You now have a longer name than ever,” his mother said to him one day. + </p> + <p> + “How's that? It's too long now. What must be added?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, now that your father is alive, you are Quincy Adams Sawyer, Junior.” + </p> + <p> + “I am more than willing to make the addition, mother, and hope it will be + many years before I am obliged to shorten it.” + </p> + <p> + When they reached Vertano but three days remained before the departure of + Mr. Wallingford and his orchestra for Paris, but during that time there + were drives through the beautiful country, boat rides upon the lake, + rehearsals by the orchestra and the performance of an operetta written by + Mr. Wallingford in which he, his wife, and seven children took part. + </p> + <p> + “Shall we go to Paris?” asked Alice. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said Quincy. “We owe Mr. Wallingford the return courtesy of + our attendance at his six concerts.” + </p> + <p> + The trip across the channel did not possess so many terrors for Alice with + her husband and son for company, but she was glad when they stepped upon + land at Dover. + </p> + <p> + “I shall never love the water,” she said. + </p> + <p> + They reached London in the afternoon too late to take the train for + Heathfield in which town Fernborough Hall was situated. A telegram was + sent to Aunt Ella informing her of their safe arrival in London, and that + they would be with her the next day. + </p> + <p> + “What can I do to amuse you this evening, Alice?” + </p> + <p> + “Sit down and let me look at you, I have so much time to make up.” + </p> + <p> + “They give <i>Martha</i> at the opera to-night—it is my favourite—full + of the sweetest melodies in which I substitute Alice for Martha. Quincy + and Tom would like to go, and I have another reason which I will tell you + after the first act.” + </p> + <p> + Alice's curiosity was aroused and she expressed her desire to go. After + the first act, Alice turned an inquisitive face to her husband. + </p> + <p> + “What was your other reason for coming here to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think Catessa is a fine tenor?” + </p> + <p> + “He has the most beautiful voice I ever heard,” Alice replied. + </p> + <p> + “I know him. He is an old friend of mine. I'm going behind the scenes to + congratulate him personally.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you meet him in Italy?” + </p> + <p> + “No—in Fernborough, Massachusetts.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Quincy, what <i>do</i> you mean? There were no Italians in + Fernborough.” + </p> + <p> + “He is not an Italian. He's a Yankee. Look at his name.” + </p> + <p> + “That's Italian surely.” + </p> + <p> + “It's only his Yankee name transposed. Aren't you good on anagrams?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, I'm not. Please tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember a young man in Fernborough with consumption whom I sent + to a sanatorium in New York?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Scates.” + </p> + <p> + “You've hit it. Mr. Arthur Scates, or A. Scates for short. Now look at + that Italian name again.” + </p> + <p> + “I am doing so, and it looks just as foreign as ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Agreed, but Catessa contains just the same letters as A. Scates, only + they are arranged differently.” + </p> + <p> + After the second act, Quincy visited Mr. Scates in his dressing room. The + tenor insisted on Quincy and his party taking supper with him at his hotel + after the opera. He offered to repay the cost of his treatment with + interest. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Quincy, “I do not need it, and will not take it. Use it to help + some poor artist.” + </p> + <p> + It was one o'clock when Quincy and his party reached their hotel. + </p> + <p> + “Did you enjoy yourself, Alice?” + </p> + <p> + “I had a delightful evening. But how happy you must feel to know that your + money saved such a precious life.” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” said he. “Good deeds always bring their reward. See what I got—twenty-three + years hard labour in an orange grove.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Quincy. There is no possible connection between the two events.” + </p> + <p> + “I disagree with you. I think I am the connection, but I don't really + think one caused the other.” + </p> + <p> + “I should say not. You are not often cynical.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not, dear. Only when one does a good deed he must not expect to be + repaid in exactly his own coin.” + </p> + <p> + “Did Mr. Scates offer to repay you?” + </p> + <p> + “He did, and I told him to give it to some poor fellow who needed it.” + </p> + <p> + “Quincy, I don't know which to admire most. Your good heartedness, or your + ability to make one sum of money perform many good actions.” + </p> + <p> + The home coming to Fernborough Hall was a sad contrast to the pleasure of + the evening before. They found Aunt Ella in bed with two doctors in + attendance. Though weak, and failing fast there was no diminution of her + mental powers. She expressed a wish to see Quincy alone. + </p> + <p> + “Quincy, your wife's faith has made a new woman of me. I have always + wished to live for ever, I had such a fear of death and uncertainty as to + the future. My fears are all gone. + </p> + <p> + “The same Power that put me in this world and has given me so many + blessings, with some sorrows, so that I would properly appreciate the + blessings, will take care of me in the next. I have never been a wicked + woman, but often a foolish one. The most foolish thing I have ever done + was to doubt the faith your wife had that you were still alive. She's an + angel. + </p> + <p> + “Give me a sup of that wine, Quincy,” she continued, “I haven't smoked a + cigarette since I promised Alice I wouldn't. Wasn't that self-denial? Now, + there's a very important matter that needs attention. I told you when you + married Alice that when I died you should have everything. Don't interrupt + me. Believing you were dead I made a new will and left everything to your + son.” + </p> + <p> + She drew a paper from under the bedclothes. + </p> + <p> + “Here it is. Burn it up. The other one is in the hands of my solicitor in + London.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy laid the will upon the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Ella, I shall not burn the will nor destroy it. I am satisfied with + the disposition of your fortune. I should have been equally well satisfied + if you had possessed other heirs. But, did you leave your property to + Quincy Adams Sawyer Junior?” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Ella's eyes snapped with some of their old fire. + </p> + <p> + “I've got it right. I have described my heir so carefully that there can + be no mistake. Don't you imagine that there is a chance for you to break + my will.” + </p> + <p> + There was a smile on her face as she spoke, and Quincy smiled to show that + he did not misunderstand her pleasantry. As he turned to go, Aunt Ella + called: + </p> + <p> + “Quincy!” + </p> + <p> + He approached the bed again. + </p> + <p> + “Another sip of that wine. I always liked wine—but not too much of + it.” + </p> + <p> + She beckoned to him to come nearer. “Quincy, I want you, before you go + away to have the fish cleared out of the lake. Stuart wouldn't let me do + it, and since he died I have kept them as a tribute to his memory. He said + to me, when the name dies out, let the fish die too. The name is near + death, and the fish must go. Now, send Alice to me.” + </p> + <p> + When she came, she bent over and kissed her aunt tenderly. + </p> + <p> + “Alice, I wish you were going with me. You know what I mean, dear. I hope + you will have long life and great happiness to make up for what you've + gone through. You have your husband back again. I am going to mine, Robert + and Stuart. There is no marriage or giving in marriage there—only + love. Quincy is going to look after the fish in the lake.” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Ella lingered for a week, then passed quietly away while asleep. She + was laid beside Sir Stuart in the family vault, and the name Fernborough + lived only as that of a little country town in New England. + </p> + <p> + At the funeral Quincy met his sister Florence who looked upon him as one + raised from the dead. + </p> + <p> + “I did not forget you, Quincy, for my first-born bears your name.” + </p> + <p> + Linda, Countess of Sussex, came with her husband the Earl, and her + daughter, the Lady Alice Hastings, a tall, statuesque blonde, in her + twenty-eighth year. + </p> + <p> + “I've something wonderful to tell you,” said the Countess to Quincy and + his wife. “My daughter is soon to be married, but not to one of our set. + Her choice has fallen upon Mr. John Langdon, an American. He's very + wealthy, and is coming to England to live. Isn't that romantic—so + out of the usual.” + </p> + <p> + “America loses every time,” said Quincy. “First our girls and their + father's money, and now our men and their money. In time, England will + form part of the great American nation.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean,” said the Countess, “the great English-speaking nation,” and + Quincy bowed in acceptance of the amendment. + </p> + <p> + The probating of the will, making arrangement for the sale of Fernborough + Hall, and providing for the payment of the proceeds and annual income to + Quincy Jr. caused a long delay, for English law moves but little faster + than it did when Jarndyce brought suit against Jarndyce. + </p> + <p> + Quincy Jr. and Tom were thrown on their own resources during the long + wait. London was their resort, and, to them, Scotland Yard and its + detectives, the most interesting part of the city. + </p> + <p> + When the party finally embarked, by a coincidence, it was on the <i>Gallia</i> + which had brought young Quincy and his companion to England seven months + before. + </p> + <p> + No storms or heavy fogs were met upon the way, and the party was landed + safely in New York. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. — O. STROUT. FINE GROCERIES + </h2> + <p> + During the summer that the foregoing events were happening in Europe, Mr. + Hiram Maxwell, in the little New England town of Fernborough had a serious + accident happen to himself the effects of which were far reaching, and + finally affected many people. + </p> + <p> + In unloading a barrel of sugar from a wagon, it slipped from the skid and + fell upon his leg causing a compound fracture. He was taken home, but when + the doctor was called he advised his immediate removal to the Isaac + Pettingill Free Hospital for he was afraid an amputation would be + necessary. Unfortunately, his fears proved to be true, and Hiram's right + leg was amputated just below the knee. + </p> + <p> + “That Hiram's an unlucky cuss,” said Mr. Strout to his hearers one evening + at the grocery. “But think of me. This is our busy season and with + everything piled onto me I'm just about tuckered out. What help will he be + stumbling around on crutches?” + </p> + <p> + “Can't he have a wooden leg?” asked Abner Stiles. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course he can. An' if you lost your head and got a wooden one in + its place you'd be just as well off as you are now.” + </p> + <p> + This remark caused a laugh at Abner which he took good-naturedly. When Mr. + Strout was out of sorts he always vented his spleen on somebody. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Benoni Hill, “I'm awful sorry for Hiram with a wife and + children to support. Of course his pay will go right on, bein' as he's a + partner.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know about that,” said Strout. “That's for the trustees to + decide, and I've got to decide whether I'll do two men's work for one + man's pay.” + </p> + <p> + “He would for you,” Abner blurted out. + </p> + <p> + “If you think so much of him, why don't you come in and do his work for + him?” said Strout. + </p> + <p> + “When you were going to buy this store, and Mr. Sawyer got ahead of yer, + yer promised me a job here as pay for some special nosin' round I'd done + fer yer—but when yer got in the saddle you forgot the feller who'd + boosted yer up. When a man breaks his word to me onct he don't do it a + second time. That's why,” and Abner went out and slammed the door after + him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout was angry, and when in that state of mind he was often lacking + in prudence in speech. + </p> + <p> + “That comes of turning a place of business into a resort for loafers. If I + owned this store outright there'd be a big sign up somewhere—'When + you've transacted your business, think of Home Sweet Home.'” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon that's a hint,” said Benoni Hill, as he arose and put on his + hat. “You won't be troubled with me or my trade in futur'. There are + stores in Cottonton jus' as good as this, and the proprietors are + gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + He left the store, and one by one the “loafers” followed him as no one had + the courage to break the silence that fell upon the company after old Mr. + Hill's departure. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout, left alone to close up the store, was more angry than ever. + </p> + <p> + “What cussed fools. I was hitting back at Abner and they thought the coat + fit and put it on. They'll come round again. They won't enjoy tramping + over to Cottonton for kerosene and molasses.” + </p> + <p> + The store was lighted by kerosene lamps resting on brackets. It was Mr. + Strout's custom to take them down, blow them out, and replace them on the + brackets. One was always left burning, as Mr. Strout said “so burglars + could see their way round.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout's anger rose higher and higher and there was no one present + upon whom he could expend it. He grasped one of the lamps, but his hold on + the glass handle was insecure and it fell to the floor, the lamp breaking, + while the burning oil was thrown in every direction. He wished then that + some of the “loafers” were present to help him put the fire out. There was + no water nearer than the pump in the back yard. He grabbed a pail and + started to get some water. He forgot the back-steps and fell headlong. For + some minutes he was so dazed that he could do nothing. The glare of the + fire lighted up the yard, or he would have had difficulty in filling the + pail. When he returned, he saw that the fire was beyond his control. He + could not go through the store, so he climbed the back yard fence and made + his way to the front of the store crying “Fire” at the top of his voice. + </p> + <p> + It seemed an age to him, before anyone responded. He felt then the need of + friends, neighbours—even “loafers” would have been acceptable. + </p> + <p> + A bucket brigade formed, but their efforts were unavailing. As the other + lamps were exploded by the heat new inflammable material was thrown about. + In a quarter of an hour the whole interior was in flames, and in an hour + only a grim, black skeleton, lighted up by occasional flashes of flame, + remained of Strout and Maxwell's grocery store. + </p> + <p> + Next morning comment was rife. Mr. Strout had told how the fire was caused + but there were unbelievers. + </p> + <p> + “I think the cuss set it on fire himself,” said Abner Stiles to his + employer, Mr. Ezekiel Pettingill. + </p> + <p> + “Be careful, Abner,” was the caution given him. “It don't do to accuse a + man of anything 'less you have proof, an' your thinkin' so ain't proof.” + Mr. Strout went to Boston to see the trustees. The insurance was adjusted + and Mr. Strout was authorized to proceed with the re-building at once. + During the interim orders were filled from the Montrose store. + Fortunately, the stable and wagon shed were some distance from the store, + and had not been in danger. + </p> + <p> + The new store was larger than the old one, and many improvements, in Mr. + Strout's opinion, were incorporated in the new structure. He ordered the + new sign. When it was put up, the whole town, including the “loafers” were + present. “I s'pose he fixed it with the trustees” said Benoni Hill to + Abner Stiles. + </p> + <p> + “Danged if I think so,” was the reply. “He's allers been meaner'n dirt to + Hiram, an' has allers wanted to git him out. Burnin' up the store giv' him + his chance.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean the store burnin' up,” corrected Benoni. + </p> + <p> + “I dunno. The Bible says God works in a mysterious way his wonders to + perform, an' so do some individooals.” + </p> + <p> + One noon after dinner, Mr. Strout said to his wife. “Bessie, put on your + things an' come down to the new store. I want to show you somethin'.” + </p> + <p> + “And leave the dishes?” + </p> + <p> + “You can bring 'em with you if you want to,” her husband replied. + </p> + <p> + When they reached the store, upon which the painters were at work, he + pointed to the new sign. + </p> + <p> + “See that? Read it out loud.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Strout complied: + </p> + <h3> + “O. STROUT. FINE GROCERIES.” + </h3> + <p> + “What did I tell yer?” was his only comment. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII. — THE HOME COMING + </h2> + <p> + Quincy desired to have his return to America unheralded by items in the + newspapers of stories of his wonderful rescue, captivity, and final + recovery of his reason, so when he booked for passage on the <i>Gallia</i> + he gave the name of Mr. S. Adams, wife and son. + </p> + <p> + During the homeward voyage the father and son had an opportunity to become + acquainted. The father told the story of his life at Mason's Corner; first + going back to his college days. He told his son how he had opposed his + father's wish that he would become a lawyer and sustain the reputation of + the old firm of Sawyer, Crowninshield, and Lawrence; about his health + breaking down and his visit to Mason's Corner; about the blind girl whom + he had made his wife, and how he had secured medical assistance and her + sight had been restored. Once again he lived over his life in the country + town, and told about his friends and foes—Obadiah Strout and Bob + Wood—who were enemies no longer, and honest, good-hearted 'Zeke + Pettingill, and his sweet wife, little Huldah Mason. And Hiram who + stammered so and Mandy who didn't. Nearly all the people mentioned in + their long talks were well known to young Quincy and after his father had + finished his reminiscences the young man supplied the sequel. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of Mr. Strout?” asked the father. + </p> + <p> + “Think? I know he's a dishonest man. You say that you parted friends. He + is no friend of yours or mine.” + </p> + <p> + Then he told of his encounter with young Bob Wood. + </p> + <p> + “I had some trouble with his father many years ago,” said Quincy. “What + did he do to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing to me. He insulted a young lady, and I took her part. Tom was + going to help me but I arranged to handle him, in a very unscientific way + though.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a rough and tumble of the worst sort,” interjected Tom. “I was + afraid they'd bite each other before they got through.” + </p> + <p> + “Quincy,” said his father, “you must take boxing lessons. When occasion + requires, it is the gentleman's weapon.” + </p> + <p> + The mention of Mary Dana naturally led to a rehearsal of the Wood case, + and all Mary had done in helping Quincy at the beginning of the search for + his father. + </p> + <p> + “I think I see which way the wind blows,” laughed his father, while Quincy + blushed to the roots of his hair, “and I want to meet the young lady who + did so much to bring us all together again.” + </p> + <p> + Alice was proud of her son. He resembled her, having light hair and blue + eyes; a decided contrast to his father whose skin had been darkened by + Italian suns, who had dark eyes, dark hair frosted at the ends, and a + heavy beard, cut in Van Dyke fashion. Few, if any, would have recognized + in him the young man who more than twenty-three years before had taken + passage on the <i>Altonia</i>, looking forward to a pleasant trip and an + early return to his native land. + </p> + <p> + Alice explained to her son her apparent lack of affection for him in + allowing him to be separated from her so long. + </p> + <p> + “I knew you were with your relatives and good friends, Quincy. In my + nervous, depressed state I was poor company for a young, healthy boy. + Then, I had such a fear of the ocean I dared not go to you and was afraid + to have you come to me. Can you forgive me?” + </p> + <p> + “My darling mother,” said young Quincy, “what you did turned out for the + best. I have been educated as an American and that fully atones for my + apparent neglect. Your beautiful letters kept you always in my mind, and I + used to take great pleasure in telling my schoolmates what a pretty mother + I had.” + </p> + <p> + Alice, despite her years, blushed. + </p> + <p> + “Quincy, you are like your father in praising those you love.” + </p> + <p> + Tom gave Quincy's father graphic descriptions of the changes in + Fernborough and fully endorsed his friend's opinion of Mr. Strout. + </p> + <p> + “He's a snake in the grass,” said Tom. “He'd pat you on the back with one + hand and cut your throat, figuratively speaking, with the other.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think he'd recognize me?” asked Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “I think not,” said Tom. “His perceptive powers are not strong. He's + sub-acute rather than 'cute.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy and Alice sat for hours looking out upon the wide expanse of ocean, + and at the blue sky above them. It did not seem possible that so many + years had passed since they were together. Memory is a great friend. It + bridged the great gap in their lives. They were lovers as of yore, and + would be always. They did not hesitate to talk of the cruel past—not + sadly, for were they not in the happy present? + </p> + <p> + Said Alice one morning, “While you were gone I was in a terribly nervous + condition. Aunt Ella said that I must have something to employ my mind—and + I wrote, or tried to write. I couldn't keep my mind on one thing long + enough to write a story, but I have collected the material for one, and + now that I am happy once more, when we have settled down, I am going to + write it.” + </p> + <p> + “What's the title, or, rather, the subject?” her husband inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it opens with a ship-wreck—not a collision but a fire was the + cause. Among the passengers are many children—of high and low degree—and + they get mixed up—fall into wrong persons' hands,—fathers and + mothers are lost and cannot claim them, and their future lives have + supplied me with the strongest and most intricate and exciting plot that I + have ever constructed.” + </p> + <p> + “Which is the 'star' child?” + </p> + <p> + “He is the son of a Russian Grand Duke—the offspring of a morganatic + marriage—his mother is driven from the country by order of the Czar. + The title is <i>The Son of Sergius</i>.” + </p> + <p> + They did not remain in New York but took the first train for Boston. They + were driven to the Mount Vernon Street house. + </p> + <p> + “I knew you were coming,” cried Maude, as she ran eagerly down the steps + to meet them. + </p> + <p> + “Who has turned traitor? I pledged them all to secrecy,” cried Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “Harry told me, and I had a cablegram from Florence.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she use my name? If so, we are undone and the reporters will swarm + like bees.” + </p> + <p> + “You are safe,” said Maude. “The message read: Brother found. Keep quiet.” + </p> + <p> + Tom was prevailed upon to remain in Boston until Quincy could go to + Fernborough. At supper they were introduced to Maude's family. + </p> + <p> + “Six of them,” said Quincy. “I am uncle to a numerous extent. Maude, what + are all their names—the girls first.” + </p> + <p> + “This is Sarah, named after mother; Ella for Aunt Ella, and little Maude + for her mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! Now the boys.” + </p> + <p> + “Stuart—the old gentleman was so nice to Harry and me when we were + on our wedding tour—Nat for father, and Harry—” + </p> + <p> + “Thank Heaven—no Quincy. That name was becoming contagious. I am + glad, Maude, that you were wise and kept the epidemic out of your family.” + </p> + <p> + That evening Quincy and Mr. Merry talked about business matters. Harry + told of Hiram's accident and the destruction of the store by fire. + </p> + <p> + “There's something funny about it,” said Harry. “We authorized Mr. Strout + to rebuild and restock at once, and we hear that he has done so, but he + has not called on us for a dollar, nor has he sent up any bills for + payment.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would send a telegram to Mr. Ezekiel Pettingill the first + thing to-morrow morning asking him to come to the city—say important + business.” + </p> + <p> + About three o'clock Ezekiel arrived at the office of Sawyer, + Crowninshield, Lawrence and Merry. He was shown into what had been the + late Hon. Nathaniel's private office, and came face to face with Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “I'm heartily glad to see you again,” he exclaimed as he wrung Quincy's + helpless hand after the first surprise of the meeting. “Huldy'll be + delighted too. You must come down and tell us all about it. Just to think—more'n + twenty years—but you're looking well.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy assured him that his health was never better. + </p> + <p> + “What I wanted to see you about are affairs in Fernborough. What is Strout + up to?” + </p> + <p> + “You've used just the right word. He's up to something. He's got up a sign—O. + Strout, Fine Groceries—an' says Hiram's out of the firm, and that he + owns the whole business.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy smiled. “So, I've got to fight it out with him again, have I? Well + it will be the final conflict. To use Mr. Strout's words, one or the other + of us will have to leave town. You aren't going back to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I must.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, come up to the house first and see Alice and the boy. Well go down + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX. — THE FINAL CONFLICT + </h2> + <p> + When Tom Chripp showed his father the photograph of the house in which he + was born, he burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + “Just as pretty as ever,” he exclaimed. “The roof's been mended, beent it, + and just the same flowers all around it as when I was a boy. Tom, I'm glad + to see you back safe and sound—but that picter—Tom, when I + die, you just put that picter in the coffin with me, won't you? I want + your grandfather to see that the old place was looked after when he was + gone.” + </p> + <p> + Tom promised. + </p> + <p> + A dark featured, dark haired man entered Mr. Strout's store. The + proprietor knew he was a stranger—perhaps just moved into town, and + a prospective customer. + </p> + <p> + “What can I do for you?” he inquired blandly, for he was capable of being + affable. + </p> + <p> + “I am looking for Mr. Hiram Maxwell.” + </p> + <p> + “He ain't here no more.” + </p> + <p> + “But he's your partner, isn't he?” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you read my sign? There ain't no partner on it.” + </p> + <p> + “There ought to be.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout looked at the stranger with astonishment. Then he laughed, and, + with a remembrance of Mr. Richard Ricker, asked sneeringly: + </p> + <p> + “What asylum did you come from?” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” said the stranger. “I used to know Mr. Maxwell, and + they told me in the city that he was a member of the firm of Strout and + Maxwell.” + </p> + <p> + “Who told ye?” + </p> + <p> + “The trustees of the estate of Mr. Sawyer. Mr. Quincy Adams Sawyer. Did + you know him?” + </p> + <p> + “I never knew any good of him. So they told yer, did they? That shows how + much attention they give to business. The old store was burned up and that + busted the firm. This store's mine from cellar to chimney.” + </p> + <p> + “The old firm must have paid you well.” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty well—but I made my money in State Street, speculating and + I'm well fixed.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad to hear that you've prospered. I wish my friend Maxwell had been + as fortunate. What became of his interest and Mr. Sawyer's in the store?” + </p> + <p> + “Went up in smoke, didn't I tell yer?” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” said the stranger again. “But doesn't your store + stand on land belonging to the old firm?” + </p> + <p> + Strout squinted at the stranger. “I guess you're a lawyer lookin' for + points, but you're on the wrong track. You won't get 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not a lawyer, Mr. Strout. I only inquired thinking my friend Mr. + Maxwell might—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he won't,” said Strout. “Mr. Quincy Adams Sawyer cheated me out of + one store but he can't drive me out of this. He thought he was awful + smart, but when he bought the store he didn't buy the land. It belonged to + the town. I'm one of the selectmen, and one of the assessors found it out + and told me, and I bought it—an' this store an' way up to the sky, + and the land way down to China belongs to O. Strout.” + </p> + <p> + “I am much obliged, Mr. Strout, for your courtesy—only one more + question and then I'll try and find my friend Mr. Maxwell—if + somebody will be kind enough to tell me where he is.” + </p> + <p> + “You didn't ask where he was. If you want to know he's up to the Hospital. + He's had his leg off, an'll have to walk on crutches.” + </p> + <p> + “So bad as that,—I'm <i>very</i> sorry,” said the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “I've got to put up some orders—see that sign?” and he pointed to + one which read: + </p> + <p> + “When You've transacted your Business, Think of Home, Sweet Home.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, Mr. Strout, for taking so much of your valuable time. + Do you know whether Mr. Quincy Adams Sawyer is in town?” + </p> + <p> + Strout laughed scornfully. “In town? That's good. Why, man, he's been dead + more'n twenty years—food for fishes, if they'd eat him, which I + doubt. He's left a boy, same name, that used to go to school here, but, + thank Heaven, he's got lots of money, and probably won't trouble us any + more. Perhaps he's the one you want.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure the boy's father is dead? I saw him in Boston yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't take any stock in any such nonsense. This ain't the days of + miracles.” + </p> + <p> + “I saw him in this town this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” gasped Strout. + </p> + <p> + “Right here. That's my name, Quincy Adams Sawyer. Do you want me to + identify myself?” He stepped back, puckered up his mouth, and began + whistling “Listen to the Mocking Bird.” + </p> + <p> + Strout was both startled and mad. “Just like you to come spyin' round. You + allers was a meddler, an' underhanded. But now you know the truth, what + are you going to do about it?” + </p> + <p> + Quincy walked to the door. “Well, Mr. Strout, I'm going to put it about as + you did when I first came to Mason's Corner, Either you or I have got to + leave town. This is our last fight, and I'm going to win.” + </p> + <p> + He left the store quickly and made his way to where Ezekiel was waiting + for him with the carryall. + </p> + <p> + “Now, 'Zeke, we'll go to the Hospital and see poor Hiram.” + </p> + <p> + They found him hobbling about on crutches in the grounds of the Hospital. + </p> + <p> + “How long have you been here, Hiram?” was Quincy's first question. + </p> + <p> + “About twelve weeks. You see, besides breaking my leg I cracked my knee + pan an' that's made it wuss.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll fix you up very soon. I'll get you an artificial leg from New York. + You'll be able to walk all right but you mustn't do any heavy lifting.” + </p> + <p> + “Guess I shan't have no chance to lift anything now Strout's got the + store.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry about that, Hiram. There are towns that have two stores in + them. How's Mandy?” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “'JUST LIKE YOU TO COME SPYIN' ROUND. YOU ALLERS WAS A + MEDDLER.'”} + </p> + <p> + “Gettin' along all right. Mr. Pettingill, there, sends a man over to help + her, and Mrs. Crowley is as good as two any day.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry, Hiram. You'll come out on top yet” + </p> + <p> + “If I do, 'twill be because you'll put me there, I reckon.” + </p> + <p> + As they were driving back 'Zekiel asked Quincy if he knew Mrs. Hawkins was + going to sell out. + </p> + <p> + “No, why. Getting too old?” + </p> + <p> + “No, she's as spry as a cat, and she's seventy odd. That ain't the reason. + Jonas is dead.” + </p> + <p> + “What was the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Chickens.” + </p> + <p> + “What—overeating?” + </p> + <p> + “No, somebody stole his chickens. So he arranged a gun with a spring and + he must have forgotten it.” + </p> + <p> + “He didn't 'kalkilate' on its hitting him?” + </p> + <p> + “Guess not. Mrs. Hawkins says she's too old to marry agin, and she can't + run the house without a man she can trust.” + </p> + <p> + “Let's stop and see her.” + </p> + <p> + When they entered, Mrs. Hawkins threw up her hands. “Lord a Massy! I heerd + at the store all about you comin' back, but where on airth <i>did</i> you + come from? They said you was dead an' here you are as handsome as ever. + How's your wife, an' that boy o' yourn?” + </p> + <p> + “Both well, I'm happy to say. 'Zeke tells me you want to sell out.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Now Jonas has gone there's nobody to take care of the chickens, an' + a hotel 'thout chickens an' fresh eggs is no home for a hungry man.” + </p> + <p> + “What will you take for the place just as it stands?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I've figured up an' I should lose money ef I took less'n four + thousand dollars, an' I ought to have five.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll take the refusal of it for forty-eight hours at five thousand. Is it + agreed?” + </p> + <p> + “I'd hold it a month for you, Mister Sawyer, but I want to go and help + Mandy soon's I can now that Hiram's laid up for nobody knows how long.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll have Hiram on his feet again very soon, Mrs. Hawkins. I'll be down + again in a few days.” + </p> + <p> + “Give my love to Alice,” she called after them as they were driving away. + </p> + <p> + The next evening Quincy asked his son to come to the library with him. + </p> + <p> + “Quincy, I want to borrow fifty thousand dollars. Can you spare it?” + </p> + <p> + “Twice as much if you need it. I'll give it to you. It's yours anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I want to borrow it at six per cent.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going into business?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” Then Quincy told him of his conversation with Mr. Strout. + </p> + <p> + “How are you going to beat him?” asked young Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you. I'm going to buy the Hawkins House. I shall have it lifted + up and another story put underneath. There will be room for a store twice + as large as Strout's, and a hotel entrance and office on the ground floor. + I'll put Hiram Maxwell in charge of the store.” + </p> + <p> + “Who'll run the hotel?” + </p> + <p> + “'Zeke says Sam Hill is the man for the place, and his wife Tilly will be + the housekeeper, chief cook, etc.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to run Mr. Strout out of town?” + </p> + <p> + “That is my present intention. Not for personal vengeance but for the + ultimate good of the community.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to help, but the work isn't in my line.” + </p> + <p> + “Seriously speaking, Quincy, what is your line—the law?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Business?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “What then?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't know. Am thinking it over.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen that Miss Dana yet?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Mr. Isburn told me she is out West now on an important case.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll get her to find Strout after he leaves Fernborough. Give me that + check to-morrow early. I'm going to Fernborough with an architect to have + plans made for the alterations.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout could look from his window and see what was going on at the + Hawkins House. + </p> + <p> + “Who's bought the hotel, Abner?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Strout, they do say it's Mr. Quincy Adams Sawyer, an' that Sam + Hill and his wife Tilly are going to run it.” + </p> + <p> + “I won't sell them a darned thing.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Stiles grinned. “Can't they buy in Cottonton, or Montrose, or + Eastborough? Mr. Sawyer's got stores there.” + </p> + <p> + “Well they'll want things in a hurry, but they won't get them from me.” + </p> + <p> + A month later Abner rushed into the store. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Strout, they're putting up a new sign on the Hawkins House. Come and + see it.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout walked leisurely to the window and put up his hand to shade his + eyes. Great white letters on a blue ground. + </p> + <h3> + THE SAWYER GROCERY COMPANY + </h3> + <p> + “By George, Strout, there's going to be another grocery.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout did not speak, but walked back behind the counter. Abner went + to see the sign raising. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout soliloquized: “So, he's going to fight me, is he? Well, I'll + spend every dollar I have, and borrow some more, before I'll give in. + He'll cut prices—so will I.” + </p> + <p> + Then a troubled look came into his face. + </p> + <p> + “Confound it. My commission as postmaster runs out in a month, but our + Congressman is a good friend of mine.” + </p> + <p> + Opening night came at the new store, Saturday being selected. Over the + doorway was an electric sign— + </p> + <h3> + WELCOME TO ALL + </h3> + <p> + Mr. Strout's store was nearly deserted. About ten o'clock Abner came in. + </p> + <p> + “I say, Strout, it's just scrumptious. They got three times as many goods + as you have. An' there's a smoking room back of the store with a sign over + the door <i>'Exclusively for Loafers. Loaf and Enjoy Your Soul.'</i> They + say a poet feller named Whitman writ that last part. Saturday morning is + to be bargain day and everything is to be sold at half price. And, say, + isn't the hotel fine? Everybody was invited upstairs, an' there was a free + lunch spread out.” + </p> + <p> + “Abner, you've talked enough. You'd better go home.” + </p> + <p> + The warfare continued for three months. At the end of the first, Hiram + Maxwell, an old soldier, was appointed postmaster, <i>vice</i> Obadiah + Strout. At the end of the second month Mr. Strout resigned his position as + organist and the gentleman who led the orchestra that played during the + evening at the hotel was chosen in his stead. At the end of the third + month a red flag was seen hanging at the door of Mr. Strout's store and + Mr. Beers the auctioneer whose once rotund voice had now become thin and + quavering, sold off the remaining stock and the fixtures. Then the + curtains were pulled down and the door locked. The next day Mr. and Mrs. + Strout and family left town. + </p> + <p> + “What's become of Strout?” Quincy asked his son, who had just returned + from Fernborough. Another month had passed since the auction sale. + </p> + <p> + “I heard he was seen on State Street a few days ago, and he said the best + move he ever made was leaving that one-horse country town; that he could + make more money in a day in State Street than he could in a month in the + grocery business. It seems he has become what they call a curb broker or + speculator.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad,” said Quincy, “that Mr. Strout has found a more profitable and + congenial field. It must have been very dull for him the last three months + of his stay in that one-horse town.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX. — TOM, JACK AND NED + </h2> + <p> + Quincy decided to have his company incorporated. This necessitated visits + to the Secretary of the Commonwealth and the Tax Commissioner. The amount + paid in cash capital was $200,000. Besides the four stores doing business, + sixteen more were contemplated in Boston, Cambridge, Lowell, Lawrence, + Fall River, New Bedford, and other small cities and large towns. + </p> + <p> + The design was not to form a trust with a view of controlling certain food + products and raising prices, but to establish a line of stores in which + the best grade at the lowest cash price should be the rule. This price was + to be fixed for the Boston store and was to be the same in all the stores. + </p> + <p> + “Whom shall I put in charge of the Boston store, Quincy?” his father + asked. “He will have to be general manager for the whole circuit.” + </p> + <p> + “I know a man,” said young Quincy, “who is honest, conscientious, and a + perfect tiger for work, but he knows nothing about the grocery business. + He has adaptability, that valuable quality, but, while learning, he might + make some costly mistakes.” + </p> + <p> + “I want you to act as Treasurer for the company. It's your money, and you + should handle it.” + </p> + <p> + “I've no objection to drawing checks. We sha'n't have to borrow any money + for there's half a million available any time. Why didn't you have a + larger capital, father?” + </p> + <p> + “Because the State taxes it so heavily; but there's no tax on borrowed + money. The fellow who lends pays that.” + </p> + <p> + “If I loan money do I have to pay taxes on it when I haven't got it?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, and you pay just the same if there's no prospect of its ever + being repaid.” + </p> + <p> + “That's funny.” + </p> + <p> + “Funny! Why, our Massachusetts tax laws are funnier than a comic almanac, + and about as sensible.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy took up a pen and began writing. + </p> + <p> + “What are you writing, father?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll show you in a few minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “How will that do?” + </p> + <p> + Quincy read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER, <i>President</i>. QUINCY + ADAMS SAWYER, Jr., <i>Treasurer</i>. THOMAS CHRIPP, + <i>General Manager</i>. Cash Capital, $200,000. + + Cable, <i>Vienna</i>. 20 <i>Stores</i>. + + THE SAWYER GROCERY COMPANY, INC. + + Wholesale and Retail. +</pre> + <p> + “Just the man I had in mind, father. You can depend upon him every time, + and he'll keep his subordinates right up to the mark.” + </p> + <p> + Upon his return to his native state Quincy had found many of his old + friends still in office. The governor and higher officials were only + annuals—some not very hardy at that—while the minor officials, + in many cases, were hardy perennials, whom no political hot weather or + cold storm could wither or destroy. + </p> + <p> + A presidential campaign was on, and speakers, for there were few orators, + were in demand. Quincy's visits to so many cities inspecting the Company's + stores had brought him in contact with hundreds of local politicians. One + day there came a call from the State Committee to come in and see the + Secretary. + </p> + <p> + “Do you want to do something for the party?” asked Mr. Thwing, the + Secretary. + </p> + <p> + “I have already subscribed,” said Quincy. “Do you need more?” + </p> + <p> + “Money talks,” said Mr. Thwing, “and so do you. I have a score of letters + from different cities asking me to add you to our list of speakers, and to + be sure and let the writers hear you.” + </p> + <p> + “I had no intention—” Quincy began. + </p> + <p> + “You're an ex-governor, and know all the State. Aren't you in the grocery + business in a big way?” + </p> + <p> + “Rather.” + </p> + <p> + “'Twill boom your business in great style. Better even for groceries than + boots and shoes, for food is a daily consumption.” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't go on the stump just to advertise my business.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not. You would take just what the gods provided and ask no + questions, and make no comments. Shall we put you down for, say, twenty + nights?” + </p> + <p> + Quincy consented, but he stipulated that he was not to be placed in any + city or town where he had a store. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Thwing vehemently objected. “Why, the men who want you to come live + where the stores are.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't help it. Put me in the next town, and if they're so anxious to + hear me they'll come.” + </p> + <p> + After the campaign was over, the votes cast, and the victory won, Mr. + Thwing said, “That was a good business idea of yours, Governor, about your + not going into the towns where your stores were. Of course you instructed + your general manager.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what you mean,” said Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you know when you spoke in places adjoining those in which you had + stores that your Mr. Chripp, I think that's the name—just flooded + the towns with circulars announcing that you were to speak and that you + were the President of the grocery company doing business in the adjoining + city, that your goods were the best, your prices the lowest—and that + your teams would deliver goods free of charge in all places within five + miles?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Thwing stopped to take breath, and Quincy nearly lost his in + astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Great business idea, Mr. Sawyer.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew nothing about it. I should have stopped it had I known.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so? You got a double ad. Bright man that Chripp. You'll have to raise + his salary.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy did not reply. The deed was done, and a public explanation would do + no good. Chripp surely had his employer's interests at heart, even if he + had mixed politics and business rather too openly. The next month's + statement showed a great increase in trade. Mr. Chripp was not called to + account, but his salary was materially increased at the suggestion of + young Quincy. + </p> + <p> + The new President had been inaugurated, the Cabinet nominees confirmed, + and the distribution of political “plums” began. Quincy felt that the + lightning had struck in the wrong place when he was approached and sounded + as to whether he would accept a foreign mission. He talked the matter over + with his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Quincy,” said she, “I would go, if I were you.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you not happy here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and no. Happy to be near my son, and relatives and friends; no, + because your business takes you away so much that I see little of you. If + you take the mission, I shall have you with me all the time. I am selfish, + I know, but it is my love for you that makes me so.” + </p> + <p> + The Hon. Quincy Adams Sawyer was nominated and confirmed as Ambassador to + Austria-Hungary. Alice had made the selection. + </p> + <p> + “Let us go to Vienna, Quincy. It was there we met after our long + separation—and, this is purely a personal matter, I wish to study + the scenes of my story, 'The Son of Sergius,' at close range.” + </p> + <p> + Before Quincy's departure it had been decided to lease the Beacon Street + house for four years. Maude was given her choice but preferred the house + in Mount Vernon Street where she had lived since her marriage. + </p> + <p> + Young Quincy was obliged to take bachelor quarters which he found at + Norumbega Chambers. + </p> + <p> + His suite consisted of a sitting-room, two sleeping rooms each with bath, + and a small room intended for a library or study, and which was utilized + by him as an office. + </p> + <p> + Quincy went down the harbour with his father and mother on the ocean + liner, returning on the tug with Tom. On the way back young Quincy took a + small envelope from his pocket and extracted a short note which he had + read at least a dozen times since its receipt. It was from Miss Mary Dana + and informed him that she had returned to Boston and would be pleased to + see him, the next day, at her office with the Isburn Detective Bureau. + </p> + <p> + It was a cold, raw day in the early part of April and when they reached + the city Quincy was taken with a chill. When they reached Norumbega + Chambers the chill had turned to a fever, and Tom suggested sending for a + doctor. Quincy stoutly protested against any such action being taken, but + Tom summoned one despite his objections. In this way, Quincy became + acquainted with John Loring Bannister, M. D. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Bannister was unknown to his patient when he paid his first visit, and + was professionally non-communicative, but he told him afterwards, when + their acquaintance had ripened to such an extent that the names Quincy and + Jack took the place of more formal designations, that it had always seemed + a wonder to him that he had survived. Quincy, with no intention of + indulging in flattery, replied that if a certain physician had not been + called in he, probably, would not have done so. + </p> + <p> + Quincy's condition on the second day was so low, indeed, that Dr. + Bannister told Tom if his friend had not made a will he had better do so. + Tom's first thought was to send for Mr. Merry, but he decided that might + lead to a charge of family influence, and he appealed to the doctor. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Bannister told Tom he was well acquainted with a young lawyer and that + he would send him up to see Mr. Sawyer. Quincy was in such a condition + when Lawyer Edward Everett Colbert made his first visit, that if he had + been asked the name of the principal beneficiary he would probably have + told the lawyer to let it go to the Devil. The second time that Mr. + Colbert called, Quincy's physical will had resumed control and he had no + need of any other. + </p> + <p> + When convalescing Quincy said to Tom, when the nurse was absent, “If you + thought I was going to die, why didn't you send for Aunt Maude, and—and—you + know whom I mean—Miss Dana?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw them every day, but you were too weak to see them, but if—they + would have been summoned.” + </p> + <p> + “Tom, your head is so level that a plane couldn't make a shaving.” + </p> + <p> + Tom was obliged to be away daytimes, the buying for twenty stores + requiring much travel. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Bannister and Lawyer Colbert were occasional visitors and Quincy + received a manifest mental exhilaration from his intercourse with them. + His sickness had led him to think about the future. Was he to live and die + as the treasurer of a grocery company? Had he no higher ideal? + </p> + <p> + A story told by Jack and Ned, which they knew to be true, because they + were the principal actors therein, led Quincy to give himself up to some + mighty thinking. + </p> + <p> + The story was related one evening in the sitting-room when Tom was + present. + </p> + <p> + “What I'm going to tell,” began Ned, “will include much more than I saw or + knew myself, but it all comes from authentic sources. I shall omit names, + since they are unessential. + </p> + <p> + “Among my clients was an old gentleman, over seventy years of age, but + still erect and vigorous. One morning I received a letter requesting me to + call at his house. I found him in bed feeling all tired out. He said he + had never had a doctor in his life. + </p> + <p> + “The doctor, here, assures me that those people who never need a doctor + until they are well advanced in life are not likely to require a + physician's services more than once. The next call is for the undertaker.” + </p> + <p> + “That's so,” broke in Jack; “it's the person who is continually calling + upon a doctor for every little ailment who lives to an old age, for + instead of letting disease creep upon him, he calls for medical assistance + as soon as he experiences any derangement of his physical system. If all + the people would follow this plan, it would increase the longevity of the + human race.” + </p> + <p> + “And materially increase the income of the medical profession,” added + Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “It proved to be the old gentleman's first and last sickness. In order + that you may fully understand the wonderful event which took place the + night he died, I shall have to give you a history of his family.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy consulted his watch. “It is now but a few minutes past seven. I + will give you until midnight, my usual time for retiring.” + </p> + <p> + “I have an engagement at ten or thereabouts,” said Jack, “but it's a + matter of life instead of death.” + </p> + <p> + Ned continued: “My client had a son and daughter, both married. They were + good children and loved their father on the American plan. The son had + married an avaricious woman, while the daughter was married to a man who + was not so avaricious as his sister-in-law. The old gentleman was very + wealthy and like all good children they were thinking of the time when the + property would be divided.” + </p> + <p> + “I see signs of a family squabble,” remarked Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “It came to pass,” said Ned. “The French have a maxim which says it is + advisable to search for the woman in all mysterious cases. In this + instance, the woman did not wait to be searched for but came of her own + accord. She insisted upon having the card bearing the name of Mrs. James + Bliss sent up to the sick man; when he saw it he, in turn, insisted upon + seeing the woman. The family wished to be present at the interview but my + client demanded a private conversation which lasted for an hour. + </p> + <p> + “Jack had been in daily attendance as a physician, but I was not sent for + until the day following Mrs. Bliss's visit. He had told his son that he + wished to make his will, and the son told the other members of the family. + They wished him to make a will, of course, but they were afraid that woman + had exercised undue influence. As the son expressed it, the better way + would be to let the law make the decision. + </p> + <p> + “My client insisted upon seeing me alone. He told me the woman's story. + Many years before, when my client was a poor man, her father had set him + up in business. He had told his daughter of the loan before his death, and + her visit was to ask for payment as she was a widow and poor, with three + children to support. + </p> + <p> + “My client directed me to put her in the will for fifty thousand dollars, + saying the original loan at six per cent, would amount to fully that + amount. + </p> + <p> + “The son, when told the story by me made no objection to the bequest but + the son's wife and the son-in-law declared that the note she had was + outlawed and that she shouldn't have a cent. The son-in-law put a private + detective on her track who learned that Mrs. Bliss was a test and trance + medium, and that she gave materialization séances at private houses. The + whole family then declared her to be a fraud and impostor, and declared + their intention of breaking the will if it was signed. + </p> + <p> + “Now we are getting to the lively part of the story. The will was ready + for signing. It was about five minutes past six when I was admitted and I + went right up to my client's room. I had been there about five minutes + when Jack came in. He was followed by the entire family, the son-in-law + having been chosen to prevent the signing of the will. + </p> + <p> + “Then occurred a sensational episode. Mrs. Bliss came to inquire about my + client's condition and the unsuspecting nurse admitted her. She came + directly to the room where we were all assembled.” + </p> + <p> + “A strong situation for a play,” remarked Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “They played it,” said Ned. “The son-in-law took Mrs. Bliss into an + adjoining room and ordered her to stay there. Then he returned. This was + to be a Waterloo but he was the Wellington. + </p> + <p> + “My client was propped up in bed, a pen placed in his hand, while the + document rested on a large book which Jack held. + </p> + <p> + “The son-in-law began the oratory. 'I protest,' he screamed. 'This + sacrilege, this injustice shall not be done with my consent.' What was it + you said to him, Jack?” + </p> + <p> + “I told him unless he stopped talking in such an excited manner, and made + less noise, it would have a very prejudicial effect upon my patient's + health. + </p> + <p> + “The son-in-law then denounced Mrs. Bliss as an adventuress, and that she + had no legal claim upon his father-in-law. His loud voice and violent + gestures were too much for the invalid. The pen dropped from his nerveless + fingers and he fell back exhausted. I think you had better take it up now, + Ned.” + </p> + <p> + “All right. You gave me a chance to rest my voice. Yes, thank you,” as Tom + passed him a glass of water. + </p> + <p> + Ned resumed, “The door was opened and Mrs. Bliss looked in. 'Has he + signed?' she asked. + </p> + <p> + “'No, he hasn't,' yelled the son-in-law, 'and while I live he never shall' + Now you come in again, Jack.” + </p> + <p> + “'Ladies and gentlemen.' said I, 'this excitement must stop. As medical + adviser I order you all to leave the room.' They objected, but I told them + if they didn't, I should resign charge of the case and refuse to give a + death certificate unless there was an inquest. That frightened them, and + they all went out, the son-in-law escorting Mrs. Bliss.” + </p> + <p> + “We propped up the patient again, and I gave him some brandy. He said, 'I + must sign.' He took the pen and made a ragged, disjointed capital 'T.' + </p> + <p> + “The pen dropped from his hand and he fell back upon the pillow. Ned put + the unsigned will in his pocket. I found that the end was very near and I + told Ned to call the family. Now, it's your turn, Ned.” + </p> + <p> + “I told the family they had better go to their father's room at once. Mrs. + Bliss arose with the intention of following them but I told her she was + not one of the family; that she could remain with me as my services were + no longer needed. She turned to me and asked: 'Was it signed?' I shook my + head. Without a word she sank upon the nearest chair and buried her face + in her arms. + </p> + <p> + “I stood irresolute. The spectacle of this silent woman, speechless + because she was to be deprived of what was justly due her, was a situation + with which I did not know how to deal. I was saved the necessity of saying + or doing anything by the sudden entrance of Jack who cried: 'Ned, it's all + over; he's dead.'” + </p> + <p> + “Now comes the wonderful, inexplainable, part of the story. There was a + single gas-burner alight in the room. It was turned down low; faces were + discernible, but the room was only half lighted. Hearing a movement, Jack + and I turned towards Mrs. Bliss. She had lifted her head from the table + and was gazing directly at us. Her eyes were open, but they had a glassy + look. Then it seemed as though the room was gradually becoming darker and + darker, until the darkness became intense. + </p> + <p> + “My first thought was that Mrs. Bliss had put out the gas. Before I had + time to question her, Jack and I caught sight of a white spot that was + approaching us from the corner of the room nearest the doorway which led + into the hallway. This light, which was no larger than a man's hand at + first, increased in size and intensity until it covered a space at least + two feet wide and six feet high. I must admit that my hair was inclined to + stand on end.” + </p> + <p> + “And mine too,” exclaimed Jack. + </p> + <p> + “Suddenly,” said Ned, “the light, which was nebulous, began to fall away + in places and assume a shape like the form of a man. Then the portion + where a man's head ought to be, assumed the appearance of one. Jack and I + clasped hands and retreated to the farther corner of the room. This act on + our part was purely voluntary. If I had possessed a Remington rifle, six + Colt's revolvers, and a dynamite bomb, I should have backed out just the + same. + </p> + <p> + “We could not remove our eyes from the glittering, moving, thing; and now + a most surprising change took place. The light seemed to leave the figure, + so that it was not visible as a light, and yet it filled the room with a + radiant glow. + </p> + <p> + “Who was that who stood before us? Could we believe our eyes? Were they + playing us a trick? Were we the victims of a too active imagination? No, + there could be no mistake. The form that stood before us was that of the + man who lay dead in the next room. + </p> + <p> + “Turning towards us, from the form came the words distinctly spoken—'It + must be signed!' The figure pointed to the table near which Mrs. Bliss + still sat in an apparently unconscious state. I took the will from my + pocket, opened it, advanced to the table, and laid it thereon. The figure + reached out its right hand and beckoned. The thought came to me that he + wanted a pen. There was none in the room. Jack divined the situation as + quickly as I did and took his stylographic pen from his visiting book, + fitted it for use, and laid it on the table beside the will. The form + advanced, took up the pen, joined a small letter to the capital 'T' + already written, and finished out the name in full. + </p> + <p> + “The form then laid the pen upon the table and pointed to the places set + apart for witnesses. I wrote my name, Edward Everett Colbert, and Jack put + his,—John Loring Bannister, under mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Did the form sit down?” asked Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “No. The only chair near the table was the one in which Mrs. Bliss sat. I + could not resist the inclination to whisper in Jack's ear: 'What do you + think of that?' We both turned with the intention of taking another look + at 'That,' but it had disappeared and the gas was burning at about + half-light. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Bliss arose from her seat with a pleasant smile on her face. 'You + said that he had signed it—I understood you to say so, did I not?' I + said nothing, but drew the will from my pocket and pointed to the + signatures. Then Jack said it was his duty to see the sorrowing family and + for me to escort Mrs. Bliss to a car. + </p> + <p> + “Jack and I took dinner together in a private room at Young's the next + day. We decided that it was my duty to present the will for probate. + Although it is presumed by the statutes of this Commonwealth that a will + is signed by a living man, I was unable to find anything in said statutes + to prevent a dead man, if he were so disposed and able, or enabled, doing + so.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course the will was presented for probate,” said Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “It was,” replied Ned, “and despite the energetic efforts of the + avaricious son-in-law, was admitted. His lawyer brought up the point that + the will should have had three witnesses, but I showed him the note, told + him Mrs. Bliss's story, and declared that I would fight the case up to the + Supreme Court if necessary. + </p> + <p> + “There was no doubt in the mind of the registrar as to the authenticity of + the will for was it not duly signed and witnessed by Dr. Bannister, a + physician of the highest repute, and Lawyer Colbert, a bright and shining + light of the legal profession?” + </p> + <p> + “Your story taxes my credulity,” said Quincy, “but I will not allow it to + break our friendship. Tom, kindly ring for that supper to be sent up.” He + looked at his watch. “Doctor, you've time to spare. 'Tis only + nine-thirty.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI. — THE GREAT ISBURN RUBY + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Irving Isburn, the proprietor of the great detective bureau was over + seventy years of age, and, although he still had a general supervision + over the business, and was in his office for a short time anyway, nearly + every day, he was leaving the details more and more to his subordinates. + From the very beginning Mary Dana had made wonderful improvement in her + detective work, and the results of her last case, on which she had been + kept in the West for several months, were so satisfactory that she was + given practically the entire management of the Bureau. + </p> + <p> + One day, shortly after her return from the West, Mr. Isburn called her + into his private office. He took great interest in electrical inventions, + and had one in his office of a decidedly novel design. Back of his office + chair, standing against the wall, just behind the door that led into the + hallway, was a mahogany bookcase fully seven feet in height. Upon the top + were several valuable statuettes, but the most noticeable object was a + rosy-cheeked apple. It was not really an apple—only an imitation of + one—made of brass. Using the stem as a handle, the upper portion of + the apple could be lifted off, forming a cover. The apple was fastened + firmly to the top of the bookcase. + </p> + <p> + While talking over the case in hand with her employer, Miss Dana chanced + to fix her eyes upon the brass apple. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Isburn, why do you keep that peculiar ornament on the top of your + bookcase?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you mean the apple. It contains something that is very valuable. The + method of opening it is a secret, but as somebody may succeed in doing so + some day I will show you its contents, for otherwise I might be unable to + prove that it contained anything.” + </p> + <p> + He opened a secret drawer in his desk, inserted his forefinger and, + apparently, pressed a button. The doors of the bookcase flew open as if by + magic, and, at the same time, a bell inside the bookcase rang sharply. + Miss Dana watched each motion of her employer intently. + </p> + <p> + “That is all done by electricity,” said he. “But it does something else—opens + the apple.” + </p> + <p> + He reached up and lifted the cover. Then he removed something from the + apple and placed it in Miss Dana's hand. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how lovely!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + It was a ring made of the finest gold and containing an immense ruby. + </p> + <p> + “That,” said her employer, “I call the Isburn Ruby. It belonged to my + mother, and it is precious to me, both on account of its great intrinsic + value, and as an heirloom.” + </p> + <p> + He dropped it into the brass apple, replaced the cover, and shut the doors + of the bookcase. + </p> + <p> + “That cover can only be removed when the bookcase doors are open; they can + only be opened by touching the button in the secret drawer in my desk, + and, even then, a notice of the opening is given by the electric bell. I + think the ruby is well protected, but if anybody steals it I shall call + upon you to find the thief.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Dana said, laughingly, that she feared she would never have a chance + to distinguish herself in that direction. + </p> + <p> + About a fortnight later, Mr. Isburn sat at his desk one morning opening + his mail. He was so preoccupied with an interesting letter containing an + account of the very mysterious disappearance of a young woman, that he was + not aware, for some time, of the presence of a person who stood beside his + desk. + </p> + <p> + He looked up, suddenly, and saw a pretty girl, dressed in picturesque + Italian costume, holding a basket filled with roses, pinks, and other cut + flowers. Mr. Isburn was passionately fond of flowers and kept a vase + filled with them upon his desk. He selected a large bunch of flowers made + up of the different kinds. + </p> + <p> + At that moment the door was opened and a clerk appeared: “Mr. Isburn, + there is a call for you on the long distance telephone.” + </p> + <p> + “I will be back in a moment,” he said to the flower girl, as he went into + an adjoining room. The telephone bell was being rung continuously, and he + called “Hello” several times before the tintinnabulation ceased. + </p> + <p> + The call was from a town some fifty miles away. The operator informed him + that No. 42 wished her to tell him that she had a valuable clue in case T + 697 and would not return for several days. Mr. Isburn knew that No. 42 was + Miss Dana. + </p> + <p> + He returned to his office. The young Italian girl still stood by his desk + holding the basket of flowers. He gave her more than the amount she asked + for, and, bowing low and smiling, she left the office: Referring to his + call index, he found that T 697 was that of a young man, Tarleton, + belonging to a wealthy family, who was the buyer for a manufactory of + electrical machines. In their construction, a large quantity of platinum + was used, a metal more valuable, weight for weight, than gold. His + purchases had been very heavy, but a checking up of stock used showed that + not half of it had been applied to actual construction. The question was—“What + had become of the missing metal?” and that question it was No. 42”s + business to answer. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Isburn was a frequenter of clubs and social functions, partly because + he enjoyed them, but, principally, because many valuable clues had been + run across while attending them. + </p> + <p> + He had been invited to be a guest at a reception tendered to an Indian + Maharajah. He knew that the East Indian princes were profuse in their use + of gems and he decided to wear the ruby, for it was a beautiful stone and + would be sure to attract the Maharajah's attention. On opening the brass + apple he found, to his astonishment, that the ring was gone. Three days + later Miss Dana returned and made her report on the Tarleton case. The + young man had stolen the platinum, sold it, and lost the money in + speculation. His rich father had made good the company's loss, and there + would be no prosecution. + </p> + <p> + “He'll be a bigger criminal some day,” remarked Mr. Isburn. + </p> + <p> + “Money saved him,” said Miss Dana. “While I was in the town a workman + stole a pound of brass screws—he is a poor inventor and needed them + to complete a model, and he got six months in jail.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dana, what punishment would be adequate for the thief who stole my + ruby?” + </p> + <p> + She laughed, and said: “Anybody smart enough to do it, should have a + reward.” + </p> + <p> + “The reward,” said he, “will go to the one who finds and returns it.” + </p> + <p> + “You are joking, Mr. Isburn.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I were. No, it is gone. I cannot imagine how it was possible for + any one to get possession of that ring. Only you and I knew how to open + the bookcase doors, and I would as soon suspect myself as you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad that you have that opinion,” said Miss Dana. “I have thought + several times that I was sorry that you told me about it, for I have felt + that if anything happened I should be an object of suspicion.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” cried Mr. Isburn. “No such suspicion ever entered my mind. I + could not be so mean and ungenerous as to think such a thing. The only + person I suspect is an Italian girl who came in here to sell some flowers. + It was the day I received the long distance telephone message from you in + regard to the Tarleton case. I was only out of the room a few minutes, and + when I came back she was standing just where I left her.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack to find that girl,” + said Miss Dana. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, those Italian girls look very much alike. She was one of medium + height, as a great many women are. You are of medium height, Miss Dana, so + that is a very poor clue to work upon. She had dark hair.” + </p> + <p> + “Mine is light,” remarked Miss Dana. + </p> + <p> + “I did not notice the colour of her eyes—probably black.” + </p> + <p> + “Mine are blue.” + </p> + <p> + “Her complexion was dark.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I surely have not a dark complexion.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” asked Mr. Isburn. + </p> + <p> + “You talk as though you were, in some way, connected with this affair.” + </p> + <p> + “But I am.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” and Mr. Isburn's voice betrayed his astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you remember saying if the ring was lost or stolen that you should + call upon me to recover it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, I do remember. If you find it, you shall have a big reward. If + found, I am going to give the ring to a young lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is she? Pardon my hasty inquisitiveness.” + </p> + <p> + “My niece, Rose Isburn. She is my only brother's daughter. He has just + died and left her in my charge. Nothing has happened since I began my + professional career that has so puzzled and disgusted me as the loss of + that ring. I thought myself acute, and I am outwitted by a chit of a girl. + I think I'll sell out, take my niece to Europe and marry her off to a + Prince or a Duke.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't do it!” laughed Miss Dana. “Leave her your money, and let her + choose some honest, clean, young American.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I think you are right,” answered Mr. Isburn, laughing at Mary's + half serious, half comic air, “but I must first sell my business. Will you + find me a purchaser? I want to travel, and loaf the rest of my life. I've + had my fill of adventure and excitement.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you can find a purchaser while I'm finding the ring. As you say, + your description of her is very meagre. But she was a flower girl and that + is one point gained.” + </p> + <p> + “But she may be selling oranges or dragging a hand-organ to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” replied Miss Dana, “and she may be selling flowers again + to-morrow,” and the conversation dropped. + </p> + <p> + About a week later, Miss Dana entered Mr. Isburn's private office. There + was a smile upon her face, as she cried: + </p> + <p> + “I have been successful!” + </p> + <p> + “You usually are,” Mr. Isburn remarked, not comprehending to what she + alluded. + </p> + <p> + “You will be somewhat surprised, no doubt, when I tell you—that I + have recovered the ruby!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Isburn sprang to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “I know that you are a truthful young woman, Miss Dana, but, pardon me, I + shall disbelieve your statement, until the ruby is once more in my hands.” + </p> + <p> + “I have not only recovered the ruby, but I have induced the Italian girl + who took it—” + </p> + <p> + “By George!” cried Isburn, “I always suspected her.” + </p> + <p> + “I have induced the culprit, Mr. Isburn, to come here and place it in your + hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you're a wonder, Miss Dana. You should give up being a detective + and become a teacher of morals.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Dana ignored his suggestion. “I have her in my office and the door is + locked. You see, I have the key here,” and she held it up for his + inspection. + </p> + <p> + “She is quite overcome at being discovered. I am going to talk with her + for a few minutes. You may come, say, in ten minutes. The door will be + unlocked if she is ready. I shall be with her to witness the restitution + of your property.” + </p> + <p> + Never did ten minutes pass so slowly as did those to Mr. Isburn. He placed + his watch upon his desk and watched each minute as it slowly ticked away. + When the time was up, he went to the door of Miss Dana's office. He turned + the knob—the door opened at a slight pressure, and he entered. In a + chair by the window, with her head bowed, sat a young Italian girl. As + Isburn approached her; he glanced about the room, but Miss Dana was not + present. + </p> + <p> + “Signorita,” he said, “I am informed that you have come to restore the + ring which you took from me.” Then he noticed by her side was the same + basket in which she had brought the flowers, but this time it was empty. + </p> + <p> + She rose to her feet and looked into his eyes with a glance of mute + appeal. She took up the basket, and walked towards the door, beckoning to + him to follow. Without resenting the incongruity of the situation, he did + so. They passed through the hallway and into his private office. + </p> + <p> + She lifted the cover of one side of the basket and took from it a small + parcel. She removed the tissue paper disclosing a bunch of cotton wool. + From this she extracted the jewel that he prized so highly. + </p> + <p> + He reached forward to take it, but she drew back. She first shut down the + cover of the basket. Then she went to the desk, opened the private drawer + and pressed the button. The bookcase doors flew open. Her next move was to + place the basket in front of the bookcase. Stepping upon it, which enabled + her to reach the apple, she removed the cover, and dropped the ring into + its receptacle, replaced the cover, stepped down and took up her basket, + then closed the bookcase doors. + </p> + <p> + “And that's how you did it,” ejaculated Isburn, greatly astonished at her + coolness and audacity. “But how did you find out how to open the bookcase + doors?” + </p> + <p> + “You told me,” said the girl in good English, the first words she had + spoken. + </p> + <p> + “I told you?” he cried. + </p> + <p> + The Italian girl had a fit of uncontrollable laughter. + </p> + <p> + “Have you forgotten the old adage, Mr. Isburn, that it is a good plan to + set a thief to catch a thief?” + </p> + <p> + Isburn sank into a chair. “Can I believe my ears? Miss Dana?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly,” said the young woman. “This is one of my make-ups. This is what + I wore when I discovered the clue that led to the arrest of Corona in that + Italian murder case.” + </p> + <p> + “But I don't understand yet,” cried Isburn. “How could you be here as an + Italian flower girl when you telephoned me from a place more than fifty + miles away?” + </p> + <p> + “Money will do a great deal,” replied Miss Dana, “but you must tell your + subordinates what to do for the money. I induced the operator in that + little country town to give you to understand that I was still there. The + fact was, I left the noon before, located young Tarleton, turned him over + to the police, and was in the city by 8 o'clock. I told the operator to + keep on ringing until you came for you were very deaf. Pardon me for that, + but I was afraid you would hear the bell when the bookcase doors opened. + Now, you know all, and I await my discharge.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Isburn looked serious. “Miss Dana, I see but one matter to be arranged + now, and that is your half-interest in the business. You know I told you + that if you found the ruby I would take you as a partner.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's all a joke,” cried Miss Dana. “What I did was for fun. I only + wished to show you how the thing could be done, and I beg your pardon for + causing you so many hours of uneasiness on account of the supposed loss of + your valuable ring.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mr. Isburn, “I feel as though you should make some atonement + for the disquietude you have caused me. I shall insist upon going to + Europe with Rose, and you must manage the business while we are gone, as + full partner.” + </p> + <p> + “The staff won't take orders from a woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they will, if you tell them how you fooled me. If they object then, + call for their resignations and engage a new force.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII. — “IT WAS SO SUDDEN” + </h2> + <p> + The Hotel Cawthorne was, in some respects, a correct designation but in + others a misnomer. It had rooms to let, or rather suites, and it had a + clerk. So far, a hostelry. It had no dining room, no bar, no billiard + room, no news-stand, no barber shop, no boot-black, no laundry—and + in these respects, at least, it belied its name. + </p> + <p> + Some childless couples, some aged ones with married children, many young + men, a few confirmed old bachelors, and a few unmarried women roomed + therein. On stormy days, or when their inclinations so prompted, the + tenants could have meals served in their rooms at a marked increase over + hotel rates. + </p> + <p> + But the “Cawthorne” was exclusive, and for that reason, principally, Miss + Dana had chosen it as her city domicile. Tenants were not introduced to + each other, and one could live a year within its walls without being + obliged to say good morning to any one, with the possible exceptions of + the housekeeper, or the elevator man, but that was not compulsory, but + depended upon the tenant's initiative. + </p> + <p> + Every hotel has an “out”; at the “Cawthorne” it was an “in.” The “in” was + Mr. Lorenzo Cass, the clerk and general <i>factotum</i>. His besetting sin + was inordinate curiosity, but it was this oftentime disagreeable quality + which particularly commended him to the ex-Rev. Arthur Borrowscale, the + owner of the “Cawthorne.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Borrowscale had not given up the ministry on account of advanced age, + for he was only forty; nor on account of physical infirmity, for he was a + rugged specimen of manhood and enjoyed the best of health. His critics, + and all successful men have them, declared that he had forsaken the + service of God for that of Mammon. While officiating, he had received a + large salary. Being a bachelor, he had lived economically and invested his + savings in real estate. He was the owner of six tenement houses—models + of their kind, and the “Cawthorne.” Before leaving college, he had loved a + young girl named Edith Cawthorne. She had died, and at her grave he had + parted with her,—and love of women, but, that sentiment was not + wholly dead within him, the name of his hotel attested. + </p> + <p> + He had another attribute; he was intensely moral. The “Cawthorne” was his + pride, but he had a constant fear that some undesirable—that is, + immoral—person would find lodgment in his caravansary. For certain + reasons, Mr. Cass was indispensable. He had been a “high roller” until he + came under the Rev. Mr. Borrowscale's tutelage. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Cass, you know the bad when you see it—I do not. The reputation + of my house must be like Caesar's ghost—above suspicion.” + </p> + <p> + He had said “ghost.” He had seen but two plays—“Hamlet” and “Julius + Caesar,” and for that reason his dramatic inaccuracy may be excused. + </p> + <p> + So Mr. Cass became a moral sleuth, and woe betide an applicant for rooms, + and occasional board, who could not produce unimpeachable references, and + point to an unsullied record in the past. + </p> + <p> + Miss Dana's respectability and social standing had been abundantly vouched + for, and her financial responsibility had been demonstrated by monthly + payments in advance. + </p> + <p> + It was the first evening Quincy had been out since his illness. + </p> + <p> + “Is Miss Dana in?” asked Quincy as he presented his card to Mr. Cass. + </p> + <p> + “I am quite positive she is. I am strengthened in this belief by the fact + that she had her supper sent up to her room. A fine specimen of womanhood, + and a remarkable appetite for so lovely a creature.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy had an inclination to brain him with the telephone stand, but + restrained his murderous impulse. + </p> + <p> + “Will you please send up my card?” was his interrogatory protest against + further enumeration of Miss Dana's charms and gastronomic ability. “No + need to do so, Mr. Sawyer,” for he had inspected the card carefully. “We + have a private telephone in each room. Will you await her in the public + parlour?” + </p> + <p> + “Hasn't she more than one room?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes; a three room suite, sitting-room, boudoir, which I am sure she + uses more as a study, a chamber—and private bath.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy said, “I would prefer to see her in her sitting-room.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, certainly,” replied Mr. Cass. “Our rules are only prohibitive in the + case of single chambers or alcove suites, when the caller and tenant are + of opposite sexes. The proprietor—he was formerly a clergyman—is + tenacious on certain points.” + </p> + <p> + “And so am I,” was Quincy's response, for his temper was rising, “and you + will oblige me by communicating with Miss Dana at once, and informing her + of my desire to see her.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, certainly,” replied Mr. Cass, “but my employer, who, as I have said, + was formerly a clergyman, is tenacious on another point; all tenants who + receive visitors in their rooms must have their names entered in a book + prescribed for the purpose, and also the names of their callers.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy's murderous instinct was again aroused, but Mr. Cass was unmindful + of his danger and made the required entry. The humourous side of the + affair then struck Quincy, and taking a memorandum book from his pocket, + he said: + </p> + <p> + “I, too, am tenacious on one point. I never visit a hotel for the first + time without writing down the name of the clerk. Will you oblige me?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, certainly. Cass, Mr. Lorenzo Cass.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you spell it with a 'C'?” asked Quincy, innocently, as he pretended to + write. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, certainly. C-a-s-s-.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “We make it a rule, or rather my employer does, that tenants and their + callers shall be treated with civility and their wants attended to + promptly.” + </p> + <p> + Again Quincy eyed the telephone stand with a view to its use as a weapon. + </p> + <p> + “Ting-a-ling! Ting-a-ling! Miss Dana—yes, Mr. Cass—Mr. Quincy + Adams Sawyer, Junior, wishes to call upon you in your sitting-room. Is it + agreeable to you? Very well, he will come right up.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cass replaced the receiver with deliberation, first unwinding a + tangled coil in the cord. + </p> + <p> + “Take the elevator—third floor—number 42—she insisted + upon taking that suite for some personal reason—” + </p> + <p> + Quincy waited to hear no more but started for the elevator. Mr. Cass + reached it as soon as he did, and motioned for the elevator man to + postpone the ascent until he had finished his remarks. + </p> + <p> + “The outside door is locked at eleven, Mr. Sawyer, but you have only to + turn the upper handle to insure an exit.” + </p> + <p> + “Your clerk is quite loquacious,” remarked Quincy as they slowly mounted + upward. + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” + </p> + <p> + “He has a sore tongue,” said Quincy, as the elevator door was closed + behind him. + </p> + <p> + After cordial greetings on both sides, for they had not seen each other + for nearly a year, Quincy exclaimed, as he sank into a proffered easy + chair: “Mary, I am a murderer at heart.” + </p> + <p> + “That is not strange, Quincy. I have read that the friends of police + officers and detectives often imbibe, or rather absorb, criminal + propensities. Who is the intended victim, and how do you expect to escape + arrest, conviction, and punishment, after incriminating yourself by a + confession to a licensed detective?” + </p> + <p> + “If I had killed your hotel clerk it would have been due to emotional + insanity, and I should expect an acquittal—and, perhaps, a + testimonial.” + </p> + <p> + “I got a testimonial to-day from Mr. Isburn. He said I was a wonder.” + </p> + <p> + “I agree with him.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Dana flushed perceptibly. + </p> + <p> + “He had what he considered a good reason for his compliment. I am afraid + yours rests on unsupported grounds.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. Have I not known you since you were a child? Can he say as + much? Did I not work with you on Bob Wood's case? The help you were to me + in trying to solve the mystery of the return of my father's bill of + exchange I will never forget,” and for a long time Quincy and Mary talked + over the miraculous return of his father. + </p> + <p> + Finally Quincy said, “I interrupted you. You said that Mr. Isburn + considered he had good reasons for complimenting you. Will you tell me + what they were?” + </p> + <p> + “It is a long story.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm all attention.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I'll begin at once. If you need a stimulant at any stage of the + narrative, just signify your want and I'll ring for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there a bar?” + </p> + <p> + “No, but there's a cellar.” + </p> + <p> + “I may need some Apollinaris,” said Quincy, as he settled himself more + comfortably in the easy chair; “as my flesh is again strong, I always take + my spirit very weak.” + </p> + <p> + Mary had that sweetest of woman's charm—a low-pitched voice, and as + she told the story of the loss of the great Isburn ruby and its recovery + Quincy's thoughts were less on the words that he heard than the woman who + uttered them. In his mind he was building a castle in which he was the + Lord and the story-teller was the Lady. + </p> + <p> + He was awakened from his dream by Mary's query: + </p> + <p> + “Didn't I fool him nicely?” + </p> + <p> + “You certainly did. And so he's going to give you a half-interest in the + business. If he keeps his word”— + </p> + <p> + “Which I very much doubt,” interrupted Mary. + </p> + <p> + “I'll buy the other half and we'll be partners.” + </p> + <p> + He came near adding “for life,” but decided that such a declaration would + be inopportune. “Why should you engage in business, Quincy? You are not + obliged to work.” + </p> + <p> + “That's the unfortunate part of it. I wish I were. I have so much money + that I don't know what to do with it, except let it grow. But, speaking + seriously, I've no intention of remaining a do-nothing. I'm treasurer of + my father's grocery company but I have no liking for mercantile business. + I can give away, but can neither buy nor sell—to advantage. I heard + a story not long ago that set me thinking.” + </p> + <p> + “I told you my story, Quincy, why not tell me yours?” + </p> + <p> + “I will. It's a mystery—unsolved, and, I think, unsolvable. But I + feel that my vocation will be the solving of mysteries. My mother wrote + detective stories and I must have inherited a mania for mysteries and + criminal problems. But I'll tell you what set me thinking.” + </p> + <p> + Then he related the story that had been told him by Jack and Ned. As he + concluded, he asked: “Do you think it was signed?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it was, but not by the dead man.” + </p> + <p> + “By whom, then?” + </p> + <p> + “By Mrs. Bliss. She materialized the form by her mediumistic prowess, but + she signed the will.” + </p> + <p> + “But Jack and Ned saw the form, as they called it, take the pen and write + his name.” + </p> + <p> + “They thought they did. She hypnotized them so they saw whatever she + impressed upon their minds.” + </p> + <p> + “Can sensible, highly educated people be so influenced?” + </p> + <p> + “The bigger the brain the more easily influenced. She couldn't have so + impressed an idiot, or an illiterate, unreceptive man. Let me tell you how + a hundred people were fooled lately.” + </p> + <p> + “I should be delighted to hear you tell it.” + </p> + <p> + “You should have sympathy for them, after your spiritualistic experience,” + said Mary with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “There is a married couple in this city whom we will call Mr. and Mrs. + Cartwright, because those are not their names. They have been married less + than two years. He is 68 and she 28, so you see it was what they call a + December and May union. It was worse. He is a bank president and his god + is money—his diversion sitting in his elegant library and reading <i>de + luxe</i> editions of the world's literary masterpieces. She is young, and + beautiful, and craves society, attention, admiration. + </p> + <p> + “She didn't get the last two at home, but society furnished them. He + attended her to parties and receptions and then went back to his library + until it was time to escort her home. + </p> + <p> + “One night when he went for her she could not be found. No one had seen + her leave—she had mysteriously disappeared. Mr. Isburn gave me the + case. I'll make the story short for it is eleven o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + “I know how to get out. Mr. Cass told me.” + </p> + <p> + “Your knowledge of a method of egress does not warrant an extension of + your visit to midnight, does it?” asked Mary laughingly. + </p> + <p> + “Considering the attractions presented, I think they do,” replied Quincy, + banteringly. + </p> + <p> + She resumed her story. + </p> + <p> + “There was a man in the case, young, handsome, and wealthy. Just such a + man as she should have married. They had planned an elopement to Europe. + Not together. She was to go to Liverpool, he was to follow later to Paris, + and there meet her. Quite ingenious, wasn't it? Our agent at Liverpool was + called to locate her and prevent her inamorata from communicating with + her, at the same time using his influence to induce her to return to + Boston without meeting her lover. His powers of persuasion, I mean our + agent's, must have been great, for she consented. + </p> + <p> + “A month later she attended a reception next door to the house from which + she disappeared, and silenced the tongue of scandal by saying that she had + been hastily summoned to the bedside of a sick friend, her chum at + Wellesley, and had returned home only the day previous. Her last statement + was true. Good detective work by a good detective, and a great, big white + lie fooled her friends and acquaintances, but if I were her husband she + would not lack attention or admiration in the future, and I would furnish + it.” + </p> + <p> + “When I get married, I will bear your admonition in mind.” + </p> + <p> + “I have another admonition. If you meet Mr. Cass when you go down, be nice + to him. Why, when you know him, he is a treasure. I can bear his + inquisitiveness, for it shields me from others. This is my sanctuary, and + Mr. Cass protects me from the literary wolves—the reporters. He + thinks I am a writer because I have so many books, and, to him, an author + is next to an angel. Was he rude to you? You must forgive him, for he is + my Saint George who protects me from the Dragon.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy was mollified to a certain extent. “Do I look like a Dragon? If I + am one, history came near being reversed, for at one time your Saint + George's hold on life was frail.” + </p> + <p> + Late in the afternoon of the next day Quincy made another call on Mary. He + had telephoned and learned that she was in her room. Mr. Cass was + temporarily absent from his desk and Quincy went at once to the elevator. + </p> + <p> + “I axed Mr. Cass about his tongue,” said the elevator man. + </p> + <p> + “Was it better?” asked Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “He said I was labourin' under a misapprihinsion. What's that?” + </p> + <p> + “He meant that it was improving,” said Quincy, as he hurried from the + elevator. + </p> + <p> + “How did you get home last night?” was Mary's salutation as he entered. + </p> + <p> + “I groped my way down two flights of stairs in the dark. When I opened the + front door by the upper handle as Mr. Cass had kindly instructed me to do, + I found that gentleman on the steps. 'Quite late,' said he. 'Not for me,' + said I. At that moment my auto drew up at the curb.” + </p> + <p> + “A narrow escape from a Cass-trophe,” exclaimed Miss Dana. “Pardon the + pun, but sometimes he is insufferably loquacious.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy smiled grimly. “He wasn't through with me. He followed me. 'My + employer.' he began, 'is very tenacious on several points, and one of them + is the acceleration of matrimonial preliminaries, commonly called + courting, in the house which he owns and successfully conducts with my + humble assistance. Will you allow me to ask you a question?' + </p> + <p> + “Alexander had opened the auto door, and I stood with one foot on the + step.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy was silent for a moment. Miss Dana's curiosity was excited. + </p> + <p> + “What did he ask you to do?” + </p> + <p> + “His question was—'are you going to marry Miss Dana?'” + </p> + <p> + “Preposterous!” cried Miss Dana. “I shall leave the 'Cawthorne' to-morrow. + What answer did you give to so impertinent a question?” + </p> + <p> + “I said, not to-night. Not until to-morrow. Then I jumped in, slammed the + door, and off we went leaving Mr. Cass fully informed as to my + intentions.” + </p> + <p> + Mary thought, under the circumstances, that a change of subjects was + necessary. + </p> + <p> + “I am working on the Harrison case. I don't believe he poisoned his wife. + I think the law killed an innocent man.” + </p> + <p> + “Another Robert Wood affair? Have you seen your little namesake, Mary + Wood?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I am going to spend to-morrow in the laboratory making toxic + analyses.” + </p> + <p> + “I've been very busy to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Not working?” + </p> + <p> + “No, getting ready to. I've bought out an established business.” + </p> + <p> + “You said you disliked business.” + </p> + <p> + “Not this kind. You were right about Isburn. He didn't mean what he said + about giving you a half-interest in the agency.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not disappointed. I didn't think he did. Why should he pay me for + returning what I took from him as a professional joke?” + </p> + <p> + “Well I fixed it up with him, and he will sail for Europe with his niece + as soon as we can take charge.” + </p> + <p> + “We? Why, what <i>do</i> you mean, Mr. Sawyer?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that I've engaged to pay Mr. Isburn one hundred thousand dollars + for his agency, a one-half interest to become mine and the other half to + be transferred to my wife as soon as I am married, which will be soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you will be my employer,” and Mary's blue eyes were opened as wide + as they could be. + </p> + <p> + “Within a week, I shall be Mr. Isburn. I shall not use my own name.” + </p> + <p> + His manner changed instantly. + </p> + <p> + “This morning I met an old college friend. He was doing the historical + points of old Boston with his father and his father's friend, a Rev. Mr. + Dysart of Yonkers, New York.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Dana started, and exclaimed, involuntarily, “Mr. Dysart—not Mr. + Octavius Dysart?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that was the name. Why, do you know him? I'll be honest, I know you + do.” + </p> + <p> + “My mother was born in Yonkers, and Mr. Dysart was the clergyman who + officiated at my father's wedding. He used to call on us whenever he came + to Boston. But how did he know that you knew me?” + </p> + <p> + “He said he was going to Fernborough to see your father, and I availed + myself of the opportunity to mention my acquaintance with you. He wished + you could come and see him.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he? Of course I will go.” + </p> + <p> + “He is staying with Mr. Larned, my college mate's father, who lives in + Jamaica Plain, but he will not be there until this evening. He's attending + a religious conference this afternoon and goes to Fernborough early + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I can't see him.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? I'm going out this evening—small party invited—entirely + informal—half my auto is at your service.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you get me back to the hotel before the doors are closed? I shall + pack up to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “I promise,” said Quincy. “I will come for you at seven sharp.” + </p> + <p> + Punctually at seven, a closed auto stopped before the “Cawthorne” and + Quincy alighted. Mary stepped from the elevator, wearing a new spring + costume and a marvellous aggregation of flowers upon her hat, walked to + the door without looking at Mr. Cass, and before he could frame one of his + employer's tenacious points and follow her, she had been handed into the + auto and whirled swiftly away. + </p> + <p> + “Is Alexander driving?” she asked. “No. He's asleep—up too late last + night. We have a strange <i>chauffeur</i>. I selected him for that + reason.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't wish anybody to know where we had gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not, pray?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean, what we'd gone for.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense. Why, a friendly call—what more?” + </p> + <p> + “Are your gloves on?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I didn't have time. I'll put them on now.” + </p> + <p> + “No hurry—plenty of time. You are agitated. Allow me to feel your + pulse.” + </p> + <p> + “You are funny to-night, Quincy.” + </p> + <p> + “Not funny—just happy.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy took forcible possession of her half-resisting hand and slipped a + diamond solitaire on the proper finger. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what are you doing? Isn't it a beauty? Is this the great Sawyer + diamond? Whose is it?” + </p> + <p> + “It's yours. It is an engagement ring. It's the first step towards keeping + my promise to Mr. Cass, and he's tenacious, you know. I told you all about + it when I called this afternoon. So, please don't say 'this is so + sudden.'” + </p> + <p> + “Are you crazy, Quincy?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sane. Delightfully so. I told Mr. Cass I couldn't marry you until + to-day. I got the license this noon.” + </p> + <p> + They were passing through a dimly-lighted street, but, occasionally, the + street lamps threw flashes across two earnest faces. She endeavoured to + remove the ring. + </p> + <p> + “Mary,” said Quincy, “if you allow the ring to remain, I shall be a very + happy man, dear,—for I love you. I have loved you ever since the day + that I thrashed Bob Wood, and when I lay exhausted, you looked down at me + with those beautiful blue eyes and said 'all for me!' I am all for you,—are + you for me?” + </p> + <p> + He put his arm about her and drew her towards him; their lips met. A + bright light shone in the auto windows—but they were sitting erect—they + even looked primly. + </p> + <p> + “It is a long ride,” she ventured. + </p> + <p> + “Too short,” he replied, “and yet, I wish we were there.” + </p> + <p> + Again she spoke: “This is a most unprecedented affair. Can it be real, or + are we actors?” + </p> + <p> + “We are detectives, and they always do unexpected and unprecedented + things.” + </p> + <p> + “What will your father say—you a multimillionaire and I a poor girl + who works for a living?” + </p> + <p> + “My mother was poor and blind when my father married her.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know; but she wrote a book and became famous.” + </p> + <p> + “You're a 'wonder' now, and you will become famous.” + </p> + <p> + “What will your friends say?” + </p> + <p> + “If they wish to remain my friends they will either say nothing, or + congratulate me. How shall we be married—in church? I'll spend a + hundred thousand on our wedding, if you say so.” + </p> + <p> + “No. As little publicity as possible. Use the money to help those poor + creatures who are sick with the disease called crime; that is the symptom. + The cause is often bad environment, and the poverty which prevents + improvement.” + </p> + <p> + “What a philosopher you are. That simple ceremony suits me exactly, Mary. + What a sweet name you have. Why not have Mr. Dysart perform the ceremony? + We'll be married with a ring.” + </p> + <p> + Mary laughed: “Where will you get yours?” + </p> + <p> + “Detectives are always prepared for emergencies. I bought them this noon, + after I procured the license. They seemed to go together.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Quincy, I think you are the most presumptuous mortal in existence. + How dared you do such a thing—so many things, I mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Was not the prize worth even more of an endeavour? I have always thought + <i>Young Lochinvar</i> was a model lover. But here we are.” + </p> + <p> + The Rev. Mr. Dysart received them with pleasant words of welcome, and + reminiscences of life in Yonkers, and memories of Mary's mother, held + Cupid in abeyance for an hour. Quincy passed the license to the clergyman + who read it and looked up inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right, isn't it?” Quincy asked. + </p> + <p> + “Why yes,—but—I never supposed—why, of course—but + when?” + </p> + <p> + “Now, at once,” said Quincy. “We must be home by eleven, for they lock the + doors.” + </p> + <p> + The simple ceremony was soon over. + </p> + <p> + “Can you give Mrs. Sawyer a certificate, Mr. Dysart?” + </p> + <p> + “Fortunately, yes. I bought some to-day, for I needed them.” + </p> + <p> + He went into an adjoining room to fill it out. + </p> + <p> + “Mary, my darling, I am a rich man—richer than I deserve to be, for + I have created nothing—but I would give every dollar of my fortune + rather than lose you. Does your wedding ring fit? Mine is all right.” + </p> + <p> + “It ought to be—you had a chance to try yours on.” + </p> + <p> + “I am a designing villain, Mary. While you were telling that story last + night, you will remember that I walked about the room. One of your rings + was on the mantelpiece and I tried it on.” + </p> + <p> + When the clergyman handed Mrs. Sawyer the certificate, Quincy passed him + his fee. + </p> + <p> + “You've made a mistake, Mr. Sawyer. This is a hundred dollar bill.” + </p> + <p> + “It ought to be a thousand. I'll send you a check for the difference + to-morrow—for yourself, or your church, as you prefer.” + </p> + <p> + As they descended the steps, the clergyman raised his hands. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you both long life and prosperity, and may Heaven's blessing fall + upon you.” + </p> + <p> + “Back to the 'Cawthorne,'” said Quincy, as he pressed a small roll of + paper into the <i>chauffeur's</i> hand—which roll of paper a + friendly street light showed to be a five dollar bill. + </p> + <p> + “What will that horrid Mr. Cass say?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll fix him,” replied Quincy. “Just await developments, patiently, my + dear.” + </p> + <p> + It was a quarter of eleven when they reached the hotel. Mr. Cass was at + his desk, the light turned down in anticipation of the closing hour. + </p> + <p> + “The certificate, darling,” Quincy whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Please turn up the light, Mr. Cass, and read that.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cass adjusted his <i>pince-nez</i>. Quincy was relentless. His turn + had come. + </p> + <p> + “Is that in proper form, Mr. Cass? I know your rules are strict, and that + your employer holds you to them tenaciously,” and there was a strong + accent on the last word. + </p> + <p> + “Would your reverend employer object to your harbouring a newly-married + couple for one night? Show him your wedding ring, Mrs. Sawyer. We must + satisfy his moral scruples.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cass regarded them attentively. Then he said, slowly: “I anticipated + such a result, but wasn't it rather sudden?” + </p> + <p> + “We shall lose the elevator,” cried Mary. “It shuts down at eleven.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall we go on a tour?” asked Quincy the next morning. + </p> + <p> + “I can't leave the Harrison case. I must follow a clue this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Where shall we live, Mary? In grandfather's house on Beacon Street, or + shall I build a new one? I'll make it a palace, if you say so.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I sha'n't say so—but let's live anywhere but here.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll bid Mr. Cass a long farewell—but I admire his tenacity. He's + a sort of moral bull-dog. I might use him in my business.” + </p> + <p> + “Our business, Quincy.” + </p> + <p> + “That's so—we are partners professionally, and lovers ever.” + </p> + <p> + As she disengaged herself from his embrace, Mary exclaimed: “I've planned + a model honeymoon for us, Quincy. You must go over the Harrison case with + me. I'm sure <i>we</i> can prove that he was an innocent man, and—” + </p> + <p> + “We'll find the real criminal, Mary, and bring him to justice.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be a long and tedious investigation. I may have to visit every + drug store in the city.” + </p> + <p> + “That's easy. I'll buy you a touring car—I will act as <i>chauffeur</i>—” + </p> + <p> + “Why a touring car—why not a runabout just for two?” + </p> + <p> + “As you say, my dear. Your word is law—or the next thing to it. By + the way, Mary, we must live on Beacon Street.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, must?” + </p> + <p> + “Because Mr. Strout has bought a house on Commonwealth Avenue, and we must + keep the line drawn sharp between the old families and the <i>nou-veaux + riches!</i>” + </p> + <h3> + THE END. + </h3> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Further Adventures of Quincy Adams +Sawyer and Mason's Corner Folks, by Charles Felton Pidgin + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER *** + +***** This file should be named 7497-h.htm or 7497-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/4/9/7497/ + + +Text file produced by Charles Franks + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Further Adventures of Quincy Adams Sawyer and Mason's Corner Folks + +Author: Charles Felton Pidgin + + +Release Date: February, 2005 [EBook #7497] +This file was first posted on May 11, 2003 +Last Updated: May 20, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Franks + + + + + + + + +THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER AND MASON'S CORNER FOLKS + + +By Charles Felton Pidgin + +Author of "Quincy Adams Sawyer," "Blennerhassett," "Stephen Holton," +etc. + +Illustrated by Henry Roth + + +[Illustration: "HE LOOKED UP, SUDDENLY, AND SAW A PRETTY GIRL, DRESSED +IN PICTURESQUE ITALIAN COSTUME."] + + +1909 + + + +To My Daughter Dora + + + + +PREFACE + +Eight years ago, "Quincy Adams Sawyer and Mason's Corner Folks" was +published, being heralded, truthfully, as the work of an "unknown +author." It met with favour from reviewers and the reading public. My +pleasantest souvenirs are hundreds of letters, from personally unknown +correspondents, wishing to know more about "Quincy" and the other +characters in my first story. + +I know that few, if any, "sequels" are considered as interesting as +the original work, and an author, to a certain extent, tempts fate in +writing one. But if we visit friends and have a pleasant time there +seems to be no reason why another invitation should not be accepted. So, +if a book pleases its readers, and the characters therein become +their friends, why should not these readers be invited to renew their +acquaintance? + +They may not enjoy themselves as much as at their first visit, but that +is the unavoidable result of repetition. The human mind craves novelty, +and, perhaps, the reader will find it, after all, within these pages. + +C. F. P. + +WIDEVIEW FARM, BELMONT, MASS. August, 1908. + + + + +CONTENTS + +PREFACE + + I. THE GOVERNOR'S SPEECH + II. A DAY WITH THE GOVERNOR + III. A VACATION AT FERNBOROUGH + IV. THE HAWKINS HOUSE + V. 'ZEKE PETTINGILL'S FARM + VI. "JUST LIKE OLD TIMES" + VII. STROUT AND MAXWELL'S GROCERY + VIII. UNCLE IKE AND OTHERS + IX. A "STORY" SERMON + X. THE RAISED CHECK + XL. THE WRECK OF THE _ALTONIA_ + XII. FERNBOROUGH HALL + XIII. "HORNABY HOOK" + XIV. AN AMERICAN HEIRESS + XV. AN ELOPEMENT + XVI. YOUNG QUINCY + XVII. HIS FATHER'S FRIENDS + XVIII. AN OLD STRIFE RENEWED + XIX. BOYHOOD TO MANHOOD + XX. MARY DANA + XXI. AT HARVARD + XXII. ALICE'S DREAM + XXIII. "BY THE BEAUTIFUL BLUE DANUBE" + XXIV. "WE THREE" + XXV. A PERIOD OF TWENTY-THREE YEARS + XXVI. "CATESSA" + XXVII. O. STROUT. FINE GROCIERIES +XXVIII. THE HOME COMING XXIX. THE FINAL CONFLICT + XXX. TOM, JACK AND NED + XXXI. THE GREAT ISBURN RUBY + XXXII. "IT WAS SO SUDDEN" + + + + +The Further Adventures of Quincy Adams Sawyer and Mason's Corner Folks + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE GOVERNOR'S SPEECH + + +When the applause had subsided, Governor Sawyer began to speak. + +"My Friends and Fellow Citizens: When I stood before the representatives +chosen by the people, and an audience composed of the most eminent men +and women in the State, and took the oath to support the constitution of +my native State and that of my country, my heart was filled with what +I deemed an honest pride. My fellow citizens had chosen me to fill the +most exalted position in their power to bestow, and when the Secretary +of the Commonwealth uttered the well-known words which your toastmaster +has just repeated--God save the Commonwealth of Massachusetts--I felt in +every fibre of my body that I would be true to my oath and to the people +who had shown their confidence in me. + +"But the satisfaction I felt on that occasion was no greater than that +which I experience to-night. I came among you entirely unknown. I have +heard that some wondered whether I was a city swell, what my business +was, what led me to choose your town for a vacation, and how long that +vacation was to be, especially as I came in the winter when country life +is popularly, but erroneously, supposed to be dull. + +"By some I was welcomed,--others--I don't blame them--refused to extend +to me the hand of fellowship. But, I liked some of your people so +well--and one in particular"--all eyes were turned towards his wife, who +bore the scrutiny bravely--"that I determined to stay--and I did." + +Hiram Maxwell could not forget past events in which he had figured +prominently and cried, "Three cheers for Quincy Adams Sawyer," which +were given with a will, and accompanied by many expressions of approval +in the shape of clapping of hands, pounding of canes, and stamping of +thick-soled boots. The Governor continued his remarks. + +"I staid so long that I might have become a voter. I did not, but +besides my native city of Boston, I shall always render my allegiance to +this town, which turned the current of my life into such happy channels. + +"I will not weary you with a long speech." + +Cries of "Go on," "We can stand it," came from all parts of the hall, +and Mrs. Hawkins said to Olive Green, "He's a beautiful speaker. I +could listen to him all night if it wa'n't for gettin' breakfast for my +boarders. My bread didn't ris worth a cent, and I've got to git up airly +and make biscuits." + +His Excellency went on, "I want you to make Fernborough, the Mason's +Corner of five years ago, a beautiful town--more beautiful than it is +now." Make good, wide roads, don't call them streets, and have wide +tires on your wagons to preserve them. Plant trees both for grateful +shade and natural beauty. Support your Village Improvement Society +by suggestions and contributions. Attend town meeting regularly, be +economical but not stingy in your appropriations, pay good salaries +and wages for honest service. Be partisans if you wish, in State and +National elections, but in choosing your town servants, get the best men +regardless of politics. + +"Support and constantly aim to elevate the standard of education in your +schools, and remember that the mother and the teacher are the makers of +those who are to rule in the future. + +"Do these things, and you will make Fernborough a worthy member of +that galaxy of communities which represents the civic virtues and +possibilities in the highest degree--our New England towns, in which the +government is by the people, of the people, and for the people, and may +God grant that these bulwarks of our freedom may ever be preserved." + +It was decided by the committee to have a reception in the Selectmen's +room. It was conveniently arranged for such a purpose, having a door at +either end, besides the double one near the middle. At the request of +Selectman and Toastmaster Strout, the Governor and his wife and the +Countess of Sussex, formerly Lindy Putnam, stood in line to greet the +citizens of Fernborough. + +First came Benoni Hill, who had increased in rotundity since selling his +grocery store and giving up an active life. + +"How much is flour a barrel?" asked Quincy as he shook hands with him. + +"When I kept the store myself everything I wanted I got at wholesale, +but now your partners charge me full price." + +"That's right," said Quincy. "You got a good price for the store, and +now we're trying to get some of it back," and he laughed heartily as he +extended his hand to young Samuel Hill. His wife, the former Miss Tilly +James, was with him. + +"I am pleased to meet a lion-tamer," said Tilly. + +"I never saw a live one," said Quincy, somewhat puzzled by the remark. + +"Oh, yes, you have. Our local lion, Obadiah Strout, is as tame as a +dove, and we owe it to you." + +"If I remember aright, a certain Miss Tilly James aided me when I gave +the first lesson." + +"Oh! you mean the time you whistled 'Listen to the Mocking Bird.' I wish +you had repeated it to-night." + +Cobb's Twins, William and James, with their wives, were next in line. + +"How's farming?" asked Quincy. + +"Bill and I," said James, "spend most of our time on our own places, but +we help 'Zeke and Hiram out on their hayin' an' potato diggin'." + +"Samantha," said Quincy, addressing Mrs. James Cobb, "do you remember +the first time I came to see Miss Putnam?" + +"Oh, yes, I'd heard about you goin' round with Huldy Mason. Didn't I +laugh when I showed you into Aunt Heppy's room? She did the hearin' for +both of 'em, for you remember her husband, Silas, was as deaf as a stone +post." + +"Mrs. Putnam found out all about me before I got away. I shall never +forget what she told me about her husband sitting on the ridge pole of +the barn, blowing his horn, and waiting for Gabriel to come for him." + +As Robert Wood came up, Quincy stepped from the line to greet him. + +"Your hand ain't quite as hard as it was five years ago," said Robert. + +"No, I'm out of practice. You could handle me now." + +"It cost me two dollars to get my watch fixed," said Robert, +irrelevantly. + +"I was on time in that affair," said Quincy, conscious, when too +late, that he had wasted a pun on an obtuse individual. "Are you still +carpentering?" + +"Yes. Lots of new houses going up, and Ben Bates and me have all we can +handle. Here, Ben, come here. The Governor's askin' 'bout you." + +Benjamin Bates was rather diffident, and had been holding back, but at +Bob's invitation came forward. + +"How d'ye do, Governor?" was his salutation. Diffidence when forced to +action often verges on forwardness. + +"Glad to meet you again," said Quincy. "Robert says they keep you busy." + +"Yes, we don't have so many resting spells now they use donkey engines +as we did when Pat or Mike had to climb the ladder." + +"The march of improvement forces us all into line," said Quincy as he +greeted Miss Seraphina Cotton. + +"Teaching school, now, Miss Cotton?" + +"No, your Excellency, I am fortunately relieved from what became, near +the end of my long years of service, an intolerable drudgery. Teaching +American children to talk English is one thing, but teaching French +Canadians, Poles, Germans, Russians, Italians, and Greeks was quite a +different proposition." + +"And yet it is a most important work," said Quincy--"making good +citizens from these various nationalities. America, to-day, is like a +large garden, with a great variety of flowers from foreign stalks." + +Miss Cotton smiled somewhat satirically. "I'm afraid, your Excellency, +if you'd ever been a school teacher, you'd have found many weeds in the +garden." + +"But how did you gain your freedom?" asked Quincy. "Did they pension +you?" + +"Oh, no. An uncle died out West and left me enough with which to buy an +annuity. I board with the Reverend Mr. Howe. You remember him?" + +"Why, certainly, I do. And here's his son, Emmanuel--have I got the name +right?" + +"Yes, Governor, just right as to sound. I spell it with an 'E' and two +M's," said young Mr. Howe, as Miss Cotton moved on to tell of her good +fortune to Alice and Linda. + +"How's your father, now? Does he preach every Sunday?" + +"Reg'lar as clock work. Of course I couldn't tell everybody, but I +reckon he's using some old sermons that he wrote forty years ago, but +the young ones never heard them, and the old ones have forgotten." +Quincy laughed. Ministers' sons are seldom appalled by worldly ways and, +quite often, adopt them. + +"This is Arthur Scates," said Mr. Strout, as he presented a young +man with sunken cheeks, hollow eyes, and an emaciated body. "He ain't +enjoyin' the best of health." + +"Ah, I remember," said Quincy. "You are the young man who was to sing +at the concert when I first came here. I took your place, and that act +turned out to be the most important one in my life. I owe much of my +present happiness to you. What is your trouble?" + +"My lungs are affected. I have lost my voice and cannot sing. I had +counted on becoming an opera singer." + +"Why do you not go to one of the out-door hospitals for treatment?" + +The young man's face flushed, and he remained silent. + +"Pardon me," said Quincy. "I understand. Come to Boston next week, to +the State House, and I will see that you have the best of treatment." + +"Wall, Mr. Sawyer, it does one's eyes good to set 'em on you again. This +is Olive Green,--you remember her sister Betsey worked for me when you +was one of my boarders." The woman's voice was loud and strident, and +filled the room. + +"Mrs. Hawkins, I shall never forget you and Miss Betsey Green, and how +you both tried to make my stay with you a pleasant one." + +"You've put on consid'rable flesh since I saw yer last. Guess you've +been taking your meals reg'lar, which you never did when you lived with +me. But your market's made now, and that makes the difference. They say +folks in love have poor appetites." She laughed loudly, and stopped only +when Olive put a restraining hand on her arm. "I hope Alice is a good +cook, but she never had much chance to learn." + +Quincy thought it was time to change the subject. "How's Mr. Hawkins?" + +"I tell him he's just as lazy as ever. He's kalkerlatin' on getting +three good broods of chickens. He's gone on chickens. He wanted to come +tonight, but we've lots of boarders, and they're allus wantin' ice water +or somethin' else, and so I told him he'd got to stay to home. You'll +have plenty of time to see him to-morrer." + +Many others greeted the Governor and his right hand felt the effect of +so many hearty grips, some of them of the horny-handed variety. + +The Cottonton Brass Band was now stationed in the hall, and a short +concert closed the evening's entertainment, which was allowed, by all, +to be the most high-toned affair ever given in the town. + +As Quincy laid his head upon his pillow that night, his mind reverted to +his first arrival at Mason's Corner, and the events that had taken place +since. + +"Alice, five years ago, could your wildest imagination have conjured up +such an evening as this?" + +"No, Quincy. What has taken place in our lives is truly wonderful. My +daily prayer is that these happy days may last." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +A DAY WITH THE GOVERNOR + + +Governor Sawyer sat in the Executive Chamber at the State House. It was +eleven o'clock on the morning following the festivities at Fernborough. +Quincy and Alice had staid over night at the Hawkins' House, and Ezekiel +in the morning urged them strongly to wait a day and see what great +improvements he had made on the old farm which had been so neglected +during the last years of Mrs. Putnam's life. But Quincy said his +presence in Boston was imperative, that certain matters required his +attention, and so the earliest train brought him and his wife to the +city. Quincy left the carriage under the arch at the State House. + +Alice was driven to the well-known house on Mount Vernon Street, in +which Aunt Ella had lived so long, but which had lost much of its +cheerfulness, and all of its Bohemianism since that lady had gone to +England and become Lady Fernborough. + +The Executive Chamber was a large room, and simply furnished with a flat +top desk of wine-red mahogany, a bookcase, and a few chairs. A door +to the left led to the office of the private secretary; the one to the +right to a short and narrow corridor across which was the door of the +Council Chamber--a room occupied by that last link between democratic +and aristocratic government. It must not be inferred that the members +of the Council are aristocrats--far from it, but with the +lieutenant-governor they form a "house of lords" which may or may +not agree with the policies of the chief magistrate. They can aid him +greatly, or they can "clip his wings" and materially curb his freedom of +action. The Council is a relic of the old provincial and colonial days, +its inherited aristocratic body clothed in democratic garments. As its +duties could be performed by the Senate without loss of dignity, and +with pecuniary saving, its retention as a part of the body politic is +due to the "let well enough alone" policy of the American citizen which +has supplanted the militant, progressive democracy of his forefathers. + +At the end of the short corridor was the office of the Executive +Secretary and his stenographer from which, through an opening hung with +portieres, one passed into the general reception room where the +faithful messenger stood guard, authorized to learn the business of each +new-comer. + +The private secretary had opened the mail and had assorted it as +"ordinary," "important," and "most important." For an hour the Governor +dictated steadily, and it would take several hours' clicking of +the typewriter before the letters and documents were ready for his +signature. + +The waiting-room was now filled with persons desiring audience with his +Excellency. A well-known city lawyer and ward politician was the first +to enter. + +"Good-morning, Guv'nor." + +The Governor arose, came forward, and extended his hand. "Good-morning, +Mr. Nutting." + +"Are you going to send in the names of the Industrial Expansion +Committee to-day?" + +"I have intended to do so." + +"Well, I want to say a good word for Mr. Collingwood. He is promoting a +company to develop water power on the Upper Connecticut above Holyoke. +He is a client of mine, and I can vouch for his business ability and his +desire to improve and increase our manufacturing facilities." + +The Governor was silent for a time. He was busily thinking. No doubt +this Mr. Collingwood was concerned financially, indirectly if not +directly, in the proposed company he was promoting, and perhaps Mr. +Nutting himself would profit far beyond his normal legal fee if Mr. +Collingwood was named on the commission. Mr. Nutting noticed the delay +of his Excellency in replying. + +"It will be all right if you send his name in. There will be no doubt of +his confirmation." + +Again the Governor thought. The four wheels of the executive coach +were in good order, but, apparently, the fifth wheel had been put in +condition for use, if it became necessary. + +"Here are Mr. Collingwood's endorsements," said Mr. Nutting, as he +placed a large packet of papers on the governor's desk. + +"Thank you, Mr. Nutting. I will give them consideration." + +Mr. Nutting withdrew, and the lieutenant-governor, who had arrived late, +was given precedence over the others in the reception room. After the +customary salutations, the lieutenant-governor seated himself in the +governor's chair, which Quincy had temporarily vacated, and lighted a +cigar. + +"Are you going to send in Venton's name?" + +"He is inexperienced." + +"I know it, but he'll learn. If, following precedent, I become your +successor, he will be of great help to me in certain lines." + +There was a slight frown on the governor's face. "Mr. Williams, the +present head of the department, has held it for many years, is a most +efficient man, and I have heard no complaints." + +"I know that," said his Honour, David Evans, "but he's getting old, and +rotation in office is one of the principles of our Bill of Rights." + +"I am well aware of that," said the governor, "but retention in office +for good and efficient service is one of the principles of our civil +service law." + +Mr. Evans arose and flicked the ashes from his cigar upon the rich +carpet which covered the floor. + +"Am I to understand then that you will renominate Williams? Let me say +now that there is strong opposition to him in the Council and he may +fail of confirmation. Will you send Venton's name in then?" + +"I think I should send Mr. Williams' name in again." + +"But, suppose he is turned down the second time?" asked Mr. Evans. + +"I think I should continue sending in his name until good and sufficient +reasons were given for his rejection. This is not a voting contest +between two nominees. I am convinced Mr. Williams is the best man for +the place. Such being my opinion, to withdraw his name, would be a +self-stultification, and, to speak plainly,"--and his jaw was firmly +set,--"an acknowledgment that the Council is a stronger arm of the +government than the Chief Executive." + +Mr. Evans was evidently indignant. "Well, Mr. Venton is backed by men +who contribute heartily for campaign expenses. If you can get along +without their aid this fall have your man Williams," and Mr. Evans +strode from the room with a curt "Good-morning." + +The private secretary laid some papers on the governor's desk. The +first one that he examined conferred certain valuable privileges, in +perpetuity, upon a corporation without requiring any compensation for +the franchise. The property thus alienated from public use had been paid +for by the people's money. In response to a vigorous push on an electric +button, the private secretary appeared. + +"Send for Senator Downing. I must see him immediately." + +His Excellency thought, "How can the people's so-called representatives +give away the property of the people so indiscriminately? It would not +do to mention it, without proof, but I am convinced that all such public +robberies are for private gain. Ah, good-morning, Senator." + +Senator Downing was a short, heavily-built man, with dark hair, black +eyes, and a jaw and chin indicative of bull-dog pertinacity. + +"In your bill, Senate 513, I notice that the railroad Company is not +called upon to pay for the great privilege conferred." + +"Why should they? It simply gives them a quick connection with +tide-water, and reduced transportation charges means lower prices." + +"How will prices be regulated?" was the Governor's query. + +"As they always have been," replied the Senator brusquely. "Supply and +demand--" + +"And by combinations called trusts," added the Governor. "Cannot some +provision be made by which the Company will pay a yearly rental? It will +reduce the burden of taxation just so much." + +"Perhaps if you recommend it, some attention will be given it, but I +should not care to prejudice my political standing by endorsing such an +amendment." + +"I will consider the question carefully," said Quincy, wearily, as he +laid down the bill, and Senator Downing departed. + +The next bill was what was called "a labour measure." It gave members of +trade unions a right demanded by them, called "peaceful picketing;" in +other words, during a strike, the right to use argument, persuasion, in +fact any rightful inducement to keep a non-union man from working for +the "struck" firm or corporation. The bill had been passed by a majority +of 48 in the House, and by the narrow margin of one vote in the Senate. +A tie had been expected when the President of the Senate, who was +a prominent manufacturer was counted upon to kill the bill. If the +Governor vetoed it, the Senate would probably sustain the veto, throwing +the greater responsibility upon him, each member voting against the bill +sheltering himself behind the veto. Thus do partisans play politics +with the head of their party. While he was reading the bill the +lieutenant-governor was ushered in again. + +"Downing has been talking with me about his bill. He says you are going +to veto it." + +"I did not say so. I asked him his reasons for turning over public +property for private use and gain, and he did not seem well-prepared to +answer me." + +Mr. Evans replied, "The best reason, to my mind is, that the heaviest +tax payers, members of our party, are all in favour of the bill." + +"Are they numerous enough to elect a governor who will do their +bidding?" + +"Perhaps not, but their money is powerful enough to do it"--he +paused--"if it becomes necessary." + +The Governor arose, and Mr. Evans, influenced by the action, did the +same. The two men faced each other. + +"Mr. Evans," and the Governor seemed to increase in stature, "I fully +understand your last remark--if it becomes necessary. You shall have an +open field. I prize the great honour that has been conferred upon me by +placing me here, but I must confess I dislike the duties, circumscribed +as they are by personal and political influences. I can understand, now, +why a ruler wishes to be an autocrat. It is the only way in which he can +make his personality a part of his body. I shall not be a candidate for +re-election this autumn. I wish my personal freedom of action, and I +prize it more than fame or power." + +"May I mention your decision to the leaders of the party?" + +"If you so desire. From this moment I am to be untrammelled except by my +official oath." + +Mr. Evans took his leave, evidently pleased with a part of what he had +heard, and in a short time was closeted with some leading politicians in +a private room of a prominent hotel. + +The Governor resumed his reading of the labour bill, but was aroused +from his contemplation of its provisions by the entrance of Mr. Amos +Acton. Mr. Acton was secretary of a manufacturer's association. He +was tall and spare. His hair was sandy in hue, and his mouth twitched +nervously. + +"Your Excellency, I came to see you about that picketing bill. If it +becomes a law our manufacturers will be driven from the State. They are +now seriously handicapped by the vigorous provisions of existing laws. I +trust your Excellency will not add to our present burdens." + +"I have read the bill, Mr. Acton. It seems conservative, with full +provision for the protection of life and property." + +"That's not the question. When Union men strike we must have the +Non-Union men to fill their places; but this bill says the Non-Union man +shan't work." + +"It says the Union man may persuade him, peacefully, not to work." + +"We all know what that means. If he does work, he will be called a +'scab' and his family will be ostracized in every possible way." + +"It is hard to draw the line," said the governor. "You say, or imply, +that every man has a right to work for whoever will employ him. Granted. +But do you always give him work when he wants it? Do you pay him what he +asks, or do you not fix the rate of wage? You must realize the fact that +collective bargaining has superseded dealing with the individual." + +"Some of us do not allow that," said Mr. Acton. + +"I know it, and that causes the difficulty. Your relations with your +employees should be based upon trade agreements, legalized and strongly +adhered to by both sides." + +"I have just come from a meeting of leading manufacturers," said Mr. +Acton, "and they wished me to express to you their urgent request, I may +say solicitation, that you will veto this bill." + +After Mr. Acton's departure, Quincy rang for his secretary, to whom he +delivered the papers containing his official decisions. + +Mr. Williams was renominated for the position that he had so long and so +ably filled. + +As members of "The Industrial Expansion Commission" nine manufacturers +were named, one for each of the leading industries of the State, +chosen independent of known or presumed political affiliations; Mr. +Collingwood's name was not among them. + +A vigorous veto of the bill giving a private corporation control of +public property was sent to the Senate. + +The "peaceful picketing" bill was signed. + +The door opened, and a pretty face looked in. + +"Come in, Maude--I've just finished." As the secretary withdrew, keeping +his eyes fixed on the governor's youngest sister, she advanced slowly +into the room. The door closed automatically and Maude tip-toed to her +brother's side, returning his welcoming kiss. + +"What's his name?" she asked, pointing towards the self-closing door. + +"My secretary? Harry Merry," said Quincy, "but the press boys all call +him Sober Harry." + +"I think he's just splendid," said the impulsive Maude--"such beautiful +eyes! But that isn't what I came for. I went up to your house and just +brought Alice down to ours, and she told me all about the fine time you +had and your speech. Will it be printed?" + +"Mr. Sylvester Chisholm, editor of the Fernborough Gazette was there and +a faithful transcript of my feeble remarks will, no doubt, appear in his +paper." + +"Feeble!" said Maude contemptuously. "Have you been doing feeble things +since you came back?" + +"No, Maude, I have done some very strenuous things, and I shall be glad +to get home to my family." + +Maude repeated, seriously, + + "To make a happy fireside clime + For weans and wife + Is the true pathos, and sublime, + Of human life. + +"But you are not going home," she continued,--"you are invited to dinner +with your respected pa and ma and your two young--" + +"And beautiful sisters," added Quincy with a laugh. "I'll come, but you +must play the latest popular songs for me, and Alice will sing 'Sweet, +Sweet Home,' and perhaps I can forget the cares of State--until +to-morrow, anyway." + +Maude flounced out of the door tossing a kiss from the tips of her +fingers, to the astonishment of Sober Harry who had just entered, and +who wished, from the bottom of his heart, that the flying salutation had +been for him. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A VACATION AT FERNBOROUGH + + +The Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer did not dine at home that evening. +Quincy's mother said that he had gone to Salem but would return later. +After dinner the little company of five repaired to the parlour. Maude +sang negro melodies despite the protests of her mother, and her sister +Florence's assertion that they were only sung at cheap variety shows. + +"How do you know that?" cried Maude. "Did Reginald tell you?" + +"Who is Reginald?" asked Quincy. + +"Oh," said Maude, tossing her head, "he's Florence's latest. She met him +night before last--" + +"Maude!" Her sister's voice was full of angry protest. "Don't say +another word." + +"Such matters," said her mother mildly, "are not suitable subjects for +general conversation. There is a privacy about them which should be +respected." + +"We'll leave Florence out of it, then," said Maude. "I met him at Mrs. +Dulton's reception. His name is Capt. Reginald Hornaby, and he's +the fourth son of Sir Wilfred Hornaby, of Hornaby Hook, Hornaby, +England--don't you know," and she winked spitefully at Florence. + +"He told me all that himself," she continued, "so I know it must be so. +Won't it be nice to have a place in England where we can make ourselves +at home?" + +"Aunt Ella will be glad to see you at any time," remarked Quincy. "Why +don't you go back with her? She'd be delighted." + +"I would but for one thing," replied Maude. "I'm afraid I might fall in +love with an Englishman, and one title in the family is enough." + +Alice interposed: "Aunt Ella has an English husband with a title." + +"Yes," said Maude, "but he _has_ his title, while Reggie is four blocks +away from the fire." + +"You're as big a tease as ever," and Quincy drew his favourite sister +towards him. "Don't plague Flossie any more. Think of your possible +fate. You may marry a Jap." + +"I know a lovely little Jap, now. His name is Hioshato Konuka. Oh, +Alice, won't you stay all night? When are you going on your vacation, +Quincy?" + +"In about ten days, if the legislature is prorogued by that time." + +"Where are you going?" asked his mother. + +"Alice wishes to go to Fernborough for a week or two, and then we shall +go to Nantucket." + +"Will the Earl and Sir Stuart pay us a visit?" was the next question. + +"I invited them in your name, mother, but Linda and Aunt Ella were +anxious to get back to their yacht at Nantucket. They will sail from +there to New York and take the steamer home next week." + +"Is the Countess of Sussex' sister-in-law, the Lady Elfrida, married +yet?" asked Florence. + +"I understand she is engaged," Quincy replied. + +Maude was incorrigible. "Reggie told me she was practising deep +breathing, owing to the length of the Episcopal marriage service." + +"Maude," said her mother sharply, "if you were not of age I should send +you to bed." + +"I'm going. Alice, while Quincy runs up to the house to say that you are +not coming home, you come to my room. I've some pretty things to show +you." + +As Quincy walked up Walnut Street, he saw a bright light in Dr. Culver's +window. He rang the bell, and the doctor himself came to the door. + +"Is that you, Quincy? Come in." + +"Paul, how are you?" + +"Fine as silk. Business is good, but I'm doing my best to keep the +undertakers out of a job. Have you read the evening papers?" + +"I seldom do. I prefer to wait until morning." + +"The papers are rapping you hard for signing that picketing bill, but +the labour men are delighted. You'll run ahead of your ticket sure next +fall." + +"I'm not going to run. One year is enough." + +"Will Evans get the nomination? I won't vote for him. How are your +wife's eyes?" + +"All right. She has better vision, now, than I have. We owe you a great +debt of gratitude for sending us to Dr. Tillotson." + +"He's a wonder. He told me the other day that he is going to cure what +is called split retina, which has never been done." + +Quincy bethought himself of the message he had to deliver and made a +hurried departure, first inviting the Doctor to dine with him the next +day. On his return to the Beacon Street house, he found his father at +home reading an evening paper. + +"Quincy, I see that you vetoed that railroad bill." + +"Yes, I did. I saw no reason why public property should be given to a +private corporation without compensation." + +"The public would be compensated indirectly. I am a large stockholder +in the railroad, and, to speak plainly, I drew that bill myself. I met +Senator Downing and he says the bill will be passed over your veto." + +"I cannot help that, father. I did my duty as I saw it. If the bill +becomes a law without my signature, I cannot be blamed for future +developments." + +The Hon. Nathaniel dropped the subject. "Quincy, I have purchased a +house in the country and shall go there in a few days. Won't you and +your wife pay us a short visit?" + +"Certainly, we will. We are going to Fernborough for a few days and then +will drop in on you, before we go to Nantucket." + +By the look on his father's face Quincy knew that he was disappointed. +The Hon. Nathaniel never liked "to play second fiddle." Quincy hastened +to rectify his mistake. "We can put it the other way round, just as +well. We'll come and see you before we go to Fernborough." + +"That will please me better, but, of course, you must not do it if your +wife objects." + +"She will not object. She is upstairs, now, with Maude. Of course, the +girls are going." + +"Yes, and I have invited Captain Hornaby, a very fine young man. But, I +must retire. I have a case in court to-morrow." + +Quincy found both commendation and criticism in the morning papers. His +face wore its usual genial expression as he entered the elevator, and +Robert's "good morning" was particularly cheerful. + +The Governor's first caller was Mr. Acton. + +"You see," he began, "that your approval of the picketing bill is +receiving universal condemnation." + +"Hardly," was the reply. "Two papers and the Governor sustain it and the +labour press and unions are yet to be heard from." + +"We shall endeavour to secure a repeal of the bill next year. In the +meantime, we shall carry the matter to the courts." + +"May the cause of truth and justice prevail in the end" was Quincy's +comment, and Mr. Acton took his departure in an uncomfortable state of +mind. + +The day wore away. At three o'clock a vote was taken in the Senate and +the so-called Downing bill was passed over the veto. Not so, in the +House, for one newspaper, read by nearly all the working men, had so +strongly pointed out the nature of the "grab" proposed by the bill, +that the State House was besieged by its opponents, and the veto was +sustained by a narrow margin. + +About five o'clock, Mr. Evans and Senator Downing were dining in a +private room at a hotel. "So, the Governor won't run again," said the +Senator. + +"He so informed me yesterday. He may change his mind." + +"You're not satisfied with things as they are," remarked the Senator. + +"No," replied the lieutenant-governor, "I'm disgusted with the Williams +matter. When I'm governor, I'll request his resignation." + +"And when you're governor, we'll put my bill through. Do you know the +Governor's father is one of our heaviest stockholders? We'll have our +way yet." + +Within a week the legislature was prorogued. The House had a mock +session, during which partisanship, and private victories and defeats +were forgotten, for the time at least, and the fun was jolly and hearty. + +Ben Ropes, the funny man of the House, but a member of the minority, +convulsed all by announcing his candidacy for the governorship, with the +understanding that no money was to be spent, no speakers engaged, the +question to be settled by joint debates between the opposing candidates. +Every member of the House arose, and amid wild cheers, pledged him their +support. + +The Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer's estate at Redford comprised some +eighty acres. Within five minutes' walk of the house was a sheet of +water covering fully fifty acres known as Simmons' Pond. On the farther +side of the pond were a few cottages and near them a tent indicating the +presence of a camping party. + +"Next year," said the Hon. Nathaniel to Quincy as they stood on the +shore of the pond, "I am going to buy some twenty acres on the other +side of the pond. Then I shall own all the land surrounding it, and my +estate will be worthy of the name which I have given it--Wideview--for +nobody's else property will obstruct my view in any direction. I shall +name this," and he pointed to the pond, "Florence Lake after my eldest +daughter. What do you think of Captain Hornaby?" + +Quincy hesitated--"He's a typical Englishman--healthy, hearty, but with +that English conceit that always grates on my nerves." + +"Are we Americans free from it?" his father asked. "To my mind, conceit +is often but the indication of self-conscious power. Its possessors +never acknowledge defeat I have always had that feeling in my law +practice." + +Quincy changed the subject, "What have you in the boat house?" + +"Canoes--three canoes. I have ordered a large row-boat but it is not +ready yet. When I own the 'lake' and the land beyond, my residence will +stand in the centre of my estate. I shall retire from practice in a few +years, and spend my last days here. We all have to go back to the soil +and I am going to make my progress gradual." + +"Won't you find it rather dull here after so long an active life in the +city?" + +"Not dull, but quiet," was the dignified response. "I shall pass my time +surveying the beauties of Nature to which, to my discredit, I have +been so long oblivious; then, I shall commune with the great minds in +literature, and read the latest law reports." + +Quincy wondered whether Nature, literature, or law would be his father's +most appreciated relaxation, but inclined to the latter. + +The next morning Maude exclaimed: "Let's have some fun. What shall we +do?" + +"There are three canoes in the boat house," said Quincy, "why not a row +on the pond?" + +"Fine!" cried Maude. "Quincy, you are a man of ideas." + +Captain Hornaby had asked Florence to go with him and she had willingly +consented. This emboldened Harry Merry, who had come down from the State +House with the Governor's correspondence, and he, rather bashfully, +requested Maude's company in the third canoe. + +"Can you swim?" she asked. + +"I learned when a boy," said Harry. + +"All right. I don't believe the style has changed much since then. I +wouldn't go with you unless you could swim. It would be too great a +responsibility." + +Harry thought to himself that he would be willing to swim ashore with +such a "responsibility" in his arms. + +Maude turned to the Captain: "Can you swim, Captain Hornaby?" + +"Of course, Miss Maude. We Englishmen are all sea dogs, don't you know?" + +"But Englishmen are drowned sometimes," said Maude. "How about Admiral +Kempenfelt and the Royal George? See Fourth Class Reader for full +particulars in verse." + +The three couples were soon afloat--Quincy and Alice, Captain Hornaby +and Florence, Harry and Maude. + +"Let's have a race," cried Maude. "To that big white rock down there," +and she pointed to the farther end of the pond. Harry took the lead with +short, swift strokes, but the long, steady paddling of Captain Hornaby +gained on him steadily, and to Maude's disgust the Captain reached the +rock first, Harry being a close second, and Quincy a late third. + +Maude was excited. "Let's race back to the boat house. A prize for the +first one who reaches it." + +"What will be the prize?" asked the Captain. + +Maude saw that Harry needed encouragement. + +"I haven't anything with me but kisses and only one of them to spare." + +Harry shut his teeth with a snap. He was going to win that race. + +As they were nearing the boat house Harry was in the lead, the Captain +close behind, with Quincy following leisurely. This was a young people's +race--married men barred. For some unexplainable reason Captain Hornaby +tried to cross Harry's bow. The project was ill-timed and unsuccessful. +Harry had just made a spurt and his canoe went forward so fast that the +Captain's boat, instead of clearing his, struck it full in the side and +Harry and Maude were thrown into the water. Florence, who really loved +her sister despite their many quarrels, gave a loud scream and stood up +in the boat. Her action was fatal to its equilibrium, and the Captain +and she were soon in the water's embrace. + +The accident occurred about two hundred feet from the shore where the +water was deep. Captain Hornaby grasped Florence and struck out for the +boat house float. She had fainted and did not impede him by struggling. + +Harry had essayed to bear Maude ashore, but she broke away from him and +swam vigorously towards land, Harry in pursuit. + +"Don't worry, Alice," said Quincy. "They are not in danger." + +"But, Quincy, suppose it had been our boat." + +"If it had been," said he, "you would be as safe in my arms as Florence +is in those of the Captain, providing you did not struggle." + +Harry exerted his full strength and skill to overtake Maude, but she, +flushed with the excitement, her thin costume clinging close to her +form, reached the bank some twenty feet ahead of him. + +"I had to do it," she cried, "and I suppose I must deliver the prize by +kissing myself." + +Then her exuberant nature gave way, and she sank helpless to the ground. +Harry did not envy the Captain who was carrying Florence in his arms, +for was not Maude in his? + +In the evening as they sat upon the veranda watching the dying glories +of the sun, Quincy said to Maude, "Why didn't you let Harry bring you +ashore?" + +"The idea of it," she exclaimed. "And be under obligations to him--not +on your life. Think of poor Florence. If that Captain asks her to marry +him she must accept because he saved her life." + +Later, when the sun had set, and the moonbeams silvered the surface of +the pond, Harry mustered up courage to ask Maude what she meant when she +said it was too great a responsibility to go out canoeing with a man who +couldn't swim. + +"Why, I meant if you couldn't swim it might be a great job for me to get +you ashore. I knew I could take care of myself all right." + +At the other end of the veranda the Hon. Nathaniel and Captain Hornaby +were engaged in conversation. The Captain was not asking the Hon. +Nathaniel for the hand of his daughter Florence but, instead, for a +loan, giving as his reason that when he threw off his coat his letters +of credit to the value of five hundred pounds went to the bottom of the +pond. + +"I shall have to write home to my brother, the Earl, for other letters, +and it will take some time for them to reach me." + +[Illustration: "'IF YOU WILL GIVE ME YOUR NOTE AT THIRTY DAYS I WILL LET +YOU HAVE THE FIVE HUNDRED.'"] + +"You are at liberty to remain here until you receive word," said the +cautious Hon. Nathaniel. + +"I appreciate your great kindness," said the Captain, "but I must visit +New York and Chicago at an early day." + +"How much will supply your present need?" asked the lawyer. + +"I had expected my trip would cost me at least five hundred dollars." + +"If you will give me your note at thirty days I will let you have the +five hundred. I will bring it down to-morrow night." + +On the second day following, the Captain took an apparently very +reluctant departure. + +A week later Quincy and Alice were in Boston making preparations for +their trip to Fernborough. + +"I am going to buy the tickets this morning, Alice--we must have seats +in a parlour car. How shall we go--to Cottonton or Eastborough Centre?" + +"To Eastborough surely," said Alice. "We will drive over the old road. +Do you remember the day that you took me to see Aunt Heppy Putnam after +her husband died?" + +"Alice, every day I passed at Mason's Corner near you was like Heaven to +me, and, now, for a week or more I mean to live in Paradise again. What +a joy it will be to see the old scenes and faces, hear the familiar +voices, and remember the happy days we have had there." + +"I'm afraid, Quincy, some of the charm has departed. Things have +changed, and, in spite of our resolves, we change with them." + +When they alighted at Eastborough Centre, Ellis Smith stood there with +his carriage. + +"How do you do, Ellis, and how's your brother Abbott? Will you take us +to the Hawkins House?" said Quincy. Turning to his wife, he added, +"Mrs. Rawkins is a good cook--her rooms are large and clean. We can go a +visiting during the day and have quiet times by ourselves when we wish." +His wife nodded her acquiescence with the plan proposed. + +"Ellis, can you handle those two big trunks alone?" + +"Yes, Guv'nor. I'm a leetle bit heavier built than Abbott." + +Quincy drew Alice's attention to the Eagle Hotel. + +"There's where we hatched the plot that downed Mr. Obadiah Strout, when +he was an enemy of mine. Say, Ellis, drive up by the Poor House, through +the Willows, and then back down the Centre Road to Mason Street. That +will carry us by some of the old landmarks." + +As they passed the Poor House they saw "pussy" Mr. Waters, sitting on +the piazza and Sam standing in the barn doorway. + +"There's where my Uncle James died," said Quincy. "Did I ever tell you, +Alice, that he left some money and it went to found the Sawyer Public +Library? He made me promise not to tell that he left any, and it has +always troubled me to receive a credit that really was not my due." + +"But you could have kept the money, couldn't you?" + +"Oh, yes. He gave it to me outright." + +"Then I think you are entitled to full credit for the good use you made +of it." + +"Looking at it that way, perhaps you are right, Alice. Here are the +Willows." + +"What a lonely place." + +"You didn't think so, Alice, when we used to drive through here." + +"I was blind then and couldn't see except with your eyes. You didn't say +it was lonesome." + +"How could I say so, when I was with you?" + +Alice squeezed his hand lovingly. + +As they turned into Mason Street, Quincy exclaimed: "There's where Uncle +Ike's chicken coop stood until he set it on fire." + +"Did he set it on fire?" cried Alice. + +"Now I've let out another promised secret. Can you see 'Zeke's house +ahead?" + +"Yes, how inviting the old place looks. I'm glad Hiram Maxwell has it, +for we can sit in the old parlour and sing duets as we used to." + +"Now we're going up Obed's Hill," said Quincy. "Deacon Mason's house +looks as neat as ever." + +"Do you remember when Huldah Mason broke her arm, Quincy?" + +"Do not remind me of that, Alice. I was never in love with her, but no +one could help liking her. There's the grocery store in which I am a +silent partner"--he paused a moment--"and here we are at the Hawkins +House." + +As Ellis Smith reined up, the front door was opened and Mrs. Hawkins +came out to meet her guests. "I got your letter, an' I know'd it was +you. How be ye both? Seems like old times. Come right in the parlour. +I've got the curtains down so as to keep it cool," and the delighted +woman led the way into the house. In the hallway, she screamed, "Jonas! +Jonas! Hurry up and pick those chickens. Guv'nor Sawyer and Alice are +here." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE HAWKINS HOUSE + + +The converting of Mrs. Hawkins' boarding house into a hotel had been due +to two causes: First, the thrift and economy of the lady herself, which +had enabled her to put by a good sum in the bank. This she expended in +building an ell with extra sleeping rooms, painting the structure cream +colour with brown trimmings, and replacing old furniture with that +of modern make. This latter, she confessed within a year, was a great +mistake, for the new chairs became rickety, the castors would not hold +in the bed posts, the bureau drawers became unmanageable, and the rooms, +as she expressed it, had a "second-hand" appearance. Then it was that +the old mahogany furniture, that had been relegated to the attic, was +brought down, furbished up, and restored to its original place. When +Quincy entered the room which he had formerly occupied, it did not seem +possible that five years had elapsed. + +The second cause that had led Mrs. Hawkins to change the small and +modest sign--"Rooms and Board"--which had been in the front window +for years, for a large swinging sign over the front door--"Hawkins +House"--having large gold letters on a blue ground--was the rapid growth +of the town. Many new mills had been erected in the neighbouring city of +Cottonton. The operatives being unable to obtain suitable accommodations +in the city, had come to Fernborough to live, where they could have +gardens, fresh air, and playgrounds for their children. Fernborough +became to Cottonton what Methuen is to Lawrence. Mrs. Hawkins was +democratic, but shirt-sleeves and Prince Albert coats did not look +well together, so she had turned what had been her sitting room into +a private dining room, and it was here that what she called her "star +boarders" were served. + +By the time Quincy and Alice had opened their trunks, and distributed +the contents in the capacious closet and deep, roomy bureau drawers, the +cheerful tones of the dinner bell were heard, and they descended to the +private room. + +They were its only occupants. + +"I thought as how you might be hungry after so long a ride an' so I just +hurried Jonas up so you could begin afore the crowd came in. I don't +introduce folks now I run a hotel. If they gets acquainted it's their +lookout not mine," and Mrs. Hawkins and Olive brought in the fare from +the adjoining kitchen. + +Such a meal for hungry people! Lamb broth, roast chicken, yeast biscuit, +potatoes, string beans, cucumbers, lettuce, berry pie, blackberries, +currants, frosted cake, with tea, coffee, or cocoa. + +"What does she charge?" asked Alice in a whisper when they were alone. + +"A dollar a day for room and board--three square meals for board." + +After dinner they went into the parlour, where Mrs. Hawkins joined them. + +"I jest told Jonas he must help Olive wash the dishes to-day, for I +hain't seen ye for so long I'm just dyin' to have a talk with yer, +'cause I s'pose you'll eat and run while yer here, you know so many +folks." + +"We haven't much to tell about ourselves," said Quincy. "What we want to +know is how Fernborough folks are getting along." + + +"Wall, I s'pos'd you'd like to hear what's goin' on 'round here, an' +p'raps I can tell yer some things that other folks mightn't mention, +'cause they'd forgot it, or p'raps wouldn't want to tell. Is that cheer +comfortable, Alice? I s'pose I ought to say Misses Guv'nor Sawyer, but +it don't come nat'ral, I've known yer so long." + +"I shall always be Alice to my good friend Mrs. Hawkins and her daughter +Mandy." + +"Speakin' o' Mandy, you know she's got two little boys--twins, one named +after Deacon Mason, and t'other after your husband's friend Obadiah +Strout, ther perfesser--and she's got a little girl, nigh on ter two +years old named Marthy after me--but they don't call her Marthy--it's +allus Mattie. These new-fangled names fuss me all up. If Mary and Marthy +were good enough for the Lord's friends, I don't know what he'd think to +hear 'em called Mamie and Mattie. + +"Speakin' o' names, there's my Jonas, which is same as Jonah I s'pose. +Anyway it fits him to a T, for he's a reg'lar Jonah if there ever +was one, which our minister, Mr. Gay, you'll meet him at dinner-time +to-morrow, says he's doubtful about. + +"If a whale swallowed my Jonas it couldn't keep him down, for he's just +_satirated_ with tobacco smoke--he says he has to puff it on the hens +and chickens to kill the varmints, and I should think it would. Do you +smoke, Mr. Sawyer?" + +"Cigars, occasionally. I am not an habitual smoker." + +"Well, old Mr. Trask told me as how pipe smoke wouldn't colour lace +curtains same as cigars do. Now you jes' smoke all you want to up in +your room an' I'll see if it washes out." + +"Alice dislikes smoke, and I never use tobacco in her presence--so your +lace curtains won't suffer." + +"Wall, I'm kinder sorry for I wanted to see if Doctor Trask knew what he +was talkin' about. When I'm rich I'll have three doctors and two on 'em +will have to agree afore I'll take any of their pizen. I jes' remembered +that the new minister, Mr. Gay, smokes. I'll put some lace curtains up +in his room. You ain't seen him yet. He parts his hair in the middle. +The gals are all crazy 'bout him. I like his preachin' putty well, but +he don't use near as much brimstone as old Mr. Howe does." + +"Is Mr. Howe's son going to be a clergyman?" Alice asked. + +Mrs. Hawkins laughed raucously. + +"The Lord save us, I guess not! Why Emmanuel has gone and married a play +actress--and isn't she some? She rides a hoss just like a man does, and +the way she jumps fences and rides hur-rah-ti-cut down the street would +jes' make your hair stand on end. She's away now--I wish you could see +her. Of course you're goin' over to the store." + +"Why, certainly," said Quincy. "I'm a special partner, you know. I shall +call on Mrs. Strout. You remember the party at Deacon Mason's, Alice--I +danced with Miss Bessie Chisholm--" + +Mrs. Hawkins couldn't wait, "Yes, an' she made the perfesser just the +kind of wife he needed. She bosses the house... for I heard her tell him +one day that if he didn't like her cookin' he might have his meals at +the store--an' she goes to dances with her brother Sylvester. Some folks +think she's a high-flyer--but I don't blame her seein' as how she has +that old blowhard for a husband--which is true, if he is your pardner." + +Alice asked if the Strouts had any children. + +"Yes, they've got a little boy, an' he's a chip of the old block. His +father brought him here one day and he pulled the cloth of'n that table +there and broke a chiny vase that I paid fifty cents for, and his father +never said a word about buyin' me another." + +"I hope that Mr. Strout and Hiram get along together well," said Quincy. + +"Hiram's a good feller. Mandy did well when she got him, but she has you +to thank for it, Mr. Sawyer. If you hadn't set him up in that grocery +store I'm afraid he'd be chorin' now. You remember Mrs. Crowley? She +jes' loves them children, but Mandy's afeerd she's going to lose her. +She's got a beau--a feller named Dan Sweeney, and his hair is so red you +could light a match by techin' it. He works for your brother 'Zeke. He's +a good enuf feller, but he and Strout don't hitch horses. You see he was +in the same regiment with the Perfesser an' he knows all about him, same +as you found out, and Strout don't talk big afore him. The fact is, the +Perfesser hain't many friends. There was Abner Stiles. They two used to +be as thick as molasses, but since Strout wouldn't give him the job in +the grocery that he'd promised him, Abner's gone back on him." + +"Does Uncle Ike board with Mandy now?" Alice knew that he did, but +wished Mrs. Hawkins' view of the strange doings of her uncle. + +"Yes, he's there--goin' on eighty-two and chipper as a squirrel. He's +got religion Mandy says, and so many kinds that she don't know which one +he's got the most of." + +Quincy looked at his watch. "Mrs. Hawkins, we're going up to Ezekiel's +house. We shall stay to supper, but will get back before you lock +up--ten o'clock, isn't it?" + +"No such hours in a hotel. We're allus open till twelve, and sometimes +all night--when it pays. It's a hard life, but you know what's goin' on +an' that's considruble for a woman who's tied up in the house as I am." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +'ZEKE PETTINGILL'S FARM + + +Quincy had intended to drive to his brother-in-law's house, but Alice +preferred to walk as the distance was so short. The Hawkins House was on +Mason Street. A short walk brought them to Mason Square. In plain view +were the Town Hall and the Chessman Free Public Library. + +"I always thought it was foolishness to name these streets after me," +said Quincy, as they stood on the corner of Sawyer Street. "There's +Adams Street back of the Town Hall and Quincy Street on the other side." + +"I don't agree with you," said Alice. "I would rather have a street +named after me than a monument erected to my memory." + +At Putnam Square they turned to the left into Pettingill Street and soon +reached her brother's house. Huldah saw them coming and ran down the +path to meet them. + +"Why, when did you come, and where are your things? You are surely going +to stay with us." + +"Our headquarters are at the Hawkins House," said Quincy. "We have been +in town but a few hours and you have the first visit." + +"I am so disappointed you aren't to be with us," and Huldah's face +showed the feeling she had expressed. + +"You won't be when I give you our reasons," Quincy replied. "Mrs. Putnam +died in this house, and Alice has such a vivid recollection of her last +day on earth--" + +"I understand," said Huldah, "but you must come and see us every day." + +"Where's Ezekiel?" asked Alice. + +"Getting in his last load of hay--about sixty tons this year. We only +had thirty a year ago." + +"Where's my namesake--Quincy Adams Pettingill?" + +"He goes every day to see his grandpa and grandma. Abner will be here +with him soon." + +When they reached the piazza, Quincy took a good view of the farm. +What a contrast to the condition it had been in, when occupied by the +Putnams! Then everything had been neglected--now garden, field, +and orchard showed a high state of cultivation, and the house and +outbuildings were in good repair and freshly painted. Inside, the +careful attention of a competent housekeeper was apparent. Huldah +Pettingill was a finer looking woman than Huldah Mason had been, but +Quincy had never forgotten how pretty she looked the day she lay in bed +with the plaster cast on her broken arm--the result of the accident for +which he had taken the blame belonging to another. + +They had just sat down in the little parlour when cries of "Mamma" were +heard outside and four year old Quincy Adams Pettingill burst into the +room followed closely by Abner Stiles. + +"He don't mind me no more'n a woodchuck would," said Abner--then his +eyes fell on Quincy, who rose to greet him. + +"Why, if it ain't"--but words failed him as Quincy gave his hand a +hearty grasp. + +"This is the first time I ever shook hands with a guv'nor," said Abner. +"I didn't know you was going to shake hands all round the night of the +show an' I went home." He looked at his right hand, rubbed it softly +with his left, and then remarked: "I sha'n't wash that hand for a couple +o' days if I can help it." + +His hearers laughed, for his words were accentuated by the old-time grin +that had pleased Obadiah Strout on some occasions, but on others had +raised his ire to an explosive point. + +"Are father and mother at home?" asked Huldah. + +"Yes, both on 'em. Susie Barker's been helpin' her to-day, and the +Dekin's wife thinks o' keepin' her reg'lar." + +"I'll have them come to supper," said Huldah. "Abner, hitch up the black +mare into the low phaeton and bring them up here. Don't tell them who's +here, but tell them that I say they must come." + +"Well, I declare!" All looked up and saw Ezekiel standing in the +doorway. He wore overalls and thick boots, his sleeves were rolled +up, showing his brawny arms with muscles like whip-cords. His face was +brown, but his beard was neatly trimmed, and his eyes bright. He was +a picture of robust, healthy manhood, and showed what he was,--a +hard-working, independent New England farmer. Alice sprang into his arms +and received a resounding smack. One hand grasped Quincy's while the +other encircled his dainty wife's waist, and he drew her towards him. + +"You have a fine farm," said Quincy. + +"About as good as they make them," 'Zeke replied. "I've a good market +for all I can raise. Strout and Maxwell buy a great deal of garden +truck, and I sell considerable to Mrs. Hawkins direct. What I have left +we eat or give away." + +Alice had taken young Quincy on her lap. He became communicative. "I've +got a grandpa and grandma and Uncle Abner." + +"Abner isn't your uncle," said Alice. "I'm your Aunt Alice, and that is +your Uncle Quincy." + +Ezekiel laughed. "You can't convince him but that Abner's his uncle. +Abner comes after him every afternoon and takes him down to the Deacon's +house and that gives Huldy a good chance to do my mending." + +The sound of carriage wheels indicated new arrivals, and Huldah went to +the door to meet her father and mother. + +"Have you got callers?" asked Mrs. Mason. "I don't think I'll go in. I +didn't dress up, but came just as I was." + +"And I never saw you looking better," said Quincy, stepping into the +entry to meet them. + +"I'm glad to see you again, Mr. Sawyer," and the Deacon's grasp was a +firm one. "I didn't get up to the Town Hall that night, for I didn't +feel first-rate and Sophia didn't want to go alone, but Abner told me +what you did and said, and I reckon added a little on his own account." + +Abner appeared in the doorway. "I've put up the mare, Mr. Pettingill. +Want me for anything more, Dekin?" + +"You can go home and help Susie," said Mrs. Mason. + +When Abner had gone, the Deacon chuckled and said, "Nothing could please +Abner better than to take supper with Susie and pass the evening in her +company. He's more'n forty and she's only twenty, but such hitch-ups +ain't uncommon nowadays." + +"That is what they call a December and May marriage," remarked Alice. + +"Not quite as bad as that," said the Deacon. "I should say about October +and March." + +It was a jolly company that sat down to a well-filled table that +evening. Quincy's first coming to town, and his exciting experiences +during his four months' residence at Mason's Corner, formed the +principal topics of conversation, and Alice appreciated more fully than +ever her husband's persistency, which had shown itself as strongly in +doing good to others as it had in manifesting love for herself. + +When they reached the Hawkins House Mrs. Hawkins was on the watch for +them. + +"There's a young man here to see you, Mr. Sawyer. He came on the train +to Cottonton and my man Andrew brought him over. I told him you wouldn't +be home till late and I sent him off to bed. Was that all right?" + +"I can tell better," said Quincy, "when I find out who he is and what he +wants." + +"He said his name was Gerry or Ferry or something like that. He's kind +of bashful, I 'magine." + +"It's Merry," Quincy exclaimed. "Something has turned up at the State +House, but it will keep till morning." + +As they were ascending the stairs, Mrs. Hawkins called out, "Oh, Mr. +Sawyer, there was a letter came for you. It's up in your room." + +It was from Maude. "Let us see what that volatile sister of mine has to +say. Something very important or she wouldn't write." As he opened the +note sheet, he turned to his wife. "Shall I read it aloud?" + +"I should love to hear it." + +Quincy read: + + * * * * * * * + +"MY ABSENT RELATIVE: You will be delighted to hear that I have found +Captain Hornaby's missing coat and wallet. I was out in the new boat +when I saw something on the bottom of the pond. You know the water is +as clear as glass. It wasn't very deep and I fished the coat up with +an oar. I gave it to father and he examined the wallet with apparently +great interest. Perhaps he thought there was some money in it, but there +wasn't. There were some visiting cards bearing the name Col. Arthur +Spencer, but nary a red. Father is trying to find out who the Colonel +is. I think father loaned the Captain some money--don't you? Now that +we have a real live boat, no more slippery canoes for me. I hope you and +Alice are having a fine time--of course you will on your old stamping +ground. + +"I don't find any fault, because I'm so young and of so little +importance, but it seems funny that nobody ever invited me to visit +Fernborough. Please don't consider this a bid for an invite, for I won't +come. Your neglected sister, + +"MAUDE." + + * * * * * * * + +"Is it possible?" cried Alice, "that Maude has never been here?" + +"It is a lamentable fact." + +"She won't come now." + +"I'll fetch her,--hand-cuffed, if necessary." + +Quincy was up early to learn Merry's errand. A request had come from the +Governor of Colorado for the extradition of a Pole named Ivan Wolaski, +who was accused of being concerned in a dynamite explosion in a Colorado +mine. + +"Have you looked into the case, Harry?" + +"Somewhat. I think it is part of a political feud." + +Quincy made preparation for an immediate departure. + +"Mrs. Hawkins, I must go to Boston at once with Mr. Merry. Will you have +Andrew get a team ready for me? I will leave it at the Eagle Hotel. I +know the way home." + +"You ought to," said she. "You've druv it times enough." + +"What will you do with yourself all day, Alice? I must go to the State +House on business, but I'll be back by six o'clock." + +"If I were home I'd have my horse saddled and have a ride out to the +Arboretum or Chestnut Hill." + +"They've no saddle horses here, unfortunately. I'll tell you what to do. +After dinner go down to Mandy Maxwell's and see her and the children, +and have a talk with Uncle Ike. I'll be there in time for supper, tell +Mandy." + +When Quincy went down stairs he found that Mrs. Hawkins had gone out to +the stable to give Andrew directions about the team. + +Quincy said in a low tone: "Mrs. Hawkins, have you some spare stalls in +your stable that I can use while here?" + +"You can have the old barn all to yourself. It's a leetle further from +the house, but it's in first-rate order." + +As they drove towards Eastborough Centre, Quincy pointed out the objects +of interest to Mr. Merry, who thought Fernborough a beautiful town. + +"Come down next Saturday afternoon, Harry, and stay over Sunday. Bring +down any important letters. Perhaps my sister Maude will come back with +me." + +Mr. Merry accepted the invitation with polite outward thanks, but with +an inward sense of intense gratification. Love is blind. If he had +reflected, he would have come to the conclusion that the daughter of +the Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer, the millionaire, was not for him, an +unfledged lawyer with a mother to support. + +When they reached Eastborough Centre, Quincy found he was too late for +the train. He had nearly an hour at his disposal. His first visit was to +the Eagle Hotel, where he put up the horse. Mr. Parsons, the proprietor, +was greatly pleased to meet him. + +"You haven't forgotten how we railroaded Strout out of office, have +you?" + +"That was long ago," said Quincy. "Strout and I are good friends now. +He's one of my partners in the Fernborough store.' + +"So I've been told." + +Quincy took Mr. Parsons aside and had an animated conversation with him. + +"I can get you just what you want, Guv'nor. Kind and gentle but some go +in them when needed." + +"Send them to the Hawkins House and don't forget the saddles." + +They crossed the square to the telegraph office, where Quincy sent this +message. + +"Miss MAUDE SAWYER, + +"Wideview, Redford, Mass. + +"Meet me at State House by two o'clock. Leave your trunk at station. +Something important. + +"QUINCY." + + +As they were leaving the office Quincy met Tobias Smith, father of +Abbott and Ellis Smith, and Wallace Stackpole. + +"Glad to see you, Guv'nor," said 'Bias. "You remember Mr. Stackpole that +we gave Strout's job of tax-collector to--he's held it ever since. We're +mighty glad Strout lives in Fernborough. We don't have circuses at town +meetings now he's gone." + +Quincy's next visit was to the office of the _Fernborough Gazette_, +which was published in Eastborough, as the editor and proprietor, Mr. +Sylvester Chisholm, Mr. Strout's brother-in-law, could not get printers +in Fernborough, and, being an Eastborough-born boy, his paper had a +large circulation in that town and in Westvale, its principal village. + +Quincy obtained some copies of the paper containing his speech at the +Town Hall. On looking it over he was astonished to find it reported +_verbatim_. + +"How did you manage it, Mr. Chisholm? My address was extemporaneous." + +Sylvester smiled. "Well, the fact is, Mr. Sawyer, while I was working on +the _Eastborough Express_, when you were here five years ago, I studied +short-hand, and it came in handy that night." + +The train was express to Boston and Quincy was in his chair in the +Executive Chamber by half-past eleven. After a careful examination +of the case of Ivan Wolaski, he decided to refuse the request for +extradition, and the Governor of Colorado was so notified in a +communication which from moral, legal, political, and humanitarian +points of view was unanswerable. It was nearly two o'clock when the last +official letter was signed. + +The door was opened by the messenger. Quincy expected Maude to enter, +but it was Mr. Acton, the energetic opponent of the "peaceful picketing" +law. + +"I heard, Mr. Governor, that you were here, and I thought it only fair +to inform you that we shall apply for injunctions just the same as if +that bill you signed had not become a law, and, in that way, test its +constitutionality." + +"You have a legal right to do that," said the governor, "but I question +your moral right." + +"How so?" asked Mr. Acton. + +"Supposing I had applied for an injunction to prevent you and a score of +others from trying to influence me to veto the bill?" + +"That would have been foolish. No judge would have granted it." + +"And why not?" said the governor sternly. "Were not all of you engaged +in 'peaceful picketing'? Why should not the working man have the same +right to persuade his fellows that you exerted to influence me?" + +Mr. Acton had not exhausted his argument: "But the probable destruction +of property and possible loss of life?" + +"Matters fully covered by law," the Governor replied. "They are under +the jurisdiction of the police, the sheriff, and, if need be, the +militia." + +Mr. Acton, despite the argument advanced, "was of the same opinion +still." + +Quincy rang for the messenger, who appeared. + +"I am going now. Does any one wish to see me?" + +"There's a young lady outside. She's been waiting some time." + +Quincy looked at his watch. It was quarter past two. + +"Admit her, at once." + +Maude began the conversation. "I received your astonishing telegram, +Quincy, and was here _on time_," and she emphasized the final words. + +"What does it mean? Is Alice sick?" + +Quincy took the cue. "Not exactly sick, but she wants to see you very +much, and I felt so sure you would come to please her, that I ignored +your refusal to accept an invitation from me. Come, we'll have lunch at +Young's, and then a carriage to the station,--is your trunk there?" + +Maude nodded. She felt that Quincy had played a trick on her and she was +in a rebellious mood. + +She ate her lunch in silence. Not a word was spoken during the drive to +the station. When the train was under way Quincy remarked, casually, "I +invited Mr. Merry to come down next Saturday and stay over Sunday." + +From that moment until they reached Eastborough Centre, Quincy could not +have desired a more talkative or vivacious companion. As they stepped +upon the platform, Mr. Parsons came up. + +"They're there, safe and sound. I went up with them myself, so's to be +sure." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +"JUST LIKE OLD TIMES" + + +Alice had a delightful day at Mandy Maxwell's. The twins, Abraham Mason +and Obadiah Strout, sturdy little fellows of the same age as Ezekiel's +boy, were full of fun and frolic. Swiss, Uncle Ike's dog, had grown old +in the past five years, but the antics of the youngsters overcame at +times both age and its accompanying dignity, or love of repose, and he +was often as frisky as in his younger days. + +Mrs. Crowley told Alice, in confidence, that she "was most dead" with +the noise of them, and that, some day, she would be "kilt intirely" by +falling over them. + +Alice held the little girl for hours, and, remembering Mrs. Hawkins' +complaint, called her "Martha" instead of "Mattie." + +After the death of Capt. Obed Putnam, his companion, Uncle Ike came down +from his attic and had the room that Quincy occupied when he boarded +with Ezekiel Pettingill. He was now eighty-one years of age, and too +feeble to go up and down stairs, so his meals were taken to his room. + +He was greatly pleased to see Alice and to learn that there had been no +return of the trouble with her eyes. + +"If we had known as much then as we do now, you wouldn't have needed any +doctor, Alice." + +"Why, how's that?" she asked. + +"Because the mind governs the body; as we think we are--we are." + +"Well, Uncle Ike, why don't you think you are able to go down stairs and +walk back again?" + +"I was referring to disease, not the infirmities of old age." + +"What's the difference, Uncle?" + +"I can't explain it, but there's a mighty sight of difference. I've been +trying to get Mandy to let me live on sour milk, because a great doctor +in Europe says we'll live longer if we do." + +"How long would you care to live?" + +"As long as I could. I've been reading up on all the religions and all +the substitutes, and it's going to take me some time to decide which is +best--for me, I mean. I don't presume to dictate to others." + +"Which do you favour so far?" + +"I was brought up on theology--great, big doses of it. I was taught +that God was everything and man was nothing. Now I'm willing to give the +Almighty credit for all his wonderful works, but I can't help thinking +that _man_ deserves some credit for his thousands of years of labour. +There's a man out in Chicago who has got up a religion that he calls +Manology. There's some good points in it, but he goes too far to suit +me. I've read about ghosts and spirits, but I've got to see one before I +take stock in them." + +"I understand how you feel, Uncle. You have lost the two anchors which +make this life bearable. They are Faith and Hope. For them you have +substituted Reason--not the reason of others, or of the ages, but your +own personal opinion. Until you are satisfied, every one else is wrong." + +"Perhaps you're right, Alice. I can see now that my life has been +misspent. I should have remained at home and made my wife and children +happy. Instead, I became, virtually, a hermit, and for more than twenty +years I have thought only of myself and done nothing for humanity, that +has done everything for me." + +Alice was deeply touched by her Uncle's self-accusation. He had been +good to her, and not unkind to others. But he was drifting in a sea of +doubt, and really wishing to live his life over again. She felt sorry, +but what could she say to give his mind peace? She would begin on the +material plane. + +"Uncle, how much money have you?" + +"That's what troubles me, Alice. When I left home"--his voice lingered +on the word--"I gave my wife and children two-thirds of what I had. The +rest I put into an annuity, which dies with me. That will do nothing for +those I love and who love me." + +To Alice, the case seemed almost hopeless. Here was a man who, owning +his past life had been self-reliant, independent, impatient as regarded +advice and control--was now weaker than a child, for, in youth, Faith is +triumphant. + +"You must have a talk with Quincy, Uncle. Perhaps he can help you." She +went down stairs with a sinking heart. She loved her uncle, but love, +powerful as it is, cannot always cast out unbelief. + +"Where can your husband be, Alice?" asked Mandy. "Half-past six, and +supper's ready. I remember how I used to call out 'supper's ready' +when you and he were in the parlour singing. I hope you'll sing some +to-night." + +Mrs. Crowley rushed into the dining room. "He's coming, but he's got a +woman with him." + +"Who can she be?" thought Alice as they followed Mrs. Crowley to the +front door. + +"Hello, Alice," cried Maude. "I've brought him back with me." + +Quincy told Ambrose, Mandy's boy-of-all-work, to drive the team to the +Hawkins' House and tell Mrs. Hawkins that he wished a room that night +for his sister. Ambrose's hand clutched the half-dollar tightly as +he repeated the message to Quincy's satisfaction. Mrs. Crowley gazed +admiringly at the Governor until he disappeared from view. Alone, in the +kitchen, she gave vent to her feelings. + +"The foine gintleman that he is. 'How do you do, Mrs. Crowley.' sez he, +and he shakes me hand as jintly as if I was a born lady. And the pretty +sister that he has, an' the beautiful wife. An' he's the President of +the State, an' sez he, 'Mrs. Crowley, how do you do, an' it's delighted +I am to see you again.'" + +Mrs. Crowley wiped her eyes with her apron and resumed her household +duties, occasionally repeating, "'How do you do, Mrs. Crowley.' When Dan +comes to-night I'll tell him what the Governor said." + +Hiram soon joined the party, it being his night off. As of old, he +stammered, or stuttered, when excited, and the sight of Quincy and Alice +was enough to entirely disorganize his speaking apparatus. + +"Ain't this jolly?" said he. "Just like old times. I heerd you was at +Miss Hawkinses, but I didn't think as how you'd git round here so quick. +But we're mighty glad to see 'em, ain't we, Mandy? I hope you're all as +hungry as I am." He went to the kitchen door and called, "Mrs. Crowley, +we're waiting for the supper." + +"How I wish Uncle Ike could be with us," said Alice. + +"Why can't you call him?" asked Quincy. + +"He's too weak in his legs to come down," said Mandy. + +"I'll fetch him," and Quincy bounded up stairs, while Mandy got a place +ready for him. + +Quincy soon returned with Uncle Ike in his arms and placed him in a big +arm-chair at the head of the table. + +Alice looked up and smiled at her husband. + +"Now it is much more like old times," she said, softly. + +Maude, who had been an interested listener and spectator, finally +exclaimed, "I'm not surprised that you stayed down here four months, +Quincy, but we used to wonder, until we saw Alice, what the great +attraction was." + +Maude's explosive remark caused a general laugh in which Uncle Ike +joined. Alice, feeling that all eyes were fixed upon her, blushed +prettily, "As my husband's residence here brought good to others as well +as to myself, I am glad that a poor, blind girl, such as I was, proved +an attraction strong enough to keep him here." + +She stopped, somewhat abashed at making so long a speech, which Maude +might think indicated that she was offended at her sister-in-law's +reference to herself. + +"Bravo, Alice," cried Uncle Ike, "so say we all of us." + +After supper all adjourned to the parlour. Quincy offered to carry Uncle +Ike. + +"No, young man. I'm all right on an even floor. It's these up and +down stairs that tire my loose joints"--and he made his way, without +assistance, to an easy chair in a farther corner. Quincy looked about +the room. Five years had made little change. The old square piano was +in its accustomed place, as well as the music stand. He looked over the +pieces--the same ones that he and Alice had sung together years ago. + +"Let's have some music," said Hiram. "We haven't heard any singers, +except Dan, since you folks went away. Guess that pianner's out of tune +by this time." + +It certainly was, but their hearts were in tune, and it mattered little +if some of the keys refused to move, or the sounds emitted were more +discordant than melodious. + +"Is this Dan a good singer?" asked Quincy. + +"Fine!" exclaimed Hiram. "He's great on Irish songs." + +"They are always humourous or pathetic," remarked Alice. "Some of them +remind me of a person trying to laugh with a heart full of sorrow, and +their love songs are so sweet." + +"Can't we have him in?" asked Maude. + +"I'll go and see if he's come," said Mandy. "He often drops in and helps +Mrs. Crowley clear up after supper." + +Maude laughed. "A sure sign he's in love. I hope I'll get such a helpful +husband." + +"Your life will be on different lines," remarked Uncle Ike. "You will +not be obliged to do your own housework." + +"I don't know about that. I've loafed all my life and I'd really like to +know what work is." + +Mandy came back with smiling face. "Yes, he's there, and they're putting +the dishes in the closet. He's coming in, and, of course, Mrs. Crowley +will come too." + +"While we are waiting, play something, Maude," said Quincy. + +"I only took three quarters," she said roguishly, as she seated herself +and dashed off "Waves of Ocean" in strident style. + +"I always liked that," said Hiram. + +"So do I, with my bathing-dress on," and Maude acknowledged the applause +that greeted her efforts with a low bow. + +The door was opened, and Mrs. Crowley entered followed by Mr. Daniel +Sweeney. Mrs. Crowley with her neat calico dress and white apron, did +not look her forty-five years, and Mr. Sweeney, although five years her +senior, was a young appearing man. + +"I haven't the music with me," said Mr. Sweeney to Maude, who offered to +play the accompaniment. + + "Give me the key--I guess I can vamp it." + +Mr. Sweeney struck a note. + +"What's the title?" asked Maude. + +"Widow Mahan's Pig." + +"Oh, I know that," said Maude. "It's one of my favourites. I often sing +it to my sister Florence. She just adores it." + +"Why, Maude," cried Alice, "how can you tell such stories?" But Quincy +was laughing quietly. But few people understood Maude as he did. + +Mr. Sweeney had a fine baritone voice; he sang with great expression, +and, what is particularly desirable in a comic song, the words could be +heard and understood. + +I. + + Young Widow Mahan had an iligant pig, + In the garden it loved for to wallow and dig; + On potatoes it lived, and on fresh buttermilk, + And its back was as smooth as fine satin or silk. + Now Peter McCarthy, a graceless young scamp, + Who niver would work, such a lazy young tramp, + He laid eye on the pig, as he passed by one day, + And the thafe of the world, he stole it away! + + _Chorus_ + + An iligant pig in every way, + Young Widow Mahan used often to say: + "Faith, when it's full grown, I'll go to the fair, + A mighty foine price I'll get for it there." + +As Mr. Sweeney started to repeat the four lines of the chorus, a soprano +voice rose above his own, and, as the last note died away, Maude came +in for her share of the applause. Mrs. Crowley was delighted, and showed +her appreciation by laughing until she cried. + + II + + He drove the poor piggy to Ballyporeen, + And the price of it soon he did spend in poteen, + He got into a fight and was cracked on the head, + Then to jail he was carried and taken for dead. + The constable then for the Father did send, + For he thought that McCarthy was quite near his end; + He confessed to the priest, did this penitent youth, + About the pig stealing he told the whole truth. + +Maude improvised a short symphony before the third and last stanza. + + III + + Then to young McCarthy, the Father did say: + "Now what will you do at the great Judgment Day? + For you will be there, at the bar you will stan' + The pig as a witness, and Widow Mahan." + "Faith, what will I do?" young McCarthy did say. + "An' the pig will be there at the great Judgment Day? + Begorre! I'll say to the Widow, 'Asthore, + Take back your old pig, for I want it no more' + + "'An iligant pig in ivery way, + Schwate Widow Mahan, plaze take it away. + Faith, now it's full grown, just go to the fair, + A mighty foine price you'll git for it there.'" + +"Yes," said Uncle Ike, "that's what the rich man will say. After +cheating the poor, buncoing the credulous, and 'cornering' his fellows, +he will say he is willing to give it back, for he has no further use +for it. There's a good moral in that song, Mr. Sweeney, and some of our +sordid millionaires ought to hear it." + +Quincy looked at his watch. "The hour is late--for the country, but, +fortunately, our hotel keeps open all night." + +Quincy carried Uncle Ike up stairs to his room and told him he would +come some day and have a good old-fashioned talk with him. + +They walked home slowly, Maude admiring the moonlight night and the +cool, scented air. When they reached their own room, after seeing Maude +to hers, Alice repeated to her husband her conversation with Uncle Ike. + +"You must do something to cheer him up, Quincy. Promise me, won't you?" + +"Yes, I promise. I hope I won't forget to perform it as I have in one +instance." + +"Why--what?" + +"Do you remember that young man at the Town Hall--Arthur Scates? He's in +consumption. I told him to come to the State House and I would see that +he had proper treatment. He hasn't been--or perhaps he has since I've +been away, but I will see him to-morrow." + +Alice looked up at him approvingly. "Quincy, I agree with you that the +real value of money is found in the good that can be done with it." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +STROUT AND MAXWELL'S GROCERY + + +The next morning, after breakfast, Quincy asked his wife and Maude to +accompany him to Mrs. Hawkins' barn. + +"I wish I had my saddle horse here," said Alice. + +"So do I," added Maude. "I did think of bringing him." + +Alice laughed, "Do you know, Maude, sometimes you say the most +ridiculous things? How could you bring a horse with you?" + +"Easy enough--on a cattle car. Besides, I could have ridden down here if +Quincy hadn't been in such a hurry." + +"Alone?" + +"No, with Bobby. What better protector can a woman have than a good +horse? I shall never remain in danger long if my heels or my horse's +will get me away from it." + +"Maude, you're a strange girl," said Alice. Then she put her arm about +her and added--"but one of the best girls in the world." + +By this time they had reached the barn. Two stalls were occupied. Quincy +pointed to two side-saddles hanging on the wall. + +"As I knew you were both good horse-women, I had these sent up with your +riding habits from Eastborough Centre yesterday. I am going to be busy +at the store this morning, and I thought you might enjoy a ride." + +Maude threw her arms about his neck and kissed him. + +"You are the bestest brother in the world." + +"And the most thoughtful husband," said Alice as he drew her close to +him. + +"Well, I'll saddle them and see you mounted." + +A quarter of an hour later Quincy led the horses to the street. + +"Don't go down Obed's Hill--it is very steep. Ride along Pettingill +Street to the Centre Road, which will bring you to Mason Street, and +when you've walked your horses up hill you'll be near the grocery store, +where you'll find me." + +They waved a good-bye as they rode off, and Quincy made his way to the +grocery store. Mr. Strout came from behind the counter to meet him. +Hiram was busy putting order baskets in the gaudily painted wagon. + +"I heard as how you were in town, and Hiram said you were at his house +last night, but I ain't one of the kind that gits mad if I'm waited on +last at table. In music you know we usually begin down low and finish +off up high, and visitin' is considerable like music, especially when +there's three children and one of 'em a baby." + +His closing words were intended to refer to Hiram's family, but Quincy +made no reply. + +Mr. Strout was never at a loss for words: "How do you like being +Governor?" + +"So well that one term is enough. I'm going to Europe later." + +"I mean to go some day. I've heard so many foreigners blow about what +they've got over there, I'm kinder anxious to see for myself. If they've +got a better grocery store than this, I'll introduce improvements as +soon as I get back." + +Hiram having finished his work and dispatched the team, the three +partners went into the private office, which was monopolized by Mr. +Strout. It contained one desk and two chairs. Hiram brought in an empty +nail keg and closed the door. + +"We've done twenty per cent. more business this month than same time +last year." Mr. Strout opened a desk drawer. "Will you smoke, Guv'nor?" + +Quincy accepted the cigar, and Strout, without offering one to Hiram, +was returning the box to the drawer when Hiram, by a quick movement, +gained possession of it, and taking out half-a-dozen put them in his +pocket. + +"That'll even matters up a little, I guess," he said. Mr. Strout +scowled, but catching Quincy's eye, said nothing. + +"Would you like to look over the books? I'll have them brought in." + +"Don't trouble yourself to do that," said Quincy. "I'll examine them at +the bookkeeper's desk." + +"Oh, very well," said Strout. "You'll find them O. K. But now's you're +here there's one thing I want to say. Hiram don't agree with me, but he +ain't progressive. There's no _crescendo_ to him. He wants to play in +one key all the time. He's--" + +Quincy interrupted, "What did you wish to say about the business? We'll +drop personalities for the present, at least." + +"Well, our business is growing, but we can do ten times as much with +more capital. What I want to do is to start branch stores in Cottonton, +Montrose, and Eastborough Centre. We send our teams to all these places, +but if we had stores there we'd soon cut the other fellers out, for +buying in such large quantities, we could undersell them every time." + +"I'm rather in favour of the branches, but don't go to cutting prices. +The other fellow has the same right to a living that we have." + +"Why not let him have what he's got then and not interfere with him?" +said Mr. Strout, chewing his cigar vigorously. + +"For the reason," said Quincy, "that we don't keep store to please our +competitors, but to serve the public. I believe in low prices in sugar, +tea, and coffee, to draw trade. But general cuts in prices are ruinous +in the end, for our competitors will cut too, and we shall all lose +money." + +"I ain't agin the new stores," said Hiram, "but I'm teetotally agin +chopping prices down on everything and tryin' to beat the other feller." + +"How much money will it require?" asked Quincy. "Have you estimated on +rent, fixtures, stock, horses and wagons, stabling, wages and salaries, +and sundry expenses?" + +"Yes, I've got it all down in black and white, it's in the safe. My +estimate, and it is as close as the bark to a tree, is six thousand +dollars spot cash." + +"I'll look over your figures," said Quincy, "and if they seem all right, +I'll advance the money on the usual terms, eight per cent., but I must +have a four thousand dollar mortgage to cover your two-thirds, for I +don't suppose you can put up two thousand apiece." + +"Not this year," said Strout, as he proceeded to relight his cigar. + +The door was thrown open violently and Alice rushed in. + +"Oh, Quincy, Maude's horse has run away with her and I'm afraid she's +thrown and perhaps killed. I tried to catch up with her but I could not, +and I saw nothing else to do but to come and let you know." + +"Which way has she gone?" cried Quincy. "How did it happen?" + +"We stopped at 'Zekiel's and had a talk with Huldah, who came down to +the gate. Then we went on until we came to the Centre Road. When Maude +saw the long straight stretch ahead she cried, 'Let's have a race!' +Before I could remonstrate, she gave her horse a sharp cut with the +whip. He took the bit in his teeth and bolted. I rode on as fast as I +dared to, but when I reached Mason Street she was not in sight." + +"If she had come this way we should have seen or heard her," said +Quincy. "She must have gone towards Eastborough Centre. Come, Alice, I +will get the carryall. If she is hurt she will not be able to ride her +horse." + +Leading her horse, Quincy and Alice went to the Hawkins House. + +"He takes it pretty cool," said Strout to Hiram. "If she was my sister +I'd ring the church hell, make up a party, and go in search of her dead +body, for that's what they'll come back with." + +"I don't take no stock in that," remarked Hiram. "She's used to horses, +and she's a mighty bright, independent girl. She'll come home all +right." + +"No doubt she's independent enough," retorted Strout. "That runs in +the family. But the horse, it seems, was independent too. Perhaps the +Guv'nor will have a boxing match with him for his independence to a +Sawyer." + +As Hiram went back into the store he said to himself: "That Strout's +only a half-converted sinner anyway. He'll never forget the thrashing +that Mr. Sawyer gave his man, Bob Wood." + +Quincy had Alice go to her room, for she was agitated and extremely +nervous, and he asked Mrs. Hawkins to look out for her until his return. + +With Andrew's help, the carryall was soon ready and Quincy drove to the +store. What was his surprise to find Maude there, still on her horse, +and apparently uninjured. With her, also on horseback was an attractive +girl, a stranger to Quincy. + +"I'm all right, Quincy," Maude cried as he alighted, "but there would +have been a funeral but for this young lady." + +Quincy, with hat in hand, bowed to the stranger. "I am deeply grateful +for your valuable service, madam. To whom are we indebted for my +sister's rescue from death?" + +The young lady smiled, showing a set of even, white teeth. "Not so great +a service after all. Your sister is a good horsewoman. If she hadn't +been, she would have been thrown long before I reached her." + +"But your name, Madam," persisted Quincy. "Her father will wish to know, +and to thank you." + +"My name when in Fernborough is Mrs. Emmanuel Howe. When I'm on the +stage, it is Dixie Schaffer. I was born in the South. My father was Col. +Hugh Schaffer of Pasquotank County, North Carolina." + +"My father and all of us will feel under great obligations to you." + +"I hope he will not. I have no objections to receiving his thanks in +writing, if he is disposed to send them, which I think unnecessary as +you are his representative. But kindly caution him not to suggest or +send any reward, for it will be returned." She bowed to Quincy, turned +her horse's head and rode away. + +As Strout entered the store he said to himself, "Bully for her. She +don't bow down to money. She's got brains." + +A few days later, however, Miss Dixie Schaffer was the recipient from +the Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer of a beautiful gold pendant in the shape +of a horseshoe, set with pearls. If one could have glanced at a stub +in the lawyer's check book, he would have found the name of a prominent +jeweller, and the figures $300. It is needless to add that the gift was +not returned to the donor. When Alice saw that Maude had escaped without +injury, she soon recovered her equanimity. + +"How did it happen, Maude?" asked Quincy. "Alice says you gave the horse +a sharp blow." + +"I must have hit her harder than I intended--but I was thinking of the +race more than of her. Didn't she run, hurrah-ti-cut, as Mrs. Hawkins +says? I was bound I'd keep on her back unless she fell down or ran into +something, and I did. I wasn't foolish enough to jump and land on my +head. + +"When we got to the main road, I didn't know which way to turn--I mean +I couldn't think. She settled the matter by turning to the right, which +was very fortunate, but I didn't know I was on the road to Dixie." + +"Maude, you're incorrigible," laughed Alice. + +"No, I'm a sensation. I was full of them as I dashed on. But she was a +well-bred horse and kept in the middle of the road. Then, to my joy, I +saw Dixie ahead. As I went by her I yelled--yes, yelled--'she's running +away.' + +"Dixie yelled--yes, yelled--'Hold on, I'll catch you.' She did, but we +ran more than a mile before she got even with me, grasped my horse's +bridle, and pulled her round so quickly that I came near landing in the +bushes. And here I am." + +"You must not ride her again," said Alice. + +"That's just what I am going to do. I'm not going to deprive that horse +of my company, when it was all my fault. No more whip, she needs only +the voice--and little of that." + +"Alice," said Quincy, "Mr. Strout has invited us to dinner. He will be +offended unless his invitation is accepted." + +"I don't feel equal to meeting that man in his own house. I cannot bear +him even at long range. Take Maude." + +"I'll go, Quincy. I love these odd characters." + +"He's married and has a little boy," said Alice. + +"Then my love for the father will be invisible--I'll shower my affection +upon his offspring." + +Quincy, after introducing his sister to Mr. Strout and his wife, +expressed his regret that his wife was so unnerved by the runaway that +she was unable to accompany him. Mr. Strout, in turn, expressed his +regrets, as did Mrs. Strout, then he added: "Miss Sawyer, we'll have to +pay you a commission. The store has been full of folks asking about you, +and after I told them all about the runaway and how you were rescued, +they had to talk it over, and I sold more than forty cigars and ten +plugs of tobacco." + +"How did you know how I was rescued?" asked Maude. + +"Well, I heard part and imagined the rest. I had to tell 'em something +or lose the trade." + +Mrs. Strout was a very good cook and the dinner was a success. + +Strout leaned far back in his chair and Maude assumed a similar +position. Quincy looked at her reprovingly, but she did not change her +attitude. To her brother's astonishment, she addressed Mr. Strout. + +"I suppose you have travelled a great deal, Mr. Strout." + +"Well, yes, I have. Since I got back from the war I've taught music, and +as my pupils were too lazy to come to me, I went to them. But speaking +of travelling, I was in a runaway once. It had been snowing for about +four days without a break and the roads were blocked up. I had to go to +Eastborough Centre and I hired a horse I'd never driven before." + +"Didn't you have to put snow-shoes on him?" asked Maude. + +"Oh, no, because I waited until the roads were broken out." + +"That's one on me," acknowledged Maude. + +"Well, I nearly tipped over a dozen times, but I got to the Centre where +the roads had been cleared. But my sleigh went into a gully and came +down on the horse's heels. My, wasn't she off in a jiffy! I held her in +the road, the men, and women, and children, and dogs and hens getting +out of the way as fast as they could. She was a going lickety-split, and +although I wasn't frightened, I decided she'd got to stop. + +"I saw a house with an ell, and in the corner the snow was packed up ten +feet high. I had an idea. I put all my strength on to one rein, turned +her head, and she went into that snow bank out of sight, all but her +tail. I got out of the sleigh, sat down on the snow, and laughed till I +thought I'd die." + +"And the horse?" queried Maude. + +"It took half an hour to dig her out. They say horses are intelligent, +but I don't think they know any more than hens." + +"I thought hens were bright," said Maude. "They say they hide their eggs +so we can't poach and boil them." + +"Well, you can judge. When we moved into this house all the doors had +glass knobs. I took them off, put them in a box and set them out in the +barn. I saw a hen setting, but didn't notice her particularly until one +day she got off the nest while I was in the barn, and true as I live, +that fool hen had been trying to hatch out those knobs." + +"They said you have a little boy, Mr. Strout," Maude looked at him +inquiringly. "I hope he isn't sick." + +"No, he's all right. But we never let him come to the table when we have +company, because he talks too much." + +"What's his name?" + +"That's the funny part of it. My wife has lots of relations, and some +wanted him named this, and some wanted him named that. So I went to the +library and looked at all the names in the dictionary." + +Maude's curiosity was excited. "What did you finally decide upon?" + +"Well, we haven't named him yet. We call him No. 3, I being No. 1, and +my wife No. 2." + +After their guests had departed, Mrs. Strout asked, "Why didn't you tell +Miss Sawyer that our boy's name was same as yours?" + +"Why didn't I?" snapped her husband. "Because she was so blamed anxious +for me to tell her. Them Sawyers are 'ristocrats. They look down on us +common people." + +Mrs. Strout remonstrated. "I thought he was real nice, and she's +a lovely girl. Besides, he set you up in business and made you +postmaster." + +"And what did he do it for? Just to show the power of money. What did he +want of a grocery store except to beat me out of it?" + +"But you owned up in your speech at the Town Hall that you'd treated him +mean, and that you were his friend." + +"That was official. Do you suppose he means all he says? No! No more +than I do. When I get enough money, there won't be but one partner in +that grocery store, and his name will be O. Strout." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +UNCLE IKE AND OTHERS + + +At the breakfast table next morning, Maude sat with her head bent over +her plate. All were awaiting Olive's advent with the fruit. + +"At your devotions, Maude?" asked Alice. + +"Yes, I am thanking the Lord that my life was saved by a woman. _She_ +can't ask me to marry her." + +A trio of "good mornings" greeted the Rev. Mr. Gay as he entered and +took his accustomed place at the head of the table. He bowed his head +and asked a blessing. + +"Why do you ask a blessing, Mr. Gay?" + +Mr. Gay looked up, but there was no levity in Maude's eyes. + +"It is our duty to thank the Almighty for his goodness in providing for +our physical ends." + +"But," said Maude, "with the exception of the fruit all our food is +prepared by man. We couldn't eat it just as it grows." + +"God has given us the necessary intelligence to properly utilize his +blessings." + +"But some people starve to death," said Maude, forsaking the main +argument. + +"Unfortunately, yes, owing to man's lack of brotherly feeling, or +rather, a hap-hazard method of distributing his blessings. It is not +God's will that any of his creatures should lack food or raiment." + +"Do you really believe, Mr. Gay, that God takes a personal interest in +us? That he sent Mrs. Howe yesterday to save my life?" + +"I certainly do, Miss Sawyer." + +"I can't understand it," said Maude. "I looked upon it simply as a lucky +coincidence. But supposing the horse had turned to the left, and stopped +of his own accord when he reached that steep hill. What would that +prove?" + +Quincy and Alice who had listened to the discussion, looked at the +clergyman, who hesitated before answering. At last, a smile lighted up +his face and he replied: "It would prove that, in that particular case, +you did not need the intervention of Heavenly power." + +"I'm not convinced yet," said Maude. "I am coming to hear you preach +to-morrow. Do make it plain to me, please." + +"With God's help, I will try to," the clergyman answered. + +Quincy passed the morning at the grocery, making arrangements for the +establishment of the branch stores, Mr. Strout's plans being approved +with some material modifications. Strout told his wife that Mr. Sawyer +had fixed it so he couldn't get control of the business, but that he +would put a flea in his ear some fine day. + +"I can't see through it," said Bessie Strout. "Why have your feelings +towards Mr. Sawyer changed so? I think he is a perfect gentleman." + +"So he is. So am I. But we grew on different bushes." Feeling that he +did not wish to confess that jealousy of others' attainments was the +real foundation of his hostility, Mr. Strout took his departure. Two +hours later Mrs. Strout was delighted at receiving a call from Miss +Maude Sawyer and the Governor's wife. + +Quincy wished to have a talk with 'Zekiel about Uncle Ike, so he walked +over to the old Putnam house. He had asked his wife to accompany him, +but she declined. + +"That house gives me the shivers," she had said. "I never can forget the +ordeal I went through the day that Aunt Heppy died. I gave the house to +'Zekiel because I never could have lived in it. Maude and I are going to +call on Mrs. Strout." + +Quincy found 'Zekiel in the barn, and broached the matter on his mind at +once. + +"I'm glad you spoke of it," said 'Zekiel. "I was over to Mandy's +yesterday and Uncle Ike wants to come and live with us. Not that he's +dissatisfied where he is, for he likes Mandy and the children, and they +do everything to make him comfortable--but it's the stairs. He wants to +eat with the others; he says he feels like a prisoner cooped up in one +room. We have a spare room on the ground floor that old Silas Putnam +used to sleep in. I'm only afraid of one thing--'twill be too much care +for Huldah. If I could get some one to help her with the work, she'd be +glad and willing to look after Uncle Ike." "We must find some way out of +it," said Quincy, as they parted. + +His next visit was to the home of Arthur Scates. He found the young man +in bed and in a very weak condition. + +"He's had two o' them bleedin' spells," said his grandmother, "an' las' +night I thought sure he was a goner. But I giv him some speerits of +ammony and he perked up a little. Yer see, Mr. Sawyer, we're poor, an' +it's no use tryin' to cover it up, an' I can't give Arthur the kind +of vittles he ought to have. He wants nourishin' things an'"--The old +lady's feelings overcame her and she began to cry. "I'm ashamed of +myself, but I can't help it. He's my only son's boy, and he's an orphan, +an' wuss. I'm sixty years old, but I can do a day's work with any of the +young ones, but I can't leave him alone. I should have a conniption fit +if I did." + +Quincy thought it advisable to allow the old lady to have her say out +before replying. + +"Mrs. Scates, I think there are brighter days coming for you." + +"The Lord knows I have prayed hard enough for 'em." Quincy spoke to +Arthur. "I expected to see you in Boston, but I suppose you were in too +poor health to come." + +"Tell him the whole truth, Arthur," said his grandmother--"his health +was too poor an' we hadn't any money." + +"Arthur," said Quincy, "I am going to find a home for you in a +sanatorium where you will have the treatment you need and the proper +food to build you up. One of these days, if you can repay me, well and +good. If not, I can afford to give it. Your voice may make your fortune +some day. And, now, Mrs. Scates, I've got some work for you. Mrs. +'Zekiel Pettingill--" + +"She that was Huldy Mason," broke in Mrs. Scates, "she was just the +nicest girl in town." + +"Yes," assented Quincy, "she's going to have an addition to her +family--" + +"You don't say," again interrupted Mrs. Scates. "Well, I've nussed a +good many--" + +"You misunderstand me," said Quincy quickly. "Her Uncle Ike is coming to +live with her, and she needs assistance in her work. You must go and see +her at once." + +While she was gone, Quincy explained to Arthur the nature of his coming +treatment; how he would have to virtually live out of doors daytimes and +sleep with windows and doors open at night. "I will see that you have +good warm clothes. I will pay for your board and treatment for a year, +and give you money for such things as you may need." + +"I'll try hard to get well so I can repay you," said Arthur. + +"She says she'll take me," cried Mrs. Scates, as she entered the +room--"just as soon as I can come, and here's a big basket of apples and +peaches, she sent you, and--" the poor woman was quite out of breath. +"I met that minister, Mr. Gay, and he said he was coming up to see you, +Arthur." + +"Did you ever go to Mr. Gay's church?" Quincy asked Mrs. Scates. + +"Jus' onct, and that was enough. He'll have to leave here sooner or +later." + +"What for?" + +"Why, he don't believe in no divil--an' ye can't make folks good unless +they knows there's a divil." + +Quincy recalled the story of the Scotch woman, a stern Presbyterian, who +thought if ten thousand were saved at the final judgment that it would +be "muckle many," and who, when asked if she expected to be one of the +elect, replied "Sartainly." He felt that a theological discussion with +Grandma Scates would end in his discomfiture and he wisely refrained. + +Quincy reached Mandy Maxwell's just in time for dinner, and, at his +request, it was served in Uncle Ike's room. + +"This is more cheerful," said he to Quincy. "I once thought that being +alone was the height of enjoyment--and I did enjoy myself very selfishly +for a good many years. Has Alice told you of our conversation?" + +Quincy nodded. + +"I've been thinking about it since and I decided my first move would be +to live, if I could, with my own flesh and blood. But while they've got +a down-stairs room, it will be too much work for Huldah." + +"That's provided for," said Quincy. "Mrs. Scates is going to help +Huldah." + +"What's to become of her grandson--he's consumptive they tell me." + +"He's going to a sanatorium to get cured." + +"And you are going to pay the bills?" + +Quincy nodded again. + +"I get a lesson very often. You are using your money to help others, +while I've hoarded mine." + +Quincy looked at the speaker inquiringly. Alice had given him to +understand that her uncle had used his income for himself. + +"I know what you're thinking, Mr. Sawyer. I did tell Alice I had +an annuity, but I haven't spent one-tenth of what's coming to me. I +arranged to have it put in a savings bank, and I've drawn just as little +as I could and get along. I bought a fifty thousand dollar annuity +at sixty. I got nine per cent, on my money, besides the savings bank +interest. As near as I can figure it out I'm worth about two hundred +thousand dollars. I've beat the insurance company bad, and I ain't dead +yet. I have all this money, but what good has it done anybody?" + +"It can do good in the future, Uncle." + +"I want to leave something to Mandy's boys--not too much--for I'm afraid +they'd squander it, and become do-nothings. What shall I do with it?" + +"Do you wish me to suggest a public use for your fortune?" + +"That's what I've been telling you about it for. You've a good knack of +disposing of your own and other folks' money, and I thought you could +help me out." + +Quincy did not speak for some time. Finally he said, "Uncle Ike, the +Town Hall in Fernborough is but one mile from the centre of the city of +Cottonton. That city is peopled, principally, with low-paid cotton mill +operatives. Their employers, as a rule, are more intent on dividends +than the moral or physical condition of their help. Accidents are common +in the mills, many are broken down in health by overwork, and those +who become mothers are forced by necessity to resume work in the mills +before their strength is restored." + +Uncle Ike shut his teeth with a snap. "That's worse than hoarding money +as I've done. Mine may, as you say, do good in the future, but theirs is +degrading human beings at the present. I wish I could do something for +them, especially the mothers. It's a shame _they_ have to suffer." + +"You can do something, Uncle Ike. My suggestion is, that you leave the +bulk of your fortune to build a hospital in Fernborough, but provide +in your will that the mill operatives of Cottonton, or all its poorer +inhabitants, if you so wish it, shall be entitled to free treatment +therein." + +"I'll do it," cried Uncle Ike. "As soon as I get settled at 'Zeke's, +I'll send for Squire Rundlett to come and make out my will. You've taken +a big load off my mind, Mr. Sawyer." + +As Quincy was mounting Obed's Hill slowly, for it was very steep, he +thought to himself--"Getting Uncle Ike to do something practical towards +helping others was much better than talking theoretical religion to +him." + +When he reached the Hawkins House, Andrew was getting ready to drive to +Cottonton to meet the three o'clock express from Boston. + +"There's a friend of ours coming down on that train, Andrew--a young man +named Merry." He took out his note book, wrote a few lines, and passed +the slip with some money to Andrew. + +"You get that--have it covered up so no one can see what it is, and +leave it in the barn when you get back." + +Quincy told his wife about Arthur Scates and Uncle Ike. + +"I'm going to take Uncle Ike to Mr. Gay's church to-morrow," he added, +"but I didn't say anything about it to-day. I'm not going to give him +time to invent excuses." + +Maude did not conceal her pleasure at meeting Harry again. She was a +companionable girl, and Mr. Merry was too sensible to think, because a +young lady was sociable, that it was any indication that she was falling +in love with him. + +"Are you going riding this evening, Alice?" Quincy walked to the window. +"The sunset is just glorious. There's a purple cloud in the west, the +edges of which is bordered with gold. There are rifts in it, through +which the sun shows--and now, come quickly, Alice, the sun, a ball of +fire, has just sunk below the cloud which seems resting upon it." + +When they turned away from the window, Alice said: + +"I don't think I will ride any more. Maude must take the horse I had--he +is so gentle. What a pity Mr. Merry cannot go with her for a ride." + +"He can. I sent Andrew for a saddle for him to use." + +"Quincy, you are the most thoughtful man in the world." + +In less than half an hour Maude, with Harry riding the mare, were on +their way towards the Centre Road. When they returned, an hour later, +there had been no runaway, unless Harry's heart had undergone one. +Maude's countenance did not, however, indicate that she had participated +in any rescue. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +A "STORY" SERMON + + +The influx of mill operatives and mechanics from Cottonton in search of +a breathing place after a hard day's work, had led to the building up +of the territory north of Pettingill Street and east of Montrose Avenue. +This fact had led to the erection of the Rev. Mr. Gay's church in the +extreme northern part of the town, but near to both Montrose town and +Cottonton city. + +"We are all coming to your church this morning, Mr. Gay," said Quincy at +breakfast. + +"I shall be glad to see you, but you must not expect a city service. The +majority, in fact all, of my parishioners are common people, and I use +plain language to them." + +"I think simplicity in devotional exercises much more effective than an +ornate service," said Alice. + +"Do you have a choir?" asked Maude. + +"We can't afford one, but we have good congregational singing." + +"I'm glad of that," said Maude. "I hate these paid choirs with their +names and portraits in the Sunday papers." + +"I shall take the carryall and go for Uncle Ike. It is a beautiful +morning and you will all enjoy the walk," Quincy added. + +Uncle Ike, at first, gave a decided negative. "I haven't been inside a +church for many a year and it's too late to begin now." + +"That's no argument at all," said Quincy. "But my principal reason for +wishing you to go is so you can see the people that your hospital is +going to benefit one of these days." + +"But these preachers use such highfalutin' language, and so many +'firstlies' and 'secondlies' I lose my hold on the text." + +"Mr. Gay is a common, everyday sort of man, does not pose when out of +his pulpit, and never talks over the heads of his audience." + +"How do you know all that?" + +"I sit with him at table, and I've studied him. Then he told us not +to expect a city sermon for he used simple language, and they have +congregational singing." + +"Well, I'll go--this once," said Uncle Ike, and Quincy assisted him +in making his preparations. On their way to the church they passed two +couples--Alice and Mrs. Hawkins, and Maude and Mr. Merry. Mr. Jonas +Hawkins could not leave home for he was afraid the cats would carry off +his last brood of chickens. Some fifty had been hatched out, but only a +dozen had survived the hot weather, heavy rains, and the many diseases +prevalent among chickens. + +When Mr. Gay arose to give out the first hymn, Maude said to Mr. Merry, +"Why, he looks like a different man. His red hair is a beautiful brown." + +"It's the light from the coloured glass windows," commented Mr. Merry. + +"Then it must be the curtains in Mrs. Hawkins' dining room that colour +his hair at home," retorted Maude. + +How grandly rose the volume of tone from scores of throats! Even Uncle +Ike's quavering voice joined in. + + "All hail the power of Jesus' name, + Let nations prostrate fall; + Bring forth the royal diadem, + And crown Him Lord of all." + +The organ creaked and wheezed somewhat, but so many fresh, young voices +softened its discordant tones. + +A short prayer, and Mr. Gay began his sermon, if such it can be called. + +"MY BRETHREN: My text, to-day is, 'The fool hath said in his heart, +There is no God.' All nations have a God, even if all the people do not +believe in him. The majority in each nation does believe in a God. Are +those who do not believe all fools? Unhappily, no. There are many highly +educated men and women who deny the existence of God. They claim man is +a part of Nature, and Nature is all. They forget the poet who wrote + + "'Man is but part of a stupendous whole, + Whose body Nature is, and God the soul.' + +"Remember, God is the Soul. Each of you has a soul, a spark of the +Divinity. + +"I can best support my argument by a story--a true one. + +"I once knew a young man whom we will call Richard. He had a well-to-do +father and was sent to college. When he graduated, his father, a pious +man, wished him to study for the ministry. He objected, saying his +health was poor. He wished to go into the mountains, he lived in the +West, and his father consented. + +"He drifted into a mining camp and whatever regard he may have had for +religion, soon disappeared. He was not a fool, but, in his heart, he +said there was no God. + +"With another young man, whom we will call Thomas, he formed a +partnership, and they went prospecting for gold,--gold that the God whom +they would not acknowledge had placed in the earth. + +"They were attacked by Indians and Thomas was killed. Richard was +obliged to flee for his life. His food was soon exhausted, he had no +water, he had no God to whom he could pray for help. + +"He came to a hole in the ground, near a foothill. He got upon his knees +and looked down--yes, there was water--not much, but enough for his +needs--but it was beyond his reach. He leaned over the edge to gaze upon +the life-giving fluid that God has given us, and his hat fell into the +well. In his hat was his gold-dust--his fortune--so useless to him then. +He forgot his thirst for water in his thirst for gold. + +"There was a stout branch of a tree near by. He placed it across the top +of the hole. He would drop down into the well, and recover his hat, get +a drink of water and draw himself up again. The well did not seem more +than six feet deep, and with his arms extended he could easily reach the +branch and draw himself up to safety. He dropped into the well, found +his hat with its precious gold, drank some of the muddy water which, +really, was then more precious to him than the metal, and looked up. +He extended his arms but they fell short some six feet of reaching the +branch. He had under-estimated the depth of the well--it was fifteen +instead of six feet. + +"He would clamber up the sides, he would cut steps with his knife and +make a ladder. The earth was soft, and crumbled beneath his weight. That +mode of escape was impossible. He was a prisoner in a hole with only +muddy water to sustain life for a short time, and no prospect of escape. + +"Night came on. He looked up at the stars. They seemed no farther away +than the top of the well. + +"When a child he had been taught to say 'Our Father who art in Heaven,' +Did he have a Father in Heaven? Was Heaven where those stars were? Was +that Father in Heaven the Being that folks called God? + +"He fell into a deep sleep. When he awoke the stars were still shining, +but no nearer than before. + +"In his loneliness, in his despair, he cried, 'Oh, God, help me!' He +covered his face with his hands and wept. He had forsaken the belief of +a lifetime. He had acknowledged that there was a God! + +"There was a rustling sound above him, and a heavy body fell to the +bottom of the well. Some wild animal! He was unarmed with the exception +of his hunting-knife. That was slight protection against a savage beast, +but he would defend himself to the last. + +"He listened. The animal, whatever it was, was breathing, but it did +not move. Perhaps it was stunned by the fall, but would soon revive. +He would kill it. A few firm blows and the beast was dead. It did not +breathe. Its body was losing its warmth. He was safe from that danger. + +"He slept again. When he awoke the sun was high. Beside him was the dead +body of a mountain lion. + +"He drank some more of the muddy water. He was so hungry. Was there no +means of escape? Must he die there with that dead lion for a companion? + +"He had an inspiration. With his knife he cut the lion's hide into +strips. He tied these together until he had a rope. He threw it over the +branch and drew himself up. The Earth looked so bright and cheerful. He +threw himself upon his knees and thanked God for his deliverance. He +was an educated 'fool' no longer. He had found God in that pool of muddy +water, and God had sent a lion to deliver him. + +"How do I know that the story I have told you is true? Richard returned +to his father's home. He went back to college and entered the divinity +school. He became a clergyman, and he has preached to you, to-day, from +the text, 'The Fool hath said in his heart that there is no God!'" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE RAISED CHECK + + +The Rev. Mr. Gay's parishioners looked at him in astonishment. He had +disbelieved in God but had been converted in what seemed a miraculous +manner. And yet, perhaps, after all, it was only a coincidence. Alice +felt sure that Uncle Ike would be of that opinion. + +The pastor, as soon as he had made his sensational declaration, said +"Let us pray." His appeal was for those who doubted--that God would open +their eyes--but not as his had been--to acknowledge his power and mercy. + +Then followed "Old Hundred." + + "Praise God from whom all blessings flow, + Praise Him all creatures here below." + +A benediction, and the service was over. + +There were seats for four in the carryall. Maude preferred to walk and +Mr. Merry was of the same mind. Mrs. Hawkins sat with Quincy on the +front seat, and Alice with Uncle Ike. + +"What did you think of the sermon, Uncle Ike?" Alice asked. + +"A thrilling personal experience. The fear of death has a peculiar +effect on some people--it kills their will power. Did Mr. Gay know that +I was to attend his church?" + +Alice flushed. "Quincy mentioned it at the breakfast table." + +"Was he informed of my opinions on religious matters?" + +"They were not mentioned before him." + +"Another coincidence"--and Uncle Ike relapsed into silence. + +As they were nearing the Maxwell house, Alice asked, "Uncle Ike, are you +willing to have Mr. Gay call upon you?" + +"I have no objection, if he will let me choose the subjects for +conversation," was the reply. + +In the evening Maude and Mr. Merry walked to the Willows and back. + +"Have you become a matchmaker?" Alice asked her husband. + +"What prompts the question?" + +"Maude and Mr. Merry have been thrown together very much. You approve of +you would prevent their intimacy." + +Quincy laughed. "Maude undoubtedly has a heart, but she doesn't know +where it is. Mr. Merry is too sensible a fellow to imagine Maude will +fall in love with him, or that he could support her if she did." + +"Poor logic, Quincy. Such marriages take place often, but unless they +are followed with parental blessings,--and financial backing,--seldom +prove successful. + +"Well, the intimacy will end to-morrow morning. He will return to the +city, and, probably, never see her again." + +"I've no objection to Mr. Merry. I consider him a very fine young man. I +was thinking of Maude's happiness." + +Mr. Merry did return to Boston early the next morning, and, to all +appearances, Miss Sawyer looked upon his action as a very natural one, +and one in which she was not particularly interested. If she had any +secret thoughts concerning him they were driven from her mind by the +receipt of a telegram just as they sat down to dinner. + + "REDFORD, MASS., July 2, 187--. + "MAUDE SAWYER, Care of Q. A. Sawyer, + "Fernborough, via Cottonton. + "Do please come home at once. Something terrible + has happened. FLORENCE." + +"What can it be? What do you think is the matter? The message is so +inexplicit." + +Her brother replied, "Florence evidently is living, unless some one +used her name in the telegram. If father or mother were sick or dead she +certainly would have said so." + +"Perhaps not," said Maude. "She might wish to break the news gently, in +person." + +"I am willing to wager," said Quincy, "that the trouble affects her more +than any one else. But you must go, Maude, and Alice and I will go with +you, by the first train to-morrow morning." + +Quincy had Andrew get the carryall ready and he and Alice went round to +say good-bye. He told Arthur Scates he would come or send for him soon, +and that his grandmother could go and help Mrs. Pettingill. + +Andrew was told to return the saddle to Cottonton, and Quincy decided +that they would go to Boston by way of Eastborough Centre, so Mr. +Parsons could be informed that they were through with the saddle +horses. They found Uncle Ike fully committed to the idea of founding the +hospital. He had seen Squire Rundlett, who was drawing up his will. The +goodbye seemed more like a farewell in Uncle Ike's case, for he had aged +much in the last year and was really very feeble. Alice told him that +Mr. Gay had promised to call upon him in a few days. + +When they reached Boston, Quincy said: + +"Maude, you must take the train at once for Redford and see what the +trouble is. I will leave Alice at home and run down to see you this +afternoon." + +Maude found Florence in her room, her nose red and her eyes filled with +tears. + +"Now, Florence, what is it all about?" + +"Oh, it is horrible," and there was a fresh flood of tears. + +"Are you sick? Mother says she is well and so is father." + +"It's all about Reggie." + +"Capt. Hornaby? Is he dead?" + +"Worse. I wish he was. No, I don't mean that. But the disgrace." + +Maude was getting impatient. "What has he done? Married somebody else? +But he never proposed to you, did he?" + +Florence wiped away her tears. "No, not exactly. But we understood each +other." + +"Well, I can't understand you. Why don't you tell me what he's done?" + +"Well, you know that father loaned him some money when he lost his +pocketbook in the pond." + +Maude sniffed. "I imagined he did--nobody told me so." + +"Father gave him a check for five hundred dollars." + +"And the Captain's run away and won't pay. Those foreign fellows often +do that. What an appropriate name Hornaby Hook is." + +"He has paid. He sent father the money and said he was going back to +England at once." + +"So, ho! I understand now. My sister has been deserted, jilted, snubbed, +and her Sawyer pride is hurt. If you'd written me that I'd be in +Fernborough now, and so would Quincy and Alice. Florence, it was mean of +you to send such a bloodcurdling telegram for so simple a thing." + +"But that isn't all," cried Florence. "When the check for five hundred +dollars that father gave him came back it had been raised to five +thousand, and father has lost all that money. Oh, it is all over, and I +shall never see him again." + +Another paroxysm of sobs, and a flood of tears. Maude's sisterly +sympathy was, at last, aroused. + +"Don't take on so, Flossie. Perhaps he didn't do it after all." + +"But father is so indignant. Think of his being paid back with his own +money." + +Maude could not help laughing. "That was rather nervy, I'll admit. But +that very fact makes me think he's innocent." + +She didn't really think so, but Florence was likely to go into hysterics +and something must be done. + +"You know his address. You had better write to him and see what he has +to say for himself." + +"I can't. Father says if I have any further communication with him, +directly, or indirectly, he'll disown me." + +"Well, wait awhile. Father'll calm down in time. Cheer up, Flossie, dry +your eyes, and do put some powder on your nose. It's as red as a beet." + + * * * * * * * + +A little later in the season, Quincy and Alice started for their summer +home at Nantucket, where they spent a pleasant two months, Quincy going +up to Boston when needed at the State House. As autumn approached, and +the time for the state election drew near, great influence was brought +to bear on Quincy to make him rescind his decision, and run for governor +a second time, but his mind was fully made up, and in spite of the +urgings of the leaders of his own party, as well as those of the public +at large, he remained firm in his resolve. + +Mr. Evans worked hard for the nomination, but his predilections were +well known among the labouring classes, and he failed to receive the +necessary votes. Benjamin Ropes, a man respected by all, was elected +governor, and in January Quincy retired from public life, and settled +down to what he thought would be a period of rest and quiet with his +wife in the Mount Vernon Street home. + +About the middle of the month, however, a letter came from Aunt Ella. + + * * * * * * * + +"FERNBOROUGH HALL, "HEATHFIELD, SUSSEX. + +"MY DEAR QUINCY AND ALICE: I was going to write nephew and niece, but +you both seem nearer and dearer to me than those formal titles express. +I see that Quincy is now out of politics, and I know that he needs a +change. Your rooms are all ready for you here, and I want you both to +come, just as soon as you can. It will be the best for you, too, Alice, +as you will escape the very bad winter that Boston always has. I +was delighted to hear the news, and I do hope and pray it will be a +boy,--then we shall have a Quincy Adams Sawyer, Junior. + +"I wish Maude could come with you. I could introduce her to society +here, and, I have found--don't think me conceited--that there is nothing +that improves an English gentleman so much as having an American wife. +If some of your nice young American gentlemen would marry some English +girls and transplant them to American soil, I think the English-speaking +race would benefit thereby. + + "Sir Stuart is well, and so is + "Your loving aunt, + "ELLA." + + * * * * * * * + +"The same Aunt Ella as of old," said Quincy, "always full of new ideas +and quaint suggestions. It would be a good thing for you to go, I think, +Alice, and I should really relish the change myself. What do you say, a +steamer sails next week from here; shall we go?" + +"Why, Quincy, it is rather sudden, but I should be glad to see Aunt Ella +and Linda again, and I really see no reason why we should not go." + +"Well, we will call that settled, then. And Maude, do you think she +would join us?" + +"Not unless you take Mr. Merry with you," replied Alice with a good +natured laugh. + +Quincy called at the Beacon Street house that afternoon, and had a talk +with Maude about going to Europe with them. He read her Aunt Ella's +letter, and added, + +"You see, she wishes you to come with us." + +"Well, I won't go. She wants to marry me off to some Englishman with +a title and no funds. If I ever get married, my husband will be an +American. No, take Florence, and let her hunt up Captain Hornaby, her +recreant lover,--if he was one. She says they 'understood' each +other, but it's evident none of us comprehended--I came near saying +apprehended--him." + +"I will speak to father about it," said Quincy. "Please tell him that +I'll call at his office to-morrow morning. Give my love to Florence. I +won't trouble her about it until I've seen father." + +Alice thought Florence's substitution for Maude, as regarded the trip to +England, was advisable, and certainly showed Maude's good-heartedness. + +When Quincy saw his father he made no mention of the Hornaby incident in +connection with Florence joining them on their trip abroad, but in spite +of this the Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer was, at first, strongly opposed +to the idea of his daughter going away from home. Quincy knew his father +too well to argue the matter, and turned the conversation to other +subjects. + +"I have brought my will, father, and wish you would put it in your safe. +I have left everything to Alice to do with as she pleases. I have named +you and Dr. Paul Culver as my executors. Have you any objection to +serving?" + +"You will be more likely to act as my executor than I as yours, but I +accept the trust, feeling sure that I shall have no duties to perform." + +"There's another matter, father, I wish to speak about. My former +private secretary, Mr. Merry, is studying law. When my term expired he, +of course, lost his position, for my successor, naturally, wished one of +his own friends in the place. If I were a lawyer, I would take him into +my office, but--" + +"You can't use him in your grocery store," interrupted the Hon. +Nathaniel. Quincy took the sarcasm good-naturedly, and laughed. That his +father had, to some extent, overcome his displeasure at his son becoming +a tradesman, was shown by his next words. + +"Our law business is increasing daily, and perhaps I can make an opening +for him in the near future. I will bear him in mind." + +The Hon. Nathaniel reserved his decision in relation to Florence's trip +until he had discussed the matter with his wife, but the next day Maude +saw Alice and told her that her father had consented, on one condition, +and that was that Quincy would bring her back with him when he returned +to America. The Hon. Nathaniel was still suspicious of Aunt Ella, and +evidently thought that she wished to get control of his daughter as she +had of his son. + +Quincy gave his father the required promise. Florence must have time to +prepare for such a long journey, so Quincy was obliged to give up +the plan of sailing from Boston on a certain date as he had intended. +Besides, he wanted, personally, to see how Arthur Scates was getting +along at the Sanatorium which was at Lyndon in the Adirondacks, and so +he booked passage on the steamer _Altonia_, to sail from New York in +three weeks. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE WRECK OF THE _ALTONIA_ + + +"Florence will be ready to start to-morrow," said Alice. This was +welcome intelligence to Quincy, who wished several days to spare in New +York before sailing. + +As soon as his wife and sister were located at a hotel in New York, +he made the trip to Lyndon in the Adirondacks to see Arthur Scates. He +found him greatly improved, and he told Quincy that he had not felt +so well in years. The doctors, too, were more than pleased with his +condition, and said that it was only a question of a few months when he +would be entirely well again. + +When he returned to New York he found that Alice had been to visit Mrs. +Ernst in West 41st Street. Madame Archimbault lived with them and still +carried on the millinery establishment on Broadway, in which Quincy had +accidentally discovered the long-sought Linda Putnam masquerading under +the name of Celeste. How that discovery had operated to change the lives +of many people came forcibly to Quincy as he sought Leopold Ernst in his +down-town office. + +Leopold was almost hidden behind piles of manuscripts and newspapers +when Quincy entered his room. + +"Up to your neck, Leopold?" + +As soon as Leopold saw who had addressed him, he jumped up, pushed a +pile of manuscripts from his desk to the floor, and grasped Quincy's +extended hand in both of his. + +"Let me help you pick up your papers," said Quincy. + +"No, they're in their proper places. They're rejected. I have accepted +two out of fifty or more. The American author sends tons to the literary +mill, but it grinds out but a few pounds. But the novices are improving. +They will yet lead the world, for we have a new country full of God's +wonderful works, and a composite population whose loves and hates +reproduce in new scenes all the passions of the Old World. They are +the same pictures of human goodness and frailty in new frames--and my +business is to judge the workmanship of the frames." + +They talked about old times, particularly the success of Alice's first +romance. + +"Marriage is often fatal to literary activity. Is your wife to write +another book?" + +"I think not. We expect an addition--not edition--to our family library +soon after our return from England." + +"That settles it. Literature takes a back seat when Maternity becomes +its competitor. It is well. Otherwise, how could we keep up our supply +of authors?" + +The evening before the sailing of the _Altonia_, a happy party assembled +in a private dining room at Quincy's hotel. Toasts were drunk. Alice and +Rosa sang and Florence accompanied and played classic selections upon +the piano. + +"Bon voyage," cried Leopold, as they separated. "Make notes of something +really new, make a book of up-to-date travels, and our house will +publish it for you, for I'll recommend it no matter how bad it is. We +have to do that often for friends of the firm,--why not for our own?" + + A foggy night on the ocean. The barometer ranged low. An upward +glance disclosed a black mist--no sign of moon or stars. A bad night on +land, when trains of cars crash into others laden with humanity--some +dying mercifully without knowing the cause; others cruelly, by slow +cremation, with willing hands nearby powerless to help. + +A bad night off shore, when freight-laden craft, deceived by beacon +lights, are beached upon the treacherous sand or dashed against +jagged rocks. The life-savers, with rocket, and gun and line, and +breeches-buoys, try in vain, and, as a last resort, grasp the oars +of the life-boat and bring to safety one or two of a crew of ten. Sad +hearts in homes when the news comes; but it is only one of the scenes in +the drama of life. + +A bad night at sea--with a great ocean liner, its iron heart pulsating, +plunging through the black waves into dense mountains of fog. + +Despite the darkness and chill of the winter night, Quincy, Alice, and +Florence were on the deck of the _Altonia_. Alice shuddered and Quincy +drew her wrap more closely about her. + +"Shall we go down into the cabin?" + +"Not yet. There is nothing enjoyable about this Cimmerian gloom, and yet +it has its attractions. Florence, what is it that Tom Hood wrote about +London fog?" + +"I only remember one line, and I'm not sure I can quote that correctly. +I think it reads: 'No sun, no moon,' I should add 'no stars, no proper +time of day.'" + +During the two days since leaving New York, Florence had been a creature +of moods: sad, when she brooded over her trouble due, she felt sure, to +another's act; light-hearted when she thought of the prospect of again +meeting Reginald and having him prove his innocence. + +She had been spared newspaper publicity. Not for ten times the sum he +had lost would the Hon. Nathaniel have had his daughter's name in the +public prints. He was a lawyer, but it was his business to get other +people out of trouble, and not to get his own family into it--which +shows that great lawyers are not exempt from that very common human +frailty, selfishness. + +Sounds of applause were borne to their ears. "Let us go in," said +Florence, "some one has been singing." + +In the main saloon, all was merriment. Each passenger had faith in Capt. +Robert Haskins, who had crossed the Atlantic hundreds of times. The +_Altonia_ belonged to a lucky line, the luck that follows careful +foresight as regards every detail, the luck that brings safety and +success from constant vigilance. + +In the first cabin were more than two hundred souls--young and old, +maids and matrons, young and middle-aged men, and a few beyond the +allotted three score years and ten. + +Mlle. Carenta, a member of a troupe of grand opera singers, whom many +had heard during the company's engagement in New York, arose from the +piano amid cries of "bravo," for her superb vocalism. She had sung +Gounod's _Ave Maria_. + +"How sweetly she sang," said Alice, as she touched her husband's arm to +more fully draw his attention from the beautiful vocalist. "Don't you +think so, Quincy?" + +"Divine," was the reply. "One can almost fancy the doors of Heaven are +open." + +The cabin was warm--in reality, hot,--but Alice shuddered as she had +when chilled by the mist and cold. She caught quickly at her husband's +arm. + +"I wish we were safe at Fernborough Hall with Aunt Ella." + +"And so do I, my dear, but the walking is poor, and we must put up with +our present method of locomotion for a few days longer. Think of the +good times we have had and those in store for us." + +Alice reassured by the words and the accompanying pressure of Quincy's +hand exclaimed: "How delightful it was in the country, and how I enjoyed +our visits. I shall always love Mason's Corner as it was called when--" + +"I met my fate," her husband added. "My line fell in a pleasant place--" + +"Don't call me a fish," said his wife, as she smiled half reprovingly. + +"Well, we're on the water; if we were in it, we all might wish to be +fish--or rather whales." + +The next moment all was confusion. Faces that were white became +red--those that were red turned white--even through the colour that art +had given to niggardly nature. Fully half the occupants of the saloon +were thrown violently to the floor in a promiscuous heap. Others saved +themselves from falling by grasping frantically at the nearest object. +Many of the lights went out. Some of the women swooned, while men who +had deemed themselves brave shook like palsied creatures. + +A man half ran, half fell, down the stairway that led into the saloon +and stood before the affrighted passengers. No tongue could form a +question, but each eager face asked, + +"What is it? What has happened?" + +His voice came, thin and husky, "We've been struck by another ship in +the fog!" + +At sea, at night, and that a night of winter chill--and the fog! Such +the thought. The fact--ten thousand tons of steel and wood, the product +of man's industry, fashioned by his brain, and blood, and bone, crushed +and useless, and half a thousand human beings--looking forward to years +of happiness--doomed to a terrific struggle with the elements. Strong, +courageous, creative man--now a weak, fear-stricken, helpless creature! + +"_To the boats!_" came the cry from above, and it was echoed by hundreds +of voices. In those three words were a gleam of hope: they opened a +path, but through what and to what would it lead? The other ship, +a tramp steamer, which had collided with the _Altonia_ was already +sinking, and in a few minutes went down, bow foremost, only a few of the +crew having escaped in their own boats. + +Quincy had been an athlete in his college days. In time of danger, +whether the man be ignorant or educated, one feeling--the instinct of +self-preservation--is paramount. Alice and Florence had stood mute, +helpless. Quincy put an arm about each and sprang to the narrow +doorway. It was blocked by two stout men who fought frantically to gain +precedence. + +Quincy placed his wife in front of him, and, with the hand thus +temporarily freed, he grasped one of the men by the collar and threw +him back into the saloon where he was trampled upon by the frenzied +passengers. + +Regardless of the consequence of his act, Quincy mounted the stairs +quickly and gained the deck. The boats were being filled rapidly. He +placed his wife and sister in one of them. + +Alice cried, "Come, Quincy, there is room here." + +"No, Alice, not yet. The women must go first." + +"I will not go without you." + +"Yes, you will, Alice--and you know why." + +The mighty craft was filling rapidly. Captain Haskins feared that like +the tramp steamer it would founder before the passengers could get into +the boats--their frail hope for safety. For himself, he asked no place. +He had the spirit of the soldier who expires beside his dying horse, +looking fondly at the animal that has borne him so many times in safety, +and now gives up his life with his master's. + +"For God's sake, come, Quincy!" cried Alice. "For our sake!" and +Florence added her entreaties. + +Quincy turned and saw a woman with a child by her side. She had made +her way from the steerage. She was being deported, for she suffered from +trachoma. She had been refused permission to land and join her husband +who had stood outside the "pen" and gazed at her and the child. Quincy +placed the woman in the boat beside his wife and put the child in its +mother's arms. + +"Lower away!" came a shrill cry. + +"Oh, Quincy, must we part thus?" + +Captain Haskins grasped Quincy by the arm. + +"Get into the boat, Mr. Sawyer." + +Quincy saw that the boat, filled with women, was already over-loaded. + +He turned to the Captain and said: "There is more room here with you." + + Nature's ways are mysterious but effective. A brisk breeze broke the +fog, and the rays of the noonday sun fell upon a placid sea. The boat +containing Alice and Florence was picked up by the _Macedonian_ of +a rival line and the rescued made comfortable. For hours the steamer +cruised about rescuing hundreds of the _Altonia_'s passengers, but some +of the boats were never heard from. + +Alice and many others had hoped that the wrecked vessel was still +afloat, but the _Altonia_ had disappeared,--was far below in hundreds of +fathoms of water. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +FERNBOROUGH HALL + + +Fernborough Hall,--not a hall in the town of Fernborough in the +Commonwealth of Massachusetts, but a rambling, old-fashioned brick +building in the County of Sussex in "Merrie England;" a stately home +set in the middle of hundreds of acres of upland, lowland, and woodland. +Wings had been added as required, and a tower from which, on a clear +day, the English Channel could be seen with the naked eye, while a +field-glass brought into view the myriad craft, bound east and west, +north and south, on the peaceful missions of trade. + +There was no terrace upon which gaudy peacocks strutted back and forth, +but in front of the Hall was a small artificial lake in which some +transplanted fish led the lives of prisoners. Lady Fernborough begged +the Baronet to end their miserable existence, but, to him, innovation +was folly and destruction bordered on criminality. + +"When I am gone, Ella," he would say, "you may introduce your American +ideas, for everything will be yours. When the Fernborough name dies, let +the fish die too." + +The long search for his lost daughter had made him misanthropic. His +knowledge of her sad death had been accompanied, it is true, by +the pleasing intelligence that his daughter's child lived, but that +grand-daughter, though of his blood and British born, had not been +educated according to British ideas. To be sure, she was now a Countess, +but she had been transplanted to her native soil, and had not grown +there. + +It might be asked, if he was so insular in his ideas, why had he taken +an American wife, and she a widow? He had been charmed by her vivacity. +She lifted him out of the gloom in which he had lived so long. If she +had been tame and prosaic, she would have worn the weeds of widowhood +again in a short time. She made him comfortable; she surrounded him with +the brightest people she could find; he was not allowed to mope indoors, +and Sir Stuart Fernborough and his sprightly American wife attended all +the important social functions of the County, and many in London, and +at the houses of their friends. And now a great joy was to come to Lady +Fernborough. She expected visitors from the United States, and what she +considered needful preparations kept her in a flutter of excitement. + +"How soon do you expect them?" asked Sir Stuart at breakfast. + +"To-morrow, or next day. They sailed on the tenth; to-morrow is the +seventeenth, but they may rest for a day in Liverpool--" + +"Or stay a day or two in London," suggested Sir Stuart. + +"I hope not, for my guests will be impatient to see a real live American +ex-governor. Quincy's political advancement has been very rapid." + +"America is a rapid country, my dear," was Sir Stuart's comment. + +When Lady Fernborough reached her boudoir, she seated herself at her +writing desk and wrote rapidly for nearly an hour. + +"I don't wish too many guests," she soliloquized as she sealed the last +invitation. "Now, I must write to Linda." + +"My dear Linda, + +"I have a great surprise for you. You must forgive me for keeping +a secret. I do it so seldom, I wished the experience. I am like the +penniless suitor who proposed to an heiress, who, he knew, would reject +him, just to see how it would make him feel to lose a fortune. I think +I saw that in Punch, but it fits my case exactly. They will be here, +_sure_, day after to-morrow. I mean Quincy and Alice, and, I hope, +Maude. Come and bring all the children. I suppose Algernon is in London +helping to make laws for unruly Britishers, but we will make merry and +defy the constables. Despite my marital patronymic, and my armorial +bearings, I am still, your loving aunt Ella." + +Alice was not to tell the sad news to Lady Fernborough. The telegraph +outstrips the ocean liner, and a newspaper, with tidings of the great +calamity, was in Aunt Ella's hands long before the arrival of the +broken-hearted wife and disconsolate sister. The invitations were +countermanded, and days of sorrow followed instead of the anticipated +time of joyfulness. + +Alice and Florence told the story of the tragedy over and over again to +sympathizing listeners. + +"That was just like Quincy to give his place to that poor woman and her +child," said Aunt Ella. "Like Bayard he was without fear and he died +without reproach." + +Alice would not abandon hope. She racked her brain for possibilities and +probabilities. Perhaps there had been another boat in which her husband +and the Captain escaped. They might have been discovered and rescued by +some vessel bound to America, or, perhaps, some faraway foreign country. +He would let them know as soon as he reached land. + +Aunt Ella, though naturally optimistic, did not, in her own heart, share +Alice's hopeful anticipations. Perhaps Florence's somewhat extravagant +account of the collision and the events which followed it led her to +form the opinion that her nephew's escape from death was impossible. + +Hope takes good root, but it is a flower that, too often, has no +blossom. A month passed--two--three--four--five--six--and then despair +filled the young wife's heart. She could bear up no longer, and Dr. +Parshefield made frequent visits. + +Aunt Ella pressed the fatherless infant to her breast. + +"What shall you name him, Alice?" + +"There can be but one name for him. God sent us two little girls, but +took them back again. We both wished for a son, and Heaven has sent one, +but has taken the father from us." + +"And you will name him--" + +"Quincy Adams Sawyer, Junior," was the answer. "It is his birthright." + +"But," said Aunt Ella, "they never add Junior to a boy's name unless his +father is living." + +Alice sat up in bed, and her eyes flashed as she said, + +"My heart has renewed its hope with this young life. I believe my +husband still lives, and, until I have conclusive proofs of his death, +our son's name will be Quincy Adams Sawyer, Junior." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +"HORNABY HOOK" + + +Time, it is said, will dull the deepest sorrow. There are some who put +out of sight everything to remind them of the lost one, while others +treasure every memento, and never tire of recalling the virtues of the +departed. + +In Alice's case the presence of her little boy was a constant reminder +of her husband. In Aunt Ella she found a willing listener, and talking +of her past happy married life aided greatly in restoring her nerve +power and improving her general health. + +She said one day, "Aunt Ella, don't you think it better to face your +troubles bravely than to fly away from them?" + +"I certainly do. You are following the right course, Alice; the same as +I did when Robert died. Your parting with Quincy was sad, inexpressibly +so, but imagine my feelings to awake and find my husband dead in the bed +beside me. Did I try to forget him? You remember his rooms in the Mount +Vernon Street house. They became my Mecca--the place to which I went +when I had a 'blue fit,' or was depressed in any way. God has sent you +a child to keep your husband's memory fresh. I repeat, Alice, you are +doing the right thing." + +"I do it," said Alice, "for two reasons. One is that it makes me happy. +The other is, that believing that my husband still lives, I wish to +bring up his son so that he will be proud of him." + +Florence, after awhile, made a confidante of Aunt Ella and told her +about Captain Hornaby. She confessed her interest in him and said that +notwithstanding his crime she loved him, but that her father would never +forgive him. + +"What part of England did he come from?" asked Aunt Ella. + +"He said from Hornaby--that the place was named after his family. Their +home was called Hornaby Hook, because, as he said, it was built upon a +promontory in the form of a hook." + +"What is his father's name?" + +"Sir Wilfred, and Reginald is the fourth son." + +"No chance of his ever getting the title," remarked Aunt Ella. + +"I wonder where Hornaby Hook is," said Florence. + +"That's easily found out. Linda has _Burke's Peerage_ and I'll write to +her to-day." + +Lady Fernborough more than kept her promise, for in her letter she +told the Countess Florence's unhappy love story besides asking for +information about the Hornaby family. + +Linda's reply was a revelation. + +"MY DEAR AUNT ELLA, + +"I was very sorry to hear that Quincy's sister has been so unfortunate +in her love affair, and astonished to find that Captain Hornaby is +the cause of it. You will be surprised to learn that Algernon is well +acquainted with Sir Wilfred who is an old-fashioned English gentleman +and the soul of honour. He has met the Captain and thought him a fine +young fellow. Hornaby Hook is on the Sussex coast about ten miles from +us. Come and see us and bring Florence with you. Perhaps there is an +explanation of the affair which the Captain can give. He should not +be condemned without a hearing. Give my love to Alice and tell her I'm +coming to see that baby very soon. With love, ever yours, LINDA." + +Aunt Ella was now in her element. There was a mystery to be explained +and she held the key. She told Florence where Hornaby Hook was, and that +the Hornaby family was a fine one, and that Sir Wilfred was held in the +highest respect by everybody, but did not mention Linda's suggestion +of a visit, and a possible explanation. She knew Florence would not +accompany her if there was any possibility of her meeting the Captain. +It would appear as though she was running after him, and no American +girl, especially a Sawyer, would do that. + +Sir Stuart was greatly interested in young Quincy, and Mrs. Villiers, +the housekeeper, thought him the handsomest and best baby she had ever +seen. Thus the way was paved for the first step in Aunt Ella's plot. + +"Alice, do you think you would be very lonesome if I went away for a +week?" + +"Why no, Aunt Ella. Why should I be? I have the baby, and Sir Stuart and +Mrs. Villiers are both goodness itself to me." + +"Florence is not looking very well. Don't you think a week at the +seashore would do her good?" + +"I wish she could go, poor girl. When I think of her, I say to myself +that I have no right to be unhappy. If Quincy is dead, he died nobly, +to save others. But the shame connected with Captain Hornaby is what +Florence feels so deeply." + +That same day Aunt Ella wrote to Linda that she was coming with +Florence, and that Algernon and she must arrange in some way to bring +about that "explanation." + +Algernon, Earl of Sussex, and the Countess Linda lived at Ellersleigh +in the County of Sussex, not many miles from historic Hastings. To +Aunt Ella and Florence they extended a warm and heartfelt welcome, and +Florence, used as she was to the luxuries of life, could not but marvel +at the beauty and even splendour that surrounded the Countess--once an +American country girl named Linda Putnam. + +"I have sent out cards for a dinner party next Thursday," said Linda to +Aunt Ella. "There will be an opportunity for that 'explanation,' but you +must assume the responsibility if there should be a tragic ending." + +"We must hope for the best," replied Aunt Ella. "I will gather up the +fragments after the explosion." + +From the expression on Florence's face, when Sir Wilfred Hornaby and +Captain Reginald Hornaby were announced as guests, the explosion seemed +imminent. + +In her mind, she had looked forward to such a meeting with a sensation +of delight. Now that it had come her pride was up in arms. She had +been tricked into coming. The Countess and Aunt Ella had arranged this +meeting. Perhaps he had been told that she would be present. Well, if +they did meet, he would have to do the talking. She had no explanation +to make. If he had one, he must introduce the subject. + +At the dinner Florence sat next to Sir Wilfred, but the Captain was far +removed on the other side of the long table. Sir Wilfred was politely +attentive. Did he know of his son's crime? Evidently not--but, if he +did, he had condoned the offence. But how could he if he was the man of +honour that the Countess had pictured him in her letter to Aunt Ella? +No, the son had deceived _his_ father as he had _her_ father. Did she +really love him? Had she forgiven him? If he had proposed when Florence +was in that state of uncertainty, his rejection would have been swift +and positive. + +When the dinner was over, the Captain, apparently unconscious of guilt, +approached Florence. He offered his arm. + +"Will you come with me, Miss Sawyer? I have a very important question to +ask you." + +Should she go? He was going to ask her a question. She had many to ask +him. This unpleasant uncertainty must end--now, was the accepted time. + +She took his arm, and he made his way to the conservatory--that haven of +confidences, where so many lovers have been made happy, or unhappy. + +"Why have you not answered my letters?" he said. + +"I never received them." Her voice was cold, and she removed her hand +from his arm. + +"I sent them in your father's care." + +"That is probably the reason why I did not get them." + +"Why should he refuse to give them to you? I borrowed money from him but +I repaid him before I left America." + +He thought she was not acquainted with his perfidy. She would undeceive +him. + +"Did you tell him the truth when you borrowed it?" + +His face flushed. How could she know? But she did. He would be honest +with her. + +"No, I did not." + +"I knew it. My sister Maude recovered your coat, but there was no money +or bills of exchange in your pocket book--only a few visiting cards +bearing the name of Col. Arthur Spencer." + +The young man bowed his head. He was guilty. She would leave him +without another word. She turned to go. He caught her hand, which she, +indignantly, withdrew from his grasp. + +"I will explain, Miss Sawyer." Was he going to tell the truth, or invent +another story? + +"Arthur Spencer was the Colonel of the first regiment with which I +was connected. I do not belong to it now. He is a poor man, and an +inveterate gambler. I had not seen him for two years, when we met in New +York just before I went to Boston. You are tired, Miss Sawyer." + +He pointed to a seat beneath some palms, and led her, unresistingly, to +it. + +"He asked me to dinner with him, and I went. Then he suggested a game of +cards while we smoked and I foolishly consented. The stakes, at first, +were small, and he won rapidly. He increased his bets and I was forced, +against my will, to meet them. When we stopped playing, he had not only +won all my money, but had my 'I O U' for three hundred dollars. I had to +borrow money from him to pay my hotel bill and fare to Boston." + +Florence nodded. She could not speak. + +"I had letters of introduction to Boston families--among them, your own. +When that accident happened--" she looked up at him inquiringly-- + +[Illustration: "You have acknowledged that you are a gambler] + +"No, don't think that of me--it was not intentional on my part--I was +without money--the Colonel must be paid--my allowance was not due for +ten days--I invented the story that I told your father." + +"It was a lie!" Florence choked as she uttered the accusing words. + +"Yes, it was a lie, and one for which I have sincerely repented, I told +my father, and he forgave me, but said, as the coat was gone, to let the +matter drop, that nothing would be gained by confessing to your father +as he had been paid, and had met with no loss." + +Florence sprang to her feet. "No loss!" she cried. "How can you say +that? You have acknowledged that you are a gambler and a liar--why not +finish the story and confess your crime?" + +"Crime, Florence! What do you mean?" + +Her lips curled + +"You do not know what I mean?" + +"No, as God hears me, I do not. You accuse me--of what?" + +She felt that the crux was reached. "Did you not know when the check +for five hundred dollars came back to my father's bank that it had been +raised to five thousand dollars?" + +The Captain reeled, and came near falling. He clutched at the palm tree +which sustained him until he regained his footing. + +"My God! And you have thought me the thief!" + +"What else could I think?" + +"I can't understand.... I met Col. Spencer in Boston--those birds of +prey always follow their victims, and gave him the check, receiving two +hundred dollars in return. He must have--and yet I cannot believe he +would do such a thing. He is in London now. To-morrow I will go and find +him." + +"But if he denies it--how can you prove him guilty?" + +"Unless he frees my name from such a charge--I will challenge him--and +kill him!" + +Florence could no longer act as accuser. Her heart plead for the young +Englishman who had confessed his error, but who so strenuously denied +his participation in a crime. "Miss Sawyer, will you mercifully suspend +judgment until my return from London?" + +She did not reply in words, but gave him her hand. + +When they rejoined the company both Linda and Aunt Ella noticed +Florence's heightened colour and the brightness of her eyes. + +"He must have explained," said Linda, "when an occasion offered." + +"I hope so," was Aunt Ella's reply, and she felicitated herself upon the +success of their joint plot. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +AN AMERICAN HEIRESS + + +For some time after rejoining the company, Florence was so busy with her +thoughts that she paid little attention to what was going on about her. +She was aroused from her abstraction by a sharp voice: + +"Don't you think Captain Hornaby is a very handsome young man?" Florence +looked and found that her questioner was Lady Elfrida Hastings, the only +sister of the Earl. When that lady had visited them at Nahant, she had +considered her the embodiment of all the female virtues. She recalled +her statuesque repose, and her aristocratic manner which had so pleased +her father. She also remembered the morning when she was discovered by +Maude practising the Lady Elfrida's poses, and her sister's inquiry as +to whether she had a chill and wanted the quinine pills. + +Feeling the necessity of saying something, she replied: "I haven't +noticed him particularly." + +The Lady Elfrida, perfect gentlewoman that she was, said severely, +for her, "Your failure to do so, certainly was not due to lack of +opportunity." + +So, her long absence in his company had been noticed. She was at a loss +for a reply, when to her great relief the Earl approached and asked if +she would play a certain piece which he had admired very much when in +America. + +"What was its name?" + +"I can't remember," said the Earl. "It ran something like this," and he +hummed a few measures. + +"Oh," cried Florence, "Old Folks at Home." The scene through which she +had gone with the Captain had awakened deep emotions, and her voice was +in the temperamental condition to give a sadly-weird effect to the lines +of the chorus. When she sang + + "Oh, my heart is sad and weary" + +the Lady Elfrida turned to Mrs. Ellice, the Rector's wife, and remarked, +"There was a rumour that Captain Hornaby was greatly interested in Miss +Sawyer, but from something she told me to-night I do not think it will +be a match." + +"Why, what did she say?" asked Mrs. Ellice with natural feminine +curiosity as regards love affairs. + +"I hardly feel warranted in repeating it," said the Lady Elfrida, "as it +was given to me in confidence." + +Later in the evening the Lady Elfrida sought Captain Hornaby. "My dear +Captain, don't you think Miss Sawyer sings divinely?" + +The Captain, with his mind on Col. Spencer and the tenfold check, +replied, rather brusquely, "I'm not a great lover of negro melodies." + +The Lady Elfrida felt sure that Captain Hornaby was still an "eligible," +but she reflected that he was a fourth son and dependent upon the bounty +of his father and elder brother, and that her dowry must come from her +brother who, in her opinion, had a very extravagant wife--but none of +those American girls had any idea of economy. + +The next morning, Captain Hornaby went to London in search of Colonel +Spencer. He visited his clubs, and, because it was necessary, many of +the gambling places, but his quest was fruitless. As a last resort he +went to the War Office and learned that the Colonel had sailed the day +before to join his regiment in India. + +The Captain reported the failure of his mission to Florence. + +"I have been talking the matter over with Aunt Ella. She advises me to +send a cable message to father asking what bank the check was deposited +in and by whom." + +"He may have cashed it at your father's bank," said the Captain. + +"Then Aunt Ella says my father can see the bank officers and make sure +that the Colonel got the money." + +"I will go back to London to-morrow and send the message in your name." + +"The story deepens," said the Captain, when he returned with the reply +from the Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer. It read, + +"State National. Deposited five hundred. Revere House. Interviewed my +bank." + +"What does it mean?" asked Florence. "So many words are omitted. I can't +make sense of it." + +"It means," said the Captain, "that Col. Spencer is innocent. He was +staying at the Revere House when I paid him his three hundred dollars. +He must have cashed your father's check at the hotel, they paying him +five hundred dollars only, and they, I mean the hotel proprietors, +deposited it in their bank, the State National." + +"But what do the last three words mean?" + +"They mean that some one in your father's bank raised the check and he +has seen the bank officers about it." + +"I'm so glad," cried Florence. "You must come and explain it all to Aunt +Ella." + +She was greatly pleased to learn that Captain Hornaby was innocent of +any complicity in the embezzlement, and said to Florence: "You will get +a letter from your father telling you who the real criminal is," and +turning to the Captain, continued, "We go back to Fernborough Hall +to-morrow, Captain Hornaby, but when that letter comes we will send for +you." + +"I can bear the suspense now that Colonel Spencer and myself are free +from any charge of criminality, but I greatly regret, Miss Sawyer, that +your father has met with such a heavy loss." + +"Don't worry, yet, Captain," said Aunt Ella. "Florence's father won't +be out any money if there's any legal way of making the bank bear the +loss." + +When Aunt Ella and Florence returned to Fernborough Hall they told Alice +the wonderful story. + +"I am so glad for your sake, Florence, and the Captain's too. I think +Aunt Ella's suggestion about sending the cablegram to your father was an +excellent one." + +The story was told, also, to Sir Stuart. He was gratified to learn that +two officers of Her Majesty's army had been freed from the charge of +embezzlement, but deplored the fact that gambling was so prevalent among +them. + +"I am an Englishman born and bred," said he, "but I think the law of +primogeniture is, as a general rule, a bad one. Driving, as it does, +the younger sons into the army, the navy, the church, and the law may be +beneficial, for the branches of our national defence and the professions +must be recruited from a stratum of intelligent men; the lack of money +may be a spur to ambition in many instances, but it often leads +to devious practices, and--" he saw that he had three interested +listeners--"the whole system is contrary to your countrymen's idea that +all men are created free and equal. While I cannot accept that doctrine +_in toto_, I do believe that the bestowal of titles and fortune upon the +eldest son is attended with grave evils, not only among our nobility, +but in our royal successions. The Almighty does not follow such a law +in endowing his children, and it is contrary to Nature's _dictum_ 'the +survival of the fittest.'" + +Sir Stuart had expressed such opinions during his term in Parliament. +The path of the political pioneer is strewn with temporary defeats, but +all reforms, based upon truth, are ultimately successful, or life would +be a stagnant pool instead of a river of progress. + +A letter from Maude contained a solution of the mystery. + +"DEAR AUNT ELLA AND SISTER FLO:--What a rumpus there has been about that +raised check. Father was as dumb as an oyster about the affair until he +had it all settled, then he told ma and me. + +"How you two feminines must have suffered--one from hopeless love--and +the other from helpless sympathy. But it is all over now, and the +probity of two, presumably, gallant officers is vindicated, while +the paying teller of father's bank is behind the bars with a certain +prospect of years of manual labour for bed and board. Why will men be so +foolish? Easily answered. The love of gold, not made in an honest way, +but by speculating with other folks' money. Mr. Barr, the aforesaid +teller, is a nice young fellow with a wife and two children, but his +life is wrecked. Of course she will get a divorce and try to find a +better man. We are all well, including Mr. Merry. He intended to take +the place in father's office that Quincy spoke about, but Harry--there, +I've written it, so will let it go--had a better position offered him +by Mr. Curtis Carter, one of Quincy's old friends, and he's doing +splendidly Mr. Carter told me. + +"I am heartbroken about Quincy. I trust Alice's hopes may be realized +and most of the time I share them. + +"How's that nephew of mine? Send him over and we'll bring him up a +Yankee boy. He's no Englishman. + +"We are all well, and everybody sends love to everybody. MAUDE. + +"P. S. Father didn't lose anything on the check. The bank paid the money +back to him." + + * * * * * * * + +Aunt Ella kept her promise to the Captain and the part of Maude's letter +which concerned the check was read to him. He improved his opportunity +by asking Florence to be his wife. + +"My father was greatly pleased with you and will welcome you as a +daughter." + +"Whether my father will welcome you as a son is the question," said +Florence. "My father is a very wealthy man. I know the conventionalities +and requirements of English life, and although my love for you is not +dependent upon your having or not having a fortune, I cannot become a +burden to you, or dependent upon your family, as I might become if my +father refused his consent." + +"You American girls are intensely practical." + +"Are not Englishmen equally so when they pay court to American +heiresses? I don't mean you, of course." + +"My father and brothers will allow me twenty-five hundred pounds a year, +about twelve thousand dollars of your money." + +"Could we live, as we have both lived, on that income, Reginald?" + +"To be honest, Florence, I don't think we could have a town house, a +place in the country, and entertain much." + +"Certainly not, Reginald. If my father gives his consent, I will be your +wife whenever you say. If he refuses, we must wait." + +The next mail brought a short letter for Florence from her sister. + +"DEAR FLO:--I didn't want to put what I'm going to write now in my other +letter. I suppose Reggie will propose now. Don't you accept him until +Father is told. You love money and style, and the first enables you to +indulge in the second. + +"I don't blame Reggie for borrowing if he was hard up, but knew he could +pay. But most men are deceitful creatures, anyway. Don't let Aunt Ella +write to father. He was always sore about her influence over Quincy, and +he mustn't think Aunt Ella made this match. If the Countess would write +him, puffing up Reggie's ancestors, and his blue blood and ancestral +home, and a hint (I hope it is so) that the Hornaby's are a very wealthy +family and related (distantly of course) to royalty, Pater may say +'yes,' and give you his blessing. I do, if that will help any. Your +loving sister, + +"MAUDE." + + * * * * * * * + +Florence had to make confidantes of Aunt Ella and Alice. She repeated +her conversation with Reginald and allowed them to read Maude's letter. + +"Maude has a level head," was Aunt Ella's comment. "I'll go and have a +talk with Linda. If she will write your father in the Captain's behalf, +I think things will come out all right." + +Linda was not only willing to assure the Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer +that Capt. Hornaby belonged to an old and honourable family, but also +that he did not seek his daughter's hand because her father was a +wealthy man, for the Hornaby estate was a large one, and the rentals +sufficient to allow the Captain an adequate income, although there were +other brothers to share the patrimony. + +The Hon. Nathaniel deliberated before answering. Florence had always +been a dutiful daughter and the fact that she would not become engaged +without his consent was an acknowledgment of his parental influence +which was vastly pleasing to his vanity. He had been tricked into +accepting Alice as his son's wife, and he knew that Maude, when she +made up her mind to marry would be guided little, if any, by his advice. +Filial love and respect deserved their reward. + +He wrote the Countess giving his consent to the marriage, and, what was +most important, declared his intention of allowing Mrs. Captain Hornaby +an income of fifteen thousand dollars annually, and a liberal provision +at his death. He was very sorry, but pressing legal duties would prevent +his attendance at the wedding if it took place in England. + +The Countess insisted upon the wedding taking place at Ellersleigh. She +had obtained the, otherwise, obdurate father's consent, and demanded +compensation for her services. + +So many weddings have been described that novelty in that line is +impossible. Sufficient to say that the Countess fulfilled expectations +and more, and the event was the year's sensation in Sussex, the echoes +of which reached imperial London, and far off democratic America. + +The Lady Elfrida Hastings was present at the wedding. She congratulated +the Captain and his bride, but took occasion to say to the latter,-- + +"My dear, don't sing those sentimental American songs any more. That +night you looked so _triste_ I was afraid the present delightful affair +would never become a reality." + +Florence did not confess that, on the evening in question, she had +misgivings herself. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +AN ELOPEMENT + + +The Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer sat in his library reading a ponderous +legal document. It was full of knotty points requiring deep thinking, +and the Hon. Nathaniel was breathing deeply and thinking deeply when +the door was opened quietly and a young girl looked in. She stood for a +moment regarding the reader. + +"Father, are you very busy?" + +The man finished reading the page before noticing the speaker. + +"I am always busy, Maude, except when asleep, and I sometimes think my +subliminal consciousness is active then." + +Maude's inclination was to say "Oh, my!" but she repressed the +ejaculation. + +"I can give you a few minutes, Maude, if the subject is an important +one. Come in." + +Maude entered, seated herself, folded her hands in her lap and regarded +her father as a disobedient pupil would a teacher. + +"Father--" + +The Hon. Nathaniel was listening attentively. + +"Father--" + +"Repetition is effective if not indulged in to excess. I often use it in +my arguments before juries." + +Maude flushed. She was particularly sensitive to sarcasm, but could +stand any amount of good-natured raillery. + +"Father, I'm going to be married." + +The Hon. Nathaniel readjusted his glasses and regarded the speaker. + +"It must be a clandestine attachment. I am not aware of meeting any +gentleman who declared any desire to make you his wife. At whose house +have you met your intended? I have no reason to suspect your Aunt Ella +owing to her absence in Europe." + +"I've never been to anybody's house. I've walked with him on the Common +and in the Public Garden." + +"Ah, two parks frequented by the elite of the city." + +Maude resented his last remark. "Just as good people as I am go there." + +"Do you mean that you are no better than those who go there?" + +His voice was stern. Maude saw that she had made a mistake. "Some of +them," she said in a low voice. + +"Who is the favoured gentleman? Have I the honour of his acquaintance?" + +"Why, yes, you've met him. It's Harry, I mean Mr. Merry." + +"The young man who was Quincy's private secretary. Quincy wished me to +take him into my office, but he never appeared in person." + +"He's with Mr. Curtis Carter on Tremont Street. Mr. Carter was one of +Quincy's most intimate friends." + +"And Mr. Merry preferred going to one of Quincy's friends, than to me, +and criminal cases rather than civil procedure. Mr. Carter revels in +murder trials. But why has this young man failed to consult me on +a matter so greatly affecting your future? Why have you assumed the +initiative? This is not leap year." + +Maude was ready to cry, but she choked down her rising temper. + +"I think he's afraid to." + +"What has he done that he should fear me?" + +Maude made another mistake. "He never borrowed any money of you." + +The Hon. Nathaniel disliked any reference to that raised check. "If he +marries you, perhaps he will find it difficult to support you without +borrowing money--but I shall not loan him any." + +"He says he can support me as well as I wish, and I am going to marry +him." + +This was flat-footed defiance, and the Hon. Nathaniel grew red in the +face at being thus bearded in his den. + +"Maude, I am astonished. I command you not to meet this young man again +unless in my presence or that of your mother. When I meet him, I shall +have something to say to him." + +He resumed the reading of the document, and Maude, knowing that it was +useless to say more, left the room. + +The next day at noon, Maude told her mother she was going to make some +purchases on Winter Street. As no objection was made, Maude felt sure +that her father had not mentioned their conversation to her mother. +She met Harry and they walked down the "Long Path" on the Common, made +famous by the genial "Autocrat," not only of one breakfast table, but of +thousands of others. + +"He will never consent," said Maude. + +"I thought so." + +"He was real mean to me--as sarcastic as he could be." + +"Rich fathers are usually indignant when their daughters wish to marry +poor men. He can have no other objection to me." + +"Have you any money saved up, Harry?" + +"Yes, I've got two thousand dollars in the bank to furnish our flat +with." + +"We shall have to go to a justice of the peace, for father will not let +me be married at home. Oh, if Aunt Ella were here." + +"Where is she?" + +"In England. She's the wife of a baronet, and he is rich and so is Aunt +Ella." + +"Maude, let's elope and go to England for our honeymoon." + + * * * * * * * + +Aunt Ella and Alice had been to Ketchley to make some purchases for +young Quincy's wardrobe. As they entered the house a maid said that a +young lady and gentleman were waiting to see them. + +"Both of us?" queried Aunt Ella. + +The maid replied: "They said they wished to see Lady Fernborough and +Mrs. Quincy Adams Sawyer." + +"I will see if baby is all right and join you in a few minutes," said +Alice. + +Aunt Ella passed her hat and wrap to the maid, and entered the drawing +room. + +"Maude Sawyer, what cloud did you drop from? Where did you come from? +Excuse me," said Aunt Ella as she espied Maude's companion, who had kept +in the background. + +"This is my husband, Mr. Harry Merry. We're just from London. We've been +doing the town. What a big noisy place." + +Alice came in and the introduction was repeated. + +"Well, Maude," said Aunt Ella, "we're delighted to see you and your +husband, but your arrival was so unexpected that you must pardon my +evidences of surprise." + +"They're very excusable," said Maude. "I can hardly realize, myself, +that we are here. You and Alice are wondering what brought us, and you +are entitled to an explanation. We just eloped because father would not +give his consent." + +The presence of Mr. Merry made the situation an awkward one, but Aunt +Ella was a woman with opinions and was not afraid to express them. So +she said: + +"I suppose your father will disinherit you. I hope that will not mar +your future happiness." + +"I don't think it will. Harry has a good position, we've got some money +in the bank, and we're going to have a nice little flat in Cambridge or +Roxbury. I want to see my little nephew, Quincy's boy, and then we are +going right back to London." + +"Come with me," said Alice, "and see the baby, but Aunt Ella and I will +never consent to your leaving us so soon. You must pay us a long visit." + +"I would," replied Maude, "but for one thing father said to me. We will +stay over night, for I have so much to tell both of you." + +"Come to the library," said Aunt Ella. "I will introduce your husband to +Sir Stuart, and then we will go to the nursery where we can talk as long +as we wish." + +When they reached the nursery, Maude's first wish was gratified--she +held, and hugged and kissed, and praised her brother's boy. Alice's face +beamed with delight. + +"Now, Maude," exclaimed Aunt Ella, "why this runaway marriage? Tell us +all about it." + +Maude laughed. "It's so funny. I told father I was going to marry Mr. +Merry, and he about the same as said I shouldn't. He told me not to meet +him again unless in his presence or mother's." + +"That was reasonable. Why did you object?" asked Aunt Ella. + +"It wouldn't have done any good. He's opposed to Harry because he isn't +rich. Was Nathaniel Adams Sawyer rich when he married your sister, Aunt +Ella?" + +"I should say not. They began housekeeping in three rooms, but my +brother-in-law is a born money-maker." + +"We're going to have five rooms, and I think Harry has it in him to make +money--at any rate I'm going to give him a chance and help him all I +can." + +"How did you manage to get away?" asked Alice. She remembered that +Quincy married her without his father's consent. But for the fact +that she became famous by writing a popular book, he would never have +welcomed her into the family. In fact, he had been "cornered" and had +to surrender. So, she was full of sympathy for Maude, for her own fate +might have been similar. + +"That's the funny part," said Maude. "I could get away easily enough, +but I wanted my clothes and many things that I prized. I knew it was +wrong, but I deceived my father. I am sorry for that, but I couldn't +give Harry up." + +"What did you do?" asked Aunt Ella. + +"Why, I told father if he wanted to get me away from Harry that he must +let me come to England and see Florence. I didn't say I was coming to +see you--" + +"That wouldn't have appealed to him," interrupted Aunt Ella. + +Maude continued: "Then everything was plain sailing. He gave me money +for an outfit, bought my ticket and return, found me a chaperone, a +brother lawyer and his wife were coming over, and gave me five hundred +dollars to spend. I consider that is my dowry, for I don't expect any +more. Florence gets fifteen thousand a year and I get five hundred all +in a lump. But I am not envious of Florence. She needs the money, and I +don't." + +"Then your father does not know that you are married?" said Alice. + +"Certainly not. Harry was on the same boat, but we never spoke to each +other all the way over. We suspected that father had spoken to Mr. +Harding or his wife about Harry, and so we were very circumspect and +gave no cause for suspicion." + +"Well," said Aunt Ella, "I will go with you to see Florence, but Mr. +Merry--" + +"Please call him Harry, Aunt Ella. Isn't he your nephew--in-law?" + +"Then," Aunt Ella continued, "Harry must stay here. Alice and I will +think out some way of breaking the news to your father. I'm glad +you told me the whole story, for I think I see a way to overcome his +objections." + +The visit to Mrs. Captain Hornaby was paid, and Maude Sawyer was obliged +to kiss and be kissed by her brother-in-law. + +"You didn't win the canoe race," said Maude, "but you were determined +to have that kiss and so you married Florence;" but her sister was not +present when she made the remark. + +"Where is your friend, Colonel Spencer?" + +"In India. I have never seen him since I gave him that check." + +"That paying teller got twenty years in prison for his penmanship," said +Maude. "Father thought you were the bad man until Aunt Ella sent the +message that led father to investigate and find out who deposited the +check. I was awful glad that you got out of it so nicely." + +"So was I," said Reginald. "I hope some day I can help somebody else out +of a bad box just to show my gratitude." + +Maude thought of her "bad box," but Reginald could not help her or +Harry. + +"Are you going to India?" she asked. "How is it that you are not with +the army?" + +"I have sold my captaincy. Florence did not wish me to leave her, and my +eldest brother decided the matter. He hates farming and accounts. I love +both, so I am in charge of the estate. My brother Paul has been given a +living as they call it in the church, and Geoffrey has entered the navy. +My brother Wilfred will inherit the title, so we are all provided for." + +Aunt Ella and Alice had many long confabs about the young couple, and +how to reinstate Maude in her father's good graces when the truth became +known to him. + +"I have an idea," said Alice one morning to Aunt Ella. "Yesterday I had +a letter from Dr. Paul Culver, one of the executors of Quincy's will. He +says his practice is so great that he cannot do justice to my interests, +and asks me to suggest some one to be appointed in his stead." + +"What's your idea? Though perhaps I can guess," said Aunt Ella. + +"I am going to suggest Mr. Merry. I had many talks with him while you +were away with Maude, and I am deeply impressed in his favour. Are you +surprised?" + +"Not so much as you will be when I tell you that Florence and her +husband are going back with Maude. Harry will have to go too, so +something must be done. Now, you know that I gave Quincy an allowance of +five thousand dollars a year when he was married. I am going to give it +to Harry." + +"And why not let them live in the Mount Vernon Street house--until--" +Her voice broke. + +"I know what you were going to say, Alice. It is a good idea--all +furnished and ready for occupancy. I shall never see it again--and you +may not for years--for I can't spare you." + +"When do they sail?" Alice asked. + +"In about a week. I'm going to write a letter to Sarah to-night to pave +the way." + +It was midnight when Aunt Ella completed a letter that seemed to fit the +case. + +"MY DEAR SISTER SARAH:--I write to let you know that Florence and her +husband will sail for America in about a week. This may not be news to +you, for probably Florence has written you, but it will be news when I +tell you that Maude and her husband, Mr. Merry, will sail on the same +steamer. They have visited Florence and are now here with me. + +"I presume Nathaniel will be very angry, and he may say that I am +responsible, as he did in Quincy's case. I did help Quincy and Alice +and I am going to help Maude and Harry. I am going to allow them five +thousand a year and Alice gives them the free use of the Mount Vernon +Street house. She has written Nathaniel about Mr. Merry taking Dr. +Culver's place as one of Quincy's executors. + +"Now, if Nathaniel gets very angry and threatens to disinherit Maude, +just ask him, for me, why it is that all his children have been +married away from home. Has it always been their fault, or is his +home discipline in part, or wholly, the cause? It didn't make so much +difference in Quincy's case, but here in England no girl is married +outside of her father's house, unless it be in church. + +"Your children are now all married, and, I think, well married. Let +Nathaniel make the best of it, and, instead of keeping up a family +warfare, change his tactics and become an indulgent, loving father. + +"Your sister, + +"ELLA. + +"P. S. Let Nathaniel read this letter. It will do him good." + +Aunt Ella read her letter over before sealing it. There was a quiet +smile on her face as she pressed the seal upon the melted wax. Then she +soliloquized: + +"Yes, it will do him good to read that letter. He has no one else to +boss now but Sarah, but she doesn't resist, and ready acquiescence takes +away the pleasure of domineering. The boss wishes to break stout twigs, +not simply press down pliant willows." There came a sharp rap upon the +door--it was thrown open, and Alice entered. + +"Oh, Aunt Ella, Quincy is very sick. He is choked up so he can hardly +breathe. I'm afraid it is the croup." + +"We must send for Dr. Parshefield at once. But who can go? Henry injured +his foot to-day and cannot walk. Lennon, the butler, cannot ride a +horse, and Simon, the stable boy, would be frightened to death so late +at night." + +"Oh, what shall we do?" cried Alice. + +"Do?" exclaimed Aunt Ella. "I'll go myself. It's only two miles to +Ketchley and I can ride back with the Doctor. I'll get Harry to help me +harness the horse. Open the windows to give your boy plenty of air, and +fan him." + +She took up the oil lamp that stood upon her writing table. "This is +whale oil--a nauseous smelling compound. Rub his neck and chest well +with it." + +Alice sought the nursery and followed Aunt Ella's directions. She was +sitting by the crib watching her child's laboured breathing when her +aunt returned. + +"Harry is going on horseback. He knows the road to Ketchley and where +the Doctor lives. Give him some more of the oil." + +It was administered and the child began to choke--he seemed to be +strangling--then the phlegm that had impeded his breathing was thrown +off, and his face resumed its natural colour. When the Doctor arrived an +hour later, he was sleeping quietly. Aunt Ella told what they had done +by way of emergency treatment. + +"Evidently a very effective treatment," said Dr. Parshefield. "I could +not have done better myself." + +"It was so good of you, Harry," said Alice. "I shall never forget your +kindness." + +Then she threw her arms about Aunt Ella's neck. + +"Oh, Auntie, if he had been taken from me, I could not have borne it." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +YOUNG QUINCY + + +It had been arranged while Aunt Ella and Maude were at Ellersleigh that +Florence and her husband should come to Fernborough Hall and make a +visit before their departure for the United States. Owing to Harry's +presence at the Hall it became necessary, when they arrived, to divulge +the well-kept secret of Maude's unconventional marriage. + +Aunt Ella managed the introduction with her usual straightforwardness, +treating it as a matter of course. Florence and her husband were +naturally surprised, but both of them liked Harry Merry. Had Florence +been married at home, with the usual family friends and accessories, she +would have looked with less tolerance on Maude's elopement. To be sure +she had not eloped, but when she looked into her own heart she had to +confess to herself that she would have married Reginald even if her +parents had refused their consent. So, as the intent makes the offence, +she forgave Maude for her escapade, and during their stay at the Hall +they manifested more sisterly regard for each other than they had ever +before shown. + +Reginald and Harry "hitched horses" at once. Men who marry sisters are +united by a stronger tie than the usual brother-in-law bond, and the +Englishman and the American felicitated themselves upon their capture of +the Sawyer sisters. They played billiards on a table where the balls had +not clicked for a generation. They smoked in a room which had been free +from the odour of tobacco for a score of years. They rode horseback upon +steeds whose principal duty, as Harry expressed it, had been to "heat +their 'eads horff." They even fished in the miniature lake and gave +their catch to dogs who knew so little about real sport that they +thought the fish were game. They took long walks together and knew +by name every man, woman, and child on the estate. The conservative +Englishman, if alone, would not have gone so far, but the democratic +American took the lead, and politeness, if not inclination, forced his +companion to follow. + +They often passed an evening with Sir Stuart in his library. The Captain +related incidents in his military life, while Harry, who had been a +great reader, drew on both memory and imagination for tales of the +Great West, with an occasional ghost story, supported by irrefutable +witnesses. The day before their departure, Aunt Ella took Florence +to her boudoir and told her what she had written to _her_ sister, +Nathaniel's wife, about her children's marriages. + +"I hope Sarah will let your father read my letter. I said just what I +thought, and I shall stand by Maude and her husband come what may." + +"And so will I," cried Florence. "You helped Reginald by solving the +mystery of that check, and I will do all I can to help Maude and Harry. +I think he is a fine fellow, and Reggie says they have become like two +brothers." + +"I am glad to hear," said Aunt Ella, "that they are bound by love as +well as by law." + +In about a month there came a long letter from Maude. + +"DEAR AUNT ELLA AND SISTER ALICE:--I have so much to tell you that I +hardly know where to begin. We had a fine trip--no storms--and none of +us missed a meal, which was bad for the company. But they made up their +loss on others who ate a supper on leaving England and a breakfast on +reaching America. + +"Mother was delighted to see us and father was so nice to us all that I +came near fainting. He is a changed man. I wonder what drug he has been +taking." + + * * * * * * * + +"Didn't you tell Maude about your letter to her mother?" asked Alice. + +"No, I told Florence, but thought Maude would appreciate the change +now, _if_ it took place, if she was ignorant of what influence had been +brought to bear on her father." + +Aunt Ella continued the reading. + + * * * * * * * + +"Harry and I have been to Fernborough. Alice's brother sent us word that +Uncle Isaac Pettingill was dead and we went to the funeral. He had no +complaint. He was tired out, so Mrs. Maxwell told us, and went to sleep. +He left each of Mrs. Maxwell's boys five thousand dollars, and the same +amount to Quincy Adams Pettingill. The remainder of his fortune, I don't +know how much, is bequeathed to build a free hospital in Fernborough. + +"There's another good man dead--Deacon Mason,--and his wife has gone +to live with her daughter, Mrs. Pettingill. That funny little man, Mr. +Stiles, has gone there too. + +"I saw Mrs. Hawkins, and she said: 'I mos' cried my eyes out when I +heerd 'bout that collision at sea, an' what it did. I can't see no sense +in them captains bein' so careless and reckless. Tell Miss Alice I wish +she'd come home and bring that boy. I want ter see ef he looks like his +father.' + +"I came near forgetting what to me is the most important part of my +letter. Harry has been appointed as Quincy's executor in place of Dr. +Culver, and, this is the wonderful thing, father has induced Harry to +leave Mr. Carter's office and go into his office. He told Harry that +they were all getting old and they needed young blood in the firm--but +Harry's not in the firm yet. No more this time from your loving, + +"MAUDE MERRY." + +"My letter to Sarah did do some good," said Aunt Ella triumphantly. + +"Poor Uncle Ike, I wish I could have been with him. I wonder if I shall +ever see Fernborough again?" + +Aunt Ella did not answer the question as she would have liked to, and +Alice went to her room to recall those former happy days which would +never come again. + +Nearly nine years had passed since young Quincy's birth, and Alice was +still at Fernborough Hall. She could not leave it now, for Aunt Ella +was again a widow. Her mind was troubled about her boy. He had recurrent +attacks of throat trouble, and was not strong as she wished him to be. + +"It's the damp, foggy weather," said Aunt Ella. "We're too near the +water, and this country, beautiful as it is, is not like our bright +America." + +Dr. Parshefield suggested a trip to the South of France, but Alice +declared that was impossible. + +"Something must be done--now what shall it be?" was Aunt Ella's +declaration and inquiry. Then Alice remembered what Maude had said +in one of her letters--that young Quincy should be brought up as an +American. She spoke to Aunt Ella about the matter, repeating what Maude +had written. + +"Where could we send him?" + +"The _where_ is not so important" Aunt Ella remarked, "as the _to whom_. +Florence and Maude are both out of the question for they have young +children of their own who might, or might not, take to an outsider. +Quincy's mother would be delighted to have him for he is her son's son, +but Boston, with its east winds would be no better than here. Besides, +his grandfather would say that he'd raised one family of disobedient +children and he wanted a quiet life." + +The question remained unsettled that day, but the next morning Aunt Ella +burst into Alice's room with a loud cry-- + +"Eureka! I have it! Why didn't we think of it before?" + +"You say you have it," said Alice, "but what is it? That pattern that +you were looking for?" + +"No, a happy home for this youngster," as she patted his curly head +lovingly. + +"Now, can't you guess?" + +Alice shook her head. + +"Well, I must say, you are not a very thoughtful _sister_," and the last +word was strongly emphasized. + + +"What, do you mean--'Zekiel?" cried Alice. + +"The very man, and Fernborough is the place. You must write to your +brother at once." + +As Alice was writing the thought came to her, "Perhaps if my boy goes +to Fernborough, some day I may go to see him, and the old town, and the +people there, once more." + +In due time a reply came from 'Zekiel. It was short, but to the point. +"Huldy will be delighted to have him. Our boy Quincy is nearly fourteen +years old now and he'll take good care of his little cousin. I'll try +and be a father to him until you come for him." + +The important question, "How was the boy to reach America?" was answered +by one of those happy coincidences which happen often in books and +occasionally in real life, such as is being depicted. The Rev. Mr. Gay, +who had been a constant visitor to Uncle Ike during his last days, paid +a visit to Fernborough Hall on his return from a trip to the Holy Land. + +"Heaven must have sent you," said Alice, and she told him of her desire +to have her boy go to Fernborough. + +Mr. Gay consented to take charge of young Quincy. In a few days the +parting came. The mother's heart was sorely tried. But mother-love is +unselfish, and Alice's only consolation came from the conviction that +her temporary loss was for her son's permanent good. + +Her nights were sleepless, filled with thoughts of accidents, and storms +and collisions at sea, until a welcome letter dispelled her imaginings, +for it brought the intelligence that young Quincy was safe with his +father's friends. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +HIS FATHER'S FRIENDS + + +It is the good fortune of some fatherless or motherless children to be +adopted into good families where the natural love and care that have +been denied them are supplied, as it were, by proxy. With young Quincy +it was so, only much more so. It fell to his lot to be adopted by an +entire town. Its residents had been, with few exceptions, his father's +friends. The sad story of his father's loss at sea was known to all, +and the town's heart warmed towards him; the town's arms were open to +embrace him, and care for him. + +To his Aunt Huldah Pettingill he seemed as though sent from another +world. He was her husband's nephew, and hers--but there was a closer tie +acknowledged within her own heart, and kept there as a precious secret. +He was Quincy Adams Sawyer's son--the son of the man who had taught +her what love was. It had been a bitter lesson, for when her heart +was awakened, it was but to find that the one who had played upon its +sensitive strings did not love her, and that her duty was to another who +did love her. She had been a true and loving wife with no unsatisfied +heart-longings, but-- + + "You may break, you may shatter the vase, if you will, + But the scent of the roses will hang round it still." + +So Huldah Mason still kept within a secret corner of her heart a fond +remembrance of happy days gone by. And now Quincy's son was one of her +family; she could be a mother to him and no one would have a right to +question her manifestations of affection. It is often that the human +heart thus finds solace for past sad experiences or suffering. + +It was only natural that Huldah, after her father's death, should take +her mother to her own home. The old Deacon had acquired enough of this +world's goods to avoid the necessity of hard labour during the last +years of his life. Good books had been his constant companions, and an +old-fashioned cane-bottomed rocking chair his favourite seat upon the +piazza or by the kitchen fire. Abner Stiles had done the necessary farm +work and the household chores. When the Deacon passed away, the town +lost one of its broadest-minded, most honest, most helpful citizens. + +Mrs. Mason, still hale and hearty, assisted her daughter in her +household duties, but allowed Abner to put up the clothes line and take +it in. + +"And this is his son, and his poor father--" The Deacon's good wife +could say no more, but clasped little Quincy close to her motherly +breast. + +"You told me how it happened, Huldy, and I told father, but it don't +seem real even now. His father was such a fine man." + +She stopped, for her daughter had turned her head away, and her mother +knew that it was to brush away some tears that could not be kept back. + +To 'Zekiel Pettingill, the boy was Alice's child. His only sister had +been the apple of his eye, and his great, honest heart welcomed the boy +as if he were his own. + +His own son, Quincy Adams Pettingill, was in his fourteenth year and +upon him devolved the outdoor education of his young cousin. In this +pleasant task he was aided by his sister Sophie who was a year younger +than the newcomer. + +There was a scene of wild excitement when young Quincy paid his first +visit to the old Pettingill place where his mother was born. It was +still the home of Hiram Maxwell and his wife, formerly Mandy Skinner. +The two boys, Abraham Mason Maxwell and Obadiah Strout Maxwell had been +told often the story of Mr. Sawyer's visit to Eastborough, and how he +boarded in that house, and little Mandy was glad to see "Kirwinzee." + +The old dog, Swiss, had, with difficulty, been dragged from the grave of +his former master, Uncle Ike, but no force, or persuasion, could induce +him to leave the old house. Probably the name "Quincy" had a familiar +sound and he wagged his tail slowly as an evidence of recognition and +welcome. + +The most explosive greeting came from Mrs. Crowley. + +"An' it's the foine young man he is, the picter of his feyther." She +would have taken him in her arms and hugged him but for the presence of +others, but, afterwards, when alone with him she patted his curly head +and told him that he would have to be a fine man to be as good as his +father. Everywhere he went his father was talked about and praised, and +his mother had taught him to love his father's memory. Thus early +the ambition to be like his father was instilled in the boy's mind. +Confident as Alice was that her husband was still living, Aunt Ella +had protested effectually against her implanting any such hope in the +child's mind, and he had been brought up with the belief that his father +had died before he was born. There was one place where his father's +praises were faint, and that was at the grocery store. + +[ILLUSTRATION: "'I S'POSE ONE OF THESE DAYS YOU'LL BE WEIGHIN' SUGAR AND +DRAWIN' 'LASSES.'"] + +"Ah, my young man," said Mr. Obadiah Strout, on his first visit, "your +father's money started this business, but I've worked mighty hard to +build it up to what it is now. I s'pose one of these days you'll be +weighin' sugar and drawin' 'lasses." + +"I guess not," exclaimed Hiram. "Rich men's sons don't us'ally take to +their father's business." + +"You're right for once, Hiram," Mr. Strout acknowledged. "They uzally +run through the money, bust the biz'ness and bring up in jail." + +"Well, this young fellow won't," cried Hiram, hotly. "He's goin' to be a +great man like his father, won't you, Bub?" + +"Bub" took a handful of raisins from an open box, and eyed his +questioner wonderingly. + +"There's many a slip 'twixt the cow and the churn," said Mr. Strout as +he took a ten cent cigar from the case and lighted it. Perhaps the +sight of the son recalled a scene in the same shop many years before on +Quincy's first visit to Mason's Corner when a box of cigars had been the +subject of an animated discussion between the boy's father and himself, +followed by a passage-at-arms--or, more correctly speaking--fists. We +humans are only veneered with politeness or good nature; underneath, +man's revengeful nature lies dormant--but not dead. + +Mrs. Hawkins was delighted to see him. "Olive, don't you think he's the +likeness of his father?" + +Olive agreed, because she had found that agreement with her employer's +opinions made life pleasant, and also led to many desirable additions to +her wardrobe. + +Mrs. Hawkins surveyed him again. "I'll never forget what a poor appetite +his father had when he boarded here. He never came to his meals reg'lar. +But he was in love, head over heels an' an extry dip,--an' I don't blame +him, for 'Zeke Pettingill's sister was good enough for any man, even +if he did git to be guv'nor. Have a cookey?" and Quincy's pockets were +filled with cakes that contained raisins and citron. + +"Them's seedless raisins, Quincy. I had a boarder once, a reg'lar +hayseed who came down here from Montrose to work hayin' time, an' he +asked me how I got the stuns out of the raisins. Jes' to fool him, I +said I bit 'em out, an' do you know, that old fool never teched another +bit o' cake while he stopped here." + +Mr. Jonas Hawkins took him out to see the hens and chickens, and told +him that he "kalkilated that mos' on 'em eggs that was bein' sot on +would hatch out." Quincy's great delight was going with Hiram in the +grocery wagon. One day they went over the same road from the Pettingill +farm to Eastborough Centre that his father had travelled so many times. + +The old sign board "Three Miles to Mason's Corner" was still there, +but how changed the other conditions. No consumptive uncle in the +Poor House, no philosophical Uncle Ike living in a chicken coop, no +inquisitive Mrs. Putnam, no mysterious Lindy, no battle royal with the +music teacher, no town meeting to engineer, no grocery store to buy, +no Deacon's daughter to go driving with, no singing school, no surprise +party, no blind girl to comfort and aid--and finally marry. + +There were none of the incidents that had made his father's life at +Mason's Corner so exciting and interesting. Now, there was only a little +boy riding in a red wagon with yellow wheels, inhaling the pure air +and sweetness of the wild flowers, listening to the songs of birds, and +wishing that Uncle Hiram would make the horse go faster. + +It is safe to leave him with his father's friends, for surely his lines +had fallen in a pleasant place. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +AN OLD STRIFE RENEWED + + +It was February and the air was stinging cold. It was one of those +nights such as Lowell wrote about in "The Courtin'." + + "God makes sech nights, all white an' still + Fur'z you can look or listen, + Moonshine an' snow on field an' hill, + All silence an' all glisten." + +In the store of the Strout and Maxwell Company quite a number of the +town's people were gathered about the big air-tight stove which was kept +stuffed full of wood by willing hands and from which came great waves of +almost scorching heat. + +Such congregations of villagers are often said to be composed of loafers +and loungers, but it was not so at Fernborough. The men who represented +the brains and marrow of the town met there. It was the home of the town +debating society and supplied a free forum for the discussion of public +questions. If the advanced ideas in statesmanship and social economy +incubated there could have become the property of the nation, our +country would have grown wiser and better. + +But for the intense cold the company gathered there on the evening in +question would have been much larger. Benoni Hill, the former proprietor +of the store and the richest man in town, did not think his wealth +was any reason why he should hold aloof or consider himself above his +neighbours, whose patronage had been the foundation of his fortune. +He was given an old arm-chair while the others sat upon soap-boxes and +nail-kegs. Cobb's Twins, William and James, were there, Emmanuel Howe, +the minister's son, and Bob Wood who still sang bass in the village +church choir. + +The store door was opened letting in a gust of cold air which made all +draw nearer to the red-hot stove. The newcomer was Samuel Hill, Benoni's +son. + +A chorus of voices cried: "Hello, Sam!" and a place was made for him so +he could thaw out his almost frozen fingers. + +"It's mighty cold, ain't it?" said his father. + +"Well, I should smile," replied Sam. This expression he had heard the +last time he was in the city, and he derived great pleasure from its +repetition. + +"How's Tilly?" asked Bob Wood. + +"Able to be up and have her bed made." + +All laughed at the rejoinder. Smiles and laughter are easily evoked in a +village grocery. + +Mr. Obadiah Strout and Mr. Hiram Maxwell, general partners, were in the +private office, a small room adjoining the post-office. Mr. Strout was +smoking a cigar and reading a letter between the puffs. Hiram, with his +chair tilted back against the wall, was smoking his after-supper pipe, +for it was after seven o'clock in the evening. + +"Mr. Maxwell," said Obadiah, laying down the letter he had been reading, +"this is from the trustees of the estate of the Honourable Quincy +Adams Sawyer, formerly our special partner, and the ex-Governor of this +Commonwealth. I mention the fact of him being our former special partner +first, before I said anything about his political elevation, for I don't +believe, Mr. Maxwell, that he would ever have been Governor if he hadn't +jined in with us." + +Mr. Strout always called Hiram "Mr. Maxwell," when they talked over +business affairs. + +Hiram blew a cloud from his pipe. "Wall, I guess they're putty well +satisfied with what we've been doin', ain't they?" + +Mr. Strout leaned back in his chair with a self-satisfied look on his +face. + +"Wall, they must be a pretty near set if they expect more'n twelve per +cent, on the capital. No, they're all right, 'though one of 'em, that +Mr. Merry, is mighty inquisitive 'bout small things. Marryin' inter the +Sawyer family 'counts for it, I s'pose." + +Hiram was used to hearing covert slurs and open flings at the Sawyer +family, but had found replies only provocative of attacks upon himself, +so he listened in silence. Mr. Strout took up the letter. "I wrote +'em 'bout startin' that new branch over to Westvale, and although they +answered in a kinder top-lofty style--I reckon that young Merry writ the +letter--I 'magine they're in for it, horse, foot, and dragoons. They'll +put up the money. An' the question now is who'll go over and take charge +of it." + +Hiram put his pipe on the table. "There's two folks that don't want to +go, an' that's Mandy an' me. I don't s'pose the children would find any +fault, but they're not old enough to vote on the question." + +Hiram knew that his partner was anxious to get him out of the +Fernborough store, and so he filed his objections at once. + +"Oh," said Strout, "of course I didn't have no sech idee as askin' you +to go, even if you did know who was the best man for the job. The snail +thinks he's travelled a long ways when he goes a foot, an' some men are +jus' like him." + +Hiram ignored the personal application. + +"Well, bein's you didn't want me to go, I s'pose you've somebody in +mind. Suit yourself, as us'al." + +"Well, I've thought it all over, an' I think Billy Ricker's our man. +He'll be over from Montrose to-morrow an' I'll talk it over with him. +We've got that Montrose trade so solid he can be spared from there now. +Guess there ain't any trade tonight or Bob would have called us in afore +this." + +"Ef we sold cord wood we might be doin' somethin'," and, laughing in his +old way at his own joke, Hiram started to follow his partner into the +store. + +"Say, Hiram," called out Strout in a loud voice, "bring in them two +chairs--everything's occupied out here 'cept the counter." + +As the proprietors took their seats, the store door was opened again, +this time admitting Mr. Abner Stiles. His teeth were chattering, and +he stamped his feet upon the floor, and beat his hands against his +shoulders in old-fashioned country style. + +"Moses Williams!" he cried. "I kinder think the North Pole must have +slid down an' come to stop in this 'ere town. I say, Strout, if that +organ of yourn was pumped to-night you'd have to play 'From Greenland's +Icy Mountains,' or some sech tune." + +"Where have you been?" asked Mr. Strout. + +"Hain't been nowhere. Jes' came from the Pettingill house. Young Master +Sawyer wants some brown sugar to make some candy. Give me five pounds." + +"So it's Master Sawyer, is it?" said Strout as he weighed the saccharine +substance. "I thought it was Mister before a man was a Master." + +"I ain't a talkin' about men--he's only a boy, and a mighty smart boy +too." + +"I'm tired hearing about him," said Strout. "Can't you give us something +new?" + +"Yes, I kin," said Abner. "Boys, I've got something funny to tell you. I +went to Cottonton this afternoon and I'd jest got back when they sent me +for the sugar." + +"What ye doin' over there?" asked Benoni. + +Abner scratched his head then winked at Benoni. + +"I went to buy somethin' for an individual who shall be nameless out of +respect--" + +"Go on with your story," shouted Strout. "You'd better hurry home with +that sugar or the 'Master' may make it hot for you." + +This remark caused a laugh at Abner's expense. + +"Jes' go ahead, Abner," said Benoni, "we're all a-waitin'." + +"Well, I met a feller on the train and he buzzed me all the way here. +He wanted to know where I lived, an' when I told him I lived in +Fernborough, that used to be a part of Eastborough, he jest piled me +full of questions. I told him all I knew--" + +"An' added a little something" broke in Strout. + +"No, I jest stuck close to the truth. He wanted to know about Mr. Quincy +Adams Sawyer. I told him he was dead, but he said he wanted to know +about him when he lived here. Then I told him there was a man in town +who could tell him more'n I could about that, an' I jest giv' him your +name, Obadiah." + +This sally turned the laugh on Strout who was about to make a sharp +rejoinder, when the store door opened and a strong current of cold air +caused all to turn. + +"Shut the door!" cried Bob Wood in his gruff voice. + +"I beg your pardon," said the man, as he complied. + +He was very tall,--more than six feet in height. He was dressed in a +suit of shiny black; his coat was buttoned tightly and the collar was +turned up. The most noticeable part of his costume was a broad-brimmed +straw hat. He wore no overcoat and his hands were ungloved. + +"Gentlemen, I must beg pardon for this intrusion, but I used to live in +these parts many years ago, and I am here to inquire whether any of my +family are awaiting the return of a long-lost relative." + +Abner nudged Mr. Strout and said in a whisper: "That's the feller." + +"What might your name be?" asked Mr. Benoni Hill in his genial manner. + +"I have occupied many stations in life, and whether high or low have +always assumed a cognomen to match my position." + +"A cog what?" asked Bill Cobb in a voice so low that he thought only his +brother Jim could hear; but his question reached the stranger's ear. + +"By cognomen I mean a desirable _alias_ or a characteristic +appellation." + +This explanation gave rise to a chorus of "Oh's." + +"Kerzactly," remarked Benoni, and then all laughed. + +"When I left this town thirty years ago, my name was Richard Ricker. On +returning to those paths which my childish feet so often trod--I have +just come from the West Indies where the climate is hotter than that +stove--it seems appropriate that I should assume my family name. It is +done. I am now Richard Ricker." + +Abner nudged Strout again, who resented it, but Mr. Stiles remarked in a +whisper: "He's crazy--mad as a March hare." + +Mr. Ricker did not hear his opinion of his sanity. + +"My father's name was Benjamin, Martha was my mother, and I had a +brother William--that is, I had them all when I ran away to sea at the +age of seventeen years, ten months, and fifteen days. I always remember +my exact age for I wished to know just how long I had been gone when I +got back." + +The villagers looked at the stranger with marked variations in +expression, but no one spoke until Abner remarked: + +"I guess you've struck the right place. There's a young feller named +Billy Ricker that works for Mr. Strout here," and he pointed to that +gentleman. "Billy's father was named Bill, but he's dead; so's Ben and +Marthy. I know'd 'em all." + +"I am glad to learn that I have a nephew in the land of the living. +Where is he?" + +"He lives in Montrose, the next town north of us," said Mr. Strout. "We +have a branch store there an' Billy has charge of it." + +"If he had some capital, I suppose he could become a partner," remarked +Mr. Ricker. + +"Not much," said Strout. "We have all the money we need, and know where +to get more. What we want is men, an' we have a good one in Billy." + +Mr. Ricker removed his unseasonable headgear and moved nearer to the +stove. + +"I have heard of the late Mr. Sawyer and was sorry to hear of his early +demise." He looked at Abner, then at Mr. Strout. + +"Your friend here has told me about his wonderful exploits--how he +thrashed the town bully, and beat the singing-master at his own game." + +Bob Wood and Strout glared at Abner. + +"But his experiences, which I have been told have appeared in print," +the stranger continued, "are trifling compared with the perils and +adventures which have fallen to my lot. I could make your blood run +cold." + +"Ef we open the front door, I guess the weather will do that," said +Hiram, and it was the general opinion, though not verbally expressed, +that Hiram had got one on the stranger. + +Mr. Emmanuel Howe, the clergyman's son, was noted for his extreme +politeness. He had attended one term at a divinity school before he met +Miss Dixie Schaffer. He arose from the nail-keg upon which he had been +sitting, and motioned for the stranger to take his place. + +As he accepted the mute invitation, Mr. Ricker turned to the company and +said: "Gentlemen, shall I intrude upon your time if I relate just one of +my adventures?" + +"Oh, go ahead," said Strout. "It's our rule to let a man talk until we +get enough, and then--" + +He raised his right foot, suddenly. + +"I understand," said Mr. Ricker. "When I was about twenty-two years old +our vessel was wrecked and I, the only one saved, was cast ashore on +a cannibal island--or, to be more correct ethnologically, an island +inhabited by cannibals. I was a handsome young fellow, and it is not +at all surprising that the Queen, who was young, unmarried, and, +fortunately, very pretty, fell in love with me and wished to become my +wife. + +"But the Prime Minister, or Great Panjandrum, as he was called, wished +his son to marry the Queen and become King, so he, and his minions +planned to get rid of me. + +"Lola-Akwa, that was the Queen's name, discovered the plot, and resolved +to save me. + +"You all read your Bibles, and you will remember that in the olden days +there were places that were called 'Cities of Refuge.' On that island +there was a Tree of Refuge. It was at least one hundred feet high and +for two hundred feet from it, in every direction, not a tree or shrub +could be found. This open space gave the pursuers a fine chance for an +arrow shot before the refugee reached the tree. + +"Lola-Akwa told me to climb to the top of that tree and stay there until +she sent word for me to come down. + +"But the Great Panjandrum discovered my hiding place. The Queen declared +that I was protected by all that was sacred in their religion, but the +Great Panjandrum proved by the cannibal Bible that only cannibals were +entitled to its protection. He said they would roast a man, and if I +would eat him and pick his bones I might go free. I declined, for I am +rather particular about my diet. + +"Then the Great Panjandrum seized an axe and struck at the foot of the +tree. Others followed his wicked example and it soon began to totter. +They next tied a rope about the trunk of the tree. The plotters were +sixteen in number--I counted them. They stood in line, tugging at the +rope. + +"Lola-Akwa stood far back awaiting the terrible moment of my death. I +could see that her eyes were filled with tears. The tree fell, and I +went flying through the air--to certain death! + +"When I came to, I found myself clasped in Lola-Akwa's arms. 'Where am +I?' I asked. 'Look' she said. I did, and learned the wonderful truth. + +"The Great Tree had fallen upon the Great Panjandrum and his fifteen +conspirators and killed them all." + +For a moment there was silence, then a chorus of voices exclaimed: "Did +you marry the Queen?" + +The stranger pressed his hand upon his forehead. + +"No. If I remember correctly some one held an ace and took my Queen." + +He rose from the nail-keg. + +"I'm hungry. I would like some supper and a bed for the night. To-morrow +I will embrace my only living relative. Is there a boarding house in +town?" + +"Somethin' better'n that," said Abner. "We've got a Hotel--the Hawkins +House. Mrs. Hawkins keeps it. I'm going along that way and I'll +interduce you. She's a pretty good talker herself," and Abner winked +with both eyes as they went out. + +"Well," said Benoni, as the door closed after them. "The Bible says +Ananias was a pretty good story teller, but that gentleman seems to have +added some modern improvements." + +"He's a cussed liar," said Bob Wood. + +"And if Mrs. Hawkins is smart she'll make him pay in advance." + +The door was thrown open full width and two men rushed in. + +"Have you seen him?" cried one. + +"Seen who?" asked Strout. + +"He's tall--black clothes--had on a straw hat--" + +"Who in thunder is he?" cried Strout. + +"He's a lunatic--just escaped from the asylum. We tracked him to this +town--" + +"He's gone to the hotel," said Bob Wood. "You can nab him easy there. +I'll show you the way." + +The men started on the run, led by Bob Wood, and followed by all who had +been enjoying the hospitality afforded by the soap-boxes, nail-kegs, and +the red-hot stove. + +"What beats me," said Hiram, "is how he knew all about the Ricker +family." + +"Simple enough," said Strout with a sneer, "That ass Abner told him the +whole business. He never could keep his mouth shet. That's the reason I +wouldn't give him a job in this store." + +Mr. Strout extinguished some of the lights, locked the door, and resumed +his seat by the stove. + +"Ain't you going home?" asked Hiram. + +"Not jest yet; I've some thinkin' to do. I don't take much stock in +fightin' but I'd like to punch Abner Stiles' head." + +"What's he been doing?" + +"Why, didn't you hear what he said he said to that crazy fellow about +Sawyer getting the best of me at my own game?" + +"Wall, he told the truth, didn't he, Strout?" + +"Look here, Mr. Hiram Maxwell, I want you to understand that if we are +to continue together as partners in this 'ere grocery business, there +must be mutual respect atween us." + +"Wall," said Hiram, "I s'pose you mean by that, that ef I ain't what you +consider respec'ful to you, you'll get out and leave me the business. +You see, Obadiah, it's not for you or me to say who'll stay in--that's +for the trustees. So, I wouldn't lay down the law too fine, Obadiah." + +"Wall, I hoped," said Strout, "that when that Sawyer married 'Zeke +Pettingill's sister and left this town that we'd be able to have a +little peace round here and run things our own way. Course, I don't want +any man to get drowned, but it wasn't my fault that the ship he was +on ran into another. He was allus runnin' into somethin' that didn't +concern him. But bein' he's gone, and no blame can be laid at my door, I +thought we'd heard the last of him, but since he's died the air's fuller +of Sawyer than it was afore. It makes me sick the way everybody tumbles +over themselves to make of that boy of his'n. I don't think there's much +to him." + +"He's got a big head, an' he's a mighty bright little fellow," said +Hiram. + +"Wall, then he resembles his father in one respect--_he_ had a big +head." + +"I'm surprised, Obadiah, to hear you talk the way you do. I ain't forgot +that meetin' in the Town Hall where you got up and owned up that he was +'bout right, and thet you'd been mean as dirt, but he shook hands with +you, and forgave you like a gentleman as he was, and I thought you were +good friends." + +"I'm good friends with anybody that keeps out of my way," said Strout. +"But that Sawyer was like that _malary_ that the boys got off to war. +It gets into your blood and you can't get it out. Why, he snubbed 'Zeke +Pettingill jest the same as he did me when they had that sleigh ride, +and he didn't have spunk enough to hit back. If 'Zeke had jined in with +me we'd had him out o' town lively. And then the way he butted in at +my concert and turned a high-class musical entertainment inter a nigger +minstrel show by whistling a tune vas enough to make anybody mad clean +through." + +"Wall, you got mad, didn't you?" said Hiram. "What good did it do yer?" + +Mr. Strout's newly aroused wrath was not appeased. + +"Then again, the way he squeezed himself in at that surprise party. +Since I married Bessie Chisholm, I've talked to her a good many times +'bout the way she danced with him that night." + +"Come now, Strout, what did she say? She wasn't engaged to you then. +What did she say? Now be honest." + +Mr. Strout could not restrain a grim smile. + +"Wall, to tell the truth, Hiram, she told me it was none of my business, +an' when I came to think it over I didn't believe it was--but it would +be now." + +Mr. Strout's vials of wrath had not all been emptied. He seemed to be +enjoying a rehearsal of all his past troubles and grievances. + +"I guess that if the folks had known at first that the Jim Sawyer who +died in the Poor House was his uncle, they wouldn't have considered him +such great shucks after all. An' the way he tried to get Huldy Mason to +marry him and throw over 'Zeke Pettingill, who had loved her ever since +she was a baby, was a mighty mean piece of business in my opinion." + +This remark gave Hiram an opportunity which he was not slow in +improving. + +"I heerd as how there was another feller in town who tried to get Huldy +to marry him and throw poor 'Zeke over." + +Mr. Strout puckered up his mouth and there was a strained look on +his face which indicated that the shot had gone home. But his verbal +ammunition was not all expended. + +"You can tell me what you've a mind to, but I know that he tried mighty +hard to get Lindy Putnam to marry him, an' I don't imagine he'd have +taken up with a blind girl if he hadn't heard that Heppy Putnam was +going to leave her all her money. I had him looked up by some friends of +mine in the city. They said he didn't have much himself, but his father +paid his bills. His father jest gave him to understand that if he didn't +marry the right girl, with plenty of dough, he wouldn't get much from +him." + +"Wall, you may be right and you may be wrong, Obadiah. But when a man's +dead I don't think it does you any good to roast him and pick his bones. +It's too much like those _cannibiles_ that crazy feller told us about. +Quincy Adams Sawyer was always a good friend to me, and a better one +to you, Strout, than you deserved, judgin' from the way you've been +talkin'. His money has been the makin' of both on us, and while we do +business together I hope we'll let Mr. Sawyer, as the church folks say, +rest in pieces." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +BOYHOOD TO MANHOOD + + +Until he was fourteen years of age, young Quincy attended the public +schools in Fernborough and Cottonton. While in England he had had a +governess and later a tutor, so that when he reached America he was much +farther advanced than Fernborough boys of his own age. Methods in the +New England town were different, however, and his Uncle Ezekiel +was satisfied to have him keep pace with the others, and not arouse +antagonism by asking for any special promotion. + +Ezekiel's son Quincy had decided to become a farmer, following in his +father's footsteps. But scientific farming was supplanting old methods, +and he had taken the course at the Agricultural College and received his +diploma. + +Young Quincy wished a college education. To obtain admission it was +necessary for him to attend a preparatory school, and, relying upon Mr. +Gay's description of its advantages, Andover was selected. + +While at the Cottonton High School, Quincy's chum had been a boy two +years older than himself, named Thomas Chripp. He was the son of a +weaver at Cottonton. Like Quincy, he had been born in England, but his +father had been drawn to America by the lure of higher wages, nothing +having been said to him, however, about the increased cost of living. + +Thomas's father would not let him become a back-boy in the mill. + +"I've breathed cotton all my life," said Mr. Chripp to Ezekiel, "and I +think too much of my only boy to condemn him to a life in a hot room, +where the only music is the whizzing shuttles. No, my boy Tom shall +breathe God's fresh air and become a big, strong man instead of a +wizened-up little fellow like me. Why, would you believe it, Mr. +Pettingill, I began work in a cotton mill when I was eight years old, +and I've lived in one ever since--forty years! Sundays when I walk out +in the fields I can't get the din out of my ears, and I told Susan, my +old wife, the other day, that if I died before she did to have the lid +screwed down extra tight so I could be sure of a little quiet." + +"My nephew," said 'Zekiel, "thinks a lot of your boy and wants him to go +to college with him." + +"But I haven't got the money to pay his way," said Mr. Chripp. + +"My nephew has plenty of money, and if he's willing to help your boy +along in the world there's nobody to object that I know of." + +So it was arranged that Tom Chripp should go to the preparatory school +and college with Quincy, the latter to pay the expenses of both. "'Twas +a lucky day for Tom that sent that Sawyer boy to school in Cottonton," +said Mr. Chripp to his wife. + +"It'll be the making of Tom," he added, and the happy mother thought so +too. + +When Mr. Strout heard of it, he remarked to his partner Mr. Maxwell, + +"More of the arrogance of wealth. If I was a young man like Tom Chripp +I'd make my own way in the world." + +Hiram swallowed some smoke, coughed, and then replied: "Probably he +will, when he gits his eddikation. Money makes the mare go now as it +always has, Obadiah, an' you an' me can't stop it." + +"Like father, like son, I guess, Hiram. His father used to enjoy +throwing his money away an' the son's goin' to sail in the same boat. +I shouldn't be surprised if he came back to town some day and licked +somebody jest to be like his father." + +"I shouldn't nuther," said Hiram as he began putting up an order for the +Hawkins House. + +While Quincy was attending the public schools, Mrs. Nathaniel Sawyer +made two visits each year to Fernborough to learn of her grandson's +progress. Thanksgiving he passed at his Uncle 'Zekiel's where he had +eagerly watched the growth of the turkey that was destined to grace the +festal board on that day. At Christmas he went to Boston and returned +laden with gifts, many of which were immediately donated to his cousins +and Mandy Maxwell's children. + +Mr. Strout's ire was kindled when Hiram described the presents his +children had received from Quincy. + +"Thank the Lord I've got money enough to buy my children's presents +myself without dependin' on second-hand things that other folks don't +want." + +"So've I," said Hiram, "but what I save that way I puts in the bank, for +I'm bound to own the old Pettingill Place some day." + +"Oh, spend your money, Hiram. Your rich friends will give you the house +some day." He was so pleased with the subtle humour of his last remark +that he tossed a scoop half full of coffee into the sugar barrel, much +to Hiram's amusement. + +During Quincy's first year at Andover he was twice called from his +studies. The Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer after his return home from a +bank directors' banquet was taken with an attack of acute indigestion. +He was in great pain. One of the most prominent physicians in the city +was summoned. He gave a strong hypodermic injection of morphine to +stop the pain, but did nothing to remove the cause. The pain itself +was stopped by the anodyne, but the cause of the pain--the +indigestion--stopped the beating of Mr. Sawyer's heart within an hour. + +By his will, $250,000 were left to his daughter Florence, and $100,000 +to his daughter Maude. To compensate for the $150,000 difference in the +bequests, the Hon. Nathaniel Sawyer's interest in the firm of Sawyer, +Crowninshield, and Lawrence was conveyed to Mr. Harry Merry, provided +that one-third of his share from the income of the law-business was paid +to the trustees of the estate of his grandson Quincy Adams Sawyer. The +remainder of his property, both real and personal, was left to his wife, +Sarah Quincy Sawyer. + +Quincy's grandmother did not live long to enjoy her fortune. Maude +wished her to sell the Beacon Street house and come to Mount Vernon +Street. Her mother wished her to come to Beacon Street. While the +_pros_ and _cons_ were being considered, the old lady died of absolute +inanition. She had been dominated so long by a superior will power, she +had been so dependent upon her late husband in every event of her life, +that without him she was a helpless creature, and so willing to drop her +burden, that she did not cling to life but gave up without the semblance +of a struggle. Her last will and testament was very short, containing +but one clause, which gave all her property to her grandson Quincy Adams +Sawyer. When Aunt Ella heard of her sister's death, she said to Alice: + +"They were not two distinct beings, Nathaniel was one and a half, and +Sarah only a half." + +"That boy will sure go to the devil now," was Mr. Strout's comment. + +"I don't think so," said Hiram. "He's too much like his father." + +"How do you know where his father has gone?" snapped Mr. Strout, who did +not believe, evidently, that good works were a sure passport to future +bliss. + +Quincy's vacation after his first year at Andover was passed at +Fernborough. He was warmly welcomed and congratulated upon the great +fortune that had fallen to him. + +"He's got a big head, sure enough," said Mr. Strout, "but I think he's +a little weak in the legs. He won't disgust the community by fightin' as +his father did." + +"I wish he'd thrash Bob Wood's son--he's too impudent to live," said +Mrs. Amanda Maxwell, to whom Mr. Strout had addressed his remark. + +"No danger o' that," and Mr. Strout laughed gleefully. "Young Bob's as +good with his fists as his father was." + +"He didn't amount to much when Mr. Sawyer tackled him," and with a +scornful laugh Mrs. Maxwell flounced out of the store. + +"Your wife's as bad as the rest on 'em, Hiram." + +"Yes, Obadiah; it seems to be whoopedemic, as the doctors say." + +Quincy's second and third years at Andover passed quickly and again +vacation time had come. + +"Let's go to Fernborough as usual," said Quincy, and Tom, without +argument, seconded the motion. This time, Tom was Quincy's guest. They +were young men now. Quincy was seventeen and Tom nineteen, but the +fields were as green, the fruit as sweet, the vegetables as crisp and +fresh, and their friends as glad to see them as when they were children. + +A year had brought some changes. Mrs. Maxwell mourned the loss of her +son Obadiah, who had been gored by an angry bull and found dead in the +West pasture. For a wonder, Mr. Strout showed some sympathy, perhaps +because the little boy was his namesake. + +The Rev. Caleb Howe had passed away. In his place the church had called +the Rev. Hudson Quarles, a bachelor of forty, whose hobby was fancy +fowls. He joined the Grange and talked on "Poultry Raising" and "A Small +Fortune in Squabs." His hens were the heaviest for their age in the +community, and to prove it he was always willing to "weigh up" at the +grocery store. + +Mr. Strout called him a crank and played a joke on him that led to a +division in the church and came near costing Mr. Strout his position as +organist. + +There were two scales on the long grocery counter. Mr. Strout tampered +with one of them by affixing two pounds of lead to it which he covered +with gold paint to hide the deception. + +Bob Wood's hen was weighed in the fraudulent scales and beat Mr. +Quarles' by a half pound, the clergyman's being really a pound and +a half the heavier. The plot would have been a success but for the +keen-eyed Quincy who examined the scales and discovered the imposition. + +Mr. Strout declared it was all a joke and that he was going to own up +when he got ready to do so. This explanation was accepted by some and +scoffed at by others. Naturally, Mr. Strout looked upon Quincy as a +meddler. + +"By Godfrey!" he exclaimed to Hiram, "either that Sawyer boy or me has +got to leave town." + +"When are yer goin'?" asked Hiram, quietly, but he got no reply. + +Miss Dixie Schaffer retired from the stage and settled down. Her +mother-in-law, being an invalid confined to her room, prevented any +interference in her household affairs, and she was free from suggestions +as to what she should give, and what she shouldn't give her son, who had +been named Hugh after her own father. + +Many new people had moved into the town. Among the newcomers was a +former detective on the Boston police force named Horace Dana. Through +an injury received in making an important arrest, he had become a +cripple, able to get around only slowly and with crutches. He was a +widower with one daughter, about fifteen years of age, named Mary. + +The young lady was as old in appearance as many girls of eighteen, and +her looks so belied her age, that the village beaux paid court to her at +once. Her most persistent suitor was young Bob Wood who had just reached +his majority. + +As she was walking one day in the Center Road, far from any dwelling, +she met Bob. He improved the opportunity by asking her to be his wife. + +"Why, Mr. Wood, I'm too young to marry." + +"But I'm just old enough," said Bob, "and you suit me exactly." + +"Mr. Wood, I'm going to tell you the truth. I'm not yet fifteen years +old. Father says I can't have a beau till I'm eighteen, and I'm sure I +don't want one." + +Bob had learned much street slang during his visits to Cottonton, and +considered its acquisition a benefit and its use an accomplishment. + +"You've said it. Now sneeze it, and dust your brain." + +Mary regarded him with astonishment. "I don't understand such language, +Mr. Wood. What do you mean? I haven't a cold in my head." + +Bob laughed insolently. + +"No, but you've got a cold heart. What I meant by my French was that +you're bluffing. If you ain't eighteen, I'm a primary school boy." + +"Then you don't believe me!" Mary's blue eyes opened to their fullest +extent. + +Bob thought those blue eyes and light brown hair, golden in the +sunlight, those rosy cheeks, and pretty mouth made a most attractive +picture, and, in his rough way, he really loved her. + +"I'm going home," said Mary, "and I shall tell my father you said I lied +to you." + +"No, you don't," cried Bob, and he grasped her arm so tightly that she +winced. "You don't go until you promise me not to say anything to your +father." + +"I won't promise!" Hot tears filled her eyes. + +"Then you don't go," and Bob tightened his grip. + +The next moment a hand clutched his coat collar and he was thrown +violently on his back. + +Bob, who was agile, was quickly on his feet again and faced his +assailant. "Oh, that's you, Sawyer, is it? Why do you interfere with +what's none of your business?" + +"I think it is," said Quincy, calmly. "My, friend and I--" He turned, +and at that moment Tom emerged from behind a clump of bushes at the +roadside. + +"My friend and I," Quincy repeated, "were behind those bushes and +overheard your insulting language to this young lady and your brutal +treatment of her." + +"Hiding to see what you could hear," said Bob, sneeringly. + +"Not at all. We came 'cross lots and were just stepping into the road +when we espied you, and retreated, awaiting your departure." + +"Very prettily said, Master Sawyer, but I don't believe a word of it." + +"You called this young lady a liar and she was powerless to resent it, +but I'm not. Tom, hold my coat." + +"Oh, please don't fight," pleaded Mary. "I'll never speak to him again." + +"Say, Quincy," exclaimed Tom, "he's too heavily built for you. Let me +tackle him." + +"Two to one! I s'pose that's what you city snobs call fair play." + +Bob removed his coat and threw it on the ground. "If you'll come one at +a time, I'll lick you both." + +Quincy addressed Mary. "Don't be distressed. You may pardon his offence +to you if you choose, but I'm going to settle my personal account with +him. He doubted my word. I'm going to make him believe what I said, and +by that time he'll be ready to apologize to you." + +Bob squared off, but Quincy did not raise his hands. + +"Are you 'fraid? Don't you know how to put up your dukes?" + +"I'm not a boxer," said Quincy, "if that's what you mean. I'll look out +for myself, rough and tumble." + +Bob rushed forward and aimed a blow at Quincy's face. It fell short, for +Quincy retreated; then, springing forward, he gave Bob a violent kick +on his left knee. As his opponent threw his right leg over to keep his +balance he was obliged to lean forward; Quincy caught him by the collar +and Bob went sprawling upon the ground. He leaped to his feet, red with +rage. + +"Why don't you fight fair?" he bellowed. + +"You fight your way and I'll fight mine," was Quincy's reply. + +"All right," cried Bob, "I'll try your way." + +He sprang upon Quincy and grabbed him by the collar with both hands and +pulled him forward. This just suited Quincy, for, catching Bob around +the legs, he lifted him high in the air and threw him backwards over his +head. Bob's face was cut and bleeding, when he arose. + +"Time's up," cried Tom. "Three straight falls settle it." + +"The first one don't count," growled Bob. "He sneaked in on me and I had +no show." + +"He's right, Tom," said Quincy. "We'll have one more after this if he +wants it." + +This time Bob profited by having observed his antagonist's tactics. He +caught Quincy around the body and tried to crush him with his brawny, +muscular arms. + +Tom gave a cry of alarm and came close to the wrestlers. + +"Keep back, Tom," cried Quincy. As he spoke he fell backwards, carrying +Bob with him, who gave a yell of exultation as Quincy's shoulders struck +the ground. His hold was relaxed while falling. Quincy doubled his legs +up, put both feet against Bob's stomach, gave him a violent kick, and +Bob was once more upon his back. + +"'Twarn't fair," he yelled. "I had him down first." + +"We weren't playing for points," said Quincy, "and everything's fair in +rough and tumble. If you want some more, I'm ready." + +Bob stood sullenly, but made no move forward. + +"Now, let's talk it over," said Tom. "Do you think this young lady or +my friend lied to you? Before you answer, just remember this is my fight +now, and unless you take back the lie and apologize for what you said +and did to this young lady, I'll thrash you so they'll have to send a +wagon to carry you home." + +Bob did not speak. + +"Quincy," said Tom, "you go along with the young lady, and I'll settle +my account after you're gone. You look a little white around the gills. +You had no right to fight a heavy-weight like him." + +"I wish to thank you both," said Mary, "but I'm a stranger in this +town--I have lived here only a few months, and--I don't know your +names." + +She blushed prettily and the lids modestly covered the blue eyes. The +three had moved along the road a short distance while she was speaking. + +"My name is Quincy Adams Sawyer, and this is my friend and classmate at +Andover, Thomas Chripp." + +The lids were lifted but the blush deepened. "My name is Mary Dana. I +live with my father on Pettingill Street." + +"Why," cried Quincy, "Ezekiel Pettingill is my uncle--I live with him. +I'm going home your way, and, with your permission, I will escort you to +your father's house." + +"All right, Quincy--you go ahead," said Tom. "But you must excuse me. +I've kept Mr. Wood waiting." + +They were around a bend in the road by this time. When Tom returned +to the scene of the encounter, Mr. Wood was not in sight. Mr. Chripp +laughed, and paraphrased an old couplet. + + "He who fights, then runs away, + Will have to fight some other day." + +Quincy walked beside Mary, but said little. He would not acknowledge +it, but the exertion had been too much for him. His knees felt weak, +his sight grew dim, and, before Mary was aware of his condition, he sank +upon the grass by the roadside. + +She knelt beside him, took off his straw hat and fanned him. Then she +lifted his head upon her knee and fanned more vigorously. Her big blue +eyes were gazing at him when he opened his and looked up into her face. +Again, a rosy flush came to her cheeks. + +"I'm better now," said he. "I'm not very strong, but I can walk now." + +He got up with a show of vigour that did not deceive Mary. + +"You rest here, and I'll send your uncle for you with a carriage." + +"By no means, Miss Mary, It was only a momentary feeling. Throwing him +over my head is what did it." + +"I'm so sorry you met Mr. Wood and me." + +"Well, I'm not, Miss Mary. Uncle 'Zeke told me that Bob Wood's father +used to be the town bully, and that my father, when they were both +young, gave him a good thrashing. I've watched Bob--we were in school +together, and he was always impudent and overbearing to me when I was +a little fellow. I've felt that some day we'd have it out together. I'm +glad it's over, and that I had the good fortune to serve you at the same +time." + +Mr. Dana thanked Quincy for his defence of his daughter from further +insult and perhaps injury. + +"I've been in a good many scraps myself, Mr. Sawyer. For seventeen years +I was a member of the detective squad in Boston. I resigned because of +injuries received in a fight with some bank robbers," and he pointed to +the crutches beside his chair, "and although they wanted me to stay at +police headquarters I wouldn't hang onto a job I couldn't do to my own +satisfaction." + +"I hope your daughter will have no further trouble with Mr. Wood." + +"No danger, Mr. Sawyer. She is going to boarding school very soon to +finish her education. Why, Mary, we have been very remiss. Can you not +offer Mr. Sawyer some refreshment?" + +Mary smiled and ran from the room. + +"You'll be lonely without her," remarked Quincy. + +"Yes, certainly, but I shall not be alone. It's a secret as yet, but the +fact is I'm going to marry a young lady who lives in Westvale, part of +Eastborough, you know, and I don't wish to force Mary to live with +a step-mother. I think they would agree all right, but my plan will +prevent any possible unpleasantness. I love them both too well to make +them, and myself, unhappy." + +Some dainty cakes, fruit, and cold well water were served in the dining +room. Quincy ate slowly, but his thoughts were not about the food. He +had shown little interest in the Fernborough girls with the exception of +those in the families of his relatives and closest friends. But he +was nearing the susceptible age, when, to a pure-minded boy, a girl +playmate, by some mysterious transformation, becomes an object of +admiration, and even veneration. That delicious mystery that surrounds +young womanhood was attracting him. Mary was the cause of his +newly-awakened interest, and soon a strong friendship sprang up between +the two. + +When Hiram heard that Quincy had got the best of young Bob Wood he ran +back to the store and told his partner. + +"Say, Strout, you can run the store for an hour or so. I must tell +Mandy. She'll be 'mos' tickled to death." + +Mr. Strout's disgust was shown in both voice and manner when Abner +Stiles came in. + +"Say, Abner, is it true that Sawyer boy licked Bob?" + +"I should say so," said Abner. "He must have got an all-fired trouncing, +for his face looks like a raw beefsteak, an' one of the fellers said +he'd been spittin' blood." + +"Them Sawyers is brutes," was Mr. Strout's comment. "I hope to the +Lord that he is the last one of that brood to come to this town. Their +money's the best part of 'em, but it ain't any better, when you come to +that, than other folkses." + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +MARY DANA + + +Quincy and Tom spent one more year at Andover. When they parted from the +old school it was with feelings of deep regret. + +"I could be happy here for ten years more," said Quincy. + +"So could I," replied Tom. "But, after all, this is only a narrow path +in the world of knowledge. Harvard is but a street and when we get out +into the world I suppose we shall find a boulevard." + +"I'm going to look down upon the world before I investigate its +thoroughfares," remarked Quincy. + +"What do you mean?" + +"I shall visit Fernborough for only a short time this summer, a few days +in which to see the folks, and then I shall go to the White Mountains. +I'm going to stand on the top of Mount Washington, and look down on the +busy hives of men." + +Tom knew Quincy had received a letter from Mary, saying that she and her +aunt intended spending the summer at Fabyans, and he felt that Quincy, +being near Mary, would probably be on a higher pinnacle than any +mountain could supply, and the "eternal hills" would become objects of +secondary importance. But, Tom wisely refrained from mentioning these +thoughts, for lovers do not seek confidants unless help is needed. + +Quincy found Fernborough but little changed, During the fourteen years +that he had been a resident of, or a visitor to, the town there had been +but little to disturb its serenity. Goldsmith's "Deserted Village" could +not have had a better record for unbroken placidity. The wrestling match +between young Quincy and Bob Wood had been an incentive to some animated +conversations at meal times and at the grocery, but the "locals" in the +_Fernborough Gazette_ had never risen above the usual level of, + +Hal Prentiss has bought a Jersey cow, + +Strout and Maxwell have a new wagon, + +William Jones has painted his fence green, + +Sol. Peters cut twenty tons of hay from his lot on the Center Road, + +Mrs. Jerusha May is visiting her daughter Hannah at Westvale, + +And more of the same kind, interesting to a rural community but +considered inconsequential by those conversant with more exciting +intelligence. + +But Fernborough was destined to have its share of important events, +which incidentally interfered with the well laid plans of both Quincy +and Mary for the vacation in the mountains. + +For the first time in the town's history newsboys went through its +streets, calling out "All about the Murder at Cottonton," and offering +for sale copies of the _Cottonton Journal_. The boys held up the papers +so the headlines in large type could be seen. The word "Fernborough" +caught the eyes of those attracted by the word "Murder" and the copies +were soon disposed of, obliging many intending purchasers to share the +news with those who had been fortunate enough to obtain copies. + +Quincy was in Mason Square when the newsboys arrived and he purchased +a paper. He glanced at the headlines and saw a name that caused him to +utter an exclamation of astonishment. He did not stop to discuss the +matter with any of the large crowd that had been collected, but whipping +up his horse soon reached Mary's home. Leaving the animal standing in +the yard he burst into the sitting room crying loudly, "Mary! Mary!" + +"Why, what is the matter, Quincy--are you hurt?" + +"No, but something has happened in Cottonton and they sent newsboys over +here with the papers." + +"Somebody living in Fernborough must be mixed up in the affair," said +Mr. Dana, who was sitting in his rocking chair near the window. + +"I should say there was, decidedly so. Sit down, and I'll read what it +says." + +"THE MURDER AT COTTONTON + +"A YOUNG MAN NAMED ROBERT WOOD, A NATIVE OF FERNBOROUGH, ARRESTED AS THE +CRIMINAL AND LOCKED UP WITHOUT BAIL. ANOTHER CANDIDATE FOR THE ELECTRIC +CHAIR!" + +"Bob Wood, he was the one who insulted you, wasn't he?" + +"Yes, father, but that was a long time ago," said Mary. "Do let Quincy +read the rest of it." + +"A brutal murder was committed last night at the Ellicott Mills," +Quincy continued. "The unfortunate victim was Mr. Samuel Ellicott, the +treasurer and principal owner. He was found sitting at his desk with +his head crushed in. The blood-stained implement of destruction has +been discovered. Robert Wood, Jr., a native of the adjoining town of +Fernborough, has been arrested and held without bail. Young Wood +has been an employee at the mill, but had aspired to the hand of Mr. +Ellicott's only daughter Mabel. Mr. Ellicott was firmly opposed to the +match, and, with the view, probably, of forcing the young man to leave +the city, had discharged him from his employ. Mr. Ellicott was busily +engaged in making preparations for pay day, which occurs to-day, and was +alone in his office at the time. There seems to be no doubt of the guilt +of the accused. His cane was found in Mr. Ellicott's office and must +have been used to inflict the murderous blows which have deprived +Cottonton of one of its most enterprising and respected citizens." + +"What do you think of that, Mary?" asked Quincy. + +"I don't know yet. What do you think, father?" + +"The case has no mystery--no charm for the detective's mind. I was +thinking that naughty boys who plague little girls often become wicked +men. Now, what do you think?" + +Mary did not answer at once. When she did speak it was the result of +deliberation. In a small way she had often tried to help her father out +in solving some of the mysteries that had come up in his line of work, +and now the detective instinct in her was strongly aroused as Quincy +knew it would be. + +"Quincy and I both know the young man,--not pleasurably, I'll admit," +she said, finally. "Everybody thinks him guilty, but we have no right +to join the multitude without cause. He may be innocent. It would be a +double victory to repay an enemy with kindness, and, perhaps, save an +innocent man's life." + +"Just what I thought you would say," cried Quincy. "I feel too that +there is a chance that Wood is not the one. But what can we do?" he +continued. + +"First, you must go and see Bob Wood's father, Quincy, and tell him that +I am going to investigate the affair, with my father's help. But tell +him he must be quiet about it. If we are to accomplish anything, it must +be done without any one knowing we are interested in the matter. Father +and I will look over all the papers that have reports of the trial, +and, perhaps you had better attend the trial yourself, and make careful +notes, for the papers do not always get things just straight. Then, I +want to see Miss Mabel myself, and see what she says." + +"But, why do you wish to do all this, Mary?" said Mr. Dana. "It strikes +me as being a simple case of a very brutal murder, and one in which +there is no doubt that the authorities have got the right man." + +"I don't believe him guilty, that's all." + +"That's an opinion,--not a reason." + +"I know it, but woman's intuition often comes nearer to the truth than +man's judgment." + +She threw her arms about her father's neck, and her eyes looked down +into his, "You'll help all you can, won't you, father?" she pleaded. + +"Well, I have nothing else to do, and this affair awakens my interest. +But from what I know of the case now, I think they have the right man." + +"You're a dear, good father to help," and she gave him another embrace +and a kiss. + +The next day there was a preliminary meeting which Quincy attended at +Mary's request. It was with difficulty that Mary waited until he made +his report. + +"The principal witness was Gustave Pinchot, the night watchman. He heard +loud voices but as Mr. Ellicott was quite deaf he did not attach much +importance to that. Pinchot didn't see anyone come in or go out." + +"Couldn't Bob Wood prove an alibi?" + +"Hardly, for he testified that he went to the office that evening, and +Miss Ellicott said that he told her he was going." + +"No alibi--and no evidence yet," said Mr. Dana. + +"It's coming," said Quincy. "Mrs. Larrabee with whom Wood boarded +testified that he had a heavy oaken staff and that he took it with him +when he went out that evening because he had sprained his ankle." + +"Did Mr. Wood acknowledge that the staff was his?" + +"He did finally. He injured his case by saying, at first, that he didn't +take it with him, but Mrs. Larrabee's testimony knocked that." + +"Is that all the testimony against him?" inquired Mary. + +"Oh, no," continued Quincy. "Wood made a damaging statement that will +make it go hard with him. When he asked Ellicott for his daughter's +hand, the old man got mad and threatened to kick him out. Then the +judge asked Wood what he said when Ellicott threatened him and the young +fellow incriminated himself by saying that he told Ellicott if he did +that he would not live to do it again." + +"Did it appear that he had been kicked out?" inquired Mary. + +"No; and Wood denied it as well." + +"And you saw his father, Quincy? What did he have to say?" + +"He's all broken up, but says that his son is innocent." + +"Of course, that's to be expected," said Mary, and then continued, +"I saw Mabel Ellicott yesterday. She's in love with him, sure, and of +course does not think him guilty. She told me, though, that Bob Wood had +said to her that if she were an orphan there would be no objection to +their marriage." + +"That would probably go against him, if the prosecution calls her at the +trial, and she testifies to that. But, what do you really think about +it, Mr. Dana?" asked Quincy. + +"I have my suspicions, but I am not going to mention them yet. You two +young people are taking hold of the matter in good shape, and I want to +see what you can do about it; but, although, I do not say that Wood +is not guilty, I do say that I doubt if the government has sufficient +evidence to convict him." + + * * * * * * * + +Mary became so interested in the case that she decided not to go to the +White Mountains for the summer, and Quincy also remained in Fernborough, +helping Mary as much as he could. Often they would go off on long tramps +in the surrounding country, and once Quincy went to Boston and was +gone several days. That they procured some evidence was clear from the +satisfied remarks made by Mr. Dana, who approved of the lines on which +they were working. + +Although they had made some headway they were not ready to present +their theories when the time came for Bob Wood's trial. Many thought +him innocent, but the jury were of a different opinion, and brought in a +verdict of murder in the first degree. + +The day after the close of the trial, the district attorney of Normouth +County was sitting in his office opposite the Court House. He was +preparing his address opposing the granting of a new trial, which he +knew would be proposed the next day by the counsel for the defence. + +He had gone over the evidence time and time again. He was a +conscientious man. He felt that the law of the State had been +defied--had been outraged--and yet within his heart was that natural +feeling of sympathy and pity for the unfortunate being for whom but a +few short weeks of life remained, and he could not help regretting the +part he had been obliged to take in convicting the young man. + +At that moment, a clerk entered and said that a young lady wished to see +him. In obedience to the direction given, the clerk withdrew; the door +was opened again, and a blue eyed, fair-haired girl entered. Standing +near the district attorney's desk, she said: + +"Mr. Harlow, as there is no one here to introduce me, I will introduce +myself. My name is Mary Dana. My father is, or rather was, a detective +for seventeen years in Boston, but our present abiding place is the town +of Fernborough. In the city he often used to tell me of the cases on +which he was working, and I would try to solve them with him. Robert +Wood lived in Fernborough, and from the day of his arrest I have been +much interested in the case, and with the help of my father and a friend +of mine, Quincy Adams Sawyer, the son of the former governor, I have +been trying to find the man who murdered Mr. Ellicott,--for I have never +believed that Robert Wood was the guilty person." She smiled, and added, +"Detectives, I believe, are more often interested in strengthening +evidence, and bringing about imprisonment and executions than they are +in trying to prove people innocent." + +"But, my dear young lady," said the district attorney, "the young man +whom you speak of has already been proved guilty by a fair-minded jury. +There seems to be no question of his being innocent, and, after the jury +have returned their verdict it is rather late to still try to prove him +not guilty." + +"What I have to tell you I think is important. Can't you spare me a +little time?" + +"I have a luncheon engagement in half an hour, and can give you twenty +minutes, but it will do no good, I am sure. Won't you sit down?" and Mr. +Harlow placed a chair for her near his desk. + +"Thank you," said Mary, as she seated herself, "I will be as brief as +possible. I have read of many murder cases, but I believe I never knew +of one in which there was more conclusive evidence against the person +accused than in this instance. When I first took up the case, my father +did not think there was a possible loophole of escape for him; but the +truth does not always appear on the surface. Then, jurors get wrong +impressions. Witnesses are often prejudiced. Sometimes the judge is +not impartial. Then there are coincidences which are fatal so far as +appearances go, but which can be satisfactorily explained." + +The district attorney nodded, somewhat impatiently, and fingered his +watch-chain. + +"The day after the murder I called on Mabel Ellicott, primarily to ask +her some questions about Robert Wood, but I also had a chance to see +the body of her father, and to examine the wound upon the murdered man's +head. I decided that Mr. Ellicott had been struck with something else +beside the oaken staff which, covered with blood, was found near his +chair. In fact, I found in the wound certain foreign substances which +could not have formed part of an oaken staff. + +"That was a clue, but I told it only to my father and Mr. Sawyer. It led +us to look for something else. I must confess that a week passed without +our discovering anything to bolster up my opinion. Finally, it occurred +to me that perhaps the foreign substances I had found in the wound +might have been on that part of the cane that comes in contact with the +ground. But we will drop that for the present. + +"Back of the mill is a piece of sunken ground. During the night, after +Mr. Ellicott was murdered, there was a heavy fall of rain, and this +piece of sunken ground was covered with water to the depth of several +inches, in some places, at least six. I do not mean that the rainfall +was so great, but the water ran down from higher elevations until it +made, what appeared to be, quite an extensive pond. + +"Mr. Sawyer and I made several circuits of this temporary pond; why, I +could not exactly tell you. A detective, I have been told, can seldom +tell why he examines certain objects so closely, but something seemed to +draw me towards that improvised lake. + +"While looking at the water, I saw something which projected several +inches above its surface, and I had a curiosity to know what it was. +Mr. Sawyer put on a pair of rubber boots, and waded out to it, lifted +it from the water, and found it to be a large, irregular shaped stone +weighing at least ten pounds, which he brought back to me. He then went +back and splashed round in the pond with the hope of finding something +else of interest, but could discover nothing. + +"I wondered how that stone came to be in the middle of that pond, and +we devoted several days after that to an examination of the surrounding +country. Back from the mill, some four or five hundred feet away, was a +ledge of rock. We, that is Mr. Sawyer and I, for I forgot to tell you my +father is now a cripple and could only help us with his advice at home, +examined its surface very carefully, using a magnifying glass and, to my +great satisfaction, I finally located a place into which the stone found +in the pond fitted nicely. Evidently, then, the stone had been detached +for some purpose, and that purpose having been accomplished, the stone +had been thrown into the pond." + +The district attorney looked at his watch again and betrayed signs of +uneasiness. + +"Pardon me, Mr. Harlow, but would you not rather lose a dinner than send +an innocent man to his death?" + +"You still have ten minutes," was the district attorney's reply, "But, +I cannot see the connection between what you are relating and your idea +that Robert Wood is not guilty." + +Mary continued her narration. + +"I asked Mr. Sawyer to examine the tools and implements in the mill +workshop and he found a pickaxe, one point of which had been subjected +to rather rough treatment. I naturally connected that pickaxe with the +ledge of rock that had been found in the pond. + +"An examination of the night watchman's quarters followed. Mr. Sawyer +could discover nothing until he came to a small cupboard which was +locked. Locks, however, do not keep detectives, or criminals either, +from making further investigations. In the cupboard, he found a coil of +rope. There was a certain peculiarity about that rope of which I will +speak later. + +"After that Mr. Sawyer loafed around the mill quite a good deal in the +evenings and became acquainted with Mr. Pinchot the night watchman. He +is a French Canadian. He told Mr. Sawyer that his parents lived in a +small town near Montreal, that they were both quite old and he was +their only living son, although he had five sisters, all working in the +States. + +"He had saved some money, and as his parents had a farm, and needed +his assistance, he had resigned his position and the day following the +murder was to have been the last one at the mill. He had withdrawn his +resignation when told that the law would require him as a witness, and +has continued in service. + +"Mr. Sawyer then made a trip to Boston and found that Mr. Pinchot had +not intended to go to Canada but had been making inquiries as to when a +steamer would sail for France. He had been told he would have to go to +New York. Am I taking up too much of your time, Mr. Harlow?" + +"It makes no difference now. I am too late for the dinner. Pray +proceed." + +"While in the city Mr. Sawyer called upon the architects who drew the +plans for the Ellicott Mills. I mean the original plan, for many changes +have been made in the interior. He procured a copy of this, and we found +that when the mill was first constructed, the part used by the treasurer +at the time of the murder had been the receiving room for raw materials. +I next made an excuse for us to visit the mills one Sunday and we +investigated the second story of the mill. The floor was covered with +grease and dirt and was black with age. I got upon my hands and knees +and, with my magnifying glass, examined every foot of the floor. + +"For a long time, my search was not rewarded, but, finally, I found a +white place in the wood. A splinter had been detached. With a knife, I +scraped the dirt from the floor. My search was rewarded. I had found +a trap door! Its former use was apparent. On the wall, above the trap +door, was a stout hook. Upon this hook the tackle had been put and goods +lifted from the receiving room to the story above." + +"Well what does all this lead up to?" asked the district attorney. + +"I will show you very soon, now, Mr. Harlow. If you remember, the safe +at the mill was found open the morning after the murder but had been +closed and locked by the superintendent. This was a very foolish thing +to do, as the combination had been known only to the treasurer, and +it was several days before it was opened by an expert sent by the +manufacturers. It was then found that the money drawn by Mr. Ellicott +for the payroll, some three thousand dollars, had disappeared." + +"Yes, I remember," said the district attorney, "the thief was never +found, and with the more important matter of the murder on our hands +little attention was paid to the loss of the money. It was clear from +the start that Robert Wood had nothing to do with it, because revenge, +not robbery was his motive. But, what does all this mean that you are +telling me?" + +"I forgot to state, or, rather postponed saying it, that the coil of +rope that was found in the cupboard had a noose in one end of it, and +that in Mr. Ellicott's wound I found small particles of stone. I summed +up the case thus: Pinchot plotted to steal the money drawn for payday +and to kill Mr. Ellicott if it became necessary. He lifted the trap +door, having thrown the noose in the rope over the hook in the wall. Mr. +Ellicott was quite deaf and did not notice the opening of the trap door +or the man's descent by means of the rope. He used the stone because he +could throw it away and no weapon could be found. The murderer saw the +oaken staff. He knew that Mr. Ellicott had a visitor that evening so +he used the staff to complete his deadly work and left it behind as a +witness against an innocent man. He took the money from the safe, drew +himself up by the rope, closed the trap door, locked up the rope and +threw the stone into the pond. In France he would be safe to spend the +proceeds of his crime. A nice bit of circumstantial evidence, is it +not?" + +"Then you believe in circumstantial evidence, Miss Dana?" + +"In certain cases. But I think it would render the community just as +safe, and be more just to the accused if, in cases of circumstantial +evidence where there is the least doubt, the sentence should be +imprisonment for life with a provision in the law that there should +be no pardon unless the innocence of the life convict was conclusively +proven. When a murderer is taken red-handed, I would not abate one jot +or tittle of the old Mosaic law--an eye for an eye, a tooth for a +tooth, a life for a life. But you know that many murderers of whose +premeditated guilt there could be no doubt have been much more leniently +dealt with by our judges and juries than those caught in the coils of +circumstantial evidence." + +"Where is the watchman now?" asked the district attorney. + +"Here in Cottonton, but he is intending to leave to-night for New York, +I found out this morning. Of course, he was not able to leave before +this as he had to stay in the vicinity, being a witness at the trial, +but his leaving so soon now simply seemed to confirm my suspicions, and +I thought it time to bring the matter to your attention." + +"Miss Dana," said the district attorney, rising, and holding out his +hand to her. "I have done the best I could to convict Robert Wood of the +murder of Samuel Ellicott, because I really believed him guilty, and my +oath of office bound me to do my duty; but, if he is innocent, I believe +it as much my duty to right the wrong done him. You have built up a +careful case, and I myself shall ask for a stay of sentence until after +this new evidence can be presented to the Grand Jury. I believe you have +saved an innocent man, and I feel your future as a great detective is +assured." + +It was unnecessary for Mr. Harlow to apply for stay of sentence in the +case of The Commonwealth of Massachusetts _vs._ Robert Wood. Within an +hour after Mary Dana had left the district attorney's office, Gustave +Pinchot was under arrest, and, sitting in the same chair which Mary had +occupied, was confessing his crime. + +The day that Robert Wood was discharged, with no stain upon his name, +Quincy and Mary took her father to Cottonton. At the prison they met +Robert's father who had come to take his son home. He was profuse in his +thanks to Mr. Dana, for to him he considered his son's escape from death +was due. + +"You are wrong, Mr. Wood," said Mr. Dana. "Your son owes his life not +so much to me as to my daughter here, and to Mr. Sawyer. She practically +worked up the case herself; I made but few suggestions, and it was at +her request that Mr. Sawyer made certain investigations that fitted in +with her own ideas and made success possible." + +"Miss Dana," said young Robert, "a year ago I insulted you, and was +properly treated for my words and actions by Mr. Sawyer. I owe you both +an apology which I now make and ask your forgiveness. But for you, and +Mr. Sawyer, I should have died a felon. You have, indeed, heaped coals +of fire on my head." + +Mary answered, "That was forgiven long ago, but if you wish my +forgiveness you have it freely. How does Miss Ellicott feel now that you +are declared innocent?" + +"She came to see me this morning and we are to be married as soon as +possible, and I am to become the treasurer of the mill. She will own +three-quarters of the stock." + +When Mr. Strout learned that Robert's release was due to the exertions +of Mary and Quincy he sniffed and exclaimed: + +"Folks in love will do all sorts of things. She's gone on that young +Sawyer, and she only started in on the thing so she could have a chance +to traipse around the country with him. He'll come back here for her +some day, and her market'll be made. All I hope is that he'll take her +to Boston, or some other foreign place to live an' we shall see and hear +the last of 'em." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +AT HARVARD + + +The newspapers gave much space to the near approach to miscarriage of +justice in the Wood's case, and many editorials were written on the +fallacy of allowing circumstantial evidence to carry as much weight as +it did. But what was spoken of most was the clever detective work of +Mary Dana. She was the recipient of congratulatory letters for her work +from all parts of the country, and the press could not say too much in +her praise. + +Mary received a most flattering offer to join the Isburn Detective +Bureau in Boston. Mr. Irving Isburn, the proprietor of the world-wide +known agency, had for more than fifty years been engaged in solving +mysteries and apprehending offenders against the law. His success had +been phenomenal, and if his agency had been called "The Scotland Yard +of America" it would have been a derogation rather than a compliment. +He had surrounded himself with the most expert men and women in the +profession, and in a letter to Mr. Dana he said he considered Miss Dana +would be a most important and valuable acquisition to his staff. Mr. +Dana, however, decided that Mary was too young to start business +life, so she was sent to Boston to boarding school for a year. At the +expiration of that time she joined Mr. Is burn's staff, and soon that +gentleman wrote her father that in certain lines of investigation she +was unexcelled. + +With the coming of autumn, after Bob Wood's release, Quincy and Tom +started in on their four years at Harvard. They had passed their +entrance examinations without conditions, so the few days in the last of +September, spent so anxiously by many of the freshman class in trying to +make up conditions given them the spring before, allowed Quincy and Tom +to live in Arcady until the portals of the temple of learning were +ajar. Rooms were engaged at Beck Hall, and the young men began their +inspection of the classic city on the Charles. + +"This city is on the square," remarked Tom. "Lafayette, Central, Putnam, +Harvard, Brattle, and some more on the East side I suppose." + +"The college is on the square too," said Quincy, "as long as Dr. Eliot +is Prexie." + +College life has been depicted many times in books, and Quincy and +Tom's four years probably contained few events that had not had their +counterparts in the lives of other young Harvard men. They joined many +clubs and societies the initiation ceremonies being, in reality, a mild +form of hazing. + +Quincy and his chum were not goody-goody boys, but they had mutually +pledged each other that they would lead temperate lives and refrain from +all dissipation that would prejudice their standing as students. Quincy +saw Mary frequently, and, after she was employed by Mr. Isburn, they +talked over some of the most interesting of Mary's cases. + +In their college life, Tom and Quincy were unsuspecting, and became the +butt of many good-natured and some unkind jokes. On one occasion they +were invited to join a theatre party. It was a variety or vaudeville +show and ended with a pantomime, the closing scene in which was a +skating carnival. + +When the skaters came on, the members of the theatre party rose in their +seats and pelted the performers with paper snowballs made hard by the +liberal use of paste. The police were called in. Quincy and Tom had +taken no part in the snowballing but, as examination showed their +pockets were full of the substitutes for the natural product, they were +adjudged as guilty as the others. + +One evening Quincy and Tom went to the theatre together. During a +pathetic speech by the heroine the clang of a big cow bell was heard. +The audience vented its displeasure in hisses. Again came the clangour +and all eyes were turned towards the unconscious youths, Quincy and Tom. +Again were the policemen called in. Two young men who sat behind Quincy +and his friend were accused of causing the disturbance. They indignantly +denied any knowledge of it and left the theatre threatening a suit for +damages. Further investigation by the minions of the law discovered the +bell fastened to the hat-holder beneath Quincy's seat, while the string +that served as a bell pull was under Tom's foot. Denial of such strong +circumstantial evidence was useless and Quincy and Tom promised to cause +no further annoyance. On their way home in the car they discussed the +situation. + +"It's Dupont and Kidder that put that up on us, and we must get even," +said Tom. + +"But how?" was the question. + +A week later Tom purchased tickets for a whole row of seats at one of +the principal theatres, explaining that they were for a large theatre +party. Dupont and Kidder had been recipients of complimentary tickets +which entitled them to seats in the middle of the row. They expected +that Quincy and Tom and other students would complete the party. Not +so, as events proved. Dupont and Kidder, immaculately dressed, had for +companions two waitresses at a well-known Cambridge cafe, two Harvard +Square hairdressers, and a number of individuals whose dress and general +appearance indicated physical strength rather than mental powers. Dupont +and Kidder went out at the end of the first act and did not return. + +The next time that Tom met Fred Dupont he asked, + +"Do you believe in the Declaration of Independence?" + +"My great-grandfather signed it," said Dupont proudly. + +"How does it read?" asked Tom--"something about men being born free and +equal--a barber's as good as a millionaire's son--isn't it?" + +"It's all right," replied Dupont, "Kidder and I only took one bell to +the theatre, but you kindly supplied us with two. Nothing's too good +for us at that cafe now, and we've invited Kitty and May to go to the +theatre with us to-morrow night." + +"It's no use, Quincy," said Tom. "Dupont and Kidder took their medicine +as patiently as we did, and they liked it so well they're going to have +more of it." + +Then he told Quincy what Dupont had said. + +"The victory's ours," cried Quincy. "That shows that Americans, rich or +poor, are democratic at heart. All that keeps them apart is the foolish +idea that the possession of money lifts them above their fellows. Put +them on a money equality, and only the very exclusive ones will care +about the colour of their blood. It was a good lesson for Dupont and +Kidder whose fathers are wealthy men, and they have wisely profited by +it." + +"Then you don't believe in social castes?" said Tom. + +"Why should I? My father married a poor girl and I don't expect to find +my wife on Beacon Street or Commonwealth Avenue." + +After Tom had asked his question the thought came to him that if Quincy +had believed in social distinctions on account of wealth he would not +have chosen the son of a cotton weaver as his boon companion, but it was +too late to take back the question, and Quincy had answered it. + +The four years of study were at an end. Quincy was loaded with +scholastic honours while Tom's prowess has been most effectually shown +on the ball team and in the 'Varsity Eight, which came near winning a +trophy for the Crimson. + +Just before Class Day, Quincy went into the office of Sawyer, +Crowninshield, Lawrence & Merry to see Harry Merry about some matters +connected with his income. + +"Quincy, I am glad to see you," exclaimed Mr. Merry. "I was on the +point of sending a messenger out to Cambridge to have you come right +in. Something very strange has happened this morning and it may be a +question which even your friend Miss Dana may find worthy of her skill +in attempting to solve." + +"What is it, Uncle Harry? There is nothing I love like a mystery, and +Miss Dana often talks her cases over with me." + +"This is a mystery in which you and your mother in England may be +greatly concerned; but before letting her know anything about it I think +it better to find out what it really means. For you to understand +the matter clearly, I will have to go back a number of years. In +your father's will your grandfather and Dr. Paul Culver were named as +executors. After a while the doctor wished to resign, and as you know I +was appointed in his place." + +"Yes, and you have always done more than your duty, and I am truly +grateful. But, pardon me for interrupting you. Please go on." + +"To make myself thoroughly familiar with all the details of my trust, I +went over all the old accounts. When your father and mother started on +that unfortunate trip to Europe, your father took with him some English +gold, some bank notes, and, to last him for his further expenses while +abroad, five bills of exchange, each for two hundred pounds, Sterling, a +total of about five thousand dollars. These bills of exchange were +drawn by his bank here in Boston, and in favour of the bank's agents in +London. About six years ago I changed the deposits of your trust account +to another bank. Until then I had always kept that five thousand still +intact, as it was drawing fair interest, and as, you may not know, your +mother has always had an idea that your father was not drowned. But, +when I changed the account, it seemed foolish to leave that money +still there, and as the bills of exchange had never been presented for +payment, I had no trouble in having them cancelled, and receiving the +money. + +"But, and here is where the important part of the matter comes in for +you, one of those bills of exchange, drawn over twenty-three years ago, +has to-day been returned to the bank here in Boston from the London +agents." + +"Why, Uncle Harry," cried Quincy, "what can it mean? Is it possible that +my father is still alive? I can't understand it, I am bewildered," and +strong man as he was he was unnerved. + +"Calm yourself, Quincy," said Harry Merry, "I am afraid that would be +entirely too good news to be true, but at least it must mean that your +father's body was found some time or other, and probably the bill of +exchange got into the hands of some dishonest person who has cashed it." + +"Have you got it here?" + +"Yes," and Mr. Merry handed a paper to him. + +"Is the signature that of my father?" asked Quincy turning the bill +over, and looking at the various endorsements on the back. + +"I am not sure. If I were, there would be one great question solved, for +he would never have put his name to it, of course, until he was ready to +cash it. In a way it looks a little like his writing, but it may be, and +I think it is, a rather bungling forgery. It is more than likely that in +the wallet in which he kept the bills of exchange he may have had some +papers to which he had signed his name, and the signature was copied +from that." + +"I want to show this to Miss Dana," said Quincy, "perhaps she can help +me solve the problem. Have you got any paper with my father's signature +to it?" + +"Wait a few minutes, and I will see if I can find any in the old files." + +After a good quarter of an hour, which to Quincy seemed as though it +would never end, Mr. Merry came back, covered with dust, but with the +required paper in his hand. + +"A lawyer should never destroy a paper," said Mr. Merry, "and I am glad +to say this firm never does. Here is a letter your father wrote to your +grandfather nearly thirty years ago, and is dated from Mason's Corner. +Take it, and the bill of exchange with you. I hope you can solve the +mystery, and let's pray it will turn out to mean that you are Quincy +Adams Sawyer, Junior; but, my boy," and Harry put his hand on Quincy's +shoulder, "do not build too many air castles on it. If you do, I am +afraid you have a bitter disappointment before you." + +Quincy immediately called on Mary Dana, and had a long talk with her +about the matter. He told her all his conversation with Harry Merry and +showed her the bill of exchange, and the signature of his father's which +he knew to be genuine. After examining them both Mary said, + +"In many ways, this looks like a very clever forgery. The characters +are all made the same as in the signature to the letter,--notice the +peculiar little twist to the S in the word Adams, but your father wrote +a very firm, strong hand, and the writing on the bill of exchange is +weaker and a little shaky. That is undoubtedly due partly to the fact +that the signature on the bill of exchange is written with a very fine +steel pen, while that in the letter was written with a quill. But, what +makes me doubt the genuineness of the signature is this,--although the +characters are practically the same on the two pieces of paper, your +father's name in the letter is the writing of an educated man, that on +the bill of exchange looks like the efforts of a man unaccustomed to +write, probably through ignorance, but perhaps due to the fact that he +has not held a pen for a long time." + +"But, Mary," asked Quincy, "how are we going to find out about it, how +can we learn who did sign it?" + +"There are the endorsements on the back. They are the only clues. Below +your father's name appears that of Jonathan Drake; then that of Agostino +Tombini, and, below that, Macquay Hooker. There is also the stamp of the +London bank. Where the bill of exchange was cashed does not appear. +It is evident, however, that the last person who signed it before it +reached the bank in London was Macquay Hooker. We will cable London now, +and in the morning will have an answer. Be in to see me early, but, if +I were you, I would hold myself in readiness to leave for Europe at a +moment's notice. Is your work all finished at Cambridge?" + +"Yes, I had my last examination yesterday, and I should leave for the +summer in a few days. Class Day is all that keeps me now, but I am +perfectly willing to recall the invitations I have sent out, and can +leave at any time." + +On his return to his rooms Quincy told Tom what had happened. + +"I had been intending to speak about our going abroad anyway this +summer," said Quincy. "It's the style for college boys after being +graduated to go to Europe. I want to see my mother and aunt, too. To be +sure, I have had nice long, loving letters from them, and I've kept them +fully posted as to my doings, but that doesn't quite come up to seeing +them. Now, with this mystery on my hands, with all it may mean to me, I +must go anyway. Will you come along with me?" + +"If dad don't mind, I'll go." + +"We'll run down to Fernborough for a day or two to say good-bye, if +there is time, and you can see your father about it." + +At ten o'clock the next morning, Quincy entered the office of the Isburn +Detective Bureau. + +"I have good news for you, Quincy," said Mary. "I have found out from +London that Macquay Hooker is a banker in Rome, and I have cabled him, +asking who the other two endorsers are. We should receive a reply by +noon at the latest." + +A good half hour before noon a messenger boy came in and handed Mary +an envelope. She scanned the cablegram quickly, and handed it over +to Quincy. It read, "Tombini banker, Drake American consul, Palermo, +Sicily." + +"You see," said Mary, with a smile, "matters are simplifying themselves +considerably. I shall cable now to Drake at Palermo, and find out what +I can about the original signer of the bill of exchange. This is +Wednesday. The Gallia sails from here to England on Saturday. You had +better engage passage, and make arrangements to go then. Come back late +this afternoon, and I will tell you what has developed in the meantime." + +After engaging a stateroom for Saturday, Quincy returned to Cambridge, +packed what things he needed for a couple of days, and with Tom came +back to Boston, intending to go to Fernborough on the late train in the +evening. + +"The answer has just come," said Mary, when Quincy saw her later in the +day, "but, I am sorry it is not as satisfactory as I could wish. Mr. +Drake is away from Palermo at present, and beyond the fact that a Quincy +Adams Sawyer had registered at the consulate about a month ago and has +since left the town, they seem to know nothing about the matter." + +"Well," said Quincy, "we have a starting point anyway, and more than +we had in Bob Wood's case in the beginning. I shall go directly to +Fernborough Hall to see my mother for a day or so, but I think I will +not mention the real reason for my trip abroad until I have found out +more. I will tell her that Tom and I are anxious to get to the continent +as soon as possible, and that we will return to England later on. Then +we will go down through Italy to Sicily, and start in there tracing the +signer of that bill of exchange." + +"I think that is the best plan," said Mary. "In the meantime I will keep +in close touch with Mr. Merry here, and if another one of those bills of +exchange comes in I will cable you, care of your bankers in London, the +names of the endorsers." + +"Mary," said Quincy as he took her hand at parting, and held it perhaps +a little longer than was really necessary, "I can't thank you for all +you have done for me. I am truly grateful, and wish there were some way +in which I could show you my true appreciation." + +"Your thanks are all I want. Besides, you may be the means of bringing +a very clever criminal to justice," and the smile left her face as she +said it, "for I am afraid that is all you will find. You must not hope +too much for what seems the impossible." + +On their way to Fernborough that evening, Quincy and Tom decided it +would be best not to mention the real object of their going to Europe, +so Mr. Chripp thought it was only a pleasure trip. He did not object +to his son going,--but he made one condition, that Tom should visit the +village in old England in which he was born and bring him back a picture +of the little thatched cottage in which Mr. Chripp had lived until the +tales of high wages and better prospects in America had drawn him from +his native land. + +Quincy had said good-bye to all his relatives, friends, and +acquaintances except Mr. Obadiah Strout. That gentleman should have no +reason to say he had been snubbed. + +When Quincy entered the store Mr. Strout was weighing some butter. +Quincy noticed that the wooden plate and a sheet of thick paper were put +on the scales before the butter was cut from the tub. + +"Well, what can I do for you, Master Sawyer?" said Strout when the +customer who had paid thirty cents a pound for butter including wood and +paper had departed. + +"I came to say good-bye. I am going to Europe." + +"I s'pose you'll like England with its 'ristocrats and kings so well +that you won't come back to these ordinary United States." + +Quincy knew that Mr. Strout wished he would stay in England, so he +replied, + +"Oh, no. I'm coming back sure. I know a little about weighing groceries +and I've decided to come back and go into business." + +"What good will your book larnin' do you then?" + +"For one thing, they teach something besides dead languages in colleges +nowadays. I studied moral philosophy, which points out the difference +between right and wrong, between honesty and dishonesty, between fifteen +ounces of butter and one ounce of wood and paper, and sixteen ounces of +butter to the pound." + +With this parting shot, Quincy joined Tom in front of the store and they +started for Boston, from which port the _Gallia_ was to sail two days +later. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +ALICE'S DREAM + + +"Do you believe in dreams, Aunt Ella?" + +"No, Alice, I do not." + +"Not if they come true?" + +"Only a coincidence. If they don't come true are you willing to +acknowledge that all are unreliable? Or, if some prove true do you +consider them all reliable? You can have either horn of the dilemma." + +"What causes dreams, Aunt Ella?" + +"Usually what's on your mind. Your brain doesn't wake up all at once and +dreams flit through it until it gets full control." + +"What if a person dreams the same thing three nights in succession?" + +"That proves nothing. When my first husband died I dreamed for a month +or more that he was still alive and that I must wake him at a certain +time because the morning he died he was to take a train at an early +hour. You make your own dreams." + +"But supposing you see something in your dreams that you never saw +before--that you never knew existed until you viewed it when asleep?" + +"What have you been dreaming, Alice?" + +"You won't laugh at me?" + +"I promise not to laugh, but I won't promise to believe." + +"If my husband is dead," said Alice, "he is dead and I shall never see +him again in this world; if he is still living, he is somewhere in this +world, and it's my duty to find him." + +"I will agree to that," assented her hearer, "but you know that I have +no faith that he is alive. Just think, twenty-three years have passed +away and you have had no word from him. Out of deference to your +feelings, Alice, I had put off making my will since Sir Stuart died +until yesterday. It is now signed and in my lawyer's hands. It is no +secret, I have left all I possess to your son Quincy." + +"Why did you do that?" + +"I promised his father that he should have it, but as I think he will +never come to claim it, I gave it to his son, as he or you would do if +it was yours. Now, your dreams have put some idea into your head. Where +do you think your husband is?" + +"I don't know what country it is, but, in my dreams, thrice repeated, I +have seen him standing in a grove of trees filled with fruit--lemons and +oranges they appeared to be." + +"Did he speak to you or you to him?" + +"He looked at me but gave no sign of recognition. I called his name, but +he did not answer me." + +"That proves what I said. You are always thinking about him, and your +mind made up your dream." + +"Where do lemons and oranges grow?" + +"In so many countries that you would have to go round the world to visit +them all." She thought to herself, "they don't grow in the ocean." + +"You speak of twenty-three years having passed. That's not so long. I +have read of sailors being away longer than that and finally returning +home. Men have stayed in prison longer than that and have come out into +the world again. Why, Quincy is only fifty-three now." + +"And I'm seventy--an old woman some think me, and others call me so, but +if I were sure that by living I could see Quincy again, I'd manage some +way to keep alive until he came." + +"You are just lovely, Aunt Ella, and I love you more than ever for those +words. I believe that Quincy wants me to come to him--and I am going!" + +"My dear Alice, I'm sure the only way you will ever see Quincy is by +going to him, for he can never come to you." + +The next day Alice spent in studying the cyclopedias and maps. She +estimated the cost of a six months' trip to the citron groves of Europe +and America. For a week she pondered over the matter. + +Then something occurred that led her to make up her mind definitely. She +had the same dream for the fourth time. She awoke screaming, and shaking +with terror. Her aunt was awakened and ran to her room. + +"What is it, Alice? Dreaming again?" + +"Yes, the same and yet different. I saw a big man raise a club and +strike Quincy on the head. He fell and I awoke." + +Aunt Ella grew cynical. "Why didn't you wait long enough to see the +effect of the blow?" + +"Oh, Auntie," and Alice burst into tears. "What shall I do?" + +"I know what I'm going to do. I shall send for Dr. Parshefield and have +him give you a sleeping potion." + +The next day Alice began making preparations for her journey. Aunt +Ella's arguments and appeals were in vain. + +"I must go," said Alice. "Where, I do not know, but God will direct me." + +"God won't do anything of the kind," exclaimed Aunt Ella. + +Her patience was exhausted. Then her manner changed. She accepted the +inevitable, and did all she could to help her niece. One thing she +insisted upon, and that was that Alice should have a companion. One who +could speak French and German was found and Alice started upon her quest +into, to her, unknown lands. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +"BY THE BEAUTIFUL BLUE DANUBE" + + +Alice did not tell Aunt Ella where she was going. To have done so would +have led her aunt to say that it was foolish to go there, for although +she aided Alice in getting ready for her journey she was decidedly +opposed to it. In fact, in her own mind she called it "a wild goose +chase." But she had learned that Alice had an indomitable will and she +fully realized that further argument and opposition were useless. + +Alice went on board the boat at Dover with some foreboding. She had +read and had been told of the rigours of the Channel passage and her +experience was equal to the descriptions. Had it not been for the +presence of Babette, the maid so wisely provided by her aunt, her +journey might have ended at Calais, or even before. She had a horror +of the water and it was with a sense of great mental and physical +satisfaction that her feet touched solid ground again. + +They went to Paris, but spent no time in the gay city. Their objective +point was the south of Italy, and then the island of Sicily. Did not the +guide books say that Sicily was the home of the orange and the lemon? + +They would stop a short time in each important town. Carriages were +taken from day to day and inquiry was made at the principal groves in +the near vicinity of the towns. Then trips were made into the country, +but everywhere Alice's questions were answered in the negative. She was +allowed to talk to the labourers, by the aid of an interpreter, but none +had any remembrance or had heard of any such man as she described. + +At only one grove, near Palermo, was she refused admittance. The +proprietor, Silvio Matrosa, said he had no authority to admit strangers. +Besides, two of the men had been fighting and one was so seriously +injured by a blow upon his head by a club, that he had been sent to the +hospital and it was thought he would die. Under the circumstances "Would +the ladies excuse him?" and Alice was obliged to give up her search in +that direction. + +She had been so impressed with the reality of her dreams that she had +thought she could easily recognize her husband's surroundings, but she +confessed to Babette, who was sympathetic and engaged eagerly in the +search, that she had seen no place that resembled the scene of her +dreams. + +More weary wandering without result followed, and so intent was she on +the object of her search that the beauties of "Sunny Italy" were lost +upon her. The weather was hot and enervating and Babette suggested that +her mistress should go to Switzerland and rest before continuing her +search. Alice consented, but when they reached Vienna she was too ill +to proceed farther. Babette was at home in Vienna for she could speak +German, and she soon learned that the Hospital of St. Stephen's would +give her mistress the rest and medical treatment that her condition +required--for she was on the verge of nervous prostration. The +discomfort of travelling was not the cause of her physical break-down +for Aunt Ella had told her "that nothing was too good for a traveller" +and every comfort and convenience that money could supply had been hers. +Her mental disquietude had produced the physical relapse. She had been +so confident of the truth of her dreams, and that some power, she +knew not what, but which she trusted implicitly, would lead her to her +husband, that her disappointment was more than her strained nervous +system could bear. + +After a week's rest, although unable to rise, she called Babette to her +bedside. "I wish to send word to my aunt in England but I do not feel +able to sit up and write. I will dictate, you can write, and I will sign +it." + +Then Babette wrote: + +"MY DEAR AUNT ELLA: Confession, they say, is good for the soul. My body +is weak to-day and so Babette is writing my confession. I have been to +Sicily and all over the southern part of Italy, but no success has come +to me. If Quincy had been in one of those orange or lemon groves he +could not have lived there for so many years; the work is too hard, +and he was never used to manual labour. So, as soon as I am able, I am +coming home. I will never trouble you with any more dreams. I believe, +as you do, that they are products of imagination. I am not sick, only +tired out, and naturally, at first, very much disheartened. I shall be +with you very soon, never more to leave you." ALICE. + +"P. S. As soon as I am able to take a drive I am going to view the +attractions of this city--which Babette says is even more beautiful than +Paris. I must see 'The Beautiful Blue Danube,' and I must hear Johann +Strauss's orchestra. They will be the only happy memories of my +fruitless journey." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +"WE THREE" + + +Nothing marred the pleasure of the trip on the _Gallia_ and young +Quincy and Tom could not have been happier than they were when the great +steamer made its way up the Mersey towards its Liverpool pier. + +A few hours only in the great bustling city and then they were off to +find the house in which Tom's father was born and lived. It was near +Chester, that modernized reminder of the old Roman days, and on their +way to Fernborough Hall. + + +They found it uninhabited. The thatched roof was full of holes and the +interior showed the devastation that wind and water had worked. Tall +weeds filled the little garden and the general effect was dismal indeed. + +"It won't do to take Dad a picture of this old shanty," said Tom. + +"Perhaps we can find a house that looks like it," Quincy suggested. + +They had no difficulty in doing that, for the same architectural plan, +if the design be worthy the name, had plainly been followed in the +construction of many cottages. They found one with the roof covered with +moss and a garden full of old-fashioned flowers, and several views were +taken with Quincy's camera. + +"It's cheating in one way," said Tom, "but it would break Dad's heart to +see a picture of his old home as it really is--so we'll show him one as +it ought to be." + +"And as it shall be," said Quincy. "It won't cost much to fix it up, all +but the moss, and that will come on it in time. You get a man, Tom, find +out the cost of renovating the house, and I'll pay the bill. So will the +sense of untruthfulness be removed from our sensitive feelings." +This was quickly arranged, for work, with the pay in advance, was a +delectable possession in those parts. + +When they reached Fernborough Hall, and Quincy was told of the search +on which his mother had started out, he pretended to agree with his aunt +that it was useless, and the height of folly, but from that moment hope +sprang up within him, that, by some miracle, his father was still alive. +He did not confide his hopes to Aunt Ella, and gave her no inkling of +the real reason for his trip to Europe. + +"It would make me very happy to know that my father was living," he +said, "but after so long a time it seems foolish to think it, does it +not? When do you expect mother home, Aunt Ella?" + +"The letter was written a month ago from Vienna, but, unfortunately, she +did not give her address. If she were well, she should have been here +before this. I have an idea that she may have gone to Switzerland on her +way home, and charmed by its scenery, or forced by her weak condition, +has remained there. Stay here for a week with your friend, and perhaps +some word will come." + +"No, Auntie," said Quincy, "Tom and I will run over to Vienna, and if we +don't find her we will push on to William Tell's republic. We will write +you often--Tom one day and I the next." + +"I have often wondered," said Quincy to Tom two days later as they were +on the cars speeding to Vienna--"I have often wondered," he repeated, +"how my mother could let me go away and stay away from her for fourteen +long years. That she loves me, her letters show plainly. She says often +that I am all she has in the world, but she never sent for me to come +and see her nor did she ever come to see me. How do you explain it, +Tom?" + +"Very easily. That disaster at sea and the loss of your father has given +her a horror of the ocean which she cannot overcome. She fears to +trust herself or one she loves to its mercies again. Perhaps we can't +understand her feelings, but you must respect them." + +"I do," replied Quincy. "I have never doubted her love for me, and +your theory, perhaps, explains her failure to manifest her love more +forcibly." + +On the train they made a most agreeable acquaintance and regretted their +inability to accept his invitation to visit him. His name was Louis +Wallingford. He was an American, born in Missouri. He had been a +reporter, then editor. His passion was music and he had forsaken a +literary life for that of a musician. He had joined an orchestra much in +demand at private parties given by the wealthy residents of St. Louis. +At one of these, he had become infatuated with the daughter of a +railroad magnate who counted his wealth by millions. A poor violinist, +he knew it was useless to ask her father for his daughter's hand. The +young lady's mother was dead. The father died suddenly of apoplexy, +and Miss Edith Winser came into possession of the millions. Then he had +spoken and been accepted. Conscious that her husband, talented as he +was, would not be accepted, without a hard struggle, by the upper class, +they decided to live in Europe. + +He had found a deserted chateau on the borders of Lake Maggiore. Money +bought it, and money had transformed it into an earthly Paradise. The +building, of white marble, was adapted for classic treatment, and Greek +and Roman art were symbolized therein. + +The chateau contained a large music room and a miniature theatre in +which Mr. Wallingford's musical compositions and operas were performed. + +"I have just come from Paris," said Mr. Wallingford, "where I have made +arrangements for six concerts by my orchestra which will play many of my +own pieces. Can you not be in Paris in a month and hear them?" + +"Tell him your story," whispered Tom to Quincy, and he did so. + +Mr. Wallingford was deeply interested. + +"If you find both your father and mother, they deserve another +honeymoon. Bring them to Vertano and in the joys of the present we will +make them forget the sorrows of the past." + +"I am afraid," said Quincy, "that such good fortune would be more than +miraculous." + +"Come with your mother and friend then," said Mr. Wallingford as he left +them to change cars. + +They went to the Hotel Metropole in Vienna. Quincy consulted his guide +book. + +"Everybody lives in apartment houses in Vienna, so this book says. The +question is, in which one shall we find my mother and her maid?" + +"All we can do," said Tom, "is to plug away every day. Keep a-going, +keep asking questions, keep our eyes and ears open, and keep up our +courage." + +"Your plan is certainly 'for keeps,' as we children used to say. Come +along. Your plan is adopted. Have you written Lady Fernborough? 'Tis +your turn." + +Many days of fruitless travel and the young men began to despair of +success. Quincy was debating with himself whether it would not be better +to give up the search for his mother, and follow up the clue about his +father. He felt that every day was precious. + +"I have an idea, Quincy," Tom said one morning. "Perhaps your mother is +quite sick and has gone to a public hospital or a private one of some +kind." + +"That's a fine idea, Tom. We'll begin on them after breakfast." + +The sharp reports of gun shots and the softer cracking of pistols were +heard. + +"What's that?" cried Quincy. + +"Some men are on a strike. They had trouble with the police last night +and this morning's paper says the strikers have thrown up barricades. +Probably the police and soldiers are trying to dislodge them." + +The firing continued, and from their windows the soldiers and people +could be seen moving towards the scene of disturbance. + +"Let's go out and see what is going on," said Quincy. + +"Let's stay in and keep out of trouble," was Tom's reply. "It is the +innocent bystander who always gets shot." + +"I'm going down to the office to find out about it," and Quincy took his +hat and left the room. + +Tom was suspicious of his intentions and followed him. Quincy had left +the hotel and was walking rapidly towards the scene of disturbance. Tom +ran after him, and kept him in sight, but did not speak to him. At first +he felt offended that Quincy had not asked him to go with him. Then he +reflected: "I virtually told him in advance that I wouldn't go. He's his +own master." + +They were nearing a street from which came the sounds of conflict--loud +cries, curses, and the reports of firearms. Tom ram forward to prevent +Quincy from turning into the street. He was too late--Quincy had turned +the corner. Tom, regardless of danger, followed him. He started back +with a cry of horror. Quincy had been shot and was lying upon the +sidewalk, the blood streaming from a gun-shot wound in his right arm. +Tom took him up in his arms, as though he had been a child, and returned +to the safety of the unexposed street. + +As he lay Quincy upon the sidewalk and took out his handkerchief to +make a tourniquet with which to stanch the flow of blood, he cried: "Oh, +Quincy, why did you walk right into danger?" + +As he uttered the words, a man who was standing nearby, whose dress +and swarthy face proclaimed him to be a foreigner, stepped forward and +grasped Tom roughly by the arm. + +"What did you call that young man," asked the stranger, his voice +trembling, perceptibly. + +"I called him by his name--Quincy." + +"Quincy what? Pardon me, but I have a reason for asking." + +"His name is no secret," said Tom, as he twisted the handkerchief +tightly above the wound. "I can't understand your interest in him, but +his name is Quincy Adams Sawyer." + +"Thank Heaven," exclaimed the man. "And thank you," he added, grasping +Tom's hand--"Is he English?" + +"No, we're both Yankees, from Fernborough, Massachusetts." + +The man knelt beside Quincy and gazed at him earnestly. He looked up at +Tom. + +"I could bless the man who fired that shot. My name is Quincy Adams +Sawyer and this young man is my son!" + +Tom's surmise had been correct. Alice did not improve and a long stay +at the Hospital became necessary before the return to England would be +possible. + +"What's that noise, Babette?" asked Alice. + +"There must be a riot somewhere," was the reply. "The soldiers are +marching past. They are fighting in a street nearby." + +Alice said no more. What had she to do with fighting and bloodshed? Her +suffering was greater than any bullet could inflict. She fell into a +doze from which she was awakened by a loud cry from Babette. + +"Oh, Madame, a carriage has just stopped here, and they are bringing +a wounded man into the Hospital. There are two men with him--one looks +like an Englishman or American." + +"Go down, Babette, and see if you can find out who they are. I should be +glad if I could be of help to one of my own countrymen." + +It seemed a very long time before the maid returned. When she did, the +usually self-confident Babette seemed dazed. She did not speak until her +mistress asked: + +"Did you find out anything?" + +"Yes, Madame." + +"What?" + +"They are all Americans, Madame. A young man and his friend; the older +man is the father." + +"The companion's?" + +"No, the young man's." + +"Did you learn their names or where they are from?" + +Babette sank upon her knees by the bedside. + +"Oh, Madame, I am so happy." + +Alice regarded her with astonishment. + +"Happy! Happy because a young man has been shot. You must have a +bloodthirsty nature, Babette." + +"It isn't the shooting, Madame. It's the name." + +"The name? What name? You are nervous, Babette. You must lie down and +rest. I keep you up too late nights reading and writing." + +"Oh, Madame, how can I say it? Can you bear it?" + +"I have borne suspense for twenty-three years. I can bear much. What is +it you would tell me?" + +"You know, Madame, I said the older man was the young man's father. They +both have the same name." + +"That's not uncommon, especially in America. The young man is called +Junior. Sometimes when they are very proud of a family name they number +them. Supposing my husband were living, and my son had a son, named +after himself, the little boy would be Quincy Adams Sawyer 3rd." + +"Madame, I must tell you. The father and the son bear the name of Quincy +Adams Sawyer!" + +Alice regarded her as if affrighted. Then she leaped from the bed and +cried: "Bring me my clothes, Babette. My husband and son! We three, +brought together by the hand of God once more." + +The revulsion was too great. The pent-up agony of twenty-three years +dissolved in a moment. Alice fainted and fell into Babette's arms. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +A PERIOD OF TWENTY-THREE YEARS + + +It took hours for the overjoyed wife and mother and the long-lost +husband and father to tell their stories. Alice's was told first, and +was followed by young Quincy's recital of his life at Fernborough, his +four years at Harvard, and the story of the returned bill of exchange +leading him to Europe, and his search for his mother in Vienna which +ended with such happiness for all. Finally, the father began: + +"On the night of the collision, after seeing you safely started in the +life-boat with the last of the passengers, Captain Hawkins thought of +a small boat on the upper deck which had been overlooked in the general +scramble to get away from the doomed _Altonia_. Shouting to me to follow +him, the Captain rushed up the ladder to the railing, and together we +started to lower the boat. It was raised about three feet above the +deck, being held in position by two supports shaped like a letter X. I +had already loosened the ropes on my side, and then tried to kick out +the support nearest me. It stuck, and finally I got down on my hands and +knees thinking I could force it out better in that position. The water +was steadily pouring in at the ship's side, and it was only a question +of a few minutes before the _Altonia_ would founder. Finally I gave one +mighty push, the support gave away, the boat came down upon me like a +ton weight,--and that was the last I knew until I awoke in a large room +full of single beds, and a kindly faced old priest told me I was in the +Hospital of San Marco, Palermo, Sicily. + +"My God, the shock when I found that my sleep,--for such it was to +me,--had lasted over twenty-three years! What thoughts went through +my mind! Had you, Alice, been saved or lost? If saved, were you still +living, and my son, whom I had never seen, was he living? Were Aunt Ella +and my father and mother and my sisters still alive? I was roused from +my revery by the good Father Paolo. + +"He told me that the week before he had been summoned to the death-bed +of an old seaman, Captain Vando, who had confessed that over twenty +years before, while sailing from Boston to Palermo, two days after a +very bad fog, he had picked up at sea a small open boat in which were +two men, both of whom at first seemed dead. One, it was Captain Hawkins, +was beyond all help; he was frozen to death,--frozen to death, Alice, +in an effort to save my life, for, besides my own coat, his was found +tucked around me. + +"After hours of work, I was brought back to life,--but a life worse than +death. The Captain told Father Paolo that my mind was a blank, I could +remember nothing of my past, I did not know my name. Then temptation +came to Captain Vando. He took from me my belt, in which I had some +English gold, a few English bank-notes, and the five bills of exchange, +each for a thousand pounds. The latter he did not dare to dispose of, +but the money he appropriated to his own use. He soon found I could be +of no use to him on ship-board, so, on his arrival at Palermo, he sold +me to a rich planter, for a hundred lire, and I was put to work in the +orange groves. + +"Captain Vando in his confession told Father Paolo that he still had my +belt containing the bills of exchange, and before his death he delivered +these over to the priest. After the Captain's death, Father Paolo went +to Signor Matrosa, who, when confronted with the facts, admitted I had +been sold to him, and that I was known under the name of Alessandro +Nondra, but he told him that I had been mixed up in a fight, and had +received such a bad wound that I had been sent to the hospital. One of +his managers, an Italian, had married an English girl, and they had a +daughter with light hair, and blue eyes. It seems I had been sent to his +house one day with a message, and when I saw his daughter, I cried +out, 'Alice, Alice,' and caught the girl in my arms. Her father was so +enraged that he picked up a gun lying near at hand, and gave me such +a terrific blow on the head that I was knocked senseless. I remember +nothing of it, but mistaking Anita for you was, undoubtedly, my first +approach to my former consciousness. That scene was probably the one +which you saw in your dream, Alice, and to think that afterwards you +should be so near me in Palermo, and neither of us know it! + +"At the hospital the doctors found that the blow on my head had caused +but a comparatively unimportant scalp wound, but, in dressing it, +they found that at some earlier time my skull had been crushed. They +performed the delicate operation of trepanning the skull, and when I +came out from the effects of the ether, my mind was in the same state as +it had been twenty-three years before. + +"After that my recovery was rapid. Father Paolo made Signor Matrosa pay +me thirty-three hundred lire as my wages for the many years I had worked +for him, and I gave a thousand of it to the manager's daughter, to whom, +in a way, I owed my return to my natural self. The rest I gave to Father +Paolo for the use of his church. + +"Luckily, in my belt that Captain Vando had appropriated was my +passport. I went to the United States consul at Palermo, Mr. Drake, had +the passport vised, and got him to cash one of the bills of exchange for +me. Suddenly, one day, the thought came into my mind, had you, Alice, +thinking me dead, married again? I decided to find out before the +announcement of my return to the land of the living could be spread +broadcast, and I persuaded Mr. Drake to keep back the information +from his official report for a while, at least. This he was able to do +easily, as he was on the point of going away for a vacation of a few +months, and the other members of the consulate knew very little of my +case. + +"I decided to continue bearing the name of Alessandro Nondra for a +while, at least, and I knew I could make a living in some way when my +present funds were exhausted. How I regretted the cashing of that bill +of exchange, because I knew it would eventually lead to my discovery; +but I was so changed, with my iron-gray hair, and Van Dyke beard, that I +felt I could escape detection until I knew whether my wife still waited +for me or not. + +"I decided to make my way north to Ostend, and would cross from there to +England, where I felt sure I could find some news of you, or Aunt Ella. +I stopped off here in Vienna for a day or two. When I heard my son +called by name this morning I could not resist, and instead of finding +my son alone, I have also found his mother, my wife." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +"CATESSA" + + +Quincy gloried in his wife's faith and constancy. Alice, while she +rejoiced in her husband's return bewailed his lost opportunities. + +"Think what you have lost, Quincy. You might have been President." + +"If I have escaped that I shall not regret my long imprisonment." + +"Why, Quincy, would you have refused a nomination?" + +"Many are called, but few are chosen. I have never cherished any such +ambition. I am not in love with politics and I detest the average +politician. Our country produces few statesmen and it never will until +the civil service law is made applicable to legislators and to high +officials. We have much to learn from China in this respect." + +Telegrams had been sent to Aunt Ella and Mr. Wallingford apprising them +of the happy reunion. From the latter came a message extending a hearty +invitation to come to Vertano. + +Young Quincy's wound though painful, and particularly uncomfortable, was +not serious. Tom was his constant companion and attendant while Quincy +passed nearly all his time with his wife. She improved rapidly and their +departure was delayed only until young Quincy's wound was healed. + +"You now have a longer name than ever," his mother said to him one day. + +"How's that? It's too long now. What must be added?" + +"Why, now that your father is alive, you are Quincy Adams Sawyer, +Junior." + +"I am more than willing to make the addition, mother, and hope it will +be many years before I am obliged to shorten it." + +When they reached Vertano but three days remained before the departure +of Mr. Wallingford and his orchestra for Paris, but during that time +there were drives through the beautiful country, boat rides upon the +lake, rehearsals by the orchestra and the performance of an operetta +written by Mr. Wallingford in which he, his wife, and seven children +took part. + +"Shall we go to Paris?" asked Alice. + +"Certainly," said Quincy. "We owe Mr. Wallingford the return courtesy of +our attendance at his six concerts." + +The trip across the channel did not possess so many terrors for Alice +with her husband and son for company, but she was glad when they stepped +upon land at Dover. + +"I shall never love the water," she said. + +They reached London in the afternoon too late to take the train for +Heathfield in which town Fernborough Hall was situated. A telegram was +sent to Aunt Ella informing her of their safe arrival in London, and +that they would be with her the next day. + +"What can I do to amuse you this evening, Alice?" + +"Sit down and let me look at you, I have so much time to make up." + +"They give _Martha_ at the opera to-night--it is my favourite--full of +the sweetest melodies in which I substitute Alice for Martha. Quincy and +Tom would like to go, and I have another reason which I will tell you +after the first act." + +Alice's curiosity was aroused and she expressed her desire to go. After +the first act, Alice turned an inquisitive face to her husband. + +"What was your other reason for coming here to-night?" + +"Don't you think Catessa is a fine tenor?" + +"He has the most beautiful voice I ever heard," Alice replied. + +"I know him. He is an old friend of mine. I'm going behind the scenes to +congratulate him personally." + +"Did you meet him in Italy?" + +"No--in Fernborough, Massachusetts." + +"Why, Quincy, what _do_ you mean? There were no Italians in +Fernborough." + +"He is not an Italian. He's a Yankee. Look at his name." + +"That's Italian surely." + +"It's only his Yankee name transposed. Aren't you good on anagrams?" + +"Certainly, I'm not. Please tell me." + +"Do you remember a young man in Fernborough with consumption whom I sent +to a sanatorium in New York?" + +"Yes, Mr. Scates." + +"You've hit it. Mr. Arthur Scates, or A. Scates for short. Now look at +that Italian name again." + +"I am doing so, and it looks just as foreign as ever." + +"Agreed, but Catessa contains just the same letters as A. Scates, only +they are arranged differently." + +After the second act, Quincy visited Mr. Scates in his dressing room. +The tenor insisted on Quincy and his party taking supper with him at +his hotel after the opera. He offered to repay the cost of his treatment +with interest. + +"No," said Quincy, "I do not need it, and will not take it. Use it to +help some poor artist." + +It was one o'clock when Quincy and his party reached their hotel. + +"Did you enjoy yourself, Alice?" + +"I had a delightful evening. But how happy you must feel to know that +your money saved such a precious life." + +"I do," said he. "Good deeds always bring their reward. See what I +got--twenty-three years hard labour in an orange grove." + +"Hush, Quincy. There is no possible connection between the two events." + +"I disagree with you. I think I am the connection, but I don't really +think one caused the other." + +"I should say not. You are not often cynical." + +"I am not, dear. Only when one does a good deed he must not expect to be +repaid in exactly his own coin." + +"Did Mr. Scates offer to repay you?" + +"He did, and I told him to give it to some poor fellow who needed it." + +"Quincy, I don't know which to admire most. Your good heartedness, or +your ability to make one sum of money perform many good actions." + +The home coming to Fernborough Hall was a sad contrast to the pleasure +of the evening before. They found Aunt Ella in bed with two doctors in +attendance. Though weak, and failing fast there was no diminution of her +mental powers. She expressed a wish to see Quincy alone. + +"Quincy, your wife's faith has made a new woman of me. I have always +wished to live for ever, I had such a fear of death and uncertainty as +to the future. My fears are all gone. + +"The same Power that put me in this world and has given me so many +blessings, with some sorrows, so that I would properly appreciate the +blessings, will take care of me in the next. I have never been a wicked +woman, but often a foolish one. The most foolish thing I have ever done +was to doubt the faith your wife had that you were still alive. She's an +angel. + +"Give me a sup of that wine, Quincy," she continued, "I haven't smoked +a cigarette since I promised Alice I wouldn't. Wasn't that self-denial? +Now, there's a very important matter that needs attention. I told you +when you married Alice that when I died you should have everything. +Don't interrupt me. Believing you were dead I made a new will and left +everything to your son." + +She drew a paper from under the bedclothes. + +"Here it is. Burn it up. The other one is in the hands of my solicitor +in London." + +Quincy laid the will upon the bed. + +"Aunt Ella, I shall not burn the will nor destroy it. I am satisfied +with the disposition of your fortune. I should have been equally well +satisfied if you had possessed other heirs. But, did you leave your +property to Quincy Adams Sawyer Junior?" + +Aunt Ella's eyes snapped with some of their old fire. + +"I've got it right. I have described my heir so carefully that there can +be no mistake. Don't you imagine that there is a chance for you to break +my will." + +There was a smile on her face as she spoke, and Quincy smiled to show +that he did not misunderstand her pleasantry. As he turned to go, Aunt +Ella called: + +"Quincy!" + +He approached the bed again. + +"Another sip of that wine. I always liked wine--but not too much of it." + +She beckoned to him to come nearer. "Quincy, I want you, before you go +away to have the fish cleared out of the lake. Stuart wouldn't let me +do it, and since he died I have kept them as a tribute to his memory. +He said to me, when the name dies out, let the fish die too. The name is +near death, and the fish must go. Now, send Alice to me." + +When she came, she bent over and kissed her aunt tenderly. + +"Alice, I wish you were going with me. You know what I mean, dear. I +hope you will have long life and great happiness to make up for what +you've gone through. You have your husband back again. I am going to +mine, Robert and Stuart. There is no marriage or giving in marriage +there--only love. Quincy is going to look after the fish in the lake." + +Aunt Ella lingered for a week, then passed quietly away while asleep. +She was laid beside Sir Stuart in the family vault, and the name +Fernborough lived only as that of a little country town in New England. + +At the funeral Quincy met his sister Florence who looked upon him as one +raised from the dead. + +"I did not forget you, Quincy, for my first-born bears your name." + +Linda, Countess of Sussex, came with her husband the Earl, and her +daughter, the Lady Alice Hastings, a tall, statuesque blonde, in her +twenty-eighth year. + +"I've something wonderful to tell you," said the Countess to Quincy and +his wife. "My daughter is soon to be married, but not to one of our +set. Her choice has fallen upon Mr. John Langdon, an American. He's very +wealthy, and is coming to England to live. Isn't that romantic--so out +of the usual." + +"America loses every time," said Quincy. "First our girls and their +father's money, and now our men and their money. In time, England will +form part of the great American nation." + +"You mean," said the Countess, "the great English-speaking nation," and +Quincy bowed in acceptance of the amendment. + +The probating of the will, making arrangement for the sale of +Fernborough Hall, and providing for the payment of the proceeds and +annual income to Quincy Jr. caused a long delay, for English law +moves but little faster than it did when Jarndyce brought suit against +Jarndyce. + +Quincy Jr. and Tom were thrown on their own resources during the long +wait. London was their resort, and, to them, Scotland Yard and its +detectives, the most interesting part of the city. + +When the party finally embarked, by a coincidence, it was on the +_Gallia_ which had brought young Quincy and his companion to England +seven months before. + +No storms or heavy fogs were met upon the way, and the party was landed +safely in New York. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +O. STROUT. FINE GROCERIES + + +During the summer that the foregoing events were happening in Europe, +Mr. Hiram Maxwell, in the little New England town of Fernborough had +a serious accident happen to himself the effects of which were far +reaching, and finally affected many people. + +In unloading a barrel of sugar from a wagon, it slipped from the skid +and fell upon his leg causing a compound fracture. He was taken home, +but when the doctor was called he advised his immediate removal to the +Isaac Pettingill Free Hospital for he was afraid an amputation would be +necessary. Unfortunately, his fears proved to be true, and Hiram's right +leg was amputated just below the knee. + +"That Hiram's an unlucky cuss," said Mr. Strout to his hearers one +evening at the grocery. "But think of me. This is our busy season and +with everything piled onto me I'm just about tuckered out. What help +will he be stumbling around on crutches?" + +"Can't he have a wooden leg?" asked Abner Stiles. + +"Yes, of course he can. An' if you lost your head and got a wooden one +in its place you'd be just as well off as you are now." + +This remark caused a laugh at Abner which he took good-naturedly. When +Mr. Strout was out of sorts he always vented his spleen on somebody. + +"Well," said Benoni Hill, "I'm awful sorry for Hiram with a wife and +children to support. Of course his pay will go right on, bein' as he's a +partner." + +"I don't know about that," said Strout. "That's for the trustees to +decide, and I've got to decide whether I'll do two men's work for one +man's pay." + +"He would for you," Abner blurted out. + +"If you think so much of him, why don't you come in and do his work for +him?" said Strout. + +"When you were going to buy this store, and Mr. Sawyer got ahead of yer, +yer promised me a job here as pay for some special nosin' round I'd +done fer yer--but when yer got in the saddle you forgot the feller who'd +boosted yer up. When a man breaks his word to me onct he don't do it a +second time. That's why," and Abner went out and slammed the door after +him. + +Mr. Strout was angry, and when in that state of mind he was often +lacking in prudence in speech. + +"That comes of turning a place of business into a resort for loafers. +If I owned this store outright there'd be a big sign up somewhere--'When +you've transacted your business, think of Home Sweet Home.'" + +"I reckon that's a hint," said Benoni Hill, as he arose and put on his +hat. "You won't be troubled with me or my trade in futur'. There are +stores in Cottonton jus' as good as this, and the proprietors are +gentlemen." + +He left the store, and one by one the "loafers" followed him as no one +had the courage to break the silence that fell upon the company after +old Mr. Hill's departure. + +Mr. Strout, left alone to close up the store, was more angry than ever. + +"What cussed fools. I was hitting back at Abner and they thought the +coat fit and put it on. They'll come round again. They won't enjoy +tramping over to Cottonton for kerosene and molasses." + +The store was lighted by kerosene lamps resting on brackets. It was Mr. +Strout's custom to take them down, blow them out, and replace them +on the brackets. One was always left burning, as Mr. Strout said "so +burglars could see their way round." + +Mr. Strout's anger rose higher and higher and there was no one present +upon whom he could expend it. He grasped one of the lamps, but his hold +on the glass handle was insecure and it fell to the floor, the lamp +breaking, while the burning oil was thrown in every direction. He wished +then that some of the "loafers" were present to help him put the fire +out. There was no water nearer than the pump in the back yard. He +grabbed a pail and started to get some water. He forgot the back-steps +and fell headlong. For some minutes he was so dazed that he could do +nothing. The glare of the fire lighted up the yard, or he would have had +difficulty in filling the pail. When he returned, he saw that the fire +was beyond his control. He could not go through the store, so he climbed +the back yard fence and made his way to the front of the store crying +"Fire" at the top of his voice. + +It seemed an age to him, before anyone responded. He felt then the need +of friends, neighbours--even "loafers" would have been acceptable. + +A bucket brigade formed, but their efforts were unavailing. As the other +lamps were exploded by the heat new inflammable material was thrown +about. In a quarter of an hour the whole interior was in flames, and in +an hour only a grim, black skeleton, lighted up by occasional flashes of +flame, remained of Strout and Maxwell's grocery store. + +Next morning comment was rife. Mr. Strout had told how the fire was +caused but there were unbelievers. + +"I think the cuss set it on fire himself," said Abner Stiles to his +employer, Mr. Ezekiel Pettingill. + +"Be careful, Abner," was the caution given him. "It don't do to accuse a +man of anything 'less you have proof, an' your thinkin' so ain't +proof." Mr. Strout went to Boston to see the trustees. The insurance was +adjusted and Mr. Strout was authorized to proceed with the re-building +at once. During the interim orders were filled from the Montrose store. +Fortunately, the stable and wagon shed were some distance from the +store, and had not been in danger. + +The new store was larger than the old one, and many improvements, in Mr. +Strout's opinion, were incorporated in the new structure. He ordered the +new sign. When it was put up, the whole town, including the "loafers" +were present. "I s'pose he fixed it with the trustees" said Benoni Hill +to Abner Stiles. + +"Danged if I think so," was the reply. "He's allers been meaner'n dirt +to Hiram, an' has allers wanted to git him out. Burnin' up the store +giv' him his chance." + +"You mean the store burnin' up," corrected Benoni. + +"I dunno. The Bible says God works in a mysterious way his wonders to +perform, an' so do some individooals." + +One noon after dinner, Mr. Strout said to his wife. "Bessie, put on your +things an' come down to the new store. I want to show you somethin'." + +"And leave the dishes?" + +"You can bring 'em with you if you want to," her husband replied. + +When they reached the store, upon which the painters were at work, he +pointed to the new sign. + +"See that? Read it out loud." + +Mrs. Strout complied: + +"O. STROUT. FINE GROCERIES." + +"What did I tell yer?" was his only comment. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE HOME COMING + + +Quincy desired to have his return to America unheralded by items in +the newspapers of stories of his wonderful rescue, captivity, and final +recovery of his reason, so when he booked for passage on the _Gallia_ he +gave the name of Mr. S. Adams, wife and son. + +During the homeward voyage the father and son had an opportunity to +become acquainted. The father told the story of his life at Mason's +Corner; first going back to his college days. He told his son how he had +opposed his father's wish that he would become a lawyer and sustain the +reputation of the old firm of Sawyer, Crowninshield, and Lawrence; about +his health breaking down and his visit to Mason's Corner; about the +blind girl whom he had made his wife, and how he had secured medical +assistance and her sight had been restored. Once again he lived over his +life in the country town, and told about his friends and foes--Obadiah +Strout and Bob Wood--who were enemies no longer, and honest, +good-hearted 'Zeke Pettingill, and his sweet wife, little Huldah Mason. +And Hiram who stammered so and Mandy who didn't. Nearly all the people +mentioned in their long talks were well known to young Quincy and after +his father had finished his reminiscences the young man supplied the +sequel. + +"What do you think of Mr. Strout?" asked the father. + +"Think? I know he's a dishonest man. You say that you parted friends. He +is no friend of yours or mine." + +Then he told of his encounter with young Bob Wood. + +"I had some trouble with his father many years ago," said Quincy. "What +did he do to you?" + +"Nothing to me. He insulted a young lady, and I took her part. Tom was +going to help me but I arranged to handle him, in a very unscientific +way though." + +"It was a rough and tumble of the worst sort," interjected Tom. "I was +afraid they'd bite each other before they got through." + +"Quincy," said his father, "you must take boxing lessons. When occasion +requires, it is the gentleman's weapon." + +The mention of Mary Dana naturally led to a rehearsal of the Wood case, +and all Mary had done in helping Quincy at the beginning of the search +for his father. + +"I think I see which way the wind blows," laughed his father, while +Quincy blushed to the roots of his hair, "and I want to meet the young +lady who did so much to bring us all together again." + +Alice was proud of her son. He resembled her, having light hair and blue +eyes; a decided contrast to his father whose skin had been darkened by +Italian suns, who had dark eyes, dark hair frosted at the ends, and a +heavy beard, cut in Van Dyke fashion. Few, if any, would have recognized +in him the young man who more than twenty-three years before had taken +passage on the _Altonia_, looking forward to a pleasant trip and an +early return to his native land. + +Alice explained to her son her apparent lack of affection for him in +allowing him to be separated from her so long. + +"I knew you were with your relatives and good friends, Quincy. In my +nervous, depressed state I was poor company for a young, healthy boy. +Then, I had such a fear of the ocean I dared not go to you and was +afraid to have you come to me. Can you forgive me?" + +"My darling mother," said young Quincy, "what you did turned out for the +best. I have been educated as an American and that fully atones for my +apparent neglect. Your beautiful letters kept you always in my mind, and +I used to take great pleasure in telling my schoolmates what a pretty +mother I had." + +Alice, despite her years, blushed. + +"Quincy, you are like your father in praising those you love." + +Tom gave Quincy's father graphic descriptions of the changes in +Fernborough and fully endorsed his friend's opinion of Mr. Strout. + +"He's a snake in the grass," said Tom. "He'd pat you on the back with +one hand and cut your throat, figuratively speaking, with the other." + +"Do you think he'd recognize me?" asked Quincy. + +"I think not," said Tom. "His perceptive powers are not strong. He's +sub-acute rather than 'cute." + +Quincy and Alice sat for hours looking out upon the wide expanse of +ocean, and at the blue sky above them. It did not seem possible that +so many years had passed since they were together. Memory is a great +friend. It bridged the great gap in their lives. They were lovers as of +yore, and would be always. They did not hesitate to talk of the cruel +past--not sadly, for were they not in the happy present? + +Said Alice one morning, "While you were gone I was in a terribly nervous +condition. Aunt Ella said that I must have something to employ my +mind--and I wrote, or tried to write. I couldn't keep my mind on one +thing long enough to write a story, but I have collected the material +for one, and now that I am happy once more, when we have settled down, I +am going to write it." + +"What's the title, or, rather, the subject?" her husband inquired. + +"Oh, it opens with a ship-wreck--not a collision but a fire was +the cause. Among the passengers are many children--of high and low +degree--and they get mixed up--fall into wrong persons' hands,--fathers +and mothers are lost and cannot claim them, and their future lives have +supplied me with the strongest and most intricate and exciting plot that +I have ever constructed." + +"Which is the 'star' child?" + +"He is the son of a Russian Grand Duke--the offspring of a morganatic +marriage--his mother is driven from the country by order of the Czar. +The title is _The Son of Sergius_." + +They did not remain in New York but took the first train for Boston. +They were driven to the Mount Vernon Street house. + +"I knew you were coming," cried Maude, as she ran eagerly down the steps +to meet them. + +"Who has turned traitor? I pledged them all to secrecy," cried Quincy. + +"Harry told me, and I had a cablegram from Florence." + +"Did she use my name? If so, we are undone and the reporters will swarm +like bees." + +"You are safe," said Maude. "The message read: Brother found. Keep +quiet." + +Tom was prevailed upon to remain in Boston until Quincy could go to +Fernborough. At supper they were introduced to Maude's family. + +"Six of them," said Quincy. "I am uncle to a numerous extent. Maude, +what are all their names--the girls first." + +"This is Sarah, named after mother; Ella for Aunt Ella, and little Maude +for her mother." + +"Good! Now the boys." + +"Stuart--the old gentleman was so nice to Harry and me when we were on +our wedding tour--Nat for father, and Harry--" + +"Thank Heaven--no Quincy. That name was becoming contagious. I am glad, +Maude, that you were wise and kept the epidemic out of your family." + +That evening Quincy and Mr. Merry talked about business matters. Harry +told of Hiram's accident and the destruction of the store by fire. + +"There's something funny about it," said Harry. "We authorized Mr. +Strout to rebuild and restock at once, and we hear that he has done so, +but he has not called on us for a dollar, nor has he sent up any bills +for payment." + +"I wish you would send a telegram to Mr. Ezekiel Pettingill the first +thing to-morrow morning asking him to come to the city--say important +business." + +About three o'clock Ezekiel arrived at the office of Sawyer, +Crowninshield, Lawrence and Merry. He was shown into what had been the +late Hon. Nathaniel's private office, and came face to face with Quincy. + +"I'm heartily glad to see you again," he exclaimed as he wrung Quincy's +helpless hand after the first surprise of the meeting. "Huldy'll be +delighted too. You must come down and tell us all about it. Just to +think--more'n twenty years--but you're looking well." + +Quincy assured him that his health was never better. + +"What I wanted to see you about are affairs in Fernborough. What is +Strout up to?" + +"You've used just the right word. He's up to something. He's got up a +sign--O. Strout, Fine Groceries--an' says Hiram's out of the firm, and +that he owns the whole business." + +Quincy smiled. "So, I've got to fight it out with him again, have I? +Well it will be the final conflict. To use Mr. Strout's words, one +or the other of us will have to leave town. You aren't going back +to-night?" + +"Oh, I must." + +"Well, come up to the house first and see Alice and the boy. Well go +down to-morrow." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE FINAL CONFLICT + + +When Tom Chripp showed his father the photograph of the house in which +he was born, he burst into tears. + +"Just as pretty as ever," he exclaimed. "The roof's been mended, beent +it, and just the same flowers all around it as when I was a boy. Tom, +I'm glad to see you back safe and sound--but that picter--Tom, when I +die, you just put that picter in the coffin with me, won't you? I want +your grandfather to see that the old place was looked after when he was +gone." + +Tom promised. + +A dark featured, dark haired man entered Mr. Strout's store. The +proprietor knew he was a stranger--perhaps just moved into town, and a +prospective customer. + +"What can I do for you?" he inquired blandly, for he was capable of +being affable. + +"I am looking for Mr. Hiram Maxwell." + +"He ain't here no more." + +"But he's your partner, isn't he?" + +"Didn't you read my sign? There ain't no partner on it." + +"There ought to be." + +Mr. Strout looked at the stranger with astonishment. Then he laughed, +and, with a remembrance of Mr. Richard Ricker, asked sneeringly: + +"What asylum did you come from?" + +"I beg your pardon," said the stranger. "I used to know Mr. Maxwell, and +they told me in the city that he was a member of the firm of Strout and +Maxwell." + +"Who told ye?" + +"The trustees of the estate of Mr. Sawyer. Mr. Quincy Adams Sawyer. Did +you know him?" + +"I never knew any good of him. So they told yer, did they? That shows +how much attention they give to business. The old store was burned up +and that busted the firm. This store's mine from cellar to chimney." + +"The old firm must have paid you well." + +"Pretty well--but I made my money in State Street, speculating and I'm +well fixed." + +"I'm glad to hear that you've prospered. I wish my friend Maxwell had +been as fortunate. What became of his interest and Mr. Sawyer's in the +store?" + +"Went up in smoke, didn't I tell yer?" + +"I beg your pardon," said the stranger again. "But doesn't your store +stand on land belonging to the old firm?" + +Strout squinted at the stranger. "I guess you're a lawyer lookin' for +points, but you're on the wrong track. You won't get 'em." + +"I'm not a lawyer, Mr. Strout. I only inquired thinking my friend Mr. +Maxwell might--" + +"Well, he won't," said Strout. "Mr. Quincy Adams Sawyer cheated me out +of one store but he can't drive me out of this. He thought he was awful +smart, but when he bought the store he didn't buy the land. It belonged +to the town. I'm one of the selectmen, and one of the assessors found it +out and told me, and I bought it--an' this store an' way up to the sky, +and the land way down to China belongs to O. Strout." + +"I am much obliged, Mr. Strout, for your courtesy--only one more +question and then I'll try and find my friend Mr. Maxwell--if somebody +will be kind enough to tell me where he is." + +"You didn't ask where he was. If you want to know he's up to the +Hospital. He's had his leg off, an'll have to walk on crutches." + +"So bad as that,--I'm _very_ sorry," said the stranger. + +"I've got to put up some orders--see that sign?" and he pointed to one +which read: + +"When You've transacted your Business, Think of Home, Sweet Home." + +"I beg your pardon, Mr. Strout, for taking so much of your valuable +time. Do you know whether Mr. Quincy Adams Sawyer is in town?" + +Strout laughed scornfully. "In town? That's good. Why, man, he's been +dead more'n twenty years--food for fishes, if they'd eat him, which I +doubt. He's left a boy, same name, that used to go to school here, but, +thank Heaven, he's got lots of money, and probably won't trouble us any +more. Perhaps he's the one you want." + +"Are you sure the boy's father is dead? I saw him in Boston yesterday." + +"I don't take any stock in any such nonsense. This ain't the days of +miracles." + +"I saw him in this town this morning." + +"Where?" gasped Strout. + +"Right here. That's my name, Quincy Adams Sawyer. Do you want me to +identify myself?" He stepped back, puckered up his mouth, and began +whistling "Listen to the Mocking Bird." + +Strout was both startled and mad. "Just like you to come spyin' round. +You allers was a meddler, an' underhanded. But now you know the truth, +what are you going to do about it?" + +Quincy walked to the door. "Well, Mr. Strout, I'm going to put it about +as you did when I first came to Mason's Corner, Either you or I have got +to leave town. This is our last fight, and I'm going to win." + +He left the store quickly and made his way to where Ezekiel was waiting +for him with the carryall. + +"Now, 'Zeke, we'll go to the Hospital and see poor Hiram." + +They found him hobbling about on crutches in the grounds of the +Hospital. + +"How long have you been here, Hiram?" was Quincy's first question. + +"About twelve weeks. You see, besides breaking my leg I cracked my knee +pan an' that's made it wuss." + +"We'll fix you up very soon. I'll get you an artificial leg from New +York. You'll be able to walk all right but you mustn't do any heavy +lifting." + +"Guess I shan't have no chance to lift anything now Strout's got the +store." + +"Don't worry about that, Hiram. There are towns that have two stores in +them. How's Mandy?" + +[Illustration: "'JUST LIKE YOU TO COME SPYIN' ROUND. YOU ALLERS WAS A +MEDDLER.'"] + +"Gettin' along all right. Mr. Pettingill, there, sends a man over to +help her, and Mrs. Crowley is as good as two any day." + +"Don't worry, Hiram. You'll come out on top yet" + +"If I do, 'twill be because you'll put me there, I reckon." + +As they were driving back 'Zekiel asked Quincy if he knew Mrs. Hawkins +was going to sell out. + +"No, why. Getting too old?" + +"No, she's as spry as a cat, and she's seventy odd. That ain't the +reason. Jonas is dead." + +"What was the matter?" + +"Chickens." + +"What--overeating?" + +"No, somebody stole his chickens. So he arranged a gun with a spring and +he must have forgotten it." + +"He didn't 'kalkilate' on its hitting him?" + +"Guess not. Mrs. Hawkins says she's too old to marry agin, and she can't +run the house without a man she can trust." + +"Let's stop and see her." + +When they entered, Mrs. Hawkins threw up her hands. "Lord a Massy! I +heerd at the store all about you comin' back, but where on airth _did_ +you come from? They said you was dead an' here you are as handsome as +ever. How's your wife, an' that boy o' yourn?" + +"Both well, I'm happy to say. 'Zeke tells me you want to sell out." + +"Yes. Now Jonas has gone there's nobody to take care of the chickens, +an' a hotel 'thout chickens an' fresh eggs is no home for a hungry man." + +"What will you take for the place just as it stands?" + +"Well, I've figured up an' I should lose money ef I took less'n four +thousand dollars, an' I ought to have five." + +"I'll take the refusal of it for forty-eight hours at five thousand. Is +it agreed?" + +"I'd hold it a month for you, Mister Sawyer, but I want to go and help +Mandy soon's I can now that Hiram's laid up for nobody knows how long." + +"We'll have Hiram on his feet again very soon, Mrs. Hawkins. I'll be +down again in a few days." + +"Give my love to Alice," she called after them as they were driving +away. + +The next evening Quincy asked his son to come to the library with him. + +"Quincy, I want to borrow fifty thousand dollars. Can you spare it?" + +"Twice as much if you need it. I'll give it to you. It's yours anyway." + +"No, I want to borrow it at six per cent." + +"Are you going into business?" + +"Yes." Then Quincy told him of his conversation with Mr. Strout. + +"How are you going to beat him?" asked young Quincy. + +"I'll tell you. I'm going to buy the Hawkins House. I shall have it +lifted up and another story put underneath. There will be room for a +store twice as large as Strout's, and a hotel entrance and office on the +ground floor. I'll put Hiram Maxwell in charge of the store." + +"Who'll run the hotel?" + +"'Zeke says Sam Hill is the man for the place, and his wife Tilly will +be the housekeeper, chief cook, etc." + +"Do you mean to run Mr. Strout out of town?" + +"That is my present intention. Not for personal vengeance but for the +ultimate good of the community." + +"I'd like to help, but the work isn't in my line." + +"Seriously speaking, Quincy, what is your line--the law?" + +"No." + +"Business?" + +"No." + +"What then?" + +"Don't know. Am thinking it over." + +"Have you seen that Miss Dana yet?" + +"No. Mr. Isburn told me she is out West now on an important case." + +"We'll get her to find Strout after he leaves Fernborough. Give me that +check to-morrow early. I'm going to Fernborough with an architect to +have plans made for the alterations." + +Mr. Strout could look from his window and see what was going on at the +Hawkins House. + +"Who's bought the hotel, Abner?" + +"Well, Mr. Strout, they do say it's Mr. Quincy Adams Sawyer, an' that +Sam Hill and his wife Tilly are going to run it." + +"I won't sell them a darned thing." + +Mr. Stiles grinned. "Can't they buy in Cottonton, or Montrose, or +Eastborough? Mr. Sawyer's got stores there." + +"Well they'll want things in a hurry, but they won't get them from me." + +A month later Abner rushed into the store. + +"Say, Strout, they're putting up a new sign on the Hawkins House. Come +and see it." + +Mr. Strout walked leisurely to the window and put up his hand to shade +his eyes. Great white letters on a blue ground. + +THE SAWYER GROCERY COMPANY + +"By George, Strout, there's going to be another grocery." + +Mr. Strout did not speak, but walked back behind the counter. Abner went +to see the sign raising. + +Mr. Strout soliloquized: "So, he's going to fight me, is he? Well, I'll +spend every dollar I have, and borrow some more, before I'll give in. +He'll cut prices--so will I." + +Then a troubled look came into his face. + +"Confound it. My commission as postmaster runs out in a month, but our +Congressman is a good friend of mine." + +Opening night came at the new store, Saturday being selected. Over the +doorway was an electric sign-- + +WELCOME TO ALL + +Mr. Strout's store was nearly deserted. About ten o'clock Abner came in. + +"I say, Strout, it's just scrumptious. They got three times as many +goods as you have. An' there's a smoking room back of the store with +a sign over the door _'Exclusively for Loafers. Loaf and Enjoy Your +Soul.'_ They say a poet feller named Whitman writ that last part. +Saturday morning is to be bargain day and everything is to be sold +at half price. And, say, isn't the hotel fine? Everybody was invited +upstairs, an' there was a free lunch spread out." + +"Abner, you've talked enough. You'd better go home." + +The warfare continued for three months. At the end of the first, Hiram +Maxwell, an old soldier, was appointed postmaster, _vice_ Obadiah +Strout. At the end of the second month Mr. Strout resigned his position +as organist and the gentleman who led the orchestra that played during +the evening at the hotel was chosen in his stead. At the end of the +third month a red flag was seen hanging at the door of Mr. Strout's +store and Mr. Beers the auctioneer whose once rotund voice had now +become thin and quavering, sold off the remaining stock and the +fixtures. Then the curtains were pulled down and the door locked. The +next day Mr. and Mrs. Strout and family left town. + +"What's become of Strout?" Quincy asked his son, who had just returned +from Fernborough. Another month had passed since the auction sale. + +"I heard he was seen on State Street a few days ago, and he said the +best move he ever made was leaving that one-horse country town; that he +could make more money in a day in State Street than he could in a month +in the grocery business. It seems he has become what they call a curb +broker or speculator." + +"I am glad," said Quincy, "that Mr. Strout has found a more profitable +and congenial field. It must have been very dull for him the last three +months of his stay in that one-horse town." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +TOM, JACK AND NED + + +Quincy decided to have his company incorporated. This necessitated +visits to the Secretary of the Commonwealth and the Tax Commissioner. +The amount paid in cash capital was $200,000. Besides the four stores +doing business, sixteen more were contemplated in Boston, Cambridge, +Lowell, Lawrence, Fall River, New Bedford, and other small cities and +large towns. + +The design was not to form a trust with a view of controlling certain +food products and raising prices, but to establish a line of stores in +which the best grade at the lowest cash price should be the rule. This +price was to be fixed for the Boston store and was to be the same in all +the stores. + +"Whom shall I put in charge of the Boston store, Quincy?" his father +asked. "He will have to be general manager for the whole circuit." + +"I know a man," said young Quincy, "who is honest, conscientious, and a +perfect tiger for work, but he knows nothing about the grocery business. +He has adaptability, that valuable quality, but, while learning, he +might make some costly mistakes." + +"I want you to act as Treasurer for the company. It's your money, and +you should handle it." + +"I've no objection to drawing checks. We sha'n't have to borrow any +money for there's half a million available any time. Why didn't you have +a larger capital, father?" + +"Because the State taxes it so heavily; but there's no tax on borrowed +money. The fellow who lends pays that." + +"If I loan money do I have to pay taxes on it when I haven't got it?" + +"Certainly, and you pay just the same if there's no prospect of its ever +being repaid." + +"That's funny." + +"Funny! Why, our Massachusetts tax laws are funnier than a comic +almanac, and about as sensible." + +Quincy took up a pen and began writing. + +"What are you writing, father?" + +"I'll show you in a few minutes." + +"How will that do?" + +Quincy read: + + QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER, _President_. QUINCY + ADAMS SAWYER, Jr., _Treasurer_. THOMAS CHRIPP, + _General Manager_. Cash Capital, $200,000. + + Cable, _Vienna_. 20 _Stores_. + + THE SAWYER GROCERY COMPANY, INC. + + Wholesale and Retail. + +"Just the man I had in mind, father. You can depend upon him every time, +and he'll keep his subordinates right up to the mark." + +Upon his return to his native state Quincy had found many of his old +friends still in office. The governor and higher officials were only +annuals--some not very hardy at that--while the minor officials, in +many cases, were hardy perennials, whom no political hot weather or cold +storm could wither or destroy. + +A presidential campaign was on, and speakers, for there were few +orators, were in demand. Quincy's visits to so many cities inspecting +the Company's stores had brought him in contact with hundreds of local +politicians. One day there came a call from the State Committee to come +in and see the Secretary. + +"Do you want to do something for the party?" asked Mr. Thwing, the +Secretary. + +"I have already subscribed," said Quincy. "Do you need more?" + +"Money talks," said Mr. Thwing, "and so do you. I have a score of +letters from different cities asking me to add you to our list of +speakers, and to be sure and let the writers hear you." + +"I had no intention--" Quincy began. + +"You're an ex-governor, and know all the State. Aren't you in the +grocery business in a big way?" + +"Rather." + +"'Twill boom your business in great style. Better even for groceries +than boots and shoes, for food is a daily consumption." + +"I wouldn't go on the stump just to advertise my business." + +"Of course not. You would take just what the gods provided and ask no +questions, and make no comments. Shall we put you down for, say, twenty +nights?" + +Quincy consented, but he stipulated that he was not to be placed in any +city or town where he had a store. + +Mr. Thwing vehemently objected. "Why, the men who want you to come live +where the stores are." + +"I can't help it. Put me in the next town, and if they're so anxious to +hear me they'll come." + +After the campaign was over, the votes cast, and the victory won, Mr. +Thwing said, "That was a good business idea of yours, Governor, about +your not going into the towns where your stores were. Of course you +instructed your general manager." + +"I don't know what you mean," said Quincy. + +"Didn't you know when you spoke in places adjoining those in which you +had stores that your Mr. Chripp, I think that's the name--just flooded +the towns with circulars announcing that you were to speak and that +you were the President of the grocery company doing business in +the adjoining city, that your goods were the best, your prices the +lowest--and that your teams would deliver goods free of charge in all +places within five miles?" + +Mr. Thwing stopped to take breath, and Quincy nearly lost his in +astonishment. + +"Great business idea, Mr. Sawyer." + +"I knew nothing about it. I should have stopped it had I known." + +"Why so? You got a double ad. Bright man that Chripp. You'll have to +raise his salary." + +Quincy did not reply. The deed was done, and a public explanation would +do no good. Chripp surely had his employer's interests at heart, even if +he had mixed politics and business rather too openly. The next month's +statement showed a great increase in trade. Mr. Chripp was not called +to account, but his salary was materially increased at the suggestion of +young Quincy. + +The new President had been inaugurated, the Cabinet nominees confirmed, +and the distribution of political "plums" began. Quincy felt that the +lightning had struck in the wrong place when he was approached and +sounded as to whether he would accept a foreign mission. He talked the +matter over with his wife. + +"Quincy," said she, "I would go, if I were you." + +"Are you not happy here?" + +"Yes, and no. Happy to be near my son, and relatives and friends; no, +because your business takes you away so much that I see little of you. +If you take the mission, I shall have you with me all the time. I am +selfish, I know, but it is my love for you that makes me so." + +The Hon. Quincy Adams Sawyer was nominated and confirmed as Ambassador +to Austria-Hungary. Alice had made the selection. + +"Let us go to Vienna, Quincy. It was there we met after our long +separation--and, this is purely a personal matter, I wish to study the +scenes of my story, 'The Son of Sergius,' at close range." + +Before Quincy's departure it had been decided to lease the Beacon Street +house for four years. Maude was given her choice but preferred the house +in Mount Vernon Street where she had lived since her marriage. + +Young Quincy was obliged to take bachelor quarters which he found at +Norumbega Chambers. + +His suite consisted of a sitting-room, two sleeping rooms each with +bath, and a small room intended for a library or study, and which was +utilized by him as an office. + +Quincy went down the harbour with his father and mother on the ocean +liner, returning on the tug with Tom. On the way back young Quincy took +a small envelope from his pocket and extracted a short note which he +had read at least a dozen times since its receipt. It was from Miss +Mary Dana and informed him that she had returned to Boston and would +be pleased to see him, the next day, at her office with the Isburn +Detective Bureau. + +It was a cold, raw day in the early part of April and when they reached +the city Quincy was taken with a chill. When they reached Norumbega +Chambers the chill had turned to a fever, and Tom suggested sending for +a doctor. Quincy stoutly protested against any such action being taken, +but Tom summoned one despite his objections. In this way, Quincy became +acquainted with John Loring Bannister, M. D. + +Dr. Bannister was unknown to his patient when he paid his first visit, +and was professionally non-communicative, but he told him afterwards, +when their acquaintance had ripened to such an extent that the names +Quincy and Jack took the place of more formal designations, that it +had always seemed a wonder to him that he had survived. Quincy, with no +intention of indulging in flattery, replied that if a certain physician +had not been called in he, probably, would not have done so. + +Quincy's condition on the second day was so low, indeed, that Dr. +Bannister told Tom if his friend had not made a will he had better do +so. Tom's first thought was to send for Mr. Merry, but he decided that +might lead to a charge of family influence, and he appealed to the +doctor. + +Dr. Bannister told Tom he was well acquainted with a young lawyer +and that he would send him up to see Mr. Sawyer. Quincy was in such a +condition when Lawyer Edward Everett Colbert made his first visit, that +if he had been asked the name of the principal beneficiary he would +probably have told the lawyer to let it go to the Devil. The second time +that Mr. Colbert called, Quincy's physical will had resumed control and +he had no need of any other. + +When convalescing Quincy said to Tom, when the nurse was absent, "If +you thought I was going to die, why didn't you send for Aunt Maude, +and--and--you know whom I mean--Miss Dana?" + +"I saw them every day, but you were too weak to see them, but if--they +would have been summoned." + +"Tom, your head is so level that a plane couldn't make a shaving." + +Tom was obliged to be away daytimes, the buying for twenty stores +requiring much travel. + +Dr. Bannister and Lawyer Colbert were occasional visitors and Quincy +received a manifest mental exhilaration from his intercourse with them. +His sickness had led him to think about the future. Was he to live and +die as the treasurer of a grocery company? Had he no higher ideal? + +A story told by Jack and Ned, which they knew to be true, because they +were the principal actors therein, led Quincy to give himself up to some +mighty thinking. + +The story was related one evening in the sitting-room when Tom was +present. + +"What I'm going to tell," began Ned, "will include much more than I saw +or knew myself, but it all comes from authentic sources. I shall omit +names, since they are unessential. + +"Among my clients was an old gentleman, over seventy years of age, but +still erect and vigorous. One morning I received a letter requesting me +to call at his house. I found him in bed feeling all tired out. He said +he had never had a doctor in his life. + +"The doctor, here, assures me that those people who never need a +doctor until they are well advanced in life are not likely to require +a physician's services more than once. The next call is for the +undertaker." + +"That's so," broke in Jack; "it's the person who is continually calling +upon a doctor for every little ailment who lives to an old age, +for instead of letting disease creep upon him, he calls for medical +assistance as soon as he experiences any derangement of his physical +system. If all the people would follow this plan, it would increase the +longevity of the human race." + +"And materially increase the income of the medical profession," added +Quincy. + +"It proved to be the old gentleman's first and last sickness. In order +that you may fully understand the wonderful event which took place the +night he died, I shall have to give you a history of his family." + +Quincy consulted his watch. "It is now but a few minutes past seven. I +will give you until midnight, my usual time for retiring." + +"I have an engagement at ten or thereabouts," said Jack, "but it's a +matter of life instead of death." + +Ned continued: "My client had a son and daughter, both married. They +were good children and loved their father on the American plan. The son +had married an avaricious woman, while the daughter was married to a man +who was not so avaricious as his sister-in-law. The old gentleman was +very wealthy and like all good children they were thinking of the time +when the property would be divided." + +"I see signs of a family squabble," remarked Quincy. + +"It came to pass," said Ned. "The French have a maxim which says it +is advisable to search for the woman in all mysterious cases. In this +instance, the woman did not wait to be searched for but came of her own +accord. She insisted upon having the card bearing the name of Mrs. James +Bliss sent up to the sick man; when he saw it he, in turn, insisted upon +seeing the woman. The family wished to be present at the interview but +my client demanded a private conversation which lasted for an hour. + +"Jack had been in daily attendance as a physician, but I was not sent +for until the day following Mrs. Bliss's visit. He had told his son that +he wished to make his will, and the son told the other members of the +family. They wished him to make a will, of course, but they were afraid +that woman had exercised undue influence. As the son expressed it, the +better way would be to let the law make the decision. + +"My client insisted upon seeing me alone. He told me the woman's story. +Many years before, when my client was a poor man, her father had set him +up in business. He had told his daughter of the loan before his death, +and her visit was to ask for payment as she was a widow and poor, with +three children to support. + +"My client directed me to put her in the will for fifty thousand +dollars, saying the original loan at six per cent, would amount to fully +that amount. + +"The son, when told the story by me made no objection to the bequest +but the son's wife and the son-in-law declared that the note she had +was outlawed and that she shouldn't have a cent. The son-in-law put a +private detective on her track who learned that Mrs. Bliss was a test +and trance medium, and that she gave materialization seances at private +houses. The whole family then declared her to be a fraud and impostor, +and declared their intention of breaking the will if it was signed. + +"Now we are getting to the lively part of the story. The will was ready +for signing. It was about five minutes past six when I was admitted and +I went right up to my client's room. I had been there about five minutes +when Jack came in. He was followed by the entire family, the son-in-law +having been chosen to prevent the signing of the will. + +"Then occurred a sensational episode. Mrs. Bliss came to inquire about +my client's condition and the unsuspecting nurse admitted her. She came +directly to the room where we were all assembled." + +"A strong situation for a play," remarked Quincy. + +"They played it," said Ned. "The son-in-law took Mrs. Bliss into an +adjoining room and ordered her to stay there. Then he returned. This was +to be a Waterloo but he was the Wellington. + +"My client was propped up in bed, a pen placed in his hand, while the +document rested on a large book which Jack held. + +"The son-in-law began the oratory. 'I protest,' he screamed. 'This +sacrilege, this injustice shall not be done with my consent.' What was +it you said to him, Jack?" + +"I told him unless he stopped talking in such an excited manner, +and made less noise, it would have a very prejudicial effect upon my +patient's health. + +"The son-in-law then denounced Mrs. Bliss as an adventuress, and that +she had no legal claim upon his father-in-law. His loud voice and +violent gestures were too much for the invalid. The pen dropped from +his nerveless fingers and he fell back exhausted. I think you had better +take it up now, Ned." + +"All right. You gave me a chance to rest my voice. Yes, thank you," as +Tom passed him a glass of water. + +Ned resumed, "The door was opened and Mrs. Bliss looked in. 'Has he +signed?' she asked. + +"'No, he hasn't,' yelled the son-in-law, 'and while I live he never +shall' Now you come in again, Jack." + +"'Ladies and gentlemen.' said I, 'this excitement must stop. As medical +adviser I order you all to leave the room.' They objected, but I told +them if they didn't, I should resign charge of the case and refuse to +give a death certificate unless there was an inquest. That frightened +them, and they all went out, the son-in-law escorting Mrs. Bliss." + +"We propped up the patient again, and I gave him some brandy. He said, +'I must sign.' He took the pen and made a ragged, disjointed capital +'T.' + +"The pen dropped from his hand and he fell back upon the pillow. Ned put +the unsigned will in his pocket. I found that the end was very near and +I told Ned to call the family. Now, it's your turn, Ned." + +"I told the family they had better go to their father's room at once. +Mrs. Bliss arose with the intention of following them but I told her she +was not one of the family; that she could remain with me as my services +were no longer needed. She turned to me and asked: 'Was it signed?' I +shook my head. Without a word she sank upon the nearest chair and buried +her face in her arms. + +"I stood irresolute. The spectacle of this silent woman, speechless +because she was to be deprived of what was justly due her, was a +situation with which I did not know how to deal. I was saved the +necessity of saying or doing anything by the sudden entrance of Jack who +cried: 'Ned, it's all over; he's dead.'" + +"Now comes the wonderful, inexplainable, part of the story. There was a +single gas-burner alight in the room. It was turned down low; faces were +discernible, but the room was only half lighted. Hearing a movement, +Jack and I turned towards Mrs. Bliss. She had lifted her head from the +table and was gazing directly at us. Her eyes were open, but they had +a glassy look. Then it seemed as though the room was gradually becoming +darker and darker, until the darkness became intense. + +"My first thought was that Mrs. Bliss had put out the gas. Before I had +time to question her, Jack and I caught sight of a white spot that was +approaching us from the corner of the room nearest the doorway which led +into the hallway. This light, which was no larger than a man's hand at +first, increased in size and intensity until it covered a space at least +two feet wide and six feet high. I must admit that my hair was inclined +to stand on end." + +"And mine too," exclaimed Jack. + +"Suddenly," said Ned, "the light, which was nebulous, began to fall away +in places and assume a shape like the form of a man. Then the portion +where a man's head ought to be, assumed the appearance of one. Jack and +I clasped hands and retreated to the farther corner of the room. This +act on our part was purely voluntary. If I had possessed a Remington +rifle, six Colt's revolvers, and a dynamite bomb, I should have backed +out just the same. + +"We could not remove our eyes from the glittering, moving, thing; and +now a most surprising change took place. The light seemed to leave the +figure, so that it was not visible as a light, and yet it filled the +room with a radiant glow. + +"Who was that who stood before us? Could we believe our eyes? Were they +playing us a trick? Were we the victims of a too active imagination? No, +there could be no mistake. The form that stood before us was that of the +man who lay dead in the next room. + +"Turning towards us, from the form came the words distinctly spoken--'It +must be signed!' The figure pointed to the table near which Mrs. Bliss +still sat in an apparently unconscious state. I took the will from +my pocket, opened it, advanced to the table, and laid it thereon. The +figure reached out its right hand and beckoned. The thought came to +me that he wanted a pen. There was none in the room. Jack divined the +situation as quickly as I did and took his stylographic pen from his +visiting book, fitted it for use, and laid it on the table beside the +will. The form advanced, took up the pen, joined a small letter to the +capital 'T' already written, and finished out the name in full. + +"The form then laid the pen upon the table and pointed to the places set +apart for witnesses. I wrote my name, Edward Everett Colbert, and Jack +put his,--John Loring Bannister, under mine." + +"Did the form sit down?" asked Quincy. + +"No. The only chair near the table was the one in which Mrs. Bliss sat. +I could not resist the inclination to whisper in Jack's ear: 'What do +you think of that?' We both turned with the intention of taking another +look at 'That,' but it had disappeared and the gas was burning at about +half-light. + +"Mrs. Bliss arose from her seat with a pleasant smile on her face. 'You +said that he had signed it--I understood you to say so, did I not?' +I said nothing, but drew the will from my pocket and pointed to the +signatures. Then Jack said it was his duty to see the sorrowing family +and for me to escort Mrs. Bliss to a car. + +"Jack and I took dinner together in a private room at Young's the next +day. We decided that it was my duty to present the will for probate. +Although it is presumed by the statutes of this Commonwealth that a +will is signed by a living man, I was unable to find anything in said +statutes to prevent a dead man, if he were so disposed and able, or +enabled, doing so." + +"Of course the will was presented for probate," said Quincy. + +"It was," replied Ned, "and despite the energetic efforts of the +avaricious son-in-law, was admitted. His lawyer brought up the point +that the will should have had three witnesses, but I showed him the +note, told him Mrs. Bliss's story, and declared that I would fight the +case up to the Supreme Court if necessary. + +"There was no doubt in the mind of the registrar as to the authenticity +of the will for was it not duly signed and witnessed by Dr. Bannister, +a physician of the highest repute, and Lawyer Colbert, a bright and +shining light of the legal profession?" + +"Your story taxes my credulity," said Quincy, "but I will not allow it +to break our friendship. Tom, kindly ring for that supper to be sent +up." He looked at his watch. "Doctor, you've time to spare. 'Tis only +nine-thirty." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +THE GREAT ISBURN RUBY + + +Mr. Irving Isburn, the proprietor of the great detective bureau was over +seventy years of age, and, although he still had a general supervision +over the business, and was in his office for a short time anyway, nearly +every day, he was leaving the details more and more to his subordinates. +From the very beginning Mary Dana had made wonderful improvement in her +detective work, and the results of her last case, on which she had been +kept in the West for several months, were so satisfactory that she was +given practically the entire management of the Bureau. + +One day, shortly after her return from the West, Mr. Isburn called +her into his private office. He took great interest in electrical +inventions, and had one in his office of a decidedly novel design. Back +of his office chair, standing against the wall, just behind the door +that led into the hallway, was a mahogany bookcase fully seven feet +in height. Upon the top were several valuable statuettes, but the +most noticeable object was a rosy-cheeked apple. It was not really an +apple--only an imitation of one--made of brass. Using the stem as a +handle, the upper portion of the apple could be lifted off, forming a +cover. The apple was fastened firmly to the top of the bookcase. + +While talking over the case in hand with her employer, Miss Dana chanced +to fix her eyes upon the brass apple. + +"Mr. Isburn, why do you keep that peculiar ornament on the top of your +bookcase?" + +"Oh, you mean the apple. It contains something that is very valuable. +The method of opening it is a secret, but as somebody may succeed in +doing so some day I will show you its contents, for otherwise I might be +unable to prove that it contained anything." + +He opened a secret drawer in his desk, inserted his forefinger and, +apparently, pressed a button. The doors of the bookcase flew open as +if by magic, and, at the same time, a bell inside the bookcase rang +sharply. Miss Dana watched each motion of her employer intently. + +"That is all done by electricity," said he. "But it does something +else--opens the apple." + +He reached up and lifted the cover. Then he removed something from the +apple and placed it in Miss Dana's hand. + +"Oh, how lovely!" she exclaimed. + +It was a ring made of the finest gold and containing an immense ruby. + +"That," said her employer, "I call the Isburn Ruby. It belonged to my +mother, and it is precious to me, both on account of its great intrinsic +value, and as an heirloom." + +He dropped it into the brass apple, replaced the cover, and shut the +doors of the bookcase. + +"That cover can only be removed when the bookcase doors are open; they +can only be opened by touching the button in the secret drawer in my +desk, and, even then, a notice of the opening is given by the electric +bell. I think the ruby is well protected, but if anybody steals it I +shall call upon you to find the thief." + +Miss Dana said, laughingly, that she feared she would never have a +chance to distinguish herself in that direction. + +About a fortnight later, Mr. Isburn sat at his desk one morning opening +his mail. He was so preoccupied with an interesting letter containing an +account of the very mysterious disappearance of a young woman, that +he was not aware, for some time, of the presence of a person who stood +beside his desk. + +He looked up, suddenly, and saw a pretty girl, dressed in picturesque +Italian costume, holding a basket filled with roses, pinks, and other +cut flowers. Mr. Isburn was passionately fond of flowers and kept a vase +filled with them upon his desk. He selected a large bunch of flowers +made up of the different kinds. + +At that moment the door was opened and a clerk appeared: "Mr. Isburn, +there is a call for you on the long distance telephone." + +"I will be back in a moment," he said to the flower girl, as he went +into an adjoining room. The telephone bell was being rung continuously, +and he called "Hello" several times before the tintinnabulation ceased. + +The call was from a town some fifty miles away. The operator informed +him that No. 42 wished her to tell him that she had a valuable clue in +case T 697 and would not return for several days. Mr. Isburn knew that +No. 42 was Miss Dana. + +He returned to his office. The young Italian girl still stood by his +desk holding the basket of flowers. He gave her more than the amount she +asked for, and, bowing low and smiling, she left the office: Referring +to his call index, he found that T 697 was that of a young man, +Tarleton, belonging to a wealthy family, who was the buyer for a +manufactory of electrical machines. In their construction, a large +quantity of platinum was used, a metal more valuable, weight for weight, +than gold. His purchases had been very heavy, but a checking up of stock +used showed that not half of it had been applied to actual construction. +The question was--"What had become of the missing metal?" and that +question it was No. 42's business to answer. + +Mr. Isburn was a frequenter of clubs and social functions, partly +because he enjoyed them, but, principally, because many valuable clues +had been run across while attending them. + +He had been invited to be a guest at a reception tendered to an Indian +Maharajah. He knew that the East Indian princes were profuse in their +use of gems and he decided to wear the ruby, for it was a beautiful +stone and would be sure to attract the Maharajah's attention. On opening +the brass apple he found, to his astonishment, that the ring was gone. +Three days later Miss Dana returned and made her report on the Tarleton +case. The young man had stolen the platinum, sold it, and lost the money +in speculation. His rich father had made good the company's loss, and +there would be no prosecution. + +"He'll be a bigger criminal some day," remarked Mr. Isburn. + +"Money saved him," said Miss Dana. "While I was in the town a workman +stole a pound of brass screws--he is a poor inventor and needed them to +complete a model, and he got six months in jail." + +"Miss Dana, what punishment would be adequate for the thief who stole my +ruby?" + +She laughed, and said: "Anybody smart enough to do it, should have a +reward." + +"The reward," said he, "will go to the one who finds and returns it." + +"You are joking, Mr. Isburn." + +"I wish I were. No, it is gone. I cannot imagine how it was possible for +any one to get possession of that ring. Only you and I knew how to open +the bookcase doors, and I would as soon suspect myself as you." + +"I am glad that you have that opinion," said Miss Dana. "I have thought +several times that I was sorry that you told me about it, for I have +felt that if anything happened I should be an object of suspicion." + +"Oh, no," cried Mr. Isburn. "No such suspicion ever entered my mind. I +could not be so mean and ungenerous as to think such a thing. The +only person I suspect is an Italian girl who came in here to sell some +flowers. It was the day I received the long distance telephone message +from you in regard to the Tarleton case. I was only out of the room a +few minutes, and when I came back she was standing just where I left +her." + +"It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack to find that girl," +said Miss Dana. + +"Yes, those Italian girls look very much alike. She was one of medium +height, as a great many women are. You are of medium height, Miss Dana, +so that is a very poor clue to work upon. She had dark hair." + +"Mine is light," remarked Miss Dana. + +"I did not notice the colour of her eyes--probably black." + +"Mine are blue." + +"Her complexion was dark." + +"Well, I surely have not a dark complexion." + +"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Isburn. + +"You talk as though you were, in some way, connected with this affair." + +"But I am." + +"How so?" and Mr. Isburn's voice betrayed his astonishment. + +"Don't you remember saying if the ring was lost or stolen that you +should call upon me to recover it?" + +"Why, yes, I do remember. If you find it, you shall have a big reward. +If found, I am going to give the ring to a young lady." + +"Who is she? Pardon my hasty inquisitiveness." + +"My niece, Rose Isburn. She is my only brother's daughter. He has just +died and left her in my charge. Nothing has happened since I began my +professional career that has so puzzled and disgusted me as the loss +of that ring. I thought myself acute, and I am outwitted by a chit of a +girl. I think I'll sell out, take my niece to Europe and marry her off +to a Prince or a Duke." + +"Don't do it!" laughed Miss Dana. "Leave her your money, and let her +choose some honest, clean, young American." + +"Well, I think you are right," answered Mr. Isburn, laughing at Mary's +half serious, half comic air, "but I must first sell my business. Will +you find me a purchaser? I want to travel, and loaf the rest of my life. +I've had my fill of adventure and excitement." + +"Perhaps you can find a purchaser while I'm finding the ring. As you +say, your description of her is very meagre. But she was a flower girl +and that is one point gained." + +"But she may be selling oranges or dragging a hand-organ to-day." + +"True," replied Miss Dana, "and she may be selling flowers again +to-morrow," and the conversation dropped. + +About a week later, Miss Dana entered Mr. Isburn's private office. There +was a smile upon her face, as she cried: + +"I have been successful!" + +"You usually are," Mr. Isburn remarked, not comprehending to what she +alluded. + +"You will be somewhat surprised, no doubt, when I tell you--that I have +recovered the ruby!" + +Mr. Isburn sprang to his feet. + +"I know that you are a truthful young woman, Miss Dana, but, pardon me, +I shall disbelieve your statement, until the ruby is once more in my +hands." + +"I have not only recovered the ruby, but I have induced the Italian girl +who took it--" + +"By George!" cried Isburn, "I always suspected her." + +"I have induced the culprit, Mr. Isburn, to come here and place it in +your hands." + +"Well, you're a wonder, Miss Dana. You should give up being a detective +and become a teacher of morals." + +Miss Dana ignored his suggestion. "I have her in my office and the door +is locked. You see, I have the key here," and she held it up for his +inspection. + +"She is quite overcome at being discovered. I am going to talk with her +for a few minutes. You may come, say, in ten minutes. The door will be +unlocked if she is ready. I shall be with her to witness the restitution +of your property." + +Never did ten minutes pass so slowly as did those to Mr. Isburn. He +placed his watch upon his desk and watched each minute as it slowly +ticked away. When the time was up, he went to the door of Miss Dana's +office. He turned the knob--the door opened at a slight pressure, and +he entered. In a chair by the window, with her head bowed, sat a young +Italian girl. As Isburn approached her; he glanced about the room, but +Miss Dana was not present. + +"Signorita," he said, "I am informed that you have come to restore the +ring which you took from me." Then he noticed by her side was the same +basket in which she had brought the flowers, but this time it was empty. + +She rose to her feet and looked into his eyes with a glance of mute +appeal. She took up the basket, and walked towards the door, beckoning +to him to follow. Without resenting the incongruity of the situation, he +did so. They passed through the hallway and into his private office. + +She lifted the cover of one side of the basket and took from it a small +parcel. She removed the tissue paper disclosing a bunch of cotton wool. +From this she extracted the jewel that he prized so highly. + +He reached forward to take it, but she drew back. She first shut down +the cover of the basket. Then she went to the desk, opened the private +drawer and pressed the button. The bookcase doors flew open. Her next +move was to place the basket in front of the bookcase. Stepping upon it, +which enabled her to reach the apple, she removed the cover, and dropped +the ring into its receptacle, replaced the cover, stepped down and took +up her basket, then closed the bookcase doors. + +"And that's how you did it," ejaculated Isburn, greatly astonished at +her coolness and audacity. "But how did you find out how to open the +bookcase doors?" + +"You told me," said the girl in good English, the first words she had +spoken. + +"I told you?" he cried. + +The Italian girl had a fit of uncontrollable laughter. + +"Have you forgotten the old adage, Mr. Isburn, that it is a good plan to +set a thief to catch a thief?" + +Isburn sank into a chair. "Can I believe my ears? Miss Dana?" + +"Exactly," said the young woman. "This is one of my make-ups. This is +what I wore when I discovered the clue that led to the arrest of Corona +in that Italian murder case." + +"But I don't understand yet," cried Isburn. "How could you be here as an +Italian flower girl when you telephoned me from a place more than fifty +miles away?" + +"Money will do a great deal," replied Miss Dana, "but you must tell your +subordinates what to do for the money. I induced the operator in that +little country town to give you to understand that I was still there. +The fact was, I left the noon before, located young Tarleton, turned +him over to the police, and was in the city by 8 o'clock. I told the +operator to keep on ringing until you came for you were very deaf. +Pardon me for that, but I was afraid you would hear the bell when the +bookcase doors opened. Now, you know all, and I await my discharge." + +Mr. Isburn looked serious. "Miss Dana, I see but one matter to be +arranged now, and that is your half-interest in the business. You know I +told you that if you found the ruby I would take you as a partner." + +"Oh, that's all a joke," cried Miss Dana. "What I did was for fun. I +only wished to show you how the thing could be done, and I beg your +pardon for causing you so many hours of uneasiness on account of the +supposed loss of your valuable ring." + +"Yes," said Mr. Isburn, "I feel as though you should make some atonement +for the disquietude you have caused me. I shall insist upon going to +Europe with Rose, and you must manage the business while we are gone, as +full partner." + +"The staff won't take orders from a woman." + +"Yes, they will, if you tell them how you fooled me. If they object +then, call for their resignations and engage a new force." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +"IT WAS SO SUDDEN" + + +The Hotel Cawthorne was, in some respects, a correct designation but in +others a misnomer. It had rooms to let, or rather suites, and it had a +clerk. So far, a hostelry. It had no dining room, no bar, no billiard +room, no news-stand, no barber shop, no boot-black, no laundry--and in +these respects, at least, it belied its name. + +Some childless couples, some aged ones with married children, many young +men, a few confirmed old bachelors, and a few unmarried women roomed +therein. On stormy days, or when their inclinations so prompted, the +tenants could have meals served in their rooms at a marked increase over +hotel rates. + +But the "Cawthorne" was exclusive, and for that reason, principally, +Miss Dana had chosen it as her city domicile. Tenants were not +introduced to each other, and one could live a year within its walls +without being obliged to say good morning to any one, with the possible +exceptions of the housekeeper, or the elevator man, but that was not +compulsory, but depended upon the tenant's initiative. + +Every hotel has an "out"; at the "Cawthorne" it was an "in." The "in" +was Mr. Lorenzo Cass, the clerk and general _factotum_. His besetting +sin was inordinate curiosity, but it was this oftentime disagreeable +quality which particularly commended him to the ex-Rev. Arthur +Borrowscale, the owner of the "Cawthorne." + +Mr. Borrowscale had not given up the ministry on account of advanced +age, for he was only forty; nor on account of physical infirmity, for +he was a rugged specimen of manhood and enjoyed the best of health. His +critics, and all successful men have them, declared that he had forsaken +the service of God for that of Mammon. While officiating, he had +received a large salary. Being a bachelor, he had lived economically and +invested his savings in real estate. He was the owner of six tenement +houses--models of their kind, and the "Cawthorne." Before leaving +college, he had loved a young girl named Edith Cawthorne. She had died, +and at her grave he had parted with her,--and love of women, but, +that sentiment was not wholly dead within him, the name of his hotel +attested. + +He had another attribute; he was intensely moral. The "Cawthorne" was +his pride, but he had a constant fear that some undesirable--that is, +immoral--person would find lodgment in his caravansary. For certain +reasons, Mr. Cass was indispensable. He had been a "high roller" until +he came under the Rev. Mr. Borrowscale's tutelage. + +"Mr. Cass, you know the bad when you see it--I do not. The reputation of +my house must be like Caesar's ghost--above suspicion." + +He had said "ghost." He had seen but two plays--"Hamlet" and "Julius +Caesar," and for that reason his dramatic inaccuracy may be excused. + +So Mr. Cass became a moral sleuth, and woe betide an applicant for +rooms, and occasional board, who could not produce unimpeachable +references, and point to an unsullied record in the past. + +Miss Dana's respectability and social standing had been abundantly +vouched for, and her financial responsibility had been demonstrated by +monthly payments in advance. + +It was the first evening Quincy had been out since his illness. + +"Is Miss Dana in?" asked Quincy as he presented his card to Mr. Cass. + +"I am quite positive she is. I am strengthened in this belief by the +fact that she had her supper sent up to her room. A fine specimen of +womanhood, and a remarkable appetite for so lovely a creature." + +Quincy had an inclination to brain him with the telephone stand, but +restrained his murderous impulse. + +"Will you please send up my card?" was his interrogatory protest against +further enumeration of Miss Dana's charms and gastronomic ability. "No +need to do so, Mr. Sawyer," for he had inspected the card carefully. "We +have a private telephone in each room. Will you await her in the public +parlour?" + +"Hasn't she more than one room?" + +"Oh, yes; a three room suite, sitting-room, boudoir, which I am sure she +uses more as a study, a chamber--and private bath." + +Quincy said, "I would prefer to see her in her sitting-room." + +"Oh, certainly," replied Mr. Cass. "Our rules are only prohibitive in +the case of single chambers or alcove suites, when the caller and tenant +are of opposite sexes. The proprietor--he was formerly a clergyman--is +tenacious on certain points." + +"And so am I," was Quincy's response, for his temper was rising, +"and you will oblige me by communicating with Miss Dana at once, and +informing her of my desire to see her." + +"Oh, certainly," replied Mr. Cass, "but my employer, who, as I have +said, was formerly a clergyman, is tenacious on another point; all +tenants who receive visitors in their rooms must have their names +entered in a book prescribed for the purpose, and also the names of +their callers." + +Quincy's murderous instinct was again aroused, but Mr. Cass was +unmindful of his danger and made the required entry. The humourous side +of the affair then struck Quincy, and taking a memorandum book from his +pocket, he said: + +"I, too, am tenacious on one point. I never visit a hotel for the first +time without writing down the name of the clerk. Will you oblige me?" + +"Oh, certainly. Cass, Mr. Lorenzo Cass." + +"Do you spell it with a 'C'?" asked Quincy, innocently, as he pretended +to write. + +"Oh, certainly. C-a-s-s-." + +"Thank you," said Quincy. + +"We make it a rule, or rather my employer does, that tenants and their +callers shall be treated with civility and their wants attended to +promptly." + +Again Quincy eyed the telephone stand with a view to its use as a +weapon. + +"Ting-a-ling! Ting-a-ling! Miss Dana--yes, Mr. Cass--Mr. Quincy Adams +Sawyer, Junior, wishes to call upon you in your sitting-room. Is it +agreeable to you? Very well, he will come right up." + +Mr. Cass replaced the receiver with deliberation, first unwinding a +tangled coil in the cord. + +"Take the elevator--third floor--number 42--she insisted upon taking +that suite for some personal reason--" + +Quincy waited to hear no more but started for the elevator. Mr. Cass +reached it as soon as he did, and motioned for the elevator man to +postpone the ascent until he had finished his remarks. + +"The outside door is locked at eleven, Mr. Sawyer, but you have only to +turn the upper handle to insure an exit." + +"Your clerk is quite loquacious," remarked Quincy as they slowly mounted +upward. + +"What's that?" + +"He has a sore tongue," said Quincy, as the elevator door was closed +behind him. + +After cordial greetings on both sides, for they had not seen each other +for nearly a year, Quincy exclaimed, as he sank into a proffered easy +chair: "Mary, I am a murderer at heart." + +"That is not strange, Quincy. I have read that the friends of police +officers and detectives often imbibe, or rather absorb, criminal +propensities. Who is the intended victim, and how do you expect to +escape arrest, conviction, and punishment, after incriminating yourself +by a confession to a licensed detective?" + +"If I had killed your hotel clerk it would have been due to +emotional insanity, and I should expect an acquittal--and, perhaps, a +testimonial." + +"I got a testimonial to-day from Mr. Isburn. He said I was a wonder." + +"I agree with him." + +Miss Dana flushed perceptibly. + +"He had what he considered a good reason for his compliment. I am afraid +yours rests on unsupported grounds." + +"Not at all. Have I not known you since you were a child? Can he say as +much? Did I not work with you on Bob Wood's case? The help you were to +me in trying to solve the mystery of the return of my father's bill +of exchange I will never forget," and for a long time Quincy and Mary +talked over the miraculous return of his father. + +Finally Quincy said, "I interrupted you. You said that Mr. Isburn +considered he had good reasons for complimenting you. Will you tell me +what they were?" + +"It is a long story." + +"I'm all attention." + +"Then I'll begin at once. If you need a stimulant at any stage of the +narrative, just signify your want and I'll ring for it." + +"Is there a bar?" + +"No, but there's a cellar." + +"I may need some Apollinaris," said Quincy, as he settled himself more +comfortably in the easy chair; "as my flesh is again strong, I always +take my spirit very weak." + +Mary had that sweetest of woman's charm--a low-pitched voice, and as +she told the story of the loss of the great Isburn ruby and its recovery +Quincy's thoughts were less on the words that he heard than the woman +who uttered them. In his mind he was building a castle in which he was +the Lord and the story-teller was the Lady. + +He was awakened from his dream by Mary's query: + +"Didn't I fool him nicely?" + +"You certainly did. And so he's going to give you a half-interest in the +business. If he keeps his word"-- + +"Which I very much doubt," interrupted Mary. + +"I'll buy the other half and we'll be partners." + +He came near adding "for life," but decided that such a declaration +would be inopportune. "Why should you engage in business, Quincy? You +are not obliged to work." + +"That's the unfortunate part of it. I wish I were. I have so much money +that I don't know what to do with it, except let it grow. But, speaking +seriously, I've no intention of remaining a do-nothing. I'm treasurer +of my father's grocery company but I have no liking for mercantile +business. I can give away, but can neither buy nor sell--to advantage. I +heard a story not long ago that set me thinking." + +"I told you my story, Quincy, why not tell me yours?" + +"I will. It's a mystery--unsolved, and, I think, unsolvable. But I +feel that my vocation will be the solving of mysteries. My mother wrote +detective stories and I must have inherited a mania for mysteries and +criminal problems. But I'll tell you what set me thinking." + +Then he related the story that had been told him by Jack and Ned. As he +concluded, he asked: "Do you think it was signed?" + +"Of course it was, but not by the dead man." + +"By whom, then?" + +"By Mrs. Bliss. She materialized the form by her mediumistic prowess, +but she signed the will." + +"But Jack and Ned saw the form, as they called it, take the pen and +write his name." + +"They thought they did. She hypnotized them so they saw whatever she +impressed upon their minds." + +"Can sensible, highly educated people be so influenced?" + +"The bigger the brain the more easily influenced. She couldn't have so +impressed an idiot, or an illiterate, unreceptive man. Let me tell you +how a hundred people were fooled lately." + +"I should be delighted to hear you tell it." + +"You should have sympathy for them, after your spiritualistic +experience," said Mary with a smile. + +"There is a married couple in this city whom we will call Mr. and Mrs. +Cartwright, because those are not their names. They have been married +less than two years. He is 68 and she 28, so you see it was what they +call a December and May union. It was worse. He is a bank president +and his god is money--his diversion sitting in his elegant library and +reading _de luxe_ editions of the world's literary masterpieces. She is +young, and beautiful, and craves society, attention, admiration. + +"She didn't get the last two at home, but society furnished them. He +attended her to parties and receptions and then went back to his library +until it was time to escort her home. + +"One night when he went for her she could not be found. No one had seen +her leave--she had mysteriously disappeared. Mr. Isburn gave me the +case. I'll make the story short for it is eleven o'clock." + +"I know how to get out. Mr. Cass told me." + +"Your knowledge of a method of egress does not warrant an extension of +your visit to midnight, does it?" asked Mary laughingly. + +"Considering the attractions presented, I think they do," replied +Quincy, banteringly. + +She resumed her story. + +"There was a man in the case, young, handsome, and wealthy. Just such a +man as she should have married. They had planned an elopement to Europe. +Not together. She was to go to Liverpool, he was to follow later to +Paris, and there meet her. Quite ingenious, wasn't it? Our agent at +Liverpool was called to locate her and prevent her inamorata from +communicating with her, at the same time using his influence to induce +her to return to Boston without meeting her lover. His powers of +persuasion, I mean our agent's, must have been great, for she consented. + +"A month later she attended a reception next door to the house from +which she disappeared, and silenced the tongue of scandal by saying that +she had been hastily summoned to the bedside of a sick friend, her chum +at Wellesley, and had returned home only the day previous. Her last +statement was true. Good detective work by a good detective, and a +great, big white lie fooled her friends and acquaintances, but if I were +her husband she would not lack attention or admiration in the future, +and I would furnish it." + +"When I get married, I will bear your admonition in mind." + +"I have another admonition. If you meet Mr. Cass when you go down, be +nice to him. Why, when you know him, he is a treasure. I can bear his +inquisitiveness, for it shields me from others. This is my sanctuary, +and Mr. Cass protects me from the literary wolves--the reporters. He +thinks I am a writer because I have so many books, and, to him, an +author is next to an angel. Was he rude to you? You must forgive him, +for he is my Saint George who protects me from the Dragon." + +Quincy was mollified to a certain extent. "Do I look like a Dragon? If +I am one, history came near being reversed, for at one time your Saint +George's hold on life was frail." + +Late in the afternoon of the next day Quincy made another call on Mary. +He had telephoned and learned that she was in her room. Mr. Cass +was temporarily absent from his desk and Quincy went at once to the +elevator. + +"I axed Mr. Cass about his tongue," said the elevator man. + +"Was it better?" asked Quincy. + +"He said I was labourin' under a misapprihinsion. What's that?" + +"He meant that it was improving," said Quincy, as he hurried from the +elevator. + +"How did you get home last night?" was Mary's salutation as he entered. + +"I groped my way down two flights of stairs in the dark. When I opened +the front door by the upper handle as Mr. Cass had kindly instructed me +to do, I found that gentleman on the steps. 'Quite late,' said he. 'Not +for me,' said I. At that moment my auto drew up at the curb." + +"A narrow escape from a Cass-trophe," exclaimed Miss Dana. "Pardon the +pun, but sometimes he is insufferably loquacious." + +Quincy smiled grimly. "He wasn't through with me. He followed me. 'My +employer.' he began, 'is very tenacious on several points, and one of +them is the acceleration of matrimonial preliminaries, commonly called +courting, in the house which he owns and successfully conducts with my +humble assistance. Will you allow me to ask you a question?' + +"Alexander had opened the auto door, and I stood with one foot on the +step." + +Quincy was silent for a moment. Miss Dana's curiosity was excited. + +"What did he ask you to do?" + +"His question was--'are you going to marry Miss Dana?'" + +"Preposterous!" cried Miss Dana. "I shall leave the 'Cawthorne' +to-morrow. What answer did you give to so impertinent a question?" + +"I said, not to-night. Not until to-morrow. Then I jumped in, slammed +the door, and off we went leaving Mr. Cass fully informed as to my +intentions." + +Mary thought, under the circumstances, that a change of subjects was +necessary. + +"I am working on the Harrison case. I don't believe he poisoned his +wife. I think the law killed an innocent man." + +"Another Robert Wood affair? Have you seen your little namesake, Mary +Wood?" + +"Yes. I am going to spend to-morrow in the laboratory making toxic +analyses." + +"I've been very busy to-day." + +"Not working?" + +"No, getting ready to. I've bought out an established business." + +"You said you disliked business." + +"Not this kind. You were right about Isburn. He didn't mean what he said +about giving you a half-interest in the agency." + +"I'm not disappointed. I didn't think he did. Why should he pay me for +returning what I took from him as a professional joke?" + +"Well I fixed it up with him, and he will sail for Europe with his niece +as soon as we can take charge." + +"We? Why, what _do_ you mean, Mr. Sawyer?" + +"I mean that I've engaged to pay Mr. Isburn one hundred thousand dollars +for his agency, a one-half interest to become mine and the other half to +be transferred to my wife as soon as I am married, which will be soon." + +"Then you will be my employer," and Mary's blue eyes were opened as wide +as they could be. + +"Within a week, I shall be Mr. Isburn. I shall not use my own name." + +His manner changed instantly. + +"This morning I met an old college friend. He was doing the historical +points of old Boston with his father and his father's friend, a Rev. Mr. +Dysart of Yonkers, New York." + +Miss Dana started, and exclaimed, involuntarily, "Mr. Dysart--not Mr. +Octavius Dysart?" + +"Yes, that was the name. Why, do you know him? I'll be honest, I know +you do." + +"My mother was born in Yonkers, and Mr. Dysart was the clergyman who +officiated at my father's wedding. He used to call on us whenever he +came to Boston. But how did he know that you knew me?" + +"He said he was going to Fernborough to see your father, and I availed +myself of the opportunity to mention my acquaintance with you. He wished +you could come and see him." + +"Where is he? Of course I will go." + +"He is staying with Mr. Larned, my college mate's father, who lives +in Jamaica Plain, but he will not be there until this evening. He's +attending a religious conference this afternoon and goes to Fernborough +early to-morrow." + +"Then I can't see him." + +"Why not? I'm going out this evening--small party invited--entirely +informal--half my auto is at your service." + +"Will you get me back to the hotel before the doors are closed? I shall +pack up to-morrow." + +"I promise," said Quincy. "I will come for you at seven sharp." + +Punctually at seven, a closed auto stopped before the "Cawthorne" and +Quincy alighted. Mary stepped from the elevator, wearing a new spring +costume and a marvellous aggregation of flowers upon her hat, walked to +the door without looking at Mr. Cass, and before he could frame one of +his employer's tenacious points and follow her, she had been handed into +the auto and whirled swiftly away. + +"Is Alexander driving?" she asked. "No. He's asleep--up too late last +night. We have a strange _chauffeur_. I selected him for that reason." + +"Why, what do you mean?" + +"I didn't wish anybody to know where we had gone." + +"Why not, pray?" + +"I mean, what we'd gone for." + +"Nonsense. Why, a friendly call--what more?" + +"Are your gloves on?" + +"No, I didn't have time. I'll put them on now." + +"No hurry--plenty of time. You are agitated. Allow me to feel your +pulse." + +"You are funny to-night, Quincy." + +"Not funny--just happy." + +Quincy took forcible possession of her half-resisting hand and slipped a +diamond solitaire on the proper finger. + +"Why, what are you doing? Isn't it a beauty? Is this the great Sawyer +diamond? Whose is it?" + +"It's yours. It is an engagement ring. It's the first step towards +keeping my promise to Mr. Cass, and he's tenacious, you know. I told you +all about it when I called this afternoon. So, please don't say 'this is +so sudden.'" + +"Are you crazy, Quincy?" + +"No, sane. Delightfully so. I told Mr. Cass I couldn't marry you until +to-day. I got the license this noon." + +They were passing through a dimly-lighted street, but, occasionally, the +street lamps threw flashes across two earnest faces. She endeavoured to +remove the ring. + +"Mary," said Quincy, "if you allow the ring to remain, I shall be a very +happy man, dear,--for I love you. I have loved you ever since the day +that I thrashed Bob Wood, and when I lay exhausted, you looked down at +me with those beautiful blue eyes and said 'all for me!' I am all for +you,--are you for me?" + +He put his arm about her and drew her towards him; their lips met. +A bright light shone in the auto windows--but they were sitting +erect--they even looked primly. + +"It is a long ride," she ventured. + +"Too short," he replied, "and yet, I wish we were there." + +Again she spoke: "This is a most unprecedented affair. Can it be real, +or are we actors?" + +"We are detectives, and they always do unexpected and unprecedented +things." + +"What will your father say--you a multimillionaire and I a poor girl who +works for a living?" + +"My mother was poor and blind when my father married her." + +"Yes, I know; but she wrote a book and became famous." + +"You're a 'wonder' now, and you will become famous." + +"What will your friends say?" + +"If they wish to remain my friends they will either say nothing, or +congratulate me. How shall we be married--in church? I'll spend a +hundred thousand on our wedding, if you say so." + +"No. As little publicity as possible. Use the money to help those +poor creatures who are sick with the disease called crime; that is +the symptom. The cause is often bad environment, and the poverty which +prevents improvement." + +"What a philosopher you are. That simple ceremony suits me exactly, +Mary. What a sweet name you have. Why not have Mr. Dysart perform the +ceremony? We'll be married with a ring." + +Mary laughed: "Where will you get yours?" + +"Detectives are always prepared for emergencies. I bought them this +noon, after I procured the license. They seemed to go together." + +"Well, Quincy, I think you are the most presumptuous mortal in +existence. How dared you do such a thing--so many things, I mean?" + +"Was not the prize worth even more of an endeavour? I have always +thought _Young Lochinvar_ was a model lover. But here we are." + +The Rev. Mr. Dysart received them with pleasant words of welcome, and +reminiscences of life in Yonkers, and memories of Mary's mother, +held Cupid in abeyance for an hour. Quincy passed the license to the +clergyman who read it and looked up inquiringly. + +"It's all right, isn't it?" Quincy asked. + +"Why yes,--but--I never supposed--why, of course--but when?" + +"Now, at once," said Quincy. "We must be home by eleven, for they lock +the doors." + +The simple ceremony was soon over. + +"Can you give Mrs. Sawyer a certificate, Mr. Dysart?" + +"Fortunately, yes. I bought some to-day, for I needed them." + +He went into an adjoining room to fill it out. + +"Mary, my darling, I am a rich man--richer than I deserve to be, for I +have created nothing--but I would give every dollar of my fortune rather +than lose you. Does your wedding ring fit? Mine is all right." + +"It ought to be--you had a chance to try yours on." + +"I am a designing villain, Mary. While you were telling that story last +night, you will remember that I walked about the room. One of your rings +was on the mantelpiece and I tried it on." + +When the clergyman handed Mrs. Sawyer the certificate, Quincy passed him +his fee. + +"You've made a mistake, Mr. Sawyer. This is a hundred dollar bill." + +"It ought to be a thousand. I'll send you a check for the difference +to-morrow--for yourself, or your church, as you prefer." + +As they descended the steps, the clergyman raised his hands. + +"I wish you both long life and prosperity, and may Heaven's blessing +fall upon you." + +"Back to the 'Cawthorne,'" said Quincy, as he pressed a small roll of +paper into the _chauffeur's_ hand--which roll of paper a friendly street +light showed to be a five dollar bill. + +"What will that horrid Mr. Cass say?" + +"I'll fix him," replied Quincy. "Just await developments, patiently, my +dear." + +It was a quarter of eleven when they reached the hotel. Mr. Cass was at +his desk, the light turned down in anticipation of the closing hour. + +"The certificate, darling," Quincy whispered. + +"Please turn up the light, Mr. Cass, and read that." + +Mr. Cass adjusted his _pince-nez_. Quincy was relentless. His turn had +come. + +"Is that in proper form, Mr. Cass? I know your rules are strict, and +that your employer holds you to them tenaciously," and there was a +strong accent on the last word. + +"Would your reverend employer object to your harbouring a newly-married +couple for one night? Show him your wedding ring, Mrs. Sawyer. We must +satisfy his moral scruples." + +Mr. Cass regarded them attentively. Then he said, slowly: "I anticipated +such a result, but wasn't it rather sudden?" + +"We shall lose the elevator," cried Mary. "It shuts down at eleven." + +"Shall we go on a tour?" asked Quincy the next morning. + +"I can't leave the Harrison case. I must follow a clue this morning." + +"Where shall we live, Mary? In grandfather's house on Beacon Street, or +shall I build a new one? I'll make it a palace, if you say so." + +"Well, I sha'n't say so--but let's live anywhere but here." + +"We'll bid Mr. Cass a long farewell--but I admire his tenacity. He's a +sort of moral bull-dog. I might use him in my business." + +"Our business, Quincy." + +"That's so--we are partners professionally, and lovers ever." + +As she disengaged herself from his embrace, Mary exclaimed: "I've +planned a model honeymoon for us, Quincy. You must go over the Harrison +case with me. I'm sure _we_ can prove that he was an innocent man, +and--" + +"We'll find the real criminal, Mary, and bring him to justice." + +"It will be a long and tedious investigation. I may have to visit every +drug store in the city." + +"That's easy. I'll buy you a touring car--I will act as _chauffeur_--" + +"Why a touring car--why not a runabout just for two?" + +"As you say, my dear. Your word is law--or the next thing to it. By the +way, Mary, we must live on Beacon Street." + +"Why, must?" + +"Because Mr. Strout has bought a house on Commonwealth Avenue, and +we must keep the line drawn sharp between the old families and the +_nou-veaux riches!_" + +THE END. + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Further Adventures of Quincy Adams +Sawyer and Mason's Corner Folks, by Charles Felton Pidgin + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER *** + +***** This file should be named 7497.txt or 7497.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/4/9/7497/ + +Produced by Charles Franks + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Further Adventures of Quincy Adams Sawyer and Mason's Corner Folks + +Author: Charles Felton Pidgin + + +Release Date: February, 2005 [EBook #7497] +This file was first posted on May 11, 2003 +Last Updated: March 16, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER *** + + + + +Text file produced by Charles Franks + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER AND MASON'S CORNER FOLKS + </h1> + <h2> + By Charles Felton Pidgin + </h2> + <h5> + Author of “Quincy Adams Sawyer,” “Blennerhassett,” “Stephen Holton,” etc. + </h5> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h4> + Illustrated by Henry Roth + </h4> + <div class="middle"> + {Illustration: “HE LOOKED UP, SUDDENLY, AND SAW A PRETTY GIRL, DRESSED IN + PICTURESQUE ITALIAN COSTUME."} + <p> + (Illustrations not incluced in this edition) + </p> + </div> + <h4> + 1909 + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + To My Daughter Dora + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER + AND MASON'S CORNER FOLKS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. — THE GOVERNOR'S SPEECH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. — A DAY WITH THE GOVERNOR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. — A VACATION AT FERNBOROUGH + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. — THE HAWKINS HOUSE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. — 'ZEKE PETTINGILL'S FARM </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. — “JUST LIKE OLD TIMES” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. — STROUT AND MAXWELL'S GROCERY + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. — UNCLE IKE AND OTHERS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. — A “STORY” SERMON </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. — THE RAISED CHECK </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. — THE WRECK OF THE <i>ALTONIA</i> + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. — FERNBOROUGH HALL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. — “HORNABY HOOK” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. — AN AMERICAN HEIRESS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. — AN ELOPEMENT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. — YOUNG QUINCY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. — HIS FATHER'S FRIENDS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. — AN OLD STRIFE RENEWED </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. — BOYHOOD TO MANHOOD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. — MARY DANA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. — AT HARVARD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. — ALICE'S DREAM </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. — “BY THE BEAUTIFUL BLUE + DANUBE” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. — “WE THREE” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. — A PERIOD OF TWENTY-THREE + YEARS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. — “CATESSA” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. — O. STROUT. FINE GROCERIES + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. — THE HOME COMING </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. — THE FINAL CONFLICT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. — TOM, JACK AND NED </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI. — THE GREAT ISBURN RUBY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII. — “IT WAS SO SUDDEN” </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PREFACE + </h2> + <p> + Eight years ago, “Quincy Adams Sawyer and Mason's Corner Folks” was + published, being heralded, truthfully, as the work of an “unknown author.” + It met with favour from reviewers and the reading public. My pleasantest + souvenirs are hundreds of letters, from personally unknown correspondents, + wishing to know more about “Quincy” and the other characters in my first + story. + </p> + <p> + I know that few, if any, “sequels” are considered as interesting as the + original work, and an author, to a certain extent, tempts fate in writing + one. But if we visit friends and have a pleasant time there seems to be no + reason why another invitation should not be accepted. So, if a book + pleases its readers, and the characters therein become their friends, why + should not these readers be invited to renew their acquaintance? + </p> + <p> + They may not enjoy themselves as much as at their first visit, but that is + the unavoidable result of repetition. The human mind craves novelty, and, + perhaps, the reader will find it, after all, within these pages. + </p> + <p> + C. F. P. + </p> + <p> + WIDEVIEW FARM, BELMONT, MASS. August, 1908. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER<br /> AND MASON'S CORNER + FOLKS + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. — THE GOVERNOR'S SPEECH + </h2> + <p> + When the applause had subsided, Governor Sawyer began to speak. + </p> + <p> + “My Friends and Fellow Citizens: When I stood before the representatives + chosen by the people, and an audience composed of the most eminent men and + women in the State, and took the oath to support the constitution of my + native State and that of my country, my heart was filled with what I + deemed an honest pride. My fellow citizens had chosen me to fill the most + exalted position in their power to bestow, and when the Secretary of the + Commonwealth uttered the well-known words which your toastmaster has just + repeated—God save the Commonwealth of Massachusetts—I felt in + every fibre of my body that I would be true to my oath and to the people + who had shown their confidence in me. + </p> + <p> + “But the satisfaction I felt on that occasion was no greater than that + which I experience to-night. I came among you entirely unknown. I have + heard that some wondered whether I was a city swell, what my business was, + what led me to choose your town for a vacation, and how long that vacation + was to be, especially as I came in the winter when country life is + popularly, but erroneously, supposed to be dull. + </p> + <p> + “By some I was welcomed,—others—I don't blame them—refused + to extend to me the hand of fellowship. But, I liked some of your people + so well—and one in particular”—all eyes were turned towards + his wife, who bore the scrutiny bravely—“that I determined to stay—and + I did.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram Maxwell could not forget past events in which he had figured + prominently and cried, “Three cheers for Quincy Adams Sawyer,” which were + given with a will, and accompanied by many expressions of approval in the + shape of clapping of hands, pounding of canes, and stamping of thick-soled + boots. The Governor continued his remarks. + </p> + <p> + “I staid so long that I might have become a voter. I did not, but besides + my native city of Boston, I shall always render my allegiance to this + town, which turned the current of my life into such happy channels. + </p> + <p> + “I will not weary you with a long speech.” + </p> + <p> + Cries of “Go on,” “We can stand it,” came from all parts of the hall, and + Mrs. Hawkins said to Olive Green, “He's a beautiful speaker. I could + listen to him all night if it wa'n't for gettin' breakfast for my + boarders. My bread didn't ris worth a cent, and I've got to git up airly + and make biscuits.” + </p> + <p> + His Excellency went on, “I want you to make Fernborough, the Mason's + Corner of five years ago, a beautiful town—more beautiful than it is + now.” Make good, wide roads, don't call them streets, and have wide tires + on your wagons to preserve them. Plant trees both for grateful shade and + natural beauty. Support your Village Improvement Society by suggestions + and contributions. Attend town meeting regularly, be economical but not + stingy in your appropriations, pay good salaries and wages for honest + service. Be partisans if you wish, in State and National elections, but in + choosing your town servants, get the best men regardless of politics. + </p> + <p> + “Support and constantly aim to elevate the standard of education in your + schools, and remember that the mother and the teacher are the makers of + those who are to rule in the future. + </p> + <p> + “Do these things, and you will make Fernborough a worthy member of that + galaxy of communities which represents the civic virtues and possibilities + in the highest degree—our New England towns, in which the government + is by the people, of the people, and for the people, and may God grant + that these bulwarks of our freedom may ever be preserved.” + </p> + <p> + It was decided by the committee to have a reception in the Selectmen's + room. It was conveniently arranged for such a purpose, having a door at + either end, besides the double one near the middle. At the request of + Selectman and Toastmaster Strout, the Governor and his wife and the + Countess of Sussex, formerly Lindy Putnam, stood in line to greet the + citizens of Fernborough. + </p> + <p> + First came Benoni Hill, who had increased in rotundity since selling his + grocery store and giving up an active life. + </p> + <p> + “How much is flour a barrel?” asked Quincy as he shook hands with him. + </p> + <p> + “When I kept the store myself everything I wanted I got at wholesale, but + now your partners charge me full price.” + </p> + <p> + “That's right,” said Quincy. “You got a good price for the store, and now + we're trying to get some of it back,” and he laughed heartily as he + extended his hand to young Samuel Hill. His wife, the former Miss Tilly + James, was with him. + </p> + <p> + “I am pleased to meet a lion-tamer,” said Tilly. + </p> + <p> + “I never saw a live one,” said Quincy, somewhat puzzled by the remark. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, you have. Our local lion, Obadiah Strout, is as tame as a dove, + and we owe it to you.” + </p> + <p> + “If I remember aright, a certain Miss Tilly James aided me when I gave the + first lesson.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you mean the time you whistled 'Listen to the Mocking Bird.' I wish + you had repeated it to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Cobb's Twins, William and James, with their wives, were next in line. + </p> + <p> + “How's farming?” asked Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “Bill and I,” said James, “spend most of our time on our own places, but + we help 'Zeke and Hiram out on their hayin' an' potato diggin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Samantha,” said Quincy, addressing Mrs. James Cobb, “do you remember the + first time I came to see Miss Putnam?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I'd heard about you goin' round with Huldy Mason. Didn't I laugh + when I showed you into Aunt Heppy's room? She did the hearin' for both of + 'em, for you remember her husband, Silas, was as deaf as a stone post.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Putnam found out all about me before I got away. I shall never + forget what she told me about her husband sitting on the ridge pole of the + barn, blowing his horn, and waiting for Gabriel to come for him.” + </p> + <p> + As Robert Wood came up, Quincy stepped from the line to greet him. + </p> + <p> + “Your hand ain't quite as hard as it was five years ago,” said Robert. + </p> + <p> + “No, I'm out of practice. You could handle me now.” + </p> + <p> + “It cost me two dollars to get my watch fixed,” said Robert, irrelevantly. + </p> + <p> + “I was on time in that affair,” said Quincy, conscious, when too late, + that he had wasted a pun on an obtuse individual. “Are you still + carpentering?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Lots of new houses going up, and Ben Bates and me have all we can + handle. Here, Ben, come here. The Governor's askin' 'bout you.” + </p> + <p> + Benjamin Bates was rather diffident, and had been holding back, but at + Bob's invitation came forward. + </p> + <p> + “How d'ye do, Governor?” was his salutation. Diffidence when forced to + action often verges on forwardness. + </p> + <p> + “Glad to meet you again,” said Quincy. “Robert says they keep you busy.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we don't have so many resting spells now they use donkey engines as + we did when Pat or Mike had to climb the ladder.” + </p> + <p> + “The march of improvement forces us all into line,” said Quincy as he + greeted Miss Seraphina Cotton. + </p> + <p> + “Teaching school, now, Miss Cotton?” + </p> + <p> + “No, your Excellency, I am fortunately relieved from what became, near the + end of my long years of service, an intolerable drudgery. Teaching + American children to talk English is one thing, but teaching French + Canadians, Poles, Germans, Russians, Italians, and Greeks was quite a + different proposition.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet it is a most important work,” said Quincy—“making good + citizens from these various nationalities. America, to-day, is like a + large garden, with a great variety of flowers from foreign stalks.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Cotton smiled somewhat satirically. “I'm afraid, your Excellency, if + you'd ever been a school teacher, you'd have found many weeds in the + garden.” + </p> + <p> + “But how did you gain your freedom?” asked Quincy. “Did they pension you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. An uncle died out West and left me enough with which to buy an + annuity. I board with the Reverend Mr. Howe. You remember him?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, certainly, I do. And here's his son, Emmanuel—have I got the + name right?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Governor, just right as to sound. I spell it with an 'E' and two + M's,” said young Mr. Howe, as Miss Cotton moved on to tell of her good + fortune to Alice and Linda. + </p> + <p> + “How's your father, now? Does he preach every Sunday?” + </p> + <p> + “Reg'lar as clock work. Of course I couldn't tell everybody, but I reckon + he's using some old sermons that he wrote forty years ago, but the young + ones never heard them, and the old ones have forgotten.” Quincy laughed. + Ministers' sons are seldom appalled by worldly ways and, quite often, + adopt them. + </p> + <p> + “This is Arthur Scates,” said Mr. Strout, as he presented a young man with + sunken cheeks, hollow eyes, and an emaciated body. “He ain't enjoyin' the + best of health.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I remember,” said Quincy. “You are the young man who was to sing at + the concert when I first came here. I took your place, and that act turned + out to be the most important one in my life. I owe much of my present + happiness to you. What is your trouble?” + </p> + <p> + “My lungs are affected. I have lost my voice and cannot sing. I had + counted on becoming an opera singer.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you not go to one of the out-door hospitals for treatment?” + </p> + <p> + The young man's face flushed, and he remained silent. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” said Quincy. “I understand. Come to Boston next week, to the + State House, and I will see that you have the best of treatment.” + </p> + <p> + “Wall, Mr. Sawyer, it does one's eyes good to set 'em on you again. This + is Olive Green,—you remember her sister Betsey worked for me when + you was one of my boarders.” The woman's voice was loud and strident, and + filled the room. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Hawkins, I shall never forget you and Miss Betsey Green, and how you + both tried to make my stay with you a pleasant one.” + </p> + <p> + “You've put on consid'rable flesh since I saw yer last. Guess you've been + taking your meals reg'lar, which you never did when you lived with me. But + your market's made now, and that makes the difference. They say folks in + love have poor appetites.” She laughed loudly, and stopped only when Olive + put a restraining hand on her arm. “I hope Alice is a good cook, but she + never had much chance to learn.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy thought it was time to change the subject. “How's Mr. Hawkins?” + </p> + <p> + “I tell him he's just as lazy as ever. He's kalkerlatin' on getting three + good broods of chickens. He's gone on chickens. He wanted to come tonight, + but we've lots of boarders, and they're allus wantin' ice water or + somethin' else, and so I told him he'd got to stay to home. You'll have + plenty of time to see him to-morrer.” + </p> + <p> + Many others greeted the Governor and his right hand felt the effect of so + many hearty grips, some of them of the horny-handed variety. + </p> + <p> + The Cottonton Brass Band was now stationed in the hall, and a short + concert closed the evening's entertainment, which was allowed, by all, to + be the most high-toned affair ever given in the town. + </p> + <p> + As Quincy laid his head upon his pillow that night, his mind reverted to + his first arrival at Mason's Corner, and the events that had taken place + since. + </p> + <p> + “Alice, five years ago, could your wildest imagination have conjured up + such an evening as this?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Quincy. What has taken place in our lives is truly wonderful. My + daily prayer is that these happy days may last.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. — A DAY WITH THE GOVERNOR + </h2> + <p> + Governor Sawyer sat in the Executive Chamber at the State House. It was + eleven o'clock on the morning following the festivities at Fernborough. + Quincy and Alice had staid over night at the Hawkins' House, and Ezekiel + in the morning urged them strongly to wait a day and see what great + improvements he had made on the old farm which had been so neglected + during the last years of Mrs. Putnam's life. But Quincy said his presence + in Boston was imperative, that certain matters required his attention, and + so the earliest train brought him and his wife to the city. Quincy left + the carriage under the arch at the State House. + </p> + <p> + Alice was driven to the well-known house on Mount Vernon Street, in which + Aunt Ella had lived so long, but which had lost much of its cheerfulness, + and all of its Bohemianism since that lady had gone to England and become + Lady Fernborough. + </p> + <p> + The Executive Chamber was a large room, and simply furnished with a flat + top desk of wine-red mahogany, a bookcase, and a few chairs. A door to the + left led to the office of the private secretary; the one to the right to a + short and narrow corridor across which was the door of the Council Chamber—a + room occupied by that last link between democratic and aristocratic + government. It must not be inferred that the members of the Council are + aristocrats—far from it, but with the lieutenant-governor they form + a “house of lords” which may or may not agree with the policies of the + chief magistrate. They can aid him greatly, or they can “clip his wings” + and materially curb his freedom of action. The Council is a relic of the + old provincial and colonial days, its inherited aristocratic body clothed + in democratic garments. As its duties could be performed by the Senate + without loss of dignity, and with pecuniary saving, its retention as a + part of the body politic is due to the “let well enough alone” policy of + the American citizen which has supplanted the militant, progressive + democracy of his forefathers. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the short corridor was the office of the Executive Secretary + and his stenographer from which, through an opening hung with portières, + one passed into the general reception room where the faithful messenger + stood guard, authorized to learn the business of each new-comer. + </p> + <p> + The private secretary had opened the mail and had assorted it as + “ordinary,” “important,” and “most important.” For an hour the Governor + dictated steadily, and it would take several hours' clicking of the + typewriter before the letters and documents were ready for his signature. + </p> + <p> + The waiting-room was now filled with persons desiring audience with his + Excellency. A well-known city lawyer and ward politician was the first to + enter. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, Guv'nor.” + </p> + <p> + The Governor arose, came forward, and extended his hand. “Good-morning, + Mr. Nutting.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to send in the names of the Industrial Expansion Committee + to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “I have intended to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I want to say a good word for Mr. Collingwood. He is promoting a + company to develop water power on the Upper Connecticut above Holyoke. He + is a client of mine, and I can vouch for his business ability and his + desire to improve and increase our manufacturing facilities.” + </p> + <p> + The Governor was silent for a time. He was busily thinking. No doubt this + Mr. Collingwood was concerned financially, indirectly if not directly, in + the proposed company he was promoting, and perhaps Mr. Nutting himself + would profit far beyond his normal legal fee if Mr. Collingwood was named + on the commission. Mr. Nutting noticed the delay of his Excellency in + replying. + </p> + <p> + “It will be all right if you send his name in. There will be no doubt of + his confirmation.” + </p> + <p> + Again the Governor thought. The four wheels of the executive coach were in + good order, but, apparently, the fifth wheel had been put in condition for + use, if it became necessary. + </p> + <p> + “Here are Mr. Collingwood's endorsements,” said Mr. Nutting, as he placed + a large packet of papers on the governor's desk. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Mr. Nutting. I will give them consideration.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Nutting withdrew, and the lieutenant-governor, who had arrived late, + was given precedence over the others in the reception room. After the + customary salutations, the lieutenant-governor seated himself in the + governor's chair, which Quincy had temporarily vacated, and lighted a + cigar. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to send in Venton's name?” + </p> + <p> + “He is inexperienced.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it, but he'll learn. If, following precedent, I become your + successor, he will be of great help to me in certain lines.” + </p> + <p> + There was a slight frown on the governor's face. “Mr. Williams, the + present head of the department, has held it for many years, is a most + efficient man, and I have heard no complaints.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that,” said his Honour, David Evans, “but he's getting old, and + rotation in office is one of the principles of our Bill of Rights.” + </p> + <p> + “I am well aware of that,” said the governor, “but retention in office for + good and efficient service is one of the principles of our civil service + law.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Evans arose and flicked the ashes from his cigar upon the rich carpet + which covered the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Am I to understand then that you will renominate Williams? Let me say now + that there is strong opposition to him in the Council and he may fail of + confirmation. Will you send Venton's name in then?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I should send Mr. Williams' name in again.” + </p> + <p> + “But, suppose he is turned down the second time?” asked Mr. Evans. + </p> + <p> + “I think I should continue sending in his name until good and sufficient + reasons were given for his rejection. This is not a voting contest between + two nominees. I am convinced Mr. Williams is the best man for the place. + Such being my opinion, to withdraw his name, would be a + self-stultification, and, to speak plainly,”—and his jaw was firmly + set,—“an acknowledgment that the Council is a stronger arm of the + government than the Chief Executive.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Evans was evidently indignant. “Well, Mr. Venton is backed by men who + contribute heartily for campaign expenses. If you can get along without + their aid this fall have your man Williams,” and Mr. Evans strode from the + room with a curt “Good-morning.” + </p> + <p> + The private secretary laid some papers on the governor's desk. The first + one that he examined conferred certain valuable privileges, in perpetuity, + upon a corporation without requiring any compensation for the franchise. + The property thus alienated from public use had been paid for by the + people's money. In response to a vigorous push on an electric button, the + private secretary appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Send for Senator Downing. I must see him immediately.” + </p> + <p> + His Excellency thought, “How can the people's so-called representatives + give away the property of the people so indiscriminately? It would not do + to mention it, without proof, but I am convinced that all such public + robberies are for private gain. Ah, good-morning, Senator.” + </p> + <p> + Senator Downing was a short, heavily-built man, with dark hair, black + eyes, and a jaw and chin indicative of bull-dog pertinacity. + </p> + <p> + “In your bill, Senate 513, I notice that the railroad Company is not + called upon to pay for the great privilege conferred.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should they? It simply gives them a quick connection with tide-water, + and reduced transportation charges means lower prices.” + </p> + <p> + “How will prices be regulated?” was the Governor's query. + </p> + <p> + “As they always have been,” replied the Senator brusquely. “Supply and + demand—” + </p> + <p> + “And by combinations called trusts,” added the Governor. “Cannot some + provision be made by which the Company will pay a yearly rental? It will + reduce the burden of taxation just so much.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps if you recommend it, some attention will be given it, but I + should not care to prejudice my political standing by endorsing such an + amendment.” + </p> + <p> + “I will consider the question carefully,” said Quincy, wearily, as he laid + down the bill, and Senator Downing departed. + </p> + <p> + The next bill was what was called “a labour measure.” It gave members of + trade unions a right demanded by them, called “peaceful picketing;” in + other words, during a strike, the right to use argument, persuasion, in + fact any rightful inducement to keep a non-union man from working for the + “struck” firm or corporation. The bill had been passed by a majority of 48 + in the House, and by the narrow margin of one vote in the Senate. A tie + had been expected when the President of the Senate, who was a prominent + manufacturer was counted upon to kill the bill. If the Governor vetoed it, + the Senate would probably sustain the veto, throwing the greater + responsibility upon him, each member voting against the bill sheltering + himself behind the veto. Thus do partisans play politics with the head of + their party. While he was reading the bill the lieutenant-governor was + ushered in again. + </p> + <p> + “Downing has been talking with me about his bill. He says you are going to + veto it.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not say so. I asked him his reasons for turning over public + property for private use and gain, and he did not seem well-prepared to + answer me.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Evans replied, “The best reason, to my mind is, that the heaviest tax + payers, members of our party, are all in favour of the bill.” + </p> + <p> + “Are they numerous enough to elect a governor who will do their bidding?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not, but their money is powerful enough to do it”—he paused—“if + it becomes necessary.” + </p> + <p> + The Governor arose, and Mr. Evans, influenced by the action, did the same. + The two men faced each other. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Evans,” and the Governor seemed to increase in stature, “I fully + understand your last remark—if it becomes necessary. You shall have + an open field. I prize the great honour that has been conferred upon me by + placing me here, but I must confess I dislike the duties, circumscribed as + they are by personal and political influences. I can understand, now, why + a ruler wishes to be an autocrat. It is the only way in which he can make + his personality a part of his body. I shall not be a candidate for + re-election this autumn. I wish my personal freedom of action, and I prize + it more than fame or power.” + </p> + <p> + “May I mention your decision to the leaders of the party?” + </p> + <p> + “If you so desire. From this moment I am to be untrammelled except by my + official oath.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Evans took his leave, evidently pleased with a part of what he had + heard, and in a short time was closeted with some leading politicians in a + private room of a prominent hotel. + </p> + <p> + The Governor resumed his reading of the labour bill, but was aroused from + his contemplation of its provisions by the entrance of Mr. Amos Acton. Mr. + Acton was secretary of a manufacturer's association. He was tall and + spare. His hair was sandy in hue, and his mouth twitched nervously. + </p> + <p> + “Your Excellency, I came to see you about that picketing bill. If it + becomes a law our manufacturers will be driven from the State. They are + now seriously handicapped by the vigorous provisions of existing laws. I + trust your Excellency will not add to our present burdens.” + </p> + <p> + “I have read the bill, Mr. Acton. It seems conservative, with full + provision for the protection of life and property.” + </p> + <p> + “That's not the question. When Union men strike we must have the Non-Union + men to fill their places; but this bill says the Non-Union man shan't + work.” + </p> + <p> + “It says the Union man may persuade him, peacefully, not to work.” + </p> + <p> + “We all know what that means. If he does work, he will be called a 'scab' + and his family will be ostracized in every possible way.” + </p> + <p> + “It is hard to draw the line,” said the governor. “You say, or imply, that + every man has a right to work for whoever will employ him. Granted. But do + you always give him work when he wants it? Do you pay him what he asks, or + do you not fix the rate of wage? You must realize the fact that collective + bargaining has superseded dealing with the individual.” + </p> + <p> + “Some of us do not allow that,” said Mr. Acton. + </p> + <p> + “I know it, and that causes the difficulty. Your relations with your + employees should be based upon trade agreements, legalized and strongly + adhered to by both sides.” + </p> + <p> + “I have just come from a meeting of leading manufacturers,” said Mr. + Acton, “and they wished me to express to you their urgent request, I may + say solicitation, that you will veto this bill.” + </p> + <p> + After Mr. Acton's departure, Quincy rang for his secretary, to whom he + delivered the papers containing his official decisions. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Williams was renominated for the position that he had so long and so + ably filled. + </p> + <p> + As members of “The Industrial Expansion Commission” nine manufacturers + were named, one for each of the leading industries of the State, chosen + independent of known or presumed political affiliations; Mr. Collingwood's + name was not among them. + </p> + <p> + A vigorous veto of the bill giving a private corporation control of public + property was sent to the Senate. + </p> + <p> + The “peaceful picketing” bill was signed. + </p> + <p> + The door opened, and a pretty face looked in. + </p> + <p> + “Come in, Maude—I've just finished.” As the secretary withdrew, + keeping his eyes fixed on the governor's youngest sister, she advanced + slowly into the room. The door closed automatically and Maude tip-toed to + her brother's side, returning his welcoming kiss. + </p> + <p> + “What's his name?” she asked, pointing towards the self-closing door. + </p> + <p> + “My secretary? Harry Merry,” said Quincy, “but the press boys all call him + Sober Harry.” + </p> + <p> + “I think he's just splendid,” said the impulsive Maude—“such + beautiful eyes! But that isn't what I came for. I went up to your house + and just brought Alice down to ours, and she told me all about the fine + time you had and your speech. Will it be printed?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Sylvester Chisholm, editor of the Fernborough Gazette was there and a + faithful transcript of my feeble remarks will, no doubt, appear in his + paper.” + </p> + <p> + “Feeble!” said Maude contemptuously. “Have you been doing feeble things + since you came back?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Maude, I have done some very strenuous things, and I shall be glad to + get home to my family.” + </p> + <p> + Maude repeated, seriously, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “To make a happy fireside clime + For weans and wife + Is the true pathos, and sublime, + Of human life. +</pre> + <p> + “But you are not going home,” she continued,—“you are invited to + dinner with your respected pa and ma and your two young—” + </p> + <p> + “And beautiful sisters,” added Quincy with a laugh. “I'll come, but you + must play the latest popular songs for me, and Alice will sing 'Sweet, + Sweet Home,' and perhaps I can forget the cares of State—until + to-morrow, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + Maude flounced out of the door tossing a kiss from the tips of her + fingers, to the astonishment of Sober Harry who had just entered, and who + wished, from the bottom of his heart, that the flying salutation had been + for him. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. — A VACATION AT FERNBOROUGH + </h2> + <p> + The Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer did not dine at home that evening. + Quincy's mother said that he had gone to Salem but would return later. + After dinner the little company of five repaired to the parlour. Maude + sang negro melodies despite the protests of her mother, and her sister + Florence's assertion that they were only sung at cheap variety shows. + </p> + <p> + “How do you know that?” cried Maude. “Did Reginald tell you?” + </p> + <p> + “Who is Reginald?” asked Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Maude, tossing her head, “he's Florence's latest. She met him + night before last—” + </p> + <p> + “Maude!” Her sister's voice was full of angry protest. “Don't say another + word.” + </p> + <p> + “Such matters,” said her mother mildly, “are not suitable subjects for + general conversation. There is a privacy about them which should be + respected.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll leave Florence out of it, then,” said Maude. “I met him at Mrs. + Dulton's reception. His name is Capt. Reginald Hornaby, and he's the + fourth son of Sir Wilfred Hornaby, of Hornaby Hook, Hornaby, England—don't + you know,” and she winked spitefully at Florence. + </p> + <p> + “He told me all that himself,” she continued, “so I know it must be so. + Won't it be nice to have a place in England where we can make ourselves at + home?” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Ella will be glad to see you at any time,” remarked Quincy. “Why + don't you go back with her? She'd be delighted.” + </p> + <p> + “I would but for one thing,” replied Maude. “I'm afraid I might fall in + love with an Englishman, and one title in the family is enough.” + </p> + <p> + Alice interposed: “Aunt Ella has an English husband with a title.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Maude, “but he <i>has</i> his title, while Reggie is four + blocks away from the fire.” + </p> + <p> + “You're as big a tease as ever,” and Quincy drew his favourite sister + towards him. “Don't plague Flossie any more. Think of your possible fate. + You may marry a Jap.” + </p> + <p> + “I know a lovely little Jap, now. His name is Hioshato Konuka. Oh, Alice, + won't you stay all night? When are you going on your vacation, Quincy?” + </p> + <p> + “In about ten days, if the legislature is prorogued by that time.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” asked his mother. + </p> + <p> + “Alice wishes to go to Fernborough for a week or two, and then we shall go + to Nantucket.” + </p> + <p> + “Will the Earl and Sir Stuart pay us a visit?” was the next question. + </p> + <p> + “I invited them in your name, mother, but Linda and Aunt Ella were anxious + to get back to their yacht at Nantucket. They will sail from there to New + York and take the steamer home next week.” + </p> + <p> + “Is the Countess of Sussex' sister-in-law, the Lady Elfrida, married yet?” + asked Florence. + </p> + <p> + “I understand she is engaged,” Quincy replied. + </p> + <p> + Maude was incorrigible. “Reggie told me she was practising deep breathing, + owing to the length of the Episcopal marriage service.” + </p> + <p> + “Maude,” said her mother sharply, “if you were not of age I should send + you to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going. Alice, while Quincy runs up to the house to say that you are + not coming home, you come to my room. I've some pretty things to show + you.” + </p> + <p> + As Quincy walked up Walnut Street, he saw a bright light in Dr. Culver's + window. He rang the bell, and the doctor himself came to the door. + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, Quincy? Come in.” + </p> + <p> + “Paul, how are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Fine as silk. Business is good, but I'm doing my best to keep the + undertakers out of a job. Have you read the evening papers?” + </p> + <p> + “I seldom do. I prefer to wait until morning.” + </p> + <p> + “The papers are rapping you hard for signing that picketing bill, but the + labour men are delighted. You'll run ahead of your ticket sure next fall.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not going to run. One year is enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Will Evans get the nomination? I won't vote for him. How are your wife's + eyes?” + </p> + <p> + “All right. She has better vision, now, than I have. We owe you a great + debt of gratitude for sending us to Dr. Tillotson.” + </p> + <p> + “He's a wonder. He told me the other day that he is going to cure what is + called split retina, which has never been done.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy bethought himself of the message he had to deliver and made a + hurried departure, first inviting the Doctor to dine with him the next + day. On his return to the Beacon Street house, he found his father at home + reading an evening paper. + </p> + <p> + “Quincy, I see that you vetoed that railroad bill.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I did. I saw no reason why public property should be given to a + private corporation without compensation.” + </p> + <p> + “The public would be compensated indirectly. I am a large stockholder in + the railroad, and, to speak plainly, I drew that bill myself. I met + Senator Downing and he says the bill will be passed over your veto.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot help that, father. I did my duty as I saw it. If the bill + becomes a law without my signature, I cannot be blamed for future + developments.” + </p> + <p> + The Hon. Nathaniel dropped the subject. “Quincy, I have purchased a house + in the country and shall go there in a few days. Won't you and your wife + pay us a short visit?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, we will. We are going to Fernborough for a few days and then + will drop in on you, before we go to Nantucket.” + </p> + <p> + By the look on his father's face Quincy knew that he was disappointed. The + Hon. Nathaniel never liked “to play second fiddle.” Quincy hastened to + rectify his mistake. “We can put it the other way round, just as well. + We'll come and see you before we go to Fernborough.” + </p> + <p> + “That will please me better, but, of course, you must not do it if your + wife objects.” + </p> + <p> + “She will not object. She is upstairs, now, with Maude. Of course, the + girls are going.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and I have invited Captain Hornaby, a very fine young man. But, I + must retire. I have a case in court to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy found both commendation and criticism in the morning papers. His + face wore its usual genial expression as he entered the elevator, and + Robert's “good morning” was particularly cheerful. + </p> + <p> + The Governor's first caller was Mr. Acton. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” he began, “that your approval of the picketing bill is + receiving universal condemnation.” + </p> + <p> + “Hardly,” was the reply. “Two papers and the Governor sustain it and the + labour press and unions are yet to be heard from.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall endeavour to secure a repeal of the bill next year. In the + meantime, we shall carry the matter to the courts.” + </p> + <p> + “May the cause of truth and justice prevail in the end” was Quincy's + comment, and Mr. Acton took his departure in an uncomfortable state of + mind. + </p> + <p> + The day wore away. At three o'clock a vote was taken in the Senate and the + so-called Downing bill was passed over the veto. Not so, in the House, for + one newspaper, read by nearly all the working men, had so strongly pointed + out the nature of the “grab” proposed by the bill, that the State House + was besieged by its opponents, and the veto was sustained by a narrow + margin. + </p> + <p> + About five o'clock, Mr. Evans and Senator Downing were dining in a private + room at a hotel. “So, the Governor won't run again,” said the Senator. + </p> + <p> + “He so informed me yesterday. He may change his mind.” + </p> + <p> + “You're not satisfied with things as they are,” remarked the Senator. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied the lieutenant-governor, “I'm disgusted with the Williams + matter. When I'm governor, I'll request his resignation.” + </p> + <p> + “And when you're governor, we'll put my bill through. Do you know the + Governor's father is one of our heaviest stockholders? We'll have our way + yet.” + </p> + <p> + Within a week the legislature was prorogued. The House had a mock session, + during which partisanship, and private victories and defeats were + forgotten, for the time at least, and the fun was jolly and hearty. + </p> + <p> + Ben Ropes, the funny man of the House, but a member of the minority, + convulsed all by announcing his candidacy for the governorship, with the + understanding that no money was to be spent, no speakers engaged, the + question to be settled by joint debates between the opposing candidates. + Every member of the House arose, and amid wild cheers, pledged him their + support. + </p> + <p> + The Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer's estate at Redford comprised some eighty + acres. Within five minutes' walk of the house was a sheet of water + covering fully fifty acres known as Simmons' Pond. On the farther side of + the pond were a few cottages and near them a tent indicating the presence + of a camping party. + </p> + <p> + “Next year,” said the Hon. Nathaniel to Quincy as they stood on the shore + of the pond, “I am going to buy some twenty acres on the other side of the + pond. Then I shall own all the land surrounding it, and my estate will be + worthy of the name which I have given it—Wideview—for nobody's + else property will obstruct my view in any direction. I shall name this,” + and he pointed to the pond, “Florence Lake after my eldest daughter. What + do you think of Captain Hornaby?” + </p> + <p> + Quincy hesitated—“He's a typical Englishman—healthy, hearty, + but with that English conceit that always grates on my nerves.” + </p> + <p> + “Are we Americans free from it?” his father asked. “To my mind, conceit is + often but the indication of self-conscious power. Its possessors never + acknowledge defeat I have always had that feeling in my law practice.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy changed the subject, “What have you in the boat house?” + </p> + <p> + “Canoes—three canoes. I have ordered a large row-boat but it is not + ready yet. When I own the 'lake' and the land beyond, my residence will + stand in the centre of my estate. I shall retire from practice in a few + years, and spend my last days here. We all have to go back to the soil and + I am going to make my progress gradual.” + </p> + <p> + “Won't you find it rather dull here after so long an active life in the + city?” + </p> + <p> + “Not dull, but quiet,” was the dignified response. “I shall pass my time + surveying the beauties of Nature to which, to my discredit, I have been so + long oblivious; then, I shall commune with the great minds in literature, + and read the latest law reports.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy wondered whether Nature, literature, or law would be his father's + most appreciated relaxation, but inclined to the latter. + </p> + <p> + The next morning Maude exclaimed: “Let's have some fun. What shall we do?” + </p> + <p> + “There are three canoes in the boat house,” said Quincy, “why not a row on + the pond?” + </p> + <p> + “Fine!” cried Maude. “Quincy, you are a man of ideas.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Hornaby had asked Florence to go with him and she had willingly + consented. This emboldened Harry Merry, who had come down from the State + House with the Governor's correspondence, and he, rather bashfully, + requested Maude's company in the third canoe. + </p> + <p> + “Can you swim?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I learned when a boy,” said Harry. + </p> + <p> + “All right. I don't believe the style has changed much since then. I + wouldn't go with you unless you could swim. It would be too great a + responsibility.” + </p> + <p> + Harry thought to himself that he would be willing to swim ashore with such + a “responsibility” in his arms. + </p> + <p> + Maude turned to the Captain: “Can you swim, Captain Hornaby?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, Miss Maude. We Englishmen are all sea dogs, don't you know?” + </p> + <p> + “But Englishmen are drowned sometimes,” said Maude. “How about Admiral + Kempenfelt and the Royal George? See Fourth Class Reader for full + particulars in verse.” + </p> + <p> + The three couples were soon afloat—Quincy and Alice, Captain Hornaby + and Florence, Harry and Maude. + </p> + <p> + “Let's have a race,” cried Maude. “To that big white rock down there,” and + she pointed to the farther end of the pond. Harry took the lead with + short, swift strokes, but the long, steady paddling of Captain Hornaby + gained on him steadily, and to Maude's disgust the Captain reached the + rock first, Harry being a close second, and Quincy a late third. + </p> + <p> + Maude was excited. “Let's race back to the boat house. A prize for the + first one who reaches it.” + </p> + <p> + “What will be the prize?” asked the Captain. + </p> + <p> + Maude saw that Harry needed encouragement. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't anything with me but kisses and only one of them to spare.” + </p> + <p> + Harry shut his teeth with a snap. He was going to win that race. + </p> + <p> + As they were nearing the boat house Harry was in the lead, the Captain + close behind, with Quincy following leisurely. This was a young people's + race—married men barred. For some unexplainable reason Captain + Hornaby tried to cross Harry's bow. The project was ill-timed and + unsuccessful. Harry had just made a spurt and his canoe went forward so + fast that the Captain's boat, instead of clearing his, struck it full in + the side and Harry and Maude were thrown into the water. Florence, who + really loved her sister despite their many quarrels, gave a loud scream + and stood up in the boat. Her action was fatal to its equilibrium, and the + Captain and she were soon in the water's embrace. + </p> + <p> + The accident occurred about two hundred feet from the shore where the + water was deep. Captain Hornaby grasped Florence and struck out for the + boat house float. She had fainted and did not impede him by struggling. + </p> + <p> + Harry had essayed to bear Maude ashore, but she broke away from him and + swam vigorously towards land, Harry in pursuit. + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry, Alice,” said Quincy. “They are not in danger.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Quincy, suppose it had been our boat.” + </p> + <p> + “If it had been,” said he, “you would be as safe in my arms as Florence is + in those of the Captain, providing you did not struggle.” + </p> + <p> + Harry exerted his full strength and skill to overtake Maude, but she, + flushed with the excitement, her thin costume clinging close to her form, + reached the bank some twenty feet ahead of him. + </p> + <p> + “I had to do it,” she cried, “and I suppose I must deliver the prize by + kissing myself.” + </p> + <p> + Then her exuberant nature gave way, and she sank helpless to the ground. + Harry did not envy the Captain who was carrying Florence in his arms, for + was not Maude in his? + </p> + <p> + In the evening as they sat upon the veranda watching the dying glories of + the sun, Quincy said to Maude, “Why didn't you let Harry bring you + ashore?” + </p> + <p> + “The idea of it,” she exclaimed. “And be under obligations to him—not + on your life. Think of poor Florence. If that Captain asks her to marry + him she must accept because he saved her life.” + </p> + <p> + Later, when the sun had set, and the moonbeams silvered the surface of the + pond, Harry mustered up courage to ask Maude what she meant when she said + it was too great a responsibility to go out canoeing with a man who + couldn't swim. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I meant if you couldn't swim it might be a great job for me to get + you ashore. I knew I could take care of myself all right.” + </p> + <p> + At the other end of the veranda the Hon. Nathaniel and Captain Hornaby + were engaged in conversation. The Captain was not asking the Hon. + Nathaniel for the hand of his daughter Florence but, instead, for a loan, + giving as his reason that when he threw off his coat his letters of credit + to the value of five hundred pounds went to the bottom of the pond. + </p> + <p> + “I shall have to write home to my brother, the Earl, for other letters, + and it will take some time for them to reach me.” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “'IF YOU WILL GIVE ME YOUR NOTE AT THIRTY DAYS I WILL LET + YOU HAVE THE FIVE HUNDRED.'”} + </p> + <p> + “You are at liberty to remain here until you receive word,” said the + cautious Hon. Nathaniel. + </p> + <p> + “I appreciate your great kindness,” said the Captain, “but I must visit + New York and Chicago at an early day.” + </p> + <p> + “How much will supply your present need?” asked the lawyer. + </p> + <p> + “I had expected my trip would cost me at least five hundred dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “If you will give me your note at thirty days I will let you have the five + hundred. I will bring it down to-morrow night.” + </p> + <p> + On the second day following, the Captain took an apparently very reluctant + departure. + </p> + <p> + A week later Quincy and Alice were in Boston making preparations for their + trip to Fernborough. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to buy the tickets this morning, Alice—we must have + seats in a parlour car. How shall we go—to Cottonton or Eastborough + Centre?” + </p> + <p> + “To Eastborough surely,” said Alice. “We will drive over the old road. Do + you remember the day that you took me to see Aunt Heppy Putnam after her + husband died?” + </p> + <p> + “Alice, every day I passed at Mason's Corner near you was like Heaven to + me, and, now, for a week or more I mean to live in Paradise again. What a + joy it will be to see the old scenes and faces, hear the familiar voices, + and remember the happy days we have had there.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid, Quincy, some of the charm has departed. Things have changed, + and, in spite of our resolves, we change with them.” + </p> + <p> + When they alighted at Eastborough Centre, Ellis Smith stood there with his + carriage. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do, Ellis, and how's your brother Abbott? Will you take us to + the Hawkins House?” said Quincy. Turning to his wife, he added, “Mrs. + Rawkins is a good cook—her rooms are large and clean. We can go a + visiting during the day and have quiet times by ourselves when we wish.” + His wife nodded her acquiescence with the plan proposed. + </p> + <p> + “Ellis, can you handle those two big trunks alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Guv'nor. I'm a leetle bit heavier built than Abbott.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy drew Alice's attention to the Eagle Hotel. + </p> + <p> + “There's where we hatched the plot that downed Mr. Obadiah Strout, when he + was an enemy of mine. Say, Ellis, drive up by the Poor House, through the + Willows, and then back down the Centre Road to Mason Street. That will + carry us by some of the old landmarks.” + </p> + <p> + As they passed the Poor House they saw “pussy” Mr. Waters, sitting on the + piazza and Sam standing in the barn doorway. + </p> + <p> + “There's where my Uncle James died,” said Quincy. “Did I ever tell you, + Alice, that he left some money and it went to found the Sawyer Public + Library? He made me promise not to tell that he left any, and it has + always troubled me to receive a credit that really was not my due.” + </p> + <p> + “But you could have kept the money, couldn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes. He gave it to me outright.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I think you are entitled to full credit for the good use you made of + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Looking at it that way, perhaps you are right, Alice. Here are the + Willows.” + </p> + <p> + “What a lonely place.” + </p> + <p> + “You didn't think so, Alice, when we used to drive through here.” + </p> + <p> + “I was blind then and couldn't see except with your eyes. You didn't say + it was lonesome.” + </p> + <p> + “How could I say so, when I was with you?” + </p> + <p> + Alice squeezed his hand lovingly. + </p> + <p> + As they turned into Mason Street, Quincy exclaimed: “There's where Uncle + Ike's chicken coop stood until he set it on fire.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he set it on fire?” cried Alice. + </p> + <p> + “Now I've let out another promised secret. Can you see 'Zeke's house + ahead?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, how inviting the old place looks. I'm glad Hiram Maxwell has it, for + we can sit in the old parlour and sing duets as we used to.” + </p> + <p> + “Now we're going up Obed's Hill,” said Quincy. “Deacon Mason's house looks + as neat as ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember when Huldah Mason broke her arm, Quincy?” + </p> + <p> + “Do not remind me of that, Alice. I was never in love with her, but no one + could help liking her. There's the grocery store in which I am a silent + partner”—he paused a moment—“and here we are at the Hawkins + House.” + </p> + <p> + As Ellis Smith reined up, the front door was opened and Mrs. Hawkins came + out to meet her guests. “I got your letter, an' I know'd it was you. How + be ye both? Seems like old times. Come right in the parlour. I've got the + curtains down so as to keep it cool,” and the delighted woman led the way + into the house. In the hallway, she screamed, “Jonas! Jonas! Hurry up and + pick those chickens. Guv'nor Sawyer and Alice are here.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. — THE HAWKINS HOUSE + </h2> + <p> + The converting of Mrs. Hawkins' boarding house into a hotel had been due + to two causes: First, the thrift and economy of the lady herself, which + had enabled her to put by a good sum in the bank. This she expended in + building an ell with extra sleeping rooms, painting the structure cream + colour with brown trimmings, and replacing old furniture with that of + modern make. This latter, she confessed within a year, was a great + mistake, for the new chairs became rickety, the castors would not hold in + the bed posts, the bureau drawers became unmanageable, and the rooms, as + she expressed it, had a “second-hand” appearance. Then it was that the old + mahogany furniture, that had been relegated to the attic, was brought + down, furbished up, and restored to its original place. When Quincy + entered the room which he had formerly occupied, it did not seem possible + that five years had elapsed. + </p> + <p> + The second cause that had led Mrs. Hawkins to change the small and modest + sign—“Rooms and Board”—which had been in the front window for + years, for a large swinging sign over the front door—“Hawkins House”—having + large gold letters on a blue ground—was the rapid growth of the + town. Many new mills had been erected in the neighbouring city of + Cottonton. The operatives being unable to obtain suitable accommodations + in the city, had come to Fernborough to live, where they could have + gardens, fresh air, and playgrounds for their children. Fernborough became + to Cottonton what Methuen is to Lawrence. Mrs. Hawkins was democratic, but + shirt-sleeves and Prince Albert coats did not look well together, so she + had turned what had been her sitting room into a private dining room, and + it was here that what she called her “star boarders” were served. + </p> + <p> + By the time Quincy and Alice had opened their trunks, and distributed the + contents in the capacious closet and deep, roomy bureau drawers, the + cheerful tones of the dinner bell were heard, and they descended to the + private room. + </p> + <p> + They were its only occupants. + </p> + <p> + “I thought as how you might be hungry after so long a ride an' so I just + hurried Jonas up so you could begin afore the crowd came in. I don't + introduce folks now I run a hotel. If they gets acquainted it's their + lookout not mine,” and Mrs. Hawkins and Olive brought in the fare from the + adjoining kitchen. + </p> + <p> + Such a meal for hungry people! Lamb broth, roast chicken, yeast biscuit, + potatoes, string beans, cucumbers, lettuce, berry pie, blackberries, + currants, frosted cake, with tea, coffee, or cocoa. + </p> + <p> + “What does she charge?” asked Alice in a whisper when they were alone. + </p> + <p> + “A dollar a day for room and board—three square meals for board.” + </p> + <p> + After dinner they went into the parlour, where Mrs. Hawkins joined them. + </p> + <p> + “I jest told Jonas he must help Olive wash the dishes to-day, for I hain't + seen ye for so long I'm just dyin' to have a talk with yer, 'cause I + s'pose you'll eat and run while yer here, you know so many folks.” + </p> + <p> + “We haven't much to tell about ourselves,” said Quincy. “What we want to + know is how Fernborough folks are getting along.” + </p> + <p> + “Wall, I s'pos'd you'd like to hear what's goin' on 'round here, an' + p'raps I can tell yer some things that other folks mightn't mention, + 'cause they'd forgot it, or p'raps wouldn't want to tell. Is that cheer + comfortable, Alice? I s'pose I ought to say Misses Guv'nor Sawyer, but it + don't come nat'ral, I've known yer so long.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall always be Alice to my good friend Mrs. Hawkins and her daughter + Mandy.” + </p> + <p> + “Speakin' o' Mandy, you know she's got two little boys—twins, one + named after Deacon Mason, and t'other after your husband's friend Obadiah + Strout, ther perfesser—and she's got a little girl, nigh on ter two + years old named Marthy after me—but they don't call her Marthy—it's + allus Mattie. These new-fangled names fuss me all up. If Mary and Marthy + were good enough for the Lord's friends, I don't know what he'd think to + hear 'em called Mamie and Mattie. + </p> + <p> + “Speakin' o' names, there's my Jonas, which is same as Jonah I s'pose. + Anyway it fits him to a T, for he's a reg'lar Jonah if there ever was one, + which our minister, Mr. Gay, you'll meet him at dinner-time to-morrow, + says he's doubtful about. + </p> + <p> + “If a whale swallowed my Jonas it couldn't keep him down, for he's just <i>satirated</i> + with tobacco smoke—he says he has to puff it on the hens and + chickens to kill the varmints, and I should think it would. Do you smoke, + Mr. Sawyer?” + </p> + <p> + “Cigars, occasionally. I am not an habitual smoker.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, old Mr. Trask told me as how pipe smoke wouldn't colour lace + curtains same as cigars do. Now you jes' smoke all you want to up in your + room an' I'll see if it washes out.” + </p> + <p> + “Alice dislikes smoke, and I never use tobacco in her presence—so + your lace curtains won't suffer.” + </p> + <p> + “Wall, I'm kinder sorry for I wanted to see if Doctor Trask knew what he + was talkin' about. When I'm rich I'll have three doctors and two on 'em + will have to agree afore I'll take any of their pizen. I jes' remembered + that the new minister, Mr. Gay, smokes. I'll put some lace curtains up in + his room. You ain't seen him yet. He parts his hair in the middle. The + gals are all crazy 'bout him. I like his preachin' putty well, but he + don't use near as much brimstone as old Mr. Howe does.” + </p> + <p> + “Is Mr. Howe's son going to be a clergyman?” Alice asked. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hawkins laughed raucously. + </p> + <p> + “The Lord save us, I guess not! Why Emmanuel has gone and married a play + actress—and isn't she some? She rides a hoss just like a man does, + and the way she jumps fences and rides hur-rah-ti-cut down the street + would jes' make your hair stand on end. She's away now—I wish you + could see her. Of course you're goin' over to the store.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, certainly,” said Quincy. “I'm a special partner, you know. I shall + call on Mrs. Strout. You remember the party at Deacon Mason's, Alice—I + danced with Miss Bessie Chisholm—” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hawkins couldn't wait, “Yes, an' she made the perfesser just the kind + of wife he needed. She bosses the house... for I heard her tell him one + day that if he didn't like her cookin' he might have his meals at the + store—an' she goes to dances with her brother Sylvester. Some folks + think she's a high-flyer—but I don't blame her seein' as how she has + that old blowhard for a husband—which is true, if he is your + pardner.” + </p> + <p> + Alice asked if the Strouts had any children. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they've got a little boy, an' he's a chip of the old block. His + father brought him here one day and he pulled the cloth of'n that table + there and broke a chiny vase that I paid fifty cents for, and his father + never said a word about buyin' me another.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope that Mr. Strout and Hiram get along together well,” said Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “Hiram's a good feller. Mandy did well when she got him, but she has you + to thank for it, Mr. Sawyer. If you hadn't set him up in that grocery + store I'm afraid he'd be chorin' now. You remember Mrs. Crowley? She jes' + loves them children, but Mandy's afeerd she's going to lose her. She's got + a beau—a feller named Dan Sweeney, and his hair is so red you could + light a match by techin' it. He works for your brother 'Zeke. He's a good + enuf feller, but he and Strout don't hitch horses. You see he was in the + same regiment with the Perfesser an' he knows all about him, same as you + found out, and Strout don't talk big afore him. The fact is, the Perfesser + hain't many friends. There was Abner Stiles. They two used to be as thick + as molasses, but since Strout wouldn't give him the job in the grocery + that he'd promised him, Abner's gone back on him.” + </p> + <p> + “Does Uncle Ike board with Mandy now?” Alice knew that he did, but wished + Mrs. Hawkins' view of the strange doings of her uncle. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he's there—goin' on eighty-two and chipper as a squirrel. He's + got religion Mandy says, and so many kinds that she don't know which one + he's got the most of.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy looked at his watch. “Mrs. Hawkins, we're going up to Ezekiel's + house. We shall stay to supper, but will get back before you lock up—ten + o'clock, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “No such hours in a hotel. We're allus open till twelve, and sometimes all + night—when it pays. It's a hard life, but you know what's goin' on + an' that's considruble for a woman who's tied up in the house as I am.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. — 'ZEKE PETTINGILL'S FARM + </h2> + <p> + Quincy had intended to drive to his brother-in-law's house, but Alice + preferred to walk as the distance was so short. The Hawkins House was on + Mason Street. A short walk brought them to Mason Square. In plain view + were the Town Hall and the Chessman Free Public Library. + </p> + <p> + “I always thought it was foolishness to name these streets after me,” said + Quincy, as they stood on the corner of Sawyer Street. “There's Adams + Street back of the Town Hall and Quincy Street on the other side.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't agree with you,” said Alice. “I would rather have a street named + after me than a monument erected to my memory.” + </p> + <p> + At Putnam Square they turned to the left into Pettingill Street and soon + reached her brother's house. Huldah saw them coming and ran down the path + to meet them. + </p> + <p> + “Why, when did you come, and where are your things? You are surely going + to stay with us.” + </p> + <p> + “Our headquarters are at the Hawkins House,” said Quincy. “We have been in + town but a few hours and you have the first visit.” + </p> + <p> + “I am so disappointed you aren't to be with us,” and Huldah's face showed + the feeling she had expressed. + </p> + <p> + “You won't be when I give you our reasons,” Quincy replied. “Mrs. Putnam + died in this house, and Alice has such a vivid recollection of her last + day on earth—” + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” said Huldah, “but you must come and see us every day.” + </p> + <p> + “Where's Ezekiel?” asked Alice. + </p> + <p> + “Getting in his last load of hay—about sixty tons this year. We only + had thirty a year ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Where's my namesake—Quincy Adams Pettingill?” + </p> + <p> + “He goes every day to see his grandpa and grandma. Abner will be here with + him soon.” + </p> + <p> + When they reached the piazza, Quincy took a good view of the farm. What a + contrast to the condition it had been in, when occupied by the Putnams! + Then everything had been neglected—now garden, field, and orchard + showed a high state of cultivation, and the house and outbuildings were in + good repair and freshly painted. Inside, the careful attention of a + competent housekeeper was apparent. Huldah Pettingill was a finer looking + woman than Huldah Mason had been, but Quincy had never forgotten how + pretty she looked the day she lay in bed with the plaster cast on her + broken arm—the result of the accident for which he had taken the + blame belonging to another. + </p> + <p> + They had just sat down in the little parlour when cries of “Mamma” were + heard outside and four year old Quincy Adams Pettingill burst into the + room followed closely by Abner Stiles. + </p> + <p> + “He don't mind me no more'n a woodchuck would,” said Abner—then his + eyes fell on Quincy, who rose to greet him. + </p> + <p> + “Why, if it ain't”—but words failed him as Quincy gave his hand a + hearty grasp. + </p> + <p> + “This is the first time I ever shook hands with a guv'nor,” said Abner. “I + didn't know you was going to shake hands all round the night of the show + an' I went home.” He looked at his right hand, rubbed it softly with his + left, and then remarked: “I sha'n't wash that hand for a couple o' days if + I can help it.” + </p> + <p> + His hearers laughed, for his words were accentuated by the old-time grin + that had pleased Obadiah Strout on some occasions, but on others had + raised his ire to an explosive point. + </p> + <p> + “Are father and mother at home?” asked Huldah. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, both on 'em. Susie Barker's been helpin' her to-day, and the Dekin's + wife thinks o' keepin' her reg'lar.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll have them come to supper,” said Huldah. “Abner, hitch up the black + mare into the low phaeton and bring them up here. Don't tell them who's + here, but tell them that I say they must come.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I declare!” All looked up and saw Ezekiel standing in the doorway. + He wore overalls and thick boots, his sleeves were rolled up, showing his + brawny arms with muscles like whip-cords. His face was brown, but his + beard was neatly trimmed, and his eyes bright. He was a picture of robust, + healthy manhood, and showed what he was,—a hard-working, independent + New England farmer. Alice sprang into his arms and received a resounding + smack. One hand grasped Quincy's while the other encircled his dainty + wife's waist, and he drew her towards him. + </p> + <p> + “You have a fine farm,” said Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “About as good as they make them,” 'Zeke replied. “I've a good market for + all I can raise. Strout and Maxwell buy a great deal of garden truck, and + I sell considerable to Mrs. Hawkins direct. What I have left we eat or + give away.” + </p> + <p> + Alice had taken young Quincy on her lap. He became communicative. “I've + got a grandpa and grandma and Uncle Abner.” + </p> + <p> + “Abner isn't your uncle,” said Alice. “I'm your Aunt Alice, and that is + your Uncle Quincy.” + </p> + <p> + Ezekiel laughed. “You can't convince him but that Abner's his uncle. Abner + comes after him every afternoon and takes him down to the Deacon's house + and that gives Huldy a good chance to do my mending.” + </p> + <p> + The sound of carriage wheels indicated new arrivals, and Huldah went to + the door to meet her father and mother. + </p> + <p> + “Have you got callers?” asked Mrs. Mason. “I don't think I'll go in. I + didn't dress up, but came just as I was.” + </p> + <p> + “And I never saw you looking better,” said Quincy, stepping into the entry + to meet them. + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad to see you again, Mr. Sawyer,” and the Deacon's grasp was a firm + one. “I didn't get up to the Town Hall that night, for I didn't feel + first-rate and Sophia didn't want to go alone, but Abner told me what you + did and said, and I reckon added a little on his own account.” + </p> + <p> + Abner appeared in the doorway. “I've put up the mare, Mr. Pettingill. Want + me for anything more, Dekin?” + </p> + <p> + “You can go home and help Susie,” said Mrs. Mason. + </p> + <p> + When Abner had gone, the Deacon chuckled and said, “Nothing could please + Abner better than to take supper with Susie and pass the evening in her + company. He's more'n forty and she's only twenty, but such hitch-ups ain't + uncommon nowadays.” + </p> + <p> + “That is what they call a December and May marriage,” remarked Alice. + </p> + <p> + “Not quite as bad as that,” said the Deacon. “I should say about October + and March.” + </p> + <p> + It was a jolly company that sat down to a well-filled table that evening. + Quincy's first coming to town, and his exciting experiences during his + four months' residence at Mason's Corner, formed the principal topics of + conversation, and Alice appreciated more fully than ever her husband's + persistency, which had shown itself as strongly in doing good to others as + it had in manifesting love for herself. + </p> + <p> + When they reached the Hawkins House Mrs. Hawkins was on the watch for + them. + </p> + <p> + “There's a young man here to see you, Mr. Sawyer. He came on the train to + Cottonton and my man Andrew brought him over. I told him you wouldn't be + home till late and I sent him off to bed. Was that all right?” + </p> + <p> + “I can tell better,” said Quincy, “when I find out who he is and what he + wants.” + </p> + <p> + “He said his name was Gerry or Ferry or something like that. He's kind of + bashful, I 'magine.” + </p> + <p> + “It's Merry,” Quincy exclaimed. “Something has turned up at the State + House, but it will keep till morning.” + </p> + <p> + As they were ascending the stairs, Mrs. Hawkins called out, “Oh, Mr. + Sawyer, there was a letter came for you. It's up in your room.” + </p> + <p> + It was from Maude. “Let us see what that volatile sister of mine has to + say. Something very important or she wouldn't write.” As he opened the + note sheet, he turned to his wife. “Shall I read it aloud?” + </p> + <p> + “I should love to hear it.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * * * * * +</pre> + <p> + “MY ABSENT RELATIVE: You will be delighted to hear that I have found + Captain Hornaby's missing coat and wallet. I was out in the new boat when + I saw something on the bottom of the pond. You know the water is as clear + as glass. It wasn't very deep and I fished the coat up with an oar. I gave + it to father and he examined the wallet with apparently great interest. + Perhaps he thought there was some money in it, but there wasn't. There + were some visiting cards bearing the name Col. Arthur Spencer, but nary a + red. Father is trying to find out who the Colonel is. I think father + loaned the Captain some money—don't you? Now that we have a real + live boat, no more slippery canoes for me. I hope you and Alice are having + a fine time—of course you will on your old stamping ground. + </p> + <p> + “I don't find any fault, because I'm so young and of so little importance, + but it seems funny that nobody ever invited me to visit Fernborough. + Please don't consider this a bid for an invite, for I won't come. Your + neglected sister, + </p> + <h3> + “MAUDE.” + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * * * * * +</pre> + <p> + “Is it possible?” cried Alice, “that Maude has never been here?” + </p> + <p> + “It is a lamentable fact.” + </p> + <p> + “She won't come now.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll fetch her,—hand-cuffed, if necessary.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy was up early to learn Merry's errand. A request had come from the + Governor of Colorado for the extradition of a Pole named Ivan Wolaski, who + was accused of being concerned in a dynamite explosion in a Colorado mine. + </p> + <p> + “Have you looked into the case, Harry?” + </p> + <p> + “Somewhat. I think it is part of a political feud.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy made preparation for an immediate departure. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Hawkins, I must go to Boston at once with Mr. Merry. Will you have + Andrew get a team ready for me? I will leave it at the Eagle Hotel. I know + the way home.” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to,” said she. “You've druv it times enough.” + </p> + <p> + “What will you do with yourself all day, Alice? I must go to the State + House on business, but I'll be back by six o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + “If I were home I'd have my horse saddled and have a ride out to the + Arboretum or Chestnut Hill.” + </p> + <p> + “They've no saddle horses here, unfortunately. I'll tell you what to do. + After dinner go down to Mandy Maxwell's and see her and the children, and + have a talk with Uncle Ike. I'll be there in time for supper, tell Mandy.” + </p> + <p> + When Quincy went down stairs he found that Mrs. Hawkins had gone out to + the stable to give Andrew directions about the team. + </p> + <p> + Quincy said in a low tone: “Mrs. Hawkins, have you some spare stalls in + your stable that I can use while here?” + </p> + <p> + “You can have the old barn all to yourself. It's a leetle further from the + house, but it's in first-rate order.” + </p> + <p> + As they drove towards Eastborough Centre, Quincy pointed out the objects + of interest to Mr. Merry, who thought Fernborough a beautiful town. + </p> + <p> + “Come down next Saturday afternoon, Harry, and stay over Sunday. Bring + down any important letters. Perhaps my sister Maude will come back with + me.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Merry accepted the invitation with polite outward thanks, but with an + inward sense of intense gratification. Love is blind. If he had reflected, + he would have come to the conclusion that the daughter of the Hon. + Nathaniel Adams Sawyer, the millionaire, was not for him, an unfledged + lawyer with a mother to support. + </p> + <p> + When they reached Eastborough Centre, Quincy found he was too late for the + train. He had nearly an hour at his disposal. His first visit was to the + Eagle Hotel, where he put up the horse. Mr. Parsons, the proprietor, was + greatly pleased to meet him. + </p> + <p> + “You haven't forgotten how we railroaded Strout out of office, have you?” + </p> + <p> + “That was long ago,” said Quincy. “Strout and I are good friends now. He's + one of my partners in the Fernborough store.' + </p> + <p> + “So I've been told.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy took Mr. Parsons aside and had an animated conversation with him. + </p> + <p> + “I can get you just what you want, Guv'nor. Kind and gentle but some go in + them when needed.” + </p> + <p> + “Send them to the Hawkins House and don't forget the saddles.” + </p> + <p> + They crossed the square to the telegraph office, where Quincy sent this + message. + </p> + <p> + “Miss MAUDE SAWYER, + </p> + <p> + “Wideview, Redford, Mass. + </p> + <p> + “Meet me at State House by two o'clock. Leave your trunk at station. + Something important. + </p> + <h3> + “QUINCY.” + </h3> + <p> + As they were leaving the office Quincy met Tobias Smith, father of Abbott + and Ellis Smith, and Wallace Stackpole. + </p> + <p> + “Glad to see you, Guv'nor,” said 'Bias. “You remember Mr. Stackpole that + we gave Strout's job of tax-collector to—he's held it ever since. + We're mighty glad Strout lives in Fernborough. We don't have circuses at + town meetings now he's gone.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy's next visit was to the office of the <i>Fernborough Gazette</i>, + which was published in Eastborough, as the editor and proprietor, Mr. + Sylvester Chisholm, Mr. Strout's brother-in-law, could not get printers in + Fernborough, and, being an Eastborough-born boy, his paper had a large + circulation in that town and in Westvale, its principal village. + </p> + <p> + Quincy obtained some copies of the paper containing his speech at the Town + Hall. On looking it over he was astonished to find it reported <i>verbatim</i>. + </p> + <p> + “How did you manage it, Mr. Chisholm? My address was extemporaneous.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvester smiled. “Well, the fact is, Mr. Sawyer, while I was working on + the <i>Eastborough Express</i>, when you were here five years ago, I + studied short-hand, and it came in handy that night.” + </p> + <p> + The train was express to Boston and Quincy was in his chair in the + Executive Chamber by half-past eleven. After a careful examination of the + case of Ivan Wolaski, he decided to refuse the request for extradition, + and the Governor of Colorado was so notified in a communication which from + moral, legal, political, and humanitarian points of view was unanswerable. + It was nearly two o'clock when the last official letter was signed. + </p> + <p> + The door was opened by the messenger. Quincy expected Maude to enter, but + it was Mr. Acton, the energetic opponent of the “peaceful picketing” law. + </p> + <p> + “I heard, Mr. Governor, that you were here, and I thought it only fair to + inform you that we shall apply for injunctions just the same as if that + bill you signed had not become a law, and, in that way, test its + constitutionality.” + </p> + <p> + “You have a legal right to do that,” said the governor, “but I question + your moral right.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” asked Mr. Acton. + </p> + <p> + “Supposing I had applied for an injunction to prevent you and a score of + others from trying to influence me to veto the bill?” + </p> + <p> + “That would have been foolish. No judge would have granted it.” + </p> + <p> + “And why not?” said the governor sternly. “Were not all of you engaged in + 'peaceful picketing'? Why should not the working man have the same right + to persuade his fellows that you exerted to influence me?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Acton had not exhausted his argument: “But the probable destruction of + property and possible loss of life?” + </p> + <p> + “Matters fully covered by law,” the Governor replied. “They are under the + jurisdiction of the police, the sheriff, and, if need be, the militia.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Acton, despite the argument advanced, “was of the same opinion still.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy rang for the messenger, who appeared. + </p> + <p> + “I am going now. Does any one wish to see me?” + </p> + <p> + “There's a young lady outside. She's been waiting some time.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy looked at his watch. It was quarter past two. + </p> + <p> + “Admit her, at once.” + </p> + <p> + Maude began the conversation. “I received your astonishing telegram, + Quincy, and was here <i>on time</i>,” and she emphasized the final words. + </p> + <p> + “What does it mean? Is Alice sick?” + </p> + <p> + Quincy took the cue. “Not exactly sick, but she wants to see you very + much, and I felt so sure you would come to please her, that I ignored your + refusal to accept an invitation from me. Come, we'll have lunch at + Young's, and then a carriage to the station,—is your trunk there?” + </p> + <p> + Maude nodded. She felt that Quincy had played a trick on her and she was + in a rebellious mood. + </p> + <p> + She ate her lunch in silence. Not a word was spoken during the drive to + the station. When the train was under way Quincy remarked, casually, “I + invited Mr. Merry to come down next Saturday and stay over Sunday.” + </p> + <p> + From that moment until they reached Eastborough Centre, Quincy could not + have desired a more talkative or vivacious companion. As they stepped upon + the platform, Mr. Parsons came up. + </p> + <p> + “They're there, safe and sound. I went up with them myself, so's to be + sure.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. — “JUST LIKE OLD TIMES” + </h2> + <p> + Alice had a delightful day at Mandy Maxwell's. The twins, Abraham Mason + and Obadiah Strout, sturdy little fellows of the same age as Ezekiel's + boy, were full of fun and frolic. Swiss, Uncle Ike's dog, had grown old in + the past five years, but the antics of the youngsters overcame at times + both age and its accompanying dignity, or love of repose, and he was often + as frisky as in his younger days. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Crowley told Alice, in confidence, that she “was most dead” with the + noise of them, and that, some day, she would be “kilt intirely” by falling + over them. + </p> + <p> + Alice held the little girl for hours, and, remembering Mrs. Hawkins' + complaint, called her “Martha” instead of “Mattie.” + </p> + <p> + After the death of Capt. Obed Putnam, his companion, Uncle Ike came down + from his attic and had the room that Quincy occupied when he boarded with + Ezekiel Pettingill. He was now eighty-one years of age, and too feeble to + go up and down stairs, so his meals were taken to his room. + </p> + <p> + He was greatly pleased to see Alice and to learn that there had been no + return of the trouble with her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “If we had known as much then as we do now, you wouldn't have needed any + doctor, Alice.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, how's that?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Because the mind governs the body; as we think we are—we are.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Uncle Ike, why don't you think you are able to go down stairs and + walk back again?” + </p> + <p> + “I was referring to disease, not the infirmities of old age.” + </p> + <p> + “What's the difference, Uncle?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't explain it, but there's a mighty sight of difference. I've been + trying to get Mandy to let me live on sour milk, because a great doctor in + Europe says we'll live longer if we do.” + </p> + <p> + “How long would you care to live?” + </p> + <p> + “As long as I could. I've been reading up on all the religions and all the + substitutes, and it's going to take me some time to decide which is best—for + me, I mean. I don't presume to dictate to others.” + </p> + <p> + “Which do you favour so far?” + </p> + <p> + “I was brought up on theology—great, big doses of it. I was taught + that God was everything and man was nothing. Now I'm willing to give the + Almighty credit for all his wonderful works, but I can't help thinking + that <i>man</i> deserves some credit for his thousands of years of labour. + There's a man out in Chicago who has got up a religion that he calls + Manology. There's some good points in it, but he goes too far to suit me. + I've read about ghosts and spirits, but I've got to see one before I take + stock in them.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand how you feel, Uncle. You have lost the two anchors which + make this life bearable. They are Faith and Hope. For them you have + substituted Reason—not the reason of others, or of the ages, but + your own personal opinion. Until you are satisfied, every one else is + wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you're right, Alice. I can see now that my life has been + misspent. I should have remained at home and made my wife and children + happy. Instead, I became, virtually, a hermit, and for more than twenty + years I have thought only of myself and done nothing for humanity, that + has done everything for me.” + </p> + <p> + Alice was deeply touched by her Uncle's self-accusation. He had been good + to her, and not unkind to others. But he was drifting in a sea of doubt, + and really wishing to live his life over again. She felt sorry, but what + could she say to give his mind peace? She would begin on the material + plane. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle, how much money have you?” + </p> + <p> + “That's what troubles me, Alice. When I left home”—his voice + lingered on the word—“I gave my wife and children two-thirds of what + I had. The rest I put into an annuity, which dies with me. That will do + nothing for those I love and who love me.” + </p> + <p> + To Alice, the case seemed almost hopeless. Here was a man who, owning his + past life had been self-reliant, independent, impatient as regarded advice + and control—was now weaker than a child, for, in youth, Faith is + triumphant. + </p> + <p> + “You must have a talk with Quincy, Uncle. Perhaps he can help you.” She + went down stairs with a sinking heart. She loved her uncle, but love, + powerful as it is, cannot always cast out unbelief. + </p> + <p> + “Where can your husband be, Alice?” asked Mandy. “Half-past six, and + supper's ready. I remember how I used to call out 'supper's ready' when + you and he were in the parlour singing. I hope you'll sing some to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Crowley rushed into the dining room. “He's coming, but he's got a + woman with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Who can she be?” thought Alice as they followed Mrs. Crowley to the front + door. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Alice,” cried Maude. “I've brought him back with me.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy told Ambrose, Mandy's boy-of-all-work, to drive the team to the + Hawkins' House and tell Mrs. Hawkins that he wished a room that night for + his sister. Ambrose's hand clutched the half-dollar tightly as he repeated + the message to Quincy's satisfaction. Mrs. Crowley gazed admiringly at the + Governor until he disappeared from view. Alone, in the kitchen, she gave + vent to her feelings. + </p> + <p> + “The foine gintleman that he is. 'How do you do, Mrs. Crowley.' sez he, + and he shakes me hand as jintly as if I was a born lady. And the pretty + sister that he has, an' the beautiful wife. An' he's the President of the + State, an' sez he, 'Mrs. Crowley, how do you do, an' it's delighted I am + to see you again.'” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Crowley wiped her eyes with her apron and resumed her household + duties, occasionally repeating, “'How do you do, Mrs. Crowley.' When Dan + comes to-night I'll tell him what the Governor said.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram soon joined the party, it being his night off. As of old, he + stammered, or stuttered, when excited, and the sight of Quincy and Alice + was enough to entirely disorganize his speaking apparatus. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't this jolly?” said he. “Just like old times. I heerd you was at Miss + Hawkinses, but I didn't think as how you'd git round here so quick. But + we're mighty glad to see 'em, ain't we, Mandy? I hope you're all as hungry + as I am.” He went to the kitchen door and called, “Mrs. Crowley, we're + waiting for the supper.” + </p> + <p> + “How I wish Uncle Ike could be with us,” said Alice. + </p> + <p> + “Why can't you call him?” asked Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “He's too weak in his legs to come down,” said Mandy. + </p> + <p> + “I'll fetch him,” and Quincy bounded up stairs, while Mandy got a place + ready for him. + </p> + <p> + Quincy soon returned with Uncle Ike in his arms and placed him in a big + arm-chair at the head of the table. + </p> + <p> + Alice looked up and smiled at her husband. + </p> + <p> + “Now it is much more like old times,” she said, softly. + </p> + <p> + Maude, who had been an interested listener and spectator, finally + exclaimed, “I'm not surprised that you stayed down here four months, + Quincy, but we used to wonder, until we saw Alice, what the great + attraction was.” + </p> + <p> + Maude's explosive remark caused a general laugh in which Uncle Ike joined. + Alice, feeling that all eyes were fixed upon her, blushed prettily, “As my + husband's residence here brought good to others as well as to myself, I am + glad that a poor, blind girl, such as I was, proved an attraction strong + enough to keep him here.” + </p> + <p> + She stopped, somewhat abashed at making so long a speech, which Maude + might think indicated that she was offended at her sister-in-law's + reference to herself. + </p> + <p> + “Bravo, Alice,” cried Uncle Ike, “so say we all of us.” + </p> + <p> + After supper all adjourned to the parlour. Quincy offered to carry Uncle + Ike. + </p> + <p> + “No, young man. I'm all right on an even floor. It's these up and down + stairs that tire my loose joints”—and he made his way, without + assistance, to an easy chair in a farther corner. Quincy looked about the + room. Five years had made little change. The old square piano was in its + accustomed place, as well as the music stand. He looked over the pieces—the + same ones that he and Alice had sung together years ago. + </p> + <p> + “Let's have some music,” said Hiram. “We haven't heard any singers, except + Dan, since you folks went away. Guess that pianner's out of tune by this + time.” + </p> + <p> + It certainly was, but their hearts were in tune, and it mattered little if + some of the keys refused to move, or the sounds emitted were more + discordant than melodious. + </p> + <p> + “Is this Dan a good singer?” asked Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “Fine!” exclaimed Hiram. “He's great on Irish songs.” + </p> + <p> + “They are always humourous or pathetic,” remarked Alice. “Some of them + remind me of a person trying to laugh with a heart full of sorrow, and + their love songs are so sweet.” + </p> + <p> + “Can't we have him in?” asked Maude. + </p> + <p> + “I'll go and see if he's come,” said Mandy. “He often drops in and helps + Mrs. Crowley clear up after supper.” + </p> + <p> + Maude laughed. “A sure sign he's in love. I hope I'll get such a helpful + husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Your life will be on different lines,” remarked Uncle Ike. “You will not + be obliged to do your own housework.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know about that. I've loafed all my life and I'd really like to + know what work is.” + </p> + <p> + Mandy came back with smiling face. “Yes, he's there, and they're putting + the dishes in the closet. He's coming in, and, of course, Mrs. Crowley + will come too.” + </p> + <p> + “While we are waiting, play something, Maude,” said Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “I only took three quarters,” she said roguishly, as she seated herself + and dashed off “Waves of Ocean” in strident style. + </p> + <p> + “I always liked that,” said Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “So do I, with my bathing-dress on,” and Maude acknowledged the applause + that greeted her efforts with a low bow. + </p> + <p> + The door was opened, and Mrs. Crowley entered followed by Mr. Daniel + Sweeney. Mrs. Crowley with her neat calico dress and white apron, did not + look her forty-five years, and Mr. Sweeney, although five years her + senior, was a young appearing man. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't the music with me,” said Mr. Sweeney to Maude, who offered to + play the accompaniment. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Give me the key—I guess I can vamp it.” + </pre> + <p> + Mr. Sweeney struck a note. + </p> + <p> + “What's the title?” asked Maude. + </p> + <p> + “Widow Mahan's Pig.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know that,” said Maude. “It's one of my favourites. I often sing it + to my sister Florence. She just adores it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Maude,” cried Alice, “how can you tell such stories?” But Quincy was + laughing quietly. But few people understood Maude as he did. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sweeney had a fine baritone voice; he sang with great expression, and, + what is particularly desirable in a comic song, the words could be heard + and understood. + </p> + <h3> + I. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Young Widow Mahan had an iligant pig, + In the garden it loved for to wallow and dig; + On potatoes it lived, and on fresh buttermilk, + And its back was as smooth as fine satin or silk. + Now Peter McCarthy, a graceless young scamp, + Who niver would work, such a lazy young tramp, + He laid eye on the pig, as he passed by one day, + And the thafe of the world, he stole it away! + + <i>Chorus</i> + + An iligant pig in every way, + Young Widow Mahan used often to say: + “Faith, when it's full grown, I'll go to the fair, + A mighty foine price I'll get for it there.” + </pre> + <p> + As Mr. Sweeney started to repeat the four lines of the chorus, a soprano + voice rose above his own, and, as the last note died away, Maude came in + for her share of the applause. Mrs. Crowley was delighted, and showed her + appreciation by laughing until she cried. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + II. — He drove the poor piggy to Ballyporeen, + And the price of it soon he did spend in poteen, + He got into a fight and was cracked on the head, + Then to jail he was carried and taken for dead. + The constable then for the Father did send, + For he thought that McCarthy was quite near his end; + He confessed to the priest, did this penitent youth, + About the pig stealing he told the whole truth. +</pre> + <p> + Maude improvised a short symphony before the third and last stanza. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + III. — Then to young McCarthy, the Father did say: + “Now what will you do at the great Judgment Day? + For you will be there, at the bar you will stan' + The pig as a witness, and Widow Mahan.” + “Faith, what will I do?” young McCarthy did say. + “An' the pig will be there at the great Judgment Day? + Begorre! I'll say to the Widow, 'Asthore, + Take back your old pig, for I want it no more' + + “'An iligant pig in ivery way, + Schwate Widow Mahan, plaze take it away. + Faith, now it's full grown, just go to the fair, + A mighty foine price you'll git for it there.'” + </pre> + <p> + “Yes,” said Uncle Ike, “that's what the rich man will say. After cheating + the poor, buncoing the credulous, and 'cornering' his fellows, he will say + he is willing to give it back, for he has no further use for it. There's a + good moral in that song, Mr. Sweeney, and some of our sordid millionaires + ought to hear it.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy looked at his watch. “The hour is late—for the country, but, + fortunately, our hotel keeps open all night.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy carried Uncle Ike up stairs to his room and told him he would come + some day and have a good old-fashioned talk with him. + </p> + <p> + They walked home slowly, Maude admiring the moonlight night and the cool, + scented air. When they reached their own room, after seeing Maude to hers, + Alice repeated to her husband her conversation with Uncle Ike. + </p> + <p> + “You must do something to cheer him up, Quincy. Promise me, won't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I promise. I hope I won't forget to perform it as I have in one + instance.” + </p> + <p> + “Why—what?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember that young man at the Town Hall—Arthur Scates? He's + in consumption. I told him to come to the State House and I would see that + he had proper treatment. He hasn't been—or perhaps he has since I've + been away, but I will see him to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Alice looked up at him approvingly. “Quincy, I agree with you that the + real value of money is found in the good that can be done with it.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. — STROUT AND MAXWELL'S GROCERY + </h2> + <p> + The next morning, after breakfast, Quincy asked his wife and Maude to + accompany him to Mrs. Hawkins' barn. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I had my saddle horse here,” said Alice. + </p> + <p> + “So do I,” added Maude. “I did think of bringing him.” + </p> + <p> + Alice laughed, “Do you know, Maude, sometimes you say the most ridiculous + things? How could you bring a horse with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Easy enough—on a cattle car. Besides, I could have ridden down here + if Quincy hadn't been in such a hurry.” + </p> + <p> + “Alone?” + </p> + <p> + “No, with Bobby. What better protector can a woman have than a good horse? + I shall never remain in danger long if my heels or my horse's will get me + away from it.” + </p> + <p> + “Maude, you're a strange girl,” said Alice. Then she put her arm about her + and added—“but one of the best girls in the world.” + </p> + <p> + By this time they had reached the barn. Two stalls were occupied. Quincy + pointed to two side-saddles hanging on the wall. + </p> + <p> + “As I knew you were both good horse-women, I had these sent up with your + riding habits from Eastborough Centre yesterday. I am going to be busy at + the store this morning, and I thought you might enjoy a ride.” + </p> + <p> + Maude threw her arms about his neck and kissed him. + </p> + <p> + “You are the bestest brother in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “And the most thoughtful husband,” said Alice as he drew her close to him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll saddle them and see you mounted.” + </p> + <p> + A quarter of an hour later Quincy led the horses to the street. + </p> + <p> + “Don't go down Obed's Hill—it is very steep. Ride along Pettingill + Street to the Centre Road, which will bring you to Mason Street, and when + you've walked your horses up hill you'll be near the grocery store, where + you'll find me.” + </p> + <p> + They waved a good-bye as they rode off, and Quincy made his way to the + grocery store. Mr. Strout came from behind the counter to meet him. Hiram + was busy putting order baskets in the gaudily painted wagon. + </p> + <p> + “I heard as how you were in town, and Hiram said you were at his house + last night, but I ain't one of the kind that gits mad if I'm waited on + last at table. In music you know we usually begin down low and finish off + up high, and visitin' is considerable like music, especially when there's + three children and one of 'em a baby.” + </p> + <p> + His closing words were intended to refer to Hiram's family, but Quincy + made no reply. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout was never at a loss for words: “How do you like being + Governor?” + </p> + <p> + “So well that one term is enough. I'm going to Europe later.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean to go some day. I've heard so many foreigners blow about what + they've got over there, I'm kinder anxious to see for myself. If they've + got a better grocery store than this, I'll introduce improvements as soon + as I get back.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram having finished his work and dispatched the team, the three partners + went into the private office, which was monopolized by Mr. Strout. It + contained one desk and two chairs. Hiram brought in an empty nail keg and + closed the door. + </p> + <p> + “We've done twenty per cent. more business this month than same time last + year.” Mr. Strout opened a desk drawer. “Will you smoke, Guv'nor?” + </p> + <p> + Quincy accepted the cigar, and Strout, without offering one to Hiram, was + returning the box to the drawer when Hiram, by a quick movement, gained + possession of it, and taking out half-a-dozen put them in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “That'll even matters up a little, I guess,” he said. Mr. Strout scowled, + but catching Quincy's eye, said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Would you like to look over the books? I'll have them brought in.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't trouble yourself to do that,” said Quincy. “I'll examine them at + the bookkeeper's desk.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well,” said Strout. “You'll find them O. K. But now's you're + here there's one thing I want to say. Hiram don't agree with me, but he + ain't progressive. There's no <i>crescendo</i> to him. He wants to play in + one key all the time. He's—” + </p> + <p> + Quincy interrupted, “What did you wish to say about the business? We'll + drop personalities for the present, at least.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, our business is growing, but we can do ten times as much with more + capital. What I want to do is to start branch stores in Cottonton, + Montrose, and Eastborough Centre. We send our teams to all these places, + but if we had stores there we'd soon cut the other fellers out, for buying + in such large quantities, we could undersell them every time.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm rather in favour of the branches, but don't go to cutting prices. The + other fellow has the same right to a living that we have.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not let him have what he's got then and not interfere with him?” said + Mr. Strout, chewing his cigar vigorously. + </p> + <p> + “For the reason,” said Quincy, “that we don't keep store to please our + competitors, but to serve the public. I believe in low prices in sugar, + tea, and coffee, to draw trade. But general cuts in prices are ruinous in + the end, for our competitors will cut too, and we shall all lose money.” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't agin the new stores,” said Hiram, “but I'm teetotally agin + chopping prices down on everything and tryin' to beat the other feller.” + </p> + <p> + “How much money will it require?” asked Quincy. “Have you estimated on + rent, fixtures, stock, horses and wagons, stabling, wages and salaries, + and sundry expenses?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I've got it all down in black and white, it's in the safe. My + estimate, and it is as close as the bark to a tree, is six thousand + dollars spot cash.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll look over your figures,” said Quincy, “and if they seem all right, + I'll advance the money on the usual terms, eight per cent., but I must + have a four thousand dollar mortgage to cover your two-thirds, for I don't + suppose you can put up two thousand apiece.” + </p> + <p> + “Not this year,” said Strout, as he proceeded to relight his cigar. + </p> + <p> + The door was thrown open violently and Alice rushed in. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Quincy, Maude's horse has run away with her and I'm afraid she's + thrown and perhaps killed. I tried to catch up with her but I could not, + and I saw nothing else to do but to come and let you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Which way has she gone?” cried Quincy. “How did it happen?” + </p> + <p> + “We stopped at 'Zekiel's and had a talk with Huldah, who came down to the + gate. Then we went on until we came to the Centre Road. When Maude saw the + long straight stretch ahead she cried, 'Let's have a race!' Before I could + remonstrate, she gave her horse a sharp cut with the whip. He took the bit + in his teeth and bolted. I rode on as fast as I dared to, but when I + reached Mason Street she was not in sight.” + </p> + <p> + “If she had come this way we should have seen or heard her,” said Quincy. + “She must have gone towards Eastborough Centre. Come, Alice, I will get + the carryall. If she is hurt she will not be able to ride her horse.” + </p> + <p> + Leading her horse, Quincy and Alice went to the Hawkins House. + </p> + <p> + “He takes it pretty cool,” said Strout to Hiram. “If she was my sister I'd + ring the church hell, make up a party, and go in search of her dead body, + for that's what they'll come back with.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't take no stock in that,” remarked Hiram. “She's used to horses, + and she's a mighty bright, independent girl. She'll come home all right.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt she's independent enough,” retorted Strout. “That runs in the + family. But the horse, it seems, was independent too. Perhaps the Guv'nor + will have a boxing match with him for his independence to a Sawyer.” + </p> + <p> + As Hiram went back into the store he said to himself: “That Strout's only + a half-converted sinner anyway. He'll never forget the thrashing that Mr. + Sawyer gave his man, Bob Wood.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy had Alice go to her room, for she was agitated and extremely + nervous, and he asked Mrs. Hawkins to look out for her until his return. + </p> + <p> + With Andrew's help, the carryall was soon ready and Quincy drove to the + store. What was his surprise to find Maude there, still on her horse, and + apparently uninjured. With her, also on horseback was an attractive girl, + a stranger to Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “I'm all right, Quincy,” Maude cried as he alighted, “but there would have + been a funeral but for this young lady.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy, with hat in hand, bowed to the stranger. “I am deeply grateful for + your valuable service, madam. To whom are we indebted for my sister's + rescue from death?” + </p> + <p> + The young lady smiled, showing a set of even, white teeth. “Not so great a + service after all. Your sister is a good horsewoman. If she hadn't been, + she would have been thrown long before I reached her.” + </p> + <p> + “But your name, Madam,” persisted Quincy. “Her father will wish to know, + and to thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “My name when in Fernborough is Mrs. Emmanuel Howe. When I'm on the stage, + it is Dixie Schaffer. I was born in the South. My father was Col. Hugh + Schaffer of Pasquotank County, North Carolina.” + </p> + <p> + “My father and all of us will feel under great obligations to you.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope he will not. I have no objections to receiving his thanks in + writing, if he is disposed to send them, which I think unnecessary as you + are his representative. But kindly caution him not to suggest or send any + reward, for it will be returned.” She bowed to Quincy, turned her horse's + head and rode away. + </p> + <p> + As Strout entered the store he said to himself, “Bully for her. She don't + bow down to money. She's got brains.” + </p> + <p> + A few days later, however, Miss Dixie Schaffer was the recipient from the + Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer of a beautiful gold pendant in the shape of a + horseshoe, set with pearls. If one could have glanced at a stub in the + lawyer's check book, he would have found the name of a prominent jeweller, + and the figures $300. It is needless to add that the gift was not returned + to the donor. When Alice saw that Maude had escaped without injury, she + soon recovered her equanimity. + </p> + <p> + “How did it happen, Maude?” asked Quincy. “Alice says you gave the horse a + sharp blow.” + </p> + <p> + “I must have hit her harder than I intended—but I was thinking of + the race more than of her. Didn't she run, hurrah-ti-cut, as Mrs. Hawkins + says? I was bound I'd keep on her back unless she fell down or ran into + something, and I did. I wasn't foolish enough to jump and land on my head. + </p> + <p> + “When we got to the main road, I didn't know which way to turn—I + mean I couldn't think. She settled the matter by turning to the right, + which was very fortunate, but I didn't know I was on the road to Dixie.” + </p> + <p> + “Maude, you're incorrigible,” laughed Alice. + </p> + <p> + “No, I'm a sensation. I was full of them as I dashed on. But she was a + well-bred horse and kept in the middle of the road. Then, to my joy, I saw + Dixie ahead. As I went by her I yelled—yes, yelled—'she's + running away.' + </p> + <p> + “Dixie yelled—yes, yelled—'Hold on, I'll catch you.' She did, + but we ran more than a mile before she got even with me, grasped my + horse's bridle, and pulled her round so quickly that I came near landing + in the bushes. And here I am.” + </p> + <p> + “You must not ride her again,” said Alice. + </p> + <p> + “That's just what I am going to do. I'm not going to deprive that horse of + my company, when it was all my fault. No more whip, she needs only the + voice—and little of that.” + </p> + <p> + “Alice,” said Quincy, “Mr. Strout has invited us to dinner. He will be + offended unless his invitation is accepted.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't feel equal to meeting that man in his own house. I cannot bear + him even at long range. Take Maude.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll go, Quincy. I love these odd characters.” + </p> + <p> + “He's married and has a little boy,” said Alice. + </p> + <p> + “Then my love for the father will be invisible—I'll shower my + affection upon his offspring.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy, after introducing his sister to Mr. Strout and his wife, expressed + his regret that his wife was so unnerved by the runaway that she was + unable to accompany him. Mr. Strout, in turn, expressed his regrets, as + did Mrs. Strout, then he added: “Miss Sawyer, we'll have to pay you a + commission. The store has been full of folks asking about you, and after I + told them all about the runaway and how you were rescued, they had to talk + it over, and I sold more than forty cigars and ten plugs of tobacco.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you know how I was rescued?” asked Maude. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I heard part and imagined the rest. I had to tell 'em something or + lose the trade.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Strout was a very good cook and the dinner was a success. + </p> + <p> + Strout leaned far back in his chair and Maude assumed a similar position. + Quincy looked at her reprovingly, but she did not change her attitude. To + her brother's astonishment, she addressed Mr. Strout. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you have travelled a great deal, Mr. Strout.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes, I have. Since I got back from the war I've taught music, and + as my pupils were too lazy to come to me, I went to them. But speaking of + travelling, I was in a runaway once. It had been snowing for about four + days without a break and the roads were blocked up. I had to go to + Eastborough Centre and I hired a horse I'd never driven before.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you have to put snow-shoes on him?” asked Maude. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, because I waited until the roads were broken out.” + </p> + <p> + “That's one on me,” acknowledged Maude. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I nearly tipped over a dozen times, but I got to the Centre where + the roads had been cleared. But my sleigh went into a gully and came down + on the horse's heels. My, wasn't she off in a jiffy! I held her in the + road, the men, and women, and children, and dogs and hens getting out of + the way as fast as they could. She was a going lickety-split, and although + I wasn't frightened, I decided she'd got to stop. + </p> + <p> + “I saw a house with an ell, and in the corner the snow was packed up ten + feet high. I had an idea. I put all my strength on to one rein, turned her + head, and she went into that snow bank out of sight, all but her tail. I + got out of the sleigh, sat down on the snow, and laughed till I thought + I'd die.” + </p> + <p> + “And the horse?” queried Maude. + </p> + <p> + “It took half an hour to dig her out. They say horses are intelligent, but + I don't think they know any more than hens.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought hens were bright,” said Maude. “They say they hide their eggs + so we can't poach and boil them.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you can judge. When we moved into this house all the doors had + glass knobs. I took them off, put them in a box and set them out in the + barn. I saw a hen setting, but didn't notice her particularly until one + day she got off the nest while I was in the barn, and true as I live, that + fool hen had been trying to hatch out those knobs.” + </p> + <p> + “They said you have a little boy, Mr. Strout,” Maude looked at him + inquiringly. “I hope he isn't sick.” + </p> + <p> + “No, he's all right. But we never let him come to the table when we have + company, because he talks too much.” + </p> + <p> + “What's his name?” + </p> + <p> + “That's the funny part of it. My wife has lots of relations, and some + wanted him named this, and some wanted him named that. So I went to the + library and looked at all the names in the dictionary.” + </p> + <p> + Maude's curiosity was excited. “What did you finally decide upon?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we haven't named him yet. We call him No. 3, I being No. 1, and my + wife No. 2.” + </p> + <p> + After their guests had departed, Mrs. Strout asked, “Why didn't you tell + Miss Sawyer that our boy's name was same as yours?” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't I?” snapped her husband. “Because she was so blamed anxious + for me to tell her. Them Sawyers are 'ristocrats. They look down on us + common people.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Strout remonstrated. “I thought he was real nice, and she's a lovely + girl. Besides, he set you up in business and made you postmaster.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did he do it for? Just to show the power of money. What did he + want of a grocery store except to beat me out of it?” + </p> + <p> + “But you owned up in your speech at the Town Hall that you'd treated him + mean, and that you were his friend.” + </p> + <p> + “That was official. Do you suppose he means all he says? No! No more than + I do. When I get enough money, there won't be but one partner in that + grocery store, and his name will be O. Strout.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. — UNCLE IKE AND OTHERS + </h2> + <p> + At the breakfast table next morning, Maude sat with her head bent over her + plate. All were awaiting Olive's advent with the fruit. + </p> + <p> + “At your devotions, Maude?” asked Alice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am thanking the Lord that my life was saved by a woman. <i>She</i> + can't ask me to marry her.” + </p> + <p> + A trio of “good mornings” greeted the Rev. Mr. Gay as he entered and took + his accustomed place at the head of the table. He bowed his head and asked + a blessing. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you ask a blessing, Mr. Gay?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gay looked up, but there was no levity in Maude's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It is our duty to thank the Almighty for his goodness in providing for + our physical ends.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Maude, “with the exception of the fruit all our food is + prepared by man. We couldn't eat it just as it grows.” + </p> + <p> + “God has given us the necessary intelligence to properly utilize his + blessings.” + </p> + <p> + “But some people starve to death,” said Maude, forsaking the main + argument. + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, yes, owing to man's lack of brotherly feeling, or rather, + a hap-hazard method of distributing his blessings. It is not God's will + that any of his creatures should lack food or raiment.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really believe, Mr. Gay, that God takes a personal interest in us? + That he sent Mrs. Howe yesterday to save my life?” + </p> + <p> + “I certainly do, Miss Sawyer.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't understand it,” said Maude. “I looked upon it simply as a lucky + coincidence. But supposing the horse had turned to the left, and stopped + of his own accord when he reached that steep hill. What would that prove?” + </p> + <p> + Quincy and Alice who had listened to the discussion, looked at the + clergyman, who hesitated before answering. At last, a smile lighted up his + face and he replied: “It would prove that, in that particular case, you + did not need the intervention of Heavenly power.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not convinced yet,” said Maude. “I am coming to hear you preach + to-morrow. Do make it plain to me, please.” + </p> + <p> + “With God's help, I will try to,” the clergyman answered. + </p> + <p> + Quincy passed the morning at the grocery, making arrangements for the + establishment of the branch stores, Mr. Strout's plans being approved with + some material modifications. Strout told his wife that Mr. Sawyer had + fixed it so he couldn't get control of the business, but that he would put + a flea in his ear some fine day. + </p> + <p> + “I can't see through it,” said Bessie Strout. “Why have your feelings + towards Mr. Sawyer changed so? I think he is a perfect gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “So he is. So am I. But we grew on different bushes.” Feeling that he did + not wish to confess that jealousy of others' attainments was the real + foundation of his hostility, Mr. Strout took his departure. Two hours + later Mrs. Strout was delighted at receiving a call from Miss Maude Sawyer + and the Governor's wife. + </p> + <p> + Quincy wished to have a talk with 'Zekiel about Uncle Ike, so he walked + over to the old Putnam house. He had asked his wife to accompany him, but + she declined. + </p> + <p> + “That house gives me the shivers,” she had said. “I never can forget the + ordeal I went through the day that Aunt Heppy died. I gave the house to + 'Zekiel because I never could have lived in it. Maude and I are going to + call on Mrs. Strout.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy found 'Zekiel in the barn, and broached the matter on his mind at + once. + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad you spoke of it,” said 'Zekiel. “I was over to Mandy's yesterday + and Uncle Ike wants to come and live with us. Not that he's dissatisfied + where he is, for he likes Mandy and the children, and they do everything + to make him comfortable—but it's the stairs. He wants to eat with + the others; he says he feels like a prisoner cooped up in one room. We + have a spare room on the ground floor that old Silas Putnam used to sleep + in. I'm only afraid of one thing—'twill be too much care for Huldah. + If I could get some one to help her with the work, she'd be glad and + willing to look after Uncle Ike.” “We must find some way out of it,” said + Quincy, as they parted. + </p> + <p> + His next visit was to the home of Arthur Scates. He found the young man in + bed and in a very weak condition. + </p> + <p> + “He's had two o' them bleedin' spells,” said his grandmother, “an' las' + night I thought sure he was a goner. But I giv him some speerits of ammony + and he perked up a little. Yer see, Mr. Sawyer, we're poor, an' it's no + use tryin' to cover it up, an' I can't give Arthur the kind of vittles he + ought to have. He wants nourishin' things an'”—The old lady's + feelings overcame her and she began to cry. “I'm ashamed of myself, but I + can't help it. He's my only son's boy, and he's an orphan, an' wuss. I'm + sixty years old, but I can do a day's work with any of the young ones, but + I can't leave him alone. I should have a conniption fit if I did.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy thought it advisable to allow the old lady to have her say out + before replying. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Scates, I think there are brighter days coming for you.” + </p> + <p> + “The Lord knows I have prayed hard enough for 'em.” Quincy spoke to + Arthur. “I expected to see you in Boston, but I suppose you were in too + poor health to come.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell him the whole truth, Arthur,” said his grandmother—“his health + was too poor an' we hadn't any money.” + </p> + <p> + “Arthur,” said Quincy, “I am going to find a home for you in a sanatorium + where you will have the treatment you need and the proper food to build + you up. One of these days, if you can repay me, well and good. If not, I + can afford to give it. Your voice may make your fortune some day. And, + now, Mrs. Scates, I've got some work for you. Mrs. 'Zekiel Pettingill—” + </p> + <p> + “She that was Huldy Mason,” broke in Mrs. Scates, “she was just the nicest + girl in town.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” assented Quincy, “she's going to have an addition to her family—” + </p> + <p> + “You don't say,” again interrupted Mrs. Scates. “Well, I've nussed a good + many—” + </p> + <p> + “You misunderstand me,” said Quincy quickly. “Her Uncle Ike is coming to + live with her, and she needs assistance in her work. You must go and see + her at once.” + </p> + <p> + While she was gone, Quincy explained to Arthur the nature of his coming + treatment; how he would have to virtually live out of doors daytimes and + sleep with windows and doors open at night. “I will see that you have good + warm clothes. I will pay for your board and treatment for a year, and give + you money for such things as you may need.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll try hard to get well so I can repay you,” said Arthur. + </p> + <p> + “She says she'll take me,” cried Mrs. Scates, as she entered the room—“just + as soon as I can come, and here's a big basket of apples and peaches, she + sent you, and—” the poor woman was quite out of breath. “I met that + minister, Mr. Gay, and he said he was coming up to see you, Arthur.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever go to Mr. Gay's church?” Quincy asked Mrs. Scates. + </p> + <p> + “Jus' onct, and that was enough. He'll have to leave here sooner or + later.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, he don't believe in no divil—an' ye can't make folks good + unless they knows there's a divil.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy recalled the story of the Scotch woman, a stern Presbyterian, who + thought if ten thousand were saved at the final judgment that it would be + “muckle many,” and who, when asked if she expected to be one of the elect, + replied “Sartainly.” He felt that a theological discussion with Grandma + Scates would end in his discomfiture and he wisely refrained. + </p> + <p> + Quincy reached Mandy Maxwell's just in time for dinner, and, at his + request, it was served in Uncle Ike's room. + </p> + <p> + “This is more cheerful,” said he to Quincy. “I once thought that being + alone was the height of enjoyment—and I did enjoy myself very + selfishly for a good many years. Has Alice told you of our conversation?” + </p> + <p> + Quincy nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I've been thinking about it since and I decided my first move would be to + live, if I could, with my own flesh and blood. But while they've got a + down-stairs room, it will be too much work for Huldah.” + </p> + <p> + “That's provided for,” said Quincy. “Mrs. Scates is going to help Huldah.” + </p> + <p> + “What's to become of her grandson—he's consumptive they tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “He's going to a sanatorium to get cured.” + </p> + <p> + “And you are going to pay the bills?” + </p> + <p> + Quincy nodded again. + </p> + <p> + “I get a lesson very often. You are using your money to help others, while + I've hoarded mine.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy looked at the speaker inquiringly. Alice had given him to + understand that her uncle had used his income for himself. + </p> + <p> + “I know what you're thinking, Mr. Sawyer. I did tell Alice I had an + annuity, but I haven't spent one-tenth of what's coming to me. I arranged + to have it put in a savings bank, and I've drawn just as little as I could + and get along. I bought a fifty thousand dollar annuity at sixty. I got + nine per cent, on my money, besides the savings bank interest. As near as + I can figure it out I'm worth about two hundred thousand dollars. I've + beat the insurance company bad, and I ain't dead yet. I have all this + money, but what good has it done anybody?” + </p> + <p> + “It can do good in the future, Uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to leave something to Mandy's boys—not too much—for + I'm afraid they'd squander it, and become do-nothings. What shall I do + with it?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you wish me to suggest a public use for your fortune?” + </p> + <p> + “That's what I've been telling you about it for. You've a good knack of + disposing of your own and other folks' money, and I thought you could help + me out.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy did not speak for some time. Finally he said, “Uncle Ike, the Town + Hall in Fernborough is but one mile from the centre of the city of + Cottonton. That city is peopled, principally, with low-paid cotton mill + operatives. Their employers, as a rule, are more intent on dividends than + the moral or physical condition of their help. Accidents are common in the + mills, many are broken down in health by overwork, and those who become + mothers are forced by necessity to resume work in the mills before their + strength is restored.” + </p> + <p> + Uncle Ike shut his teeth with a snap. “That's worse than hoarding money as + I've done. Mine may, as you say, do good in the future, but theirs is + degrading human beings at the present. I wish I could do something for + them, especially the mothers. It's a shame <i>they</i> have to suffer.” + </p> + <p> + “You can do something, Uncle Ike. My suggestion is, that you leave the + bulk of your fortune to build a hospital in Fernborough, but provide in + your will that the mill operatives of Cottonton, or all its poorer + inhabitants, if you so wish it, shall be entitled to free treatment + therein.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll do it,” cried Uncle Ike. “As soon as I get settled at 'Zeke's, I'll + send for Squire Rundlett to come and make out my will. You've taken a big + load off my mind, Mr. Sawyer.” + </p> + <p> + As Quincy was mounting Obed's Hill slowly, for it was very steep, he + thought to himself—“Getting Uncle Ike to do something practical + towards helping others was much better than talking theoretical religion + to him.” + </p> + <p> + When he reached the Hawkins House, Andrew was getting ready to drive to + Cottonton to meet the three o'clock express from Boston. + </p> + <p> + “There's a friend of ours coming down on that train, Andrew—a young + man named Merry.” He took out his note book, wrote a few lines, and passed + the slip with some money to Andrew. + </p> + <p> + “You get that—have it covered up so no one can see what it is, and + leave it in the barn when you get back.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy told his wife about Arthur Scates and Uncle Ike. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to take Uncle Ike to Mr. Gay's church to-morrow,” he added, + “but I didn't say anything about it to-day. I'm not going to give him time + to invent excuses.” + </p> + <p> + Maude did not conceal her pleasure at meeting Harry again. She was a + companionable girl, and Mr. Merry was too sensible to think, because a + young lady was sociable, that it was any indication that she was falling + in love with him. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going riding this evening, Alice?” Quincy walked to the window. + “The sunset is just glorious. There's a purple cloud in the west, the + edges of which is bordered with gold. There are rifts in it, through which + the sun shows—and now, come quickly, Alice, the sun, a ball of fire, + has just sunk below the cloud which seems resting upon it.” + </p> + <p> + When they turned away from the window, Alice said: + </p> + <p> + “I don't think I will ride any more. Maude must take the horse I had—he + is so gentle. What a pity Mr. Merry cannot go with her for a ride.” + </p> + <p> + “He can. I sent Andrew for a saddle for him to use.” + </p> + <p> + “Quincy, you are the most thoughtful man in the world.” + </p> + <p> + In less than half an hour Maude, with Harry riding the mare, were on their + way towards the Centre Road. When they returned, an hour later, there had + been no runaway, unless Harry's heart had undergone one. Maude's + countenance did not, however, indicate that she had participated in any + rescue. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. — A “STORY” SERMON + </h2> + <p> + The influx of mill operatives and mechanics from Cottonton in search of a + breathing place after a hard day's work, had led to the building up of the + territory north of Pettingill Street and east of Montrose Avenue. This + fact had led to the erection of the Rev. Mr. Gay's church in the extreme + northern part of the town, but near to both Montrose town and Cottonton + city. + </p> + <p> + “We are all coming to your church this morning, Mr. Gay,” said Quincy at + breakfast. + </p> + <p> + “I shall be glad to see you, but you must not expect a city service. The + majority, in fact all, of my parishioners are common people, and I use + plain language to them.” + </p> + <p> + “I think simplicity in devotional exercises much more effective than an + ornate service,” said Alice. + </p> + <p> + “Do you have a choir?” asked Maude. + </p> + <p> + “We can't afford one, but we have good congregational singing.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad of that,” said Maude. “I hate these paid choirs with their names + and portraits in the Sunday papers.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall take the carryall and go for Uncle Ike. It is a beautiful morning + and you will all enjoy the walk,” Quincy added. + </p> + <p> + Uncle Ike, at first, gave a decided negative. “I haven't been inside a + church for many a year and it's too late to begin now.” + </p> + <p> + “That's no argument at all,” said Quincy. “But my principal reason for + wishing you to go is so you can see the people that your hospital is going + to benefit one of these days.” + </p> + <p> + “But these preachers use such highfalutin' language, and so many + 'firstlies' and 'secondlies' I lose my hold on the text.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gay is a common, everyday sort of man, does not pose when out of his + pulpit, and never talks over the heads of his audience.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know all that?” + </p> + <p> + “I sit with him at table, and I've studied him. Then he told us not to + expect a city sermon for he used simple language, and they have + congregational singing.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll go—this once,” said Uncle Ike, and Quincy assisted him + in making his preparations. On their way to the church they passed two + couples—Alice and Mrs. Hawkins, and Maude and Mr. Merry. Mr. Jonas + Hawkins could not leave home for he was afraid the cats would carry off + his last brood of chickens. Some fifty had been hatched out, but only a + dozen had survived the hot weather, heavy rains, and the many diseases + prevalent among chickens. + </p> + <p> + When Mr. Gay arose to give out the first hymn, Maude said to Mr. Merry, + “Why, he looks like a different man. His red hair is a beautiful brown.” + </p> + <p> + “It's the light from the coloured glass windows,” commented Mr. Merry. + </p> + <p> + “Then it must be the curtains in Mrs. Hawkins' dining room that colour his + hair at home,” retorted Maude. + </p> + <p> + How grandly rose the volume of tone from scores of throats! Even Uncle + Ike's quavering voice joined in. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “All hail the power of Jesus' name, + Let nations prostrate fall; + Bring forth the royal diadem, + And crown Him Lord of all.” + </pre> + <p> + The organ creaked and wheezed somewhat, but so many fresh, young voices + softened its discordant tones. + </p> + <p> + A short prayer, and Mr. Gay began his sermon, if such it can be called. + </p> + <p> + “MY BRETHREN: My text, to-day is, 'The fool hath said in his heart, There + is no God.' All nations have a God, even if all the people do not believe + in him. The majority in each nation does believe in a God. Are those who + do not believe all fools? Unhappily, no. There are many highly educated + men and women who deny the existence of God. They claim man is a part of + Nature, and Nature is all. They forget the poet who wrote + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'Man is but part of a stupendous whole, + Whose body Nature is, and God the soul.' +</pre> + <p> + “Remember, God is the Soul. Each of you has a soul, a spark of the + Divinity. + </p> + <p> + “I can best support my argument by a story—a true one. + </p> + <p> + “I once knew a young man whom we will call Richard. He had a well-to-do + father and was sent to college. When he graduated, his father, a pious + man, wished him to study for the ministry. He objected, saying his health + was poor. He wished to go into the mountains, he lived in the West, and + his father consented. + </p> + <p> + “He drifted into a mining camp and whatever regard he may have had for + religion, soon disappeared. He was not a fool, but, in his heart, he said + there was no God. + </p> + <p> + “With another young man, whom we will call Thomas, he formed a + partnership, and they went prospecting for gold,—gold that the God + whom they would not acknowledge had placed in the earth. + </p> + <p> + “They were attacked by Indians and Thomas was killed. Richard was obliged + to flee for his life. His food was soon exhausted, he had no water, he had + no God to whom he could pray for help. + </p> + <p> + “He came to a hole in the ground, near a foothill. He got upon his knees + and looked down—yes, there was water—not much, but enough for + his needs—but it was beyond his reach. He leaned over the edge to + gaze upon the life-giving fluid that God has given us, and his hat fell + into the well. In his hat was his gold-dust—his fortune—so + useless to him then. He forgot his thirst for water in his thirst for + gold. + </p> + <p> + “There was a stout branch of a tree near by. He placed it across the top + of the hole. He would drop down into the well, and recover his hat, get a + drink of water and draw himself up again. The well did not seem more than + six feet deep, and with his arms extended he could easily reach the branch + and draw himself up to safety. He dropped into the well, found his hat + with its precious gold, drank some of the muddy water which, really, was + then more precious to him than the metal, and looked up. He extended his + arms but they fell short some six feet of reaching the branch. He had + under-estimated the depth of the well—it was fifteen instead of six + feet. + </p> + <p> + “He would clamber up the sides, he would cut steps with his knife and make + a ladder. The earth was soft, and crumbled beneath his weight. That mode + of escape was impossible. He was a prisoner in a hole with only muddy + water to sustain life for a short time, and no prospect of escape. + </p> + <p> + “Night came on. He looked up at the stars. They seemed no farther away + than the top of the well. + </p> + <p> + “When a child he had been taught to say 'Our Father who art in Heaven,' + Did he have a Father in Heaven? Was Heaven where those stars were? Was + that Father in Heaven the Being that folks called God? + </p> + <p> + “He fell into a deep sleep. When he awoke the stars were still shining, + but no nearer than before. + </p> + <p> + “In his loneliness, in his despair, he cried, 'Oh, God, help me!' He + covered his face with his hands and wept. He had forsaken the belief of a + lifetime. He had acknowledged that there was a God! + </p> + <p> + “There was a rustling sound above him, and a heavy body fell to the bottom + of the well. Some wild animal! He was unarmed with the exception of his + hunting-knife. That was slight protection against a savage beast, but he + would defend himself to the last. + </p> + <p> + “He listened. The animal, whatever it was, was breathing, but it did not + move. Perhaps it was stunned by the fall, but would soon revive. He would + kill it. A few firm blows and the beast was dead. It did not breathe. Its + body was losing its warmth. He was safe from that danger. + </p> + <p> + “He slept again. When he awoke the sun was high. Beside him was the dead + body of a mountain lion. + </p> + <p> + “He drank some more of the muddy water. He was so hungry. Was there no + means of escape? Must he die there with that dead lion for a companion? + </p> + <p> + “He had an inspiration. With his knife he cut the lion's hide into strips. + He tied these together until he had a rope. He threw it over the branch + and drew himself up. The Earth looked so bright and cheerful. He threw + himself upon his knees and thanked God for his deliverance. He was an + educated 'fool' no longer. He had found God in that pool of muddy water, + and God had sent a lion to deliver him. + </p> + <p> + “How do I know that the story I have told you is true? Richard returned to + his father's home. He went back to college and entered the divinity + school. He became a clergyman, and he has preached to you, to-day, from + the text, 'The Fool hath said in his heart that there is no God!'” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. — THE RAISED CHECK + </h2> + <p> + The Rev. Mr. Gay's parishioners looked at him in astonishment. He had + disbelieved in God but had been converted in what seemed a miraculous + manner. And yet, perhaps, after all, it was only a coincidence. Alice felt + sure that Uncle Ike would be of that opinion. + </p> + <p> + The pastor, as soon as he had made his sensational declaration, said “Let + us pray.” His appeal was for those who doubted—that God would open + their eyes—but not as his had been—to acknowledge his power + and mercy. + </p> + <p> + Then followed “Old Hundred.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Praise God from whom all blessings flow, + Praise Him all creatures here below.” + </pre> + <p> + A benediction, and the service was over. + </p> + <p> + There were seats for four in the carryall. Maude preferred to walk and Mr. + Merry was of the same mind. Mrs. Hawkins sat with Quincy on the front + seat, and Alice with Uncle Ike. + </p> + <p> + “What did you think of the sermon, Uncle Ike?” Alice asked. + </p> + <p> + “A thrilling personal experience. The fear of death has a peculiar effect + on some people—it kills their will power. Did Mr. Gay know that I + was to attend his church?” + </p> + <p> + Alice flushed. “Quincy mentioned it at the breakfast table.” + </p> + <p> + “Was he informed of my opinions on religious matters?” + </p> + <p> + “They were not mentioned before him.” + </p> + <p> + “Another coincidence”—and Uncle Ike relapsed into silence. + </p> + <p> + As they were nearing the Maxwell house, Alice asked, “Uncle Ike, are you + willing to have Mr. Gay call upon you?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no objection, if he will let me choose the subjects for + conversation,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + In the evening Maude and Mr. Merry walked to the Willows and back. + </p> + <p> + “Have you become a matchmaker?” Alice asked her husband. + </p> + <p> + “What prompts the question?” + </p> + <p> + “Maude and Mr. Merry have been thrown together very much. You approve of + you would prevent their intimacy.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy laughed. “Maude undoubtedly has a heart, but she doesn't know where + it is. Mr. Merry is too sensible a fellow to imagine Maude will fall in + love with him, or that he could support her if she did.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor logic, Quincy. Such marriages take place often, but unless they are + followed with parental blessings,—and financial backing,—seldom + prove successful. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the intimacy will end to-morrow morning. He will return to the + city, and, probably, never see her again.” + </p> + <p> + “I've no objection to Mr. Merry. I consider him a very fine young man. I + was thinking of Maude's happiness.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Merry did return to Boston early the next morning, and, to all + appearances, Miss Sawyer looked upon his action as a very natural one, and + one in which she was not particularly interested. If she had any secret + thoughts concerning him they were driven from her mind by the receipt of a + telegram just as they sat down to dinner. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “REDFORD, MASS., July 2, 187—. + “MAUDE SAWYER, Care of Q. A. Sawyer, + “Fernborough, via Cottonton. + “Do please come home at once. Something terrible + has happened. FLORENCE.” + </pre> + <p> + “What can it be? What do you think is the matter? The message is so + inexplicit.” + </p> + <p> + Her brother replied, “Florence evidently is living, unless some one used + her name in the telegram. If father or mother were sick or dead she + certainly would have said so.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not,” said Maude. “She might wish to break the news gently, in + person.” + </p> + <p> + “I am willing to wager,” said Quincy, “that the trouble affects her more + than any one else. But you must go, Maude, and Alice and I will go with + you, by the first train to-morrow morning.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy had Andrew get the carryall ready and he and Alice went round to + say good-bye. He told Arthur Scates he would come or send for him soon, + and that his grandmother could go and help Mrs. Pettingill. + </p> + <p> + Andrew was told to return the saddle to Cottonton, and Quincy decided that + they would go to Boston by way of Eastborough Centre, so Mr. Parsons could + be informed that they were through with the saddle horses. They found + Uncle Ike fully committed to the idea of founding the hospital. He had + seen Squire Rundlett, who was drawing up his will. The goodbye seemed more + like a farewell in Uncle Ike's case, for he had aged much in the last year + and was really very feeble. Alice told him that Mr. Gay had promised to + call upon him in a few days. + </p> + <p> + When they reached Boston, Quincy said: + </p> + <p> + “Maude, you must take the train at once for Redford and see what the + trouble is. I will leave Alice at home and run down to see you this + afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + Maude found Florence in her room, her nose red and her eyes filled with + tears. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Florence, what is it all about?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it is horrible,” and there was a fresh flood of tears. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sick? Mother says she is well and so is father.” + </p> + <p> + “It's all about Reggie.” + </p> + <p> + “Capt. Hornaby? Is he dead?” + </p> + <p> + “Worse. I wish he was. No, I don't mean that. But the disgrace.” + </p> + <p> + Maude was getting impatient. “What has he done? Married somebody else? But + he never proposed to you, did he?” + </p> + <p> + Florence wiped away her tears. “No, not exactly. But we understood each + other.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I can't understand you. Why don't you tell me what he's done?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you know that father loaned him some money when he lost his + pocketbook in the pond.” + </p> + <p> + Maude sniffed. “I imagined he did—nobody told me so.” + </p> + <p> + “Father gave him a check for five hundred dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “And the Captain's run away and won't pay. Those foreign fellows often do + that. What an appropriate name Hornaby Hook is.” + </p> + <p> + “He has paid. He sent father the money and said he was going back to + England at once.” + </p> + <p> + “So, ho! I understand now. My sister has been deserted, jilted, snubbed, + and her Sawyer pride is hurt. If you'd written me that I'd be in + Fernborough now, and so would Quincy and Alice. Florence, it was mean of + you to send such a bloodcurdling telegram for so simple a thing.” + </p> + <p> + “But that isn't all,” cried Florence. “When the check for five hundred + dollars that father gave him came back it had been raised to five + thousand, and father has lost all that money. Oh, it is all over, and I + shall never see him again.” + </p> + <p> + Another paroxysm of sobs, and a flood of tears. Maude's sisterly sympathy + was, at last, aroused. + </p> + <p> + “Don't take on so, Flossie. Perhaps he didn't do it after all.” + </p> + <p> + “But father is so indignant. Think of his being paid back with his own + money.” + </p> + <p> + Maude could not help laughing. “That was rather nervy, I'll admit. But + that very fact makes me think he's innocent.” + </p> + <p> + She didn't really think so, but Florence was likely to go into hysterics + and something must be done. + </p> + <p> + “You know his address. You had better write to him and see what he has to + say for himself.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't. Father says if I have any further communication with him, + directly, or indirectly, he'll disown me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, wait awhile. Father'll calm down in time. Cheer up, Flossie, dry + your eyes, and do put some powder on your nose. It's as red as a beet.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * * * * * +</pre> + <p> + A little later in the season, Quincy and Alice started for their summer + home at Nantucket, where they spent a pleasant two months, Quincy going up + to Boston when needed at the State House. As autumn approached, and the + time for the state election drew near, great influence was brought to bear + on Quincy to make him rescind his decision, and run for governor a second + time, but his mind was fully made up, and in spite of the urgings of the + leaders of his own party, as well as those of the public at large, he + remained firm in his resolve. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Evans worked hard for the nomination, but his predilections were well + known among the labouring classes, and he failed to receive the necessary + votes. Benjamin Ropes, a man respected by all, was elected governor, and + in January Quincy retired from public life, and settled down to what he + thought would be a period of rest and quiet with his wife in the Mount + Vernon Street home. + </p> + <p> + About the middle of the month, however, a letter came from Aunt Ella. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * * * * * +</pre> + <h3> + “FERNBOROUGH HALL, “HEATHFIELD, SUSSEX. + </h3> + <p> + “MY DEAR QUINCY AND ALICE: I was going to write nephew and niece, but you + both seem nearer and dearer to me than those formal titles express. I see + that Quincy is now out of politics, and I know that he needs a change. + Your rooms are all ready for you here, and I want you both to come, just + as soon as you can. It will be the best for you, too, Alice, as you will + escape the very bad winter that Boston always has. I was delighted to hear + the news, and I do hope and pray it will be a boy,—then we shall + have a Quincy Adams Sawyer, Junior. + </p> + <p> + “I wish Maude could come with you. I could introduce her to society here, + and, I have found—don't think me conceited—that there is + nothing that improves an English gentleman so much as having an American + wife. If some of your nice young American gentlemen would marry some + English girls and transplant them to American soil, I think the + English-speaking race would benefit thereby. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Sir Stuart is well, and so is + “Your loving aunt, + “ELLA.” + + * * * * * * * +</pre> + <p> + “The same Aunt Ella as of old,” said Quincy, “always full of new ideas and + quaint suggestions. It would be a good thing for you to go, I think, + Alice, and I should really relish the change myself. What do you say, a + steamer sails next week from here; shall we go?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Quincy, it is rather sudden, but I should be glad to see Aunt Ella + and Linda again, and I really see no reason why we should not go.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we will call that settled, then. And Maude, do you think she would + join us?” + </p> + <p> + “Not unless you take Mr. Merry with you,” replied Alice with a good + natured laugh. + </p> + <p> + Quincy called at the Beacon Street house that afternoon, and had a talk + with Maude about going to Europe with them. He read her Aunt Ella's + letter, and added, + </p> + <p> + “You see, she wishes you to come with us.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I won't go. She wants to marry me off to some Englishman with a + title and no funds. If I ever get married, my husband will be an American. + No, take Florence, and let her hunt up Captain Hornaby, her recreant + lover,—if he was one. She says they 'understood' each other, but + it's evident none of us comprehended—I came near saying apprehended—him.” + </p> + <p> + “I will speak to father about it,” said Quincy. “Please tell him that I'll + call at his office to-morrow morning. Give my love to Florence. I won't + trouble her about it until I've seen father.” + </p> + <p> + Alice thought Florence's substitution for Maude, as regarded the trip to + England, was advisable, and certainly showed Maude's good-heartedness. + </p> + <p> + When Quincy saw his father he made no mention of the Hornaby incident in + connection with Florence joining them on their trip abroad, but in spite + of this the Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer was, at first, strongly opposed to + the idea of his daughter going away from home. Quincy knew his father too + well to argue the matter, and turned the conversation to other subjects. + </p> + <p> + “I have brought my will, father, and wish you would put it in your safe. I + have left everything to Alice to do with as she pleases. I have named you + and Dr. Paul Culver as my executors. Have you any objection to serving?” + </p> + <p> + “You will be more likely to act as my executor than I as yours, but I + accept the trust, feeling sure that I shall have no duties to perform.” + </p> + <p> + “There's another matter, father, I wish to speak about. My former private + secretary, Mr. Merry, is studying law. When my term expired he, of course, + lost his position, for my successor, naturally, wished one of his own + friends in the place. If I were a lawyer, I would take him into my office, + but—” + </p> + <p> + “You can't use him in your grocery store,” interrupted the Hon. Nathaniel. + Quincy took the sarcasm good-naturedly, and laughed. That his father had, + to some extent, overcome his displeasure at his son becoming a tradesman, + was shown by his next words. + </p> + <p> + “Our law business is increasing daily, and perhaps I can make an opening + for him in the near future. I will bear him in mind.” + </p> + <p> + The Hon. Nathaniel reserved his decision in relation to Florence's trip + until he had discussed the matter with his wife, but the next day Maude + saw Alice and told her that her father had consented, on one condition, + and that was that Quincy would bring her back with him when he returned to + America. The Hon. Nathaniel was still suspicious of Aunt Ella, and + evidently thought that she wished to get control of his daughter as she + had of his son. + </p> + <p> + Quincy gave his father the required promise. Florence must have time to + prepare for such a long journey, so Quincy was obliged to give up the plan + of sailing from Boston on a certain date as he had intended. Besides, he + wanted, personally, to see how Arthur Scates was getting along at the + Sanatorium which was at Lyndon in the Adirondacks, and so he booked + passage on the steamer <i>Altonia</i>, to sail from New York in three + weeks. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. — THE WRECK OF THE <i>ALTONIA</i> + </h2> + <p> + “Florence will be ready to start to-morrow,” said Alice. This was welcome + intelligence to Quincy, who wished several days to spare in New York + before sailing. + </p> + <p> + As soon as his wife and sister were located at a hotel in New York, he + made the trip to Lyndon in the Adirondacks to see Arthur Scates. He found + him greatly improved, and he told Quincy that he had not felt so well in + years. The doctors, too, were more than pleased with his condition, and + said that it was only a question of a few months when he would be entirely + well again. + </p> + <p> + When he returned to New York he found that Alice had been to visit Mrs. + Ernst in West 41st Street. Madame Archimbault lived with them and still + carried on the millinery establishment on Broadway, in which Quincy had + accidentally discovered the long-sought Linda Putnam masquerading under + the name of Celeste. How that discovery had operated to change the lives + of many people came forcibly to Quincy as he sought Leopold Ernst in his + down-town office. + </p> + <p> + Leopold was almost hidden behind piles of manuscripts and newspapers when + Quincy entered his room. + </p> + <p> + “Up to your neck, Leopold?” + </p> + <p> + As soon as Leopold saw who had addressed him, he jumped up, pushed a pile + of manuscripts from his desk to the floor, and grasped Quincy's extended + hand in both of his. + </p> + <p> + “Let me help you pick up your papers,” said Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “No, they're in their proper places. They're rejected. I have accepted two + out of fifty or more. The American author sends tons to the literary mill, + but it grinds out but a few pounds. But the novices are improving. They + will yet lead the world, for we have a new country full of God's wonderful + works, and a composite population whose loves and hates reproduce in new + scenes all the passions of the Old World. They are the same pictures of + human goodness and frailty in new frames—and my business is to judge + the workmanship of the frames.” + </p> + <p> + They talked about old times, particularly the success of Alice's first + romance. + </p> + <p> + “Marriage is often fatal to literary activity. Is your wife to write + another book?” + </p> + <p> + “I think not. We expect an addition—not edition—to our family + library soon after our return from England.” + </p> + <p> + “That settles it. Literature takes a back seat when Maternity becomes its + competitor. It is well. Otherwise, how could we keep up our supply of + authors?” + </p> + <p> + The evening before the sailing of the <i>Altonia</i>, a happy party + assembled in a private dining room at Quincy's hotel. Toasts were drunk. + Alice and Rosa sang and Florence accompanied and played classic selections + upon the piano. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Bon voyage,” cried Leopold, as they separated. “Make notes of something +really new, make a book of up-to-date travels, and our house will +publish it for you, for I'll recommend it no matter how bad it is. We +have to do that often for friends of the firm,—why not for our own?” + + A foggy night on the ocean. The barometer ranged low. An upward +glance disclosed a black mist—no sign of moon or stars. A bad night on +land, when trains of cars crash into others laden with humanity—some +dying mercifully without knowing the cause; others cruelly, by slow +cremation, with willing hands nearby powerless to help. +</pre> + <p> + A bad night off shore, when freight-laden craft, deceived by beacon + lights, are beached upon the treacherous sand or dashed against jagged + rocks. The life-savers, with rocket, and gun and line, and breeches-buoys, + try in vain, and, as a last resort, grasp the oars of the life-boat and + bring to safety one or two of a crew of ten. Sad hearts in homes when the + news comes; but it is only one of the scenes in the drama of life. + </p> + <p> + A bad night at sea—with a great ocean liner, its iron heart + pulsating, plunging through the black waves into dense mountains of fog. + </p> + <p> + Despite the darkness and chill of the winter night, Quincy, Alice, and + Florence were on the deck of the <i>Altonia</i>. Alice shuddered and + Quincy drew her wrap more closely about her. + </p> + <p> + “Shall we go down into the cabin?” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet. There is nothing enjoyable about this Cimmerian gloom, and yet + it has its attractions. Florence, what is it that Tom Hood wrote about + London fog?” + </p> + <p> + “I only remember one line, and I'm not sure I can quote that correctly. I + think it reads: 'No sun, no moon,' I should add 'no stars, no proper time + of day.'” + </p> + <p> + During the two days since leaving New York, Florence had been a creature + of moods: sad, when she brooded over her trouble due, she felt sure, to + another's act; light-hearted when she thought of the prospect of again + meeting Reginald and having him prove his innocence. + </p> + <p> + She had been spared newspaper publicity. Not for ten times the sum he had + lost would the Hon. Nathaniel have had his daughter's name in the public + prints. He was a lawyer, but it was his business to get other people out + of trouble, and not to get his own family into it—which shows that + great lawyers are not exempt from that very common human frailty, + selfishness. + </p> + <p> + Sounds of applause were borne to their ears. “Let us go in,” said + Florence, “some one has been singing.” + </p> + <p> + In the main saloon, all was merriment. Each passenger had faith in Capt. + Robert Haskins, who had crossed the Atlantic hundreds of times. The <i>Altonia</i> + belonged to a lucky line, the luck that follows careful foresight as + regards every detail, the luck that brings safety and success from + constant vigilance. + </p> + <p> + In the first cabin were more than two hundred souls—young and old, + maids and matrons, young and middle-aged men, and a few beyond the + allotted three score years and ten. + </p> + <p> + Mlle. Carenta, a member of a troupe of grand opera singers, whom many had + heard during the company's engagement in New York, arose from the piano + amid cries of “bravo,” for her superb vocalism. She had sung Gounod's <i>Ave + Maria</i>. + </p> + <p> + “How sweetly she sang,” said Alice, as she touched her husband's arm to + more fully draw his attention from the beautiful vocalist. “Don't you + think so, Quincy?” + </p> + <p> + “Divine,” was the reply. “One can almost fancy the doors of Heaven are + open.” + </p> + <p> + The cabin was warm—in reality, hot,—but Alice shuddered as she + had when chilled by the mist and cold. She caught quickly at her husband's + arm. + </p> + <p> + “I wish we were safe at Fernborough Hall with Aunt Ella.” + </p> + <p> + “And so do I, my dear, but the walking is poor, and we must put up with + our present method of locomotion for a few days longer. Think of the good + times we have had and those in store for us.” + </p> + <p> + Alice reassured by the words and the accompanying pressure of Quincy's + hand exclaimed: “How delightful it was in the country, and how I enjoyed + our visits. I shall always love Mason's Corner as it was called when—” + </p> + <p> + “I met my fate,” her husband added. “My line fell in a pleasant place—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't call me a fish,” said his wife, as she smiled half reprovingly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we're on the water; if we were in it, we all might wish to be fish—or + rather whales.” + </p> + <p> + The next moment all was confusion. Faces that were white became red—those + that were red turned white—even through the colour that art had + given to niggardly nature. Fully half the occupants of the saloon were + thrown violently to the floor in a promiscuous heap. Others saved + themselves from falling by grasping frantically at the nearest object. + Many of the lights went out. Some of the women swooned, while men who had + deemed themselves brave shook like palsied creatures. + </p> + <p> + A man half ran, half fell, down the stairway that led into the saloon and + stood before the affrighted passengers. No tongue could form a question, + but each eager face asked, + </p> + <p> + “What is it? What has happened?” + </p> + <p> + His voice came, thin and husky, “We've been struck by another ship in the + fog!” + </p> + <p> + At sea, at night, and that a night of winter chill—and the fog! Such + the thought. The fact—ten thousand tons of steel and wood, the + product of man's industry, fashioned by his brain, and blood, and bone, + crushed and useless, and half a thousand human beings—looking + forward to years of happiness—doomed to a terrific struggle with the + elements. Strong, courageous, creative man—now a weak, + fear-stricken, helpless creature! + </p> + <p> + “<i>To the boats!</i>” came the cry from above, and it was echoed by + hundreds of voices. In those three words were a gleam of hope: they opened + a path, but through what and to what would it lead? The other ship, a + tramp steamer, which had collided with the <i>Altonia</i> was already + sinking, and in a few minutes went down, bow foremost, only a few of the + crew having escaped in their own boats. + </p> + <p> + Quincy had been an athlete in his college days. In time of danger, whether + the man be ignorant or educated, one feeling—the instinct of + self-preservation—is paramount. Alice and Florence had stood mute, + helpless. Quincy put an arm about each and sprang to the narrow doorway. + It was blocked by two stout men who fought frantically to gain precedence. + </p> + <p> + Quincy placed his wife in front of him, and, with the hand thus + temporarily freed, he grasped one of the men by the collar and threw him + back into the saloon where he was trampled upon by the frenzied + passengers. + </p> + <p> + Regardless of the consequence of his act, Quincy mounted the stairs + quickly and gained the deck. The boats were being filled rapidly. He + placed his wife and sister in one of them. + </p> + <p> + Alice cried, “Come, Quincy, there is room here.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Alice, not yet. The women must go first.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not go without you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you will, Alice—and you know why.” + </p> + <p> + The mighty craft was filling rapidly. Captain Haskins feared that like the + tramp steamer it would founder before the passengers could get into the + boats—their frail hope for safety. For himself, he asked no place. + He had the spirit of the soldier who expires beside his dying horse, + looking fondly at the animal that has borne him so many times in safety, + and now gives up his life with his master's. + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake, come, Quincy!” cried Alice. “For our sake!” and Florence + added her entreaties. + </p> + <p> + Quincy turned and saw a woman with a child by her side. She had made her + way from the steerage. She was being deported, for she suffered from + trachoma. She had been refused permission to land and join her husband who + had stood outside the “pen” and gazed at her and the child. Quincy placed + the woman in the boat beside his wife and put the child in its mother's + arms. + </p> + <p> + “Lower away!” came a shrill cry. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Quincy, must we part thus?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Haskins grasped Quincy by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “Get into the boat, Mr. Sawyer.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy saw that the boat, filled with women, was already over-loaded. + </p> + <p> + He turned to the Captain and said: “There is more room here with you.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Nature's ways are mysterious but effective. A brisk breeze broke the +fog, and the rays of the noonday sun fell upon a placid sea. The boat +containing Alice and Florence was picked up by the <i>Macedonian</i> of +a rival line and the rescued made comfortable. For hours the steamer +cruised about rescuing hundreds of the <i>Altonia</i>'s passengers, but some +of the boats were never heard from. +</pre> + <p> + Alice and many others had hoped that the wrecked vessel was still afloat, + but the <i>Altonia</i> had disappeared,—was far below in hundreds of + fathoms of water. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. — FERNBOROUGH HALL + </h2> + <p> + Fernborough Hall,—not a hall in the town of Fernborough in the + Commonwealth of Massachusetts, but a rambling, old-fashioned brick + building in the County of Sussex in “Merrie England;” a stately home set + in the middle of hundreds of acres of upland, lowland, and woodland. Wings + had been added as required, and a tower from which, on a clear day, the + English Channel could be seen with the naked eye, while a field-glass + brought into view the myriad craft, bound east and west, north and south, + on the peaceful missions of trade. + </p> + <p> + There was no terrace upon which gaudy peacocks strutted back and forth, + but in front of the Hall was a small artificial lake in which some + transplanted fish led the lives of prisoners. Lady Fernborough begged the + Baronet to end their miserable existence, but, to him, innovation was + folly and destruction bordered on criminality. + </p> + <p> + “When I am gone, Ella,” he would say, “you may introduce your American + ideas, for everything will be yours. When the Fernborough name dies, let + the fish die too.” + </p> + <p> + The long search for his lost daughter had made him misanthropic. His + knowledge of her sad death had been accompanied, it is true, by the + pleasing intelligence that his daughter's child lived, but that + grand-daughter, though of his blood and British born, had not been + educated according to British ideas. To be sure, she was now a Countess, + but she had been transplanted to her native soil, and had not grown there. + </p> + <p> + It might be asked, if he was so insular in his ideas, why had he taken an + American wife, and she a widow? He had been charmed by her vivacity. She + lifted him out of the gloom in which he had lived so long. If she had been + tame and prosaic, she would have worn the weeds of widowhood again in a + short time. She made him comfortable; she surrounded him with the + brightest people she could find; he was not allowed to mope indoors, and + Sir Stuart Fernborough and his sprightly American wife attended all the + important social functions of the County, and many in London, and at the + houses of their friends. And now a great joy was to come to Lady + Fernborough. She expected visitors from the United States, and what she + considered needful preparations kept her in a flutter of excitement. + </p> + <p> + “How soon do you expect them?” asked Sir Stuart at breakfast. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow, or next day. They sailed on the tenth; to-morrow is the + seventeenth, but they may rest for a day in Liverpool—” + </p> + <p> + “Or stay a day or two in London,” suggested Sir Stuart. + </p> + <p> + “I hope not, for my guests will be impatient to see a real live American + ex-governor. Quincy's political advancement has been very rapid.” + </p> + <p> + “America is a rapid country, my dear,” was Sir Stuart's comment. + </p> + <p> + When Lady Fernborough reached her boudoir, she seated herself at her + writing desk and wrote rapidly for nearly an hour. + </p> + <p> + “I don't wish too many guests,” she soliloquized as she sealed the last + invitation. “Now, I must write to Linda.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Linda, + </p> + <p> + “I have a great surprise for you. You must forgive me for keeping a + secret. I do it so seldom, I wished the experience. I am like the + penniless suitor who proposed to an heiress, who, he knew, would reject + him, just to see how it would make him feel to lose a fortune. I think I + saw that in Punch, but it fits my case exactly. They will be here, <i>sure</i>, + day after to-morrow. I mean Quincy and Alice, and, I hope, Maude. Come and + bring all the children. I suppose Algernon is in London helping to make + laws for unruly Britishers, but we will make merry and defy the + constables. Despite my marital patronymic, and my armorial bearings, I am + still, your loving aunt Ella.” + </p> + <p> + Alice was not to tell the sad news to Lady Fernborough. The telegraph + outstrips the ocean liner, and a newspaper, with tidings of the great + calamity, was in Aunt Ella's hands long before the arrival of the + broken-hearted wife and disconsolate sister. The invitations were + countermanded, and days of sorrow followed instead of the anticipated time + of joyfulness. + </p> + <p> + Alice and Florence told the story of the tragedy over and over again to + sympathizing listeners. + </p> + <p> + “That was just like Quincy to give his place to that poor woman and her + child,” said Aunt Ella. “Like Bayard he was without fear and he died + without reproach.” + </p> + <p> + Alice would not abandon hope. She racked her brain for possibilities and + probabilities. Perhaps there had been another boat in which her husband + and the Captain escaped. They might have been discovered and rescued by + some vessel bound to America, or, perhaps, some faraway foreign country. + He would let them know as soon as he reached land. + </p> + <p> + Aunt Ella, though naturally optimistic, did not, in her own heart, share + Alice's hopeful anticipations. Perhaps Florence's somewhat extravagant + account of the collision and the events which followed it led her to form + the opinion that her nephew's escape from death was impossible. + </p> + <p> + Hope takes good root, but it is a flower that, too often, has no blossom. + A month passed—two—three—four—five—six—and + then despair filled the young wife's heart. She could bear up no longer, + and Dr. Parshefield made frequent visits. + </p> + <p> + Aunt Ella pressed the fatherless infant to her breast. + </p> + <p> + “What shall you name him, Alice?” + </p> + <p> + “There can be but one name for him. God sent us two little girls, but took + them back again. We both wished for a son, and Heaven has sent one, but + has taken the father from us.” + </p> + <p> + “And you will name him—” + </p> + <p> + “Quincy Adams Sawyer, Junior,” was the answer. “It is his birthright.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Aunt Ella, “they never add Junior to a boy's name unless his + father is living.” + </p> + <p> + Alice sat up in bed, and her eyes flashed as she said, + </p> + <p> + “My heart has renewed its hope with this young life. I believe my husband + still lives, and, until I have conclusive proofs of his death, our son's + name will be Quincy Adams Sawyer, Junior.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. — “HORNABY HOOK” + </h2> + <p> + Time, it is said, will dull the deepest sorrow. There are some who put out + of sight everything to remind them of the lost one, while others treasure + every memento, and never tire of recalling the virtues of the departed. + </p> + <p> + In Alice's case the presence of her little boy was a constant reminder of + her husband. In Aunt Ella she found a willing listener, and talking of her + past happy married life aided greatly in restoring her nerve power and + improving her general health. + </p> + <p> + She said one day, “Aunt Ella, don't you think it better to face your + troubles bravely than to fly away from them?” + </p> + <p> + “I certainly do. You are following the right course, Alice; the same as I + did when Robert died. Your parting with Quincy was sad, inexpressibly so, + but imagine my feelings to awake and find my husband dead in the bed + beside me. Did I try to forget him? You remember his rooms in the Mount + Vernon Street house. They became my Mecca—the place to which I went + when I had a 'blue fit,' or was depressed in any way. God has sent you a + child to keep your husband's memory fresh. I repeat, Alice, you are doing + the right thing.” + </p> + <p> + “I do it,” said Alice, “for two reasons. One is that it makes me happy. + The other is, that believing that my husband still lives, I wish to bring + up his son so that he will be proud of him.” + </p> + <p> + Florence, after awhile, made a confidante of Aunt Ella and told her about + Captain Hornaby. She confessed her interest in him and said that + notwithstanding his crime she loved him, but that her father would never + forgive him. + </p> + <p> + “What part of England did he come from?” asked Aunt Ella. + </p> + <p> + “He said from Hornaby—that the place was named after his family. + Their home was called Hornaby Hook, because, as he said, it was built upon + a promontory in the form of a hook.” + </p> + <p> + “What is his father's name?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Wilfred, and Reginald is the fourth son.” + </p> + <p> + “No chance of his ever getting the title,” remarked Aunt Ella. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder where Hornaby Hook is,” said Florence. + </p> + <p> + “That's easily found out. Linda has <i>Burke's Peerage</i> and I'll write + to her to-day.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Fernborough more than kept her promise, for in her letter she told + the Countess Florence's unhappy love story besides asking for information + about the Hornaby family. + </p> + <p> + Linda's reply was a revelation. + </p> + <h3> + “MY DEAR AUNT ELLA, + </h3> + <p> + “I was very sorry to hear that Quincy's sister has been so unfortunate in + her love affair, and astonished to find that Captain Hornaby is the cause + of it. You will be surprised to learn that Algernon is well acquainted + with Sir Wilfred who is an old-fashioned English gentleman and the soul of + honour. He has met the Captain and thought him a fine young fellow. + Hornaby Hook is on the Sussex coast about ten miles from us. Come and see + us and bring Florence with you. Perhaps there is an explanation of the + affair which the Captain can give. He should not be condemned without a + hearing. Give my love to Alice and tell her I'm coming to see that baby + very soon. With love, ever yours, LINDA.” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Ella was now in her element. There was a mystery to be explained and + she held the key. She told Florence where Hornaby Hook was, and that the + Hornaby family was a fine one, and that Sir Wilfred was held in the + highest respect by everybody, but did not mention Linda's suggestion of a + visit, and a possible explanation. She knew Florence would not accompany + her if there was any possibility of her meeting the Captain. It would + appear as though she was running after him, and no American girl, + especially a Sawyer, would do that. + </p> + <p> + Sir Stuart was greatly interested in young Quincy, and Mrs. Villiers, the + housekeeper, thought him the handsomest and best baby she had ever seen. + Thus the way was paved for the first step in Aunt Ella's plot. + </p> + <p> + “Alice, do you think you would be very lonesome if I went away for a + week?” + </p> + <p> + “Why no, Aunt Ella. Why should I be? I have the baby, and Sir Stuart and + Mrs. Villiers are both goodness itself to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Florence is not looking very well. Don't you think a week at the seashore + would do her good?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish she could go, poor girl. When I think of her, I say to myself that + I have no right to be unhappy. If Quincy is dead, he died nobly, to save + others. But the shame connected with Captain Hornaby is what Florence + feels so deeply.” + </p> + <p> + That same day Aunt Ella wrote to Linda that she was coming with Florence, + and that Algernon and she must arrange in some way to bring about that + “explanation.” + </p> + <p> + Algernon, Earl of Sussex, and the Countess Linda lived at Ellersleigh in + the County of Sussex, not many miles from historic Hastings. To Aunt Ella + and Florence they extended a warm and heartfelt welcome, and Florence, + used as she was to the luxuries of life, could not but marvel at the + beauty and even splendour that surrounded the Countess—once an + American country girl named Linda Putnam. + </p> + <p> + “I have sent out cards for a dinner party next Thursday,” said Linda to + Aunt Ella. “There will be an opportunity for that 'explanation,' but you + must assume the responsibility if there should be a tragic ending.” + </p> + <p> + “We must hope for the best,” replied Aunt Ella. “I will gather up the + fragments after the explosion.” + </p> + <p> + From the expression on Florence's face, when Sir Wilfred Hornaby and + Captain Reginald Hornaby were announced as guests, the explosion seemed + imminent. + </p> + <p> + In her mind, she had looked forward to such a meeting with a sensation of + delight. Now that it had come her pride was up in arms. She had been + tricked into coming. The Countess and Aunt Ella had arranged this meeting. + Perhaps he had been told that she would be present. Well, if they did + meet, he would have to do the talking. She had no explanation to make. If + he had one, he must introduce the subject. + </p> + <p> + At the dinner Florence sat next to Sir Wilfred, but the Captain was far + removed on the other side of the long table. Sir Wilfred was politely + attentive. Did he know of his son's crime? Evidently not—but, if he + did, he had condoned the offence. But how could he if he was the man of + honour that the Countess had pictured him in her letter to Aunt Ella? No, + the son had deceived <i>his</i> father as he had <i>her</i> father. Did + she really love him? Had she forgiven him? If he had proposed when + Florence was in that state of uncertainty, his rejection would have been + swift and positive. + </p> + <p> + When the dinner was over, the Captain, apparently unconscious of guilt, + approached Florence. He offered his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Will you come with me, Miss Sawyer? I have a very important question to + ask you.” + </p> + <p> + Should she go? He was going to ask her a question. She had many to ask + him. This unpleasant uncertainty must end—now, was the accepted + time. + </p> + <p> + She took his arm, and he made his way to the conservatory—that haven + of confidences, where so many lovers have been made happy, or unhappy. + </p> + <p> + “Why have you not answered my letters?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I never received them.” Her voice was cold, and she removed her hand from + his arm. + </p> + <p> + “I sent them in your father's care.” + </p> + <p> + “That is probably the reason why I did not get them.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should he refuse to give them to you? I borrowed money from him but I + repaid him before I left America.” + </p> + <p> + He thought she was not acquainted with his perfidy. She would undeceive + him. + </p> + <p> + “Did you tell him the truth when you borrowed it?” + </p> + <p> + His face flushed. How could she know? But she did. He would be honest with + her. + </p> + <p> + “No, I did not.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew it. My sister Maude recovered your coat, but there was no money or + bills of exchange in your pocket book—only a few visiting cards + bearing the name of Col. Arthur Spencer.” + </p> + <p> + The young man bowed his head. He was guilty. She would leave him without + another word. She turned to go. He caught her hand, which she, + indignantly, withdrew from his grasp. + </p> + <p> + “I will explain, Miss Sawyer.” Was he going to tell the truth, or invent + another story? + </p> + <p> + “Arthur Spencer was the Colonel of the first regiment with which I was + connected. I do not belong to it now. He is a poor man, and an inveterate + gambler. I had not seen him for two years, when we met in New York just + before I went to Boston. You are tired, Miss Sawyer.” + </p> + <p> + He pointed to a seat beneath some palms, and led her, unresistingly, to + it. + </p> + <p> + “He asked me to dinner with him, and I went. Then he suggested a game of + cards while we smoked and I foolishly consented. The stakes, at first, + were small, and he won rapidly. He increased his bets and I was forced, + against my will, to meet them. When we stopped playing, he had not only + won all my money, but had my 'I O U' for three hundred dollars. I had to + borrow money from him to pay my hotel bill and fare to Boston.” + </p> + <p> + Florence nodded. She could not speak. + </p> + <p> + “I had letters of introduction to Boston families—among them, your + own. When that accident happened—” she looked up at him inquiringly— + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “You have acknowledged that you are a gambler} + </p> + <p> + “No, don't think that of me—it was not intentional on my part—I + was without money—the Colonel must be paid—my allowance was + not due for ten days—I invented the story that I told your father.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a lie!” Florence choked as she uttered the accusing words. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it was a lie, and one for which I have sincerely repented, I told my + father, and he forgave me, but said, as the coat was gone, to let the + matter drop, that nothing would be gained by confessing to your father as + he had been paid, and had met with no loss.” + </p> + <p> + Florence sprang to her feet. “No loss!” she cried. “How can you say that? + You have acknowledged that you are a gambler and a liar—why not + finish the story and confess your crime?” + </p> + <p> + “Crime, Florence! What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + Her lips curled + </p> + <p> + “You do not know what I mean?” + </p> + <p> + “No, as God hears me, I do not. You accuse me—of what?” + </p> + <p> + She felt that the crux was reached. “Did you not know when the check for + five hundred dollars came back to my father's bank that it had been raised + to five thousand dollars?” + </p> + <p> + The Captain reeled, and came near falling. He clutched at the palm tree + which sustained him until he regained his footing. + </p> + <p> + “My God! And you have thought me the thief!” + </p> + <p> + “What else could I think?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't understand.... I met Col. Spencer in Boston—those birds of + prey always follow their victims, and gave him the check, receiving two + hundred dollars in return. He must have—and yet I cannot believe he + would do such a thing. He is in London now. To-morrow I will go and find + him.” + </p> + <p> + “But if he denies it—how can you prove him guilty?” + </p> + <p> + “Unless he frees my name from such a charge—I will challenge him—and + kill him!” + </p> + <p> + Florence could no longer act as accuser. Her heart plead for the young + Englishman who had confessed his error, but who so strenuously denied his + participation in a crime. “Miss Sawyer, will you mercifully suspend + judgment until my return from London?” + </p> + <p> + She did not reply in words, but gave him her hand. + </p> + <p> + When they rejoined the company both Linda and Aunt Ella noticed Florence's + heightened colour and the brightness of her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “He must have explained,” said Linda, “when an occasion offered.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so,” was Aunt Ella's reply, and she felicitated herself upon the + success of their joint plot. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. — AN AMERICAN HEIRESS + </h2> + <p> + For some time after rejoining the company, Florence was so busy with her + thoughts that she paid little attention to what was going on about her. + She was aroused from her abstraction by a sharp voice: + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think Captain Hornaby is a very handsome young man?” Florence + looked and found that her questioner was Lady Elfrida Hastings, the only + sister of the Earl. When that lady had visited them at Nahant, she had + considered her the embodiment of all the female virtues. She recalled her + statuesque repose, and her aristocratic manner which had so pleased her + father. She also remembered the morning when she was discovered by Maude + practising the Lady Elfrida's poses, and her sister's inquiry as to + whether she had a chill and wanted the quinine pills. + </p> + <p> + Feeling the necessity of saying something, she replied: “I haven't noticed + him particularly.” + </p> + <p> + The Lady Elfrida, perfect gentlewoman that she was, said severely, for + her, “Your failure to do so, certainly was not due to lack of + opportunity.” + </p> + <p> + So, her long absence in his company had been noticed. She was at a loss + for a reply, when to her great relief the Earl approached and asked if she + would play a certain piece which he had admired very much when in America. + </p> + <p> + “What was its name?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't remember,” said the Earl. “It ran something like this,” and he + hummed a few measures. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” cried Florence, “Old Folks at Home.” The scene through which she had + gone with the Captain had awakened deep emotions, and her voice was in the + temperamental condition to give a sadly-weird effect to the lines of the + chorus. When she sang + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Oh, my heart is sad and weary” + </pre> + <p> + the Lady Elfrida turned to Mrs. Ellice, the Rector's wife, and remarked, + “There was a rumour that Captain Hornaby was greatly interested in Miss + Sawyer, but from something she told me to-night I do not think it will be + a match.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what did she say?” asked Mrs. Ellice with natural feminine curiosity + as regards love affairs. + </p> + <p> + “I hardly feel warranted in repeating it,” said the Lady Elfrida, “as it + was given to me in confidence.” + </p> + <p> + Later in the evening the Lady Elfrida sought Captain Hornaby. “My dear + Captain, don't you think Miss Sawyer sings divinely?” + </p> + <p> + The Captain, with his mind on Col. Spencer and the tenfold check, replied, + rather brusquely, “I'm not a great lover of negro melodies.” + </p> + <p> + The Lady Elfrida felt sure that Captain Hornaby was still an “eligible,” + but she reflected that he was a fourth son and dependent upon the bounty + of his father and elder brother, and that her dowry must come from her + brother who, in her opinion, had a very extravagant wife—but none of + those American girls had any idea of economy. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, Captain Hornaby went to London in search of Colonel + Spencer. He visited his clubs, and, because it was necessary, many of the + gambling places, but his quest was fruitless. As a last resort he went to + the War Office and learned that the Colonel had sailed the day before to + join his regiment in India. + </p> + <p> + The Captain reported the failure of his mission to Florence. + </p> + <p> + “I have been talking the matter over with Aunt Ella. She advises me to + send a cable message to father asking what bank the check was deposited in + and by whom.” + </p> + <p> + “He may have cashed it at your father's bank,” said the Captain. + </p> + <p> + “Then Aunt Ella says my father can see the bank officers and make sure + that the Colonel got the money.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go back to London to-morrow and send the message in your name.” + </p> + <p> + “The story deepens,” said the Captain, when he returned with the reply + from the Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer. It read, + </p> + <p> + “State National. Deposited five hundred. Revere House. Interviewed my + bank.” + </p> + <p> + “What does it mean?” asked Florence. “So many words are omitted. I can't + make sense of it.” + </p> + <p> + “It means,” said the Captain, “that Col. Spencer is innocent. He was + staying at the Revere House when I paid him his three hundred dollars. He + must have cashed your father's check at the hotel, they paying him five + hundred dollars only, and they, I mean the hotel proprietors, deposited it + in their bank, the State National.” + </p> + <p> + “But what do the last three words mean?” + </p> + <p> + “They mean that some one in your father's bank raised the check and he has + seen the bank officers about it.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm so glad,” cried Florence. “You must come and explain it all to Aunt + Ella.” + </p> + <p> + She was greatly pleased to learn that Captain Hornaby was innocent of any + complicity in the embezzlement, and said to Florence: “You will get a + letter from your father telling you who the real criminal is,” and turning + to the Captain, continued, “We go back to Fernborough Hall to-morrow, + Captain Hornaby, but when that letter comes we will send for you.” + </p> + <p> + “I can bear the suspense now that Colonel Spencer and myself are free from + any charge of criminality, but I greatly regret, Miss Sawyer, that your + father has met with such a heavy loss.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry, yet, Captain,” said Aunt Ella. “Florence's father won't be + out any money if there's any legal way of making the bank bear the loss.” + </p> + <p> + When Aunt Ella and Florence returned to Fernborough Hall they told Alice + the wonderful story. + </p> + <p> + “I am so glad for your sake, Florence, and the Captain's too. I think Aunt + Ella's suggestion about sending the cablegram to your father was an + excellent one.” + </p> + <p> + The story was told, also, to Sir Stuart. He was gratified to learn that + two officers of Her Majesty's army had been freed from the charge of + embezzlement, but deplored the fact that gambling was so prevalent among + them. + </p> + <p> + “I am an Englishman born and bred,” said he, “but I think the law of + primogeniture is, as a general rule, a bad one. Driving, as it does, the + younger sons into the army, the navy, the church, and the law may be + beneficial, for the branches of our national defence and the professions + must be recruited from a stratum of intelligent men; the lack of money may + be a spur to ambition in many instances, but it often leads to devious + practices, and—” he saw that he had three interested listeners—“the + whole system is contrary to your countrymen's idea that all men are + created free and equal. While I cannot accept that doctrine <i>in toto</i>, + I do believe that the bestowal of titles and fortune upon the eldest son + is attended with grave evils, not only among our nobility, but in our + royal successions. The Almighty does not follow such a law in endowing his + children, and it is contrary to Nature's <i>dictum</i> 'the survival of + the fittest.'” + </p> + <p> + Sir Stuart had expressed such opinions during his term in Parliament. The + path of the political pioneer is strewn with temporary defeats, but all + reforms, based upon truth, are ultimately successful, or life would be a + stagnant pool instead of a river of progress. + </p> + <p> + A letter from Maude contained a solution of the mystery. + </p> + <p> + “DEAR AUNT ELLA AND SISTER FLO:—What a rumpus there has been about + that raised check. Father was as dumb as an oyster about the affair until + he had it all settled, then he told ma and me. + </p> + <p> + “How you two feminines must have suffered—one from hopeless love—and + the other from helpless sympathy. But it is all over now, and the probity + of two, presumably, gallant officers is vindicated, while the paying + teller of father's bank is behind the bars with a certain prospect of + years of manual labour for bed and board. Why will men be so foolish? + Easily answered. The love of gold, not made in an honest way, but by + speculating with other folks' money. Mr. Barr, the aforesaid teller, is a + nice young fellow with a wife and two children, but his life is wrecked. + Of course she will get a divorce and try to find a better man. We are all + well, including Mr. Merry. He intended to take the place in father's + office that Quincy spoke about, but Harry—there, I've written it, so + will let it go—had a better position offered him by Mr. Curtis + Carter, one of Quincy's old friends, and he's doing splendidly Mr. Carter + told me. + </p> + <p> + “I am heartbroken about Quincy. I trust Alice's hopes may be realized and + most of the time I share them. + </p> + <p> + “How's that nephew of mine? Send him over and we'll bring him up a Yankee + boy. He's no Englishman. + </p> + <p> + “We are all well, and everybody sends love to everybody. MAUDE. + </p> + <p> + “P. S. Father didn't lose anything on the check. The bank paid the money + back to him.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * * * * * +</pre> + <p> + Aunt Ella kept her promise to the Captain and the part of Maude's letter + which concerned the check was read to him. He improved his opportunity by + asking Florence to be his wife. + </p> + <p> + “My father was greatly pleased with you and will welcome you as a + daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “Whether my father will welcome you as a son is the question,” said + Florence. “My father is a very wealthy man. I know the conventionalities + and requirements of English life, and although my love for you is not + dependent upon your having or not having a fortune, I cannot become a + burden to you, or dependent upon your family, as I might become if my + father refused his consent.” + </p> + <p> + “You American girls are intensely practical.” + </p> + <p> + “Are not Englishmen equally so when they pay court to American heiresses? + I don't mean you, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “My father and brothers will allow me twenty-five hundred pounds a year, + about twelve thousand dollars of your money.” + </p> + <p> + “Could we live, as we have both lived, on that income, Reginald?” + </p> + <p> + “To be honest, Florence, I don't think we could have a town house, a place + in the country, and entertain much.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not, Reginald. If my father gives his consent, I will be your + wife whenever you say. If he refuses, we must wait.” + </p> + <p> + The next mail brought a short letter for Florence from her sister. + </p> + <p> + “DEAR FLO:—I didn't want to put what I'm going to write now in my + other letter. I suppose Reggie will propose now. Don't you accept him + until Father is told. You love money and style, and the first enables you + to indulge in the second. + </p> + <p> + “I don't blame Reggie for borrowing if he was hard up, but knew he could + pay. But most men are deceitful creatures, anyway. Don't let Aunt Ella + write to father. He was always sore about her influence over Quincy, and + he mustn't think Aunt Ella made this match. If the Countess would write + him, puffing up Reggie's ancestors, and his blue blood and ancestral home, + and a hint (I hope it is so) that the Hornaby's are a very wealthy family + and related (distantly of course) to royalty, Pater may say 'yes,' and + give you his blessing. I do, if that will help any. Your loving sister, + </p> + <h3> + “MAUDE.” + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * * * * * +</pre> + <p> + Florence had to make confidantes of Aunt Ella and Alice. She repeated her + conversation with Reginald and allowed them to read Maude's letter. + </p> + <p> + “Maude has a level head,” was Aunt Ella's comment. “I'll go and have a + talk with Linda. If she will write your father in the Captain's behalf, I + think things will come out all right.” + </p> + <p> + Linda was not only willing to assure the Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer that + Capt. Hornaby belonged to an old and honourable family, but also that he + did not seek his daughter's hand because her father was a wealthy man, for + the Hornaby estate was a large one, and the rentals sufficient to allow + the Captain an adequate income, although there were other brothers to + share the patrimony. + </p> + <p> + The Hon. Nathaniel deliberated before answering. Florence had always been + a dutiful daughter and the fact that she would not become engaged without + his consent was an acknowledgment of his parental influence which was + vastly pleasing to his vanity. He had been tricked into accepting Alice as + his son's wife, and he knew that Maude, when she made up her mind to marry + would be guided little, if any, by his advice. Filial love and respect + deserved their reward. + </p> + <p> + He wrote the Countess giving his consent to the marriage, and, what was + most important, declared his intention of allowing Mrs. Captain Hornaby an + income of fifteen thousand dollars annually, and a liberal provision at + his death. He was very sorry, but pressing legal duties would prevent his + attendance at the wedding if it took place in England. + </p> + <p> + The Countess insisted upon the wedding taking place at Ellersleigh. She + had obtained the, otherwise, obdurate father's consent, and demanded + compensation for her services. + </p> + <p> + So many weddings have been described that novelty in that line is + impossible. Sufficient to say that the Countess fulfilled expectations and + more, and the event was the year's sensation in Sussex, the echoes of + which reached imperial London, and far off democratic America. + </p> + <p> + The Lady Elfrida Hastings was present at the wedding. She congratulated + the Captain and his bride, but took occasion to say to the latter,— + </p> + <p> + “My dear, don't sing those sentimental American songs any more. That night + you looked so <i>triste</i> I was afraid the present delightful affair + would never become a reality.” + </p> + <p> + Florence did not confess that, on the evening in question, she had + misgivings herself. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. — AN ELOPEMENT + </h2> + <p> + The Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer sat in his library reading a ponderous + legal document. It was full of knotty points requiring deep thinking, and + the Hon. Nathaniel was breathing deeply and thinking deeply when the door + was opened quietly and a young girl looked in. She stood for a moment + regarding the reader. + </p> + <p> + “Father, are you very busy?” + </p> + <p> + The man finished reading the page before noticing the speaker. + </p> + <p> + “I am always busy, Maude, except when asleep, and I sometimes think my + subliminal consciousness is active then.” + </p> + <p> + Maude's inclination was to say “Oh, my!” but she repressed the + ejaculation. + </p> + <p> + “I can give you a few minutes, Maude, if the subject is an important one. + Come in.” + </p> + <p> + Maude entered, seated herself, folded her hands in her lap and regarded + her father as a disobedient pupil would a teacher. + </p> + <p> + “Father—” + </p> + <p> + The Hon. Nathaniel was listening attentively. + </p> + <p> + “Father—” + </p> + <p> + “Repetition is effective if not indulged in to excess. I often use it in + my arguments before juries.” + </p> + <p> + Maude flushed. She was particularly sensitive to sarcasm, but could stand + any amount of good-natured raillery. + </p> + <p> + “Father, I'm going to be married.” + </p> + <p> + The Hon. Nathaniel readjusted his glasses and regarded the speaker. + </p> + <p> + “It must be a clandestine attachment. I am not aware of meeting any + gentleman who declared any desire to make you his wife. At whose house + have you met your intended? I have no reason to suspect your Aunt Ella + owing to her absence in Europe.” + </p> + <p> + “I've never been to anybody's house. I've walked with him on the Common + and in the Public Garden.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, two parks frequented by the elite of the city.” + </p> + <p> + Maude resented his last remark. “Just as good people as I am go there.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that you are no better than those who go there?” + </p> + <p> + His voice was stern. Maude saw that she had made a mistake. “Some of + them,” she said in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “Who is the favoured gentleman? Have I the honour of his acquaintance?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, you've met him. It's Harry, I mean Mr. Merry.” + </p> + <p> + “The young man who was Quincy's private secretary. Quincy wished me to + take him into my office, but he never appeared in person.” + </p> + <p> + “He's with Mr. Curtis Carter on Tremont Street. Mr. Carter was one of + Quincy's most intimate friends.” + </p> + <p> + “And Mr. Merry preferred going to one of Quincy's friends, than to me, and + criminal cases rather than civil procedure. Mr. Carter revels in murder + trials. But why has this young man failed to consult me on a matter so + greatly affecting your future? Why have you assumed the initiative? This + is not leap year.” + </p> + <p> + Maude was ready to cry, but she choked down her rising temper. + </p> + <p> + “I think he's afraid to.” + </p> + <p> + “What has he done that he should fear me?” + </p> + <p> + Maude made another mistake. “He never borrowed any money of you.” + </p> + <p> + The Hon. Nathaniel disliked any reference to that raised check. “If he + marries you, perhaps he will find it difficult to support you without + borrowing money—but I shall not loan him any.” + </p> + <p> + “He says he can support me as well as I wish, and I am going to marry + him.” + </p> + <p> + This was flat-footed defiance, and the Hon. Nathaniel grew red in the face + at being thus bearded in his den. + </p> + <p> + “Maude, I am astonished. I command you not to meet this young man again + unless in my presence or that of your mother. When I meet him, I shall + have something to say to him.” + </p> + <p> + He resumed the reading of the document, and Maude, knowing that it was + useless to say more, left the room. + </p> + <p> + The next day at noon, Maude told her mother she was going to make some + purchases on Winter Street. As no objection was made, Maude felt sure that + her father had not mentioned their conversation to her mother. She met + Harry and they walked down the “Long Path” on the Common, made famous by + the genial “Autocrat,” not only of one breakfast table, but of thousands + of others. + </p> + <p> + “He will never consent,” said Maude. + </p> + <p> + “I thought so.” + </p> + <p> + “He was real mean to me—as sarcastic as he could be.” + </p> + <p> + “Rich fathers are usually indignant when their daughters wish to marry + poor men. He can have no other objection to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any money saved up, Harry?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I've got two thousand dollars in the bank to furnish our flat with.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall have to go to a justice of the peace, for father will not let me + be married at home. Oh, if Aunt Ella were here.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is she?” + </p> + <p> + “In England. She's the wife of a baronet, and he is rich and so is Aunt + Ella.” + </p> + <p> + “Maude, let's elope and go to England for our honeymoon.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * * * * * +</pre> + <p> + Aunt Ella and Alice had been to Ketchley to make some purchases for young + Quincy's wardrobe. As they entered the house a maid said that a young lady + and gentleman were waiting to see them. + </p> + <p> + “Both of us?” queried Aunt Ella. + </p> + <p> + The maid replied: “They said they wished to see Lady Fernborough and Mrs. + Quincy Adams Sawyer.” + </p> + <p> + “I will see if baby is all right and join you in a few minutes,” said + Alice. + </p> + <p> + Aunt Ella passed her hat and wrap to the maid, and entered the drawing + room. + </p> + <p> + “Maude Sawyer, what cloud did you drop from? Where did you come from? + Excuse me,” said Aunt Ella as she espied Maude's companion, who had kept + in the background. + </p> + <p> + “This is my husband, Mr. Harry Merry. We're just from London. We've been + doing the town. What a big noisy place.” + </p> + <p> + Alice came in and the introduction was repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Maude,” said Aunt Ella, “we're delighted to see you and your + husband, but your arrival was so unexpected that you must pardon my + evidences of surprise.” + </p> + <p> + “They're very excusable,” said Maude. “I can hardly realize, myself, that + we are here. You and Alice are wondering what brought us, and you are + entitled to an explanation. We just eloped because father would not give + his consent.” + </p> + <p> + The presence of Mr. Merry made the situation an awkward one, but Aunt Ella + was a woman with opinions and was not afraid to express them. So she said: + </p> + <p> + “I suppose your father will disinherit you. I hope that will not mar your + future happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think it will. Harry has a good position, we've got some money in + the bank, and we're going to have a nice little flat in Cambridge or + Roxbury. I want to see my little nephew, Quincy's boy, and then we are + going right back to London.” + </p> + <p> + “Come with me,” said Alice, “and see the baby, but Aunt Ella and I will + never consent to your leaving us so soon. You must pay us a long visit.” + </p> + <p> + “I would,” replied Maude, “but for one thing father said to me. We will + stay over night, for I have so much to tell both of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Come to the library,” said Aunt Ella. “I will introduce your husband to + Sir Stuart, and then we will go to the nursery where we can talk as long + as we wish.” + </p> + <p> + When they reached the nursery, Maude's first wish was gratified—she + held, and hugged and kissed, and praised her brother's boy. Alice's face + beamed with delight. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Maude,” exclaimed Aunt Ella, “why this runaway marriage? Tell us all + about it.” + </p> + <p> + Maude laughed. “It's so funny. I told father I was going to marry Mr. + Merry, and he about the same as said I shouldn't. He told me not to meet + him again unless in his presence or mother's.” + </p> + <p> + “That was reasonable. Why did you object?” asked Aunt Ella. + </p> + <p> + “It wouldn't have done any good. He's opposed to Harry because he isn't + rich. Was Nathaniel Adams Sawyer rich when he married your sister, Aunt + Ella?” + </p> + <p> + “I should say not. They began housekeeping in three rooms, but my + brother-in-law is a born money-maker.” + </p> + <p> + “We're going to have five rooms, and I think Harry has it in him to make + money—at any rate I'm going to give him a chance and help him all I + can.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you manage to get away?” asked Alice. She remembered that Quincy + married her without his father's consent. But for the fact that she became + famous by writing a popular book, he would never have welcomed her into + the family. In fact, he had been “cornered” and had to surrender. So, she + was full of sympathy for Maude, for her own fate might have been similar. + </p> + <p> + “That's the funny part,” said Maude. “I could get away easily enough, but + I wanted my clothes and many things that I prized. I knew it was wrong, + but I deceived my father. I am sorry for that, but I couldn't give Harry + up.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you do?” asked Aunt Ella. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I told father if he wanted to get me away from Harry that he must + let me come to England and see Florence. I didn't say I was coming to see + you—” + </p> + <p> + “That wouldn't have appealed to him,” interrupted Aunt Ella. + </p> + <p> + Maude continued: “Then everything was plain sailing. He gave me money for + an outfit, bought my ticket and return, found me a chaperone, a brother + lawyer and his wife were coming over, and gave me five hundred dollars to + spend. I consider that is my dowry, for I don't expect any more. Florence + gets fifteen thousand a year and I get five hundred all in a lump. But I + am not envious of Florence. She needs the money, and I don't.” + </p> + <p> + “Then your father does not know that you are married?” said Alice. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not. Harry was on the same boat, but we never spoke to each + other all the way over. We suspected that father had spoken to Mr. Harding + or his wife about Harry, and so we were very circumspect and gave no cause + for suspicion.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Aunt Ella, “I will go with you to see Florence, but Mr. Merry—” + </p> + <p> + “Please call him Harry, Aunt Ella. Isn't he your nephew—in-law?” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” Aunt Ella continued, “Harry must stay here. Alice and I will think + out some way of breaking the news to your father. I'm glad you told me the + whole story, for I think I see a way to overcome his objections.” + </p> + <p> + The visit to Mrs. Captain Hornaby was paid, and Maude Sawyer was obliged + to kiss and be kissed by her brother-in-law. + </p> + <p> + “You didn't win the canoe race,” said Maude, “but you were determined to + have that kiss and so you married Florence;” but her sister was not + present when she made the remark. + </p> + <p> + “Where is your friend, Colonel Spencer?” + </p> + <p> + “In India. I have never seen him since I gave him that check.” + </p> + <p> + “That paying teller got twenty years in prison for his penmanship,” said + Maude. “Father thought you were the bad man until Aunt Ella sent the + message that led father to investigate and find out who deposited the + check. I was awful glad that you got out of it so nicely.” + </p> + <p> + “So was I,” said Reginald. “I hope some day I can help somebody else out + of a bad box just to show my gratitude.” + </p> + <p> + Maude thought of her “bad box,” but Reginald could not help her or Harry. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to India?” she asked. “How is it that you are not with the + army?” + </p> + <p> + “I have sold my captaincy. Florence did not wish me to leave her, and my + eldest brother decided the matter. He hates farming and accounts. I love + both, so I am in charge of the estate. My brother Paul has been given a + living as they call it in the church, and Geoffrey has entered the navy. + My brother Wilfred will inherit the title, so we are all provided for.” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Ella and Alice had many long confabs about the young couple, and how + to reinstate Maude in her father's good graces when the truth became known + to him. + </p> + <p> + “I have an idea,” said Alice one morning to Aunt Ella. “Yesterday I had a + letter from Dr. Paul Culver, one of the executors of Quincy's will. He + says his practice is so great that he cannot do justice to my interests, + and asks me to suggest some one to be appointed in his stead.” + </p> + <p> + “What's your idea? Though perhaps I can guess,” said Aunt Ella. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to suggest Mr. Merry. I had many talks with him while you were + away with Maude, and I am deeply impressed in his favour. Are you + surprised?” + </p> + <p> + “Not so much as you will be when I tell you that Florence and her husband + are going back with Maude. Harry will have to go too, so something must be + done. Now, you know that I gave Quincy an allowance of five thousand + dollars a year when he was married. I am going to give it to Harry.” + </p> + <p> + “And why not let them live in the Mount Vernon Street house—until—” + Her voice broke. + </p> + <p> + “I know what you were going to say, Alice. It is a good idea—all + furnished and ready for occupancy. I shall never see it again—and + you may not for years—for I can't spare you.” + </p> + <p> + “When do they sail?” Alice asked. + </p> + <p> + “In about a week. I'm going to write a letter to Sarah to-night to pave + the way.” + </p> + <p> + It was midnight when Aunt Ella completed a letter that seemed to fit the + case. + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR SISTER SARAH:—I write to let you know that Florence and her + husband will sail for America in about a week. This may not be news to + you, for probably Florence has written you, but it will be news when I + tell you that Maude and her husband, Mr. Merry, will sail on the same + steamer. They have visited Florence and are now here with me. + </p> + <p> + “I presume Nathaniel will be very angry, and he may say that I am + responsible, as he did in Quincy's case. I did help Quincy and Alice and I + am going to help Maude and Harry. I am going to allow them five thousand a + year and Alice gives them the free use of the Mount Vernon Street house. + She has written Nathaniel about Mr. Merry taking Dr. Culver's place as one + of Quincy's executors. + </p> + <p> + “Now, if Nathaniel gets very angry and threatens to disinherit Maude, just + ask him, for me, why it is that all his children have been married away + from home. Has it always been their fault, or is his home discipline in + part, or wholly, the cause? It didn't make so much difference in Quincy's + case, but here in England no girl is married outside of her father's + house, unless it be in church. + </p> + <p> + “Your children are now all married, and, I think, well married. Let + Nathaniel make the best of it, and, instead of keeping up a family + warfare, change his tactics and become an indulgent, loving father. + </p> + <p> + “Your sister, + </p> + <h3> + “ELLA. + </h3> + <p> + “P. S. Let Nathaniel read this letter. It will do him good.” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Ella read her letter over before sealing it. There was a quiet smile + on her face as she pressed the seal upon the melted wax. Then she + soliloquized: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it will do him good to read that letter. He has no one else to boss + now but Sarah, but she doesn't resist, and ready acquiescence takes away + the pleasure of domineering. The boss wishes to break stout twigs, not + simply press down pliant willows.” There came a sharp rap upon the door—it + was thrown open, and Alice entered. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Aunt Ella, Quincy is very sick. He is choked up so he can hardly + breathe. I'm afraid it is the croup.” + </p> + <p> + “We must send for Dr. Parshefield at once. But who can go? Henry injured + his foot to-day and cannot walk. Lennon, the butler, cannot ride a horse, + and Simon, the stable boy, would be frightened to death so late at night.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what shall we do?” cried Alice. + </p> + <p> + “Do?” exclaimed Aunt Ella. “I'll go myself. It's only two miles to + Ketchley and I can ride back with the Doctor. I'll get Harry to help me + harness the horse. Open the windows to give your boy plenty of air, and + fan him.” + </p> + <p> + She took up the oil lamp that stood upon her writing table. “This is whale + oil—a nauseous smelling compound. Rub his neck and chest well with + it.” + </p> + <p> + Alice sought the nursery and followed Aunt Ella's directions. She was + sitting by the crib watching her child's laboured breathing when her aunt + returned. + </p> + <p> + “Harry is going on horseback. He knows the road to Ketchley and where the + Doctor lives. Give him some more of the oil.” + </p> + <p> + It was administered and the child began to choke—he seemed to be + strangling—then the phlegm that had impeded his breathing was thrown + off, and his face resumed its natural colour. When the Doctor arrived an + hour later, he was sleeping quietly. Aunt Ella told what they had done by + way of emergency treatment. + </p> + <p> + “Evidently a very effective treatment,” said Dr. Parshefield. “I could not + have done better myself.” + </p> + <p> + “It was so good of you, Harry,” said Alice. “I shall never forget your + kindness.” + </p> + <p> + Then she threw her arms about Aunt Ella's neck. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Auntie, if he had been taken from me, I could not have borne it.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. — YOUNG QUINCY + </h2> + <p> + It had been arranged while Aunt Ella and Maude were at Ellersleigh that + Florence and her husband should come to Fernborough Hall and make a visit + before their departure for the United States. Owing to Harry's presence at + the Hall it became necessary, when they arrived, to divulge the well-kept + secret of Maude's unconventional marriage. + </p> + <p> + Aunt Ella managed the introduction with her usual straightforwardness, + treating it as a matter of course. Florence and her husband were naturally + surprised, but both of them liked Harry Merry. Had Florence been married + at home, with the usual family friends and accessories, she would have + looked with less tolerance on Maude's elopement. To be sure she had not + eloped, but when she looked into her own heart she had to confess to + herself that she would have married Reginald even if her parents had + refused their consent. So, as the intent makes the offence, she forgave + Maude for her escapade, and during their stay at the Hall they manifested + more sisterly regard for each other than they had ever before shown. + </p> + <p> + Reginald and Harry “hitched horses” at once. Men who marry sisters are + united by a stronger tie than the usual brother-in-law bond, and the + Englishman and the American felicitated themselves upon their capture of + the Sawyer sisters. They played billiards on a table where the balls had + not clicked for a generation. They smoked in a room which had been free + from the odour of tobacco for a score of years. They rode horseback upon + steeds whose principal duty, as Harry expressed it, had been to “heat + their 'eads horff.” They even fished in the miniature lake and gave their + catch to dogs who knew so little about real sport that they thought the + fish were game. They took long walks together and knew by name every man, + woman, and child on the estate. The conservative Englishman, if alone, + would not have gone so far, but the democratic American took the lead, and + politeness, if not inclination, forced his companion to follow. + </p> + <p> + They often passed an evening with Sir Stuart in his library. The Captain + related incidents in his military life, while Harry, who had been a great + reader, drew on both memory and imagination for tales of the Great West, + with an occasional ghost story, supported by irrefutable witnesses. The + day before their departure, Aunt Ella took Florence to her boudoir and + told her what she had written to <i>her</i> sister, Nathaniel's wife, + about her children's marriages. + </p> + <p> + “I hope Sarah will let your father read my letter. I said just what I + thought, and I shall stand by Maude and her husband come what may.” + </p> + <p> + “And so will I,” cried Florence. “You helped Reginald by solving the + mystery of that check, and I will do all I can to help Maude and Harry. I + think he is a fine fellow, and Reggie says they have become like two + brothers.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to hear,” said Aunt Ella, “that they are bound by love as well + as by law.” + </p> + <p> + In about a month there came a long letter from Maude. + </p> + <p> + “DEAR AUNT ELLA AND SISTER ALICE:—I have so much to tell you that I + hardly know where to begin. We had a fine trip—no storms—and + none of us missed a meal, which was bad for the company. But they made up + their loss on others who ate a supper on leaving England and a breakfast + on reaching America. + </p> + <p> + “Mother was delighted to see us and father was so nice to us all that I + came near fainting. He is a changed man. I wonder what drug he has been + taking.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * * * * * +</pre> + <p> + “Didn't you tell Maude about your letter to her mother?” asked Alice. + </p> + <p> + “No, I told Florence, but thought Maude would appreciate the change now, + <i>if</i> it took place, if she was ignorant of what influence had been + brought to bear on her father.” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Ella continued the reading. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * * * * * +</pre> + <p> + “Harry and I have been to Fernborough. Alice's brother sent us word that + Uncle Isaac Pettingill was dead and we went to the funeral. He had no + complaint. He was tired out, so Mrs. Maxwell told us, and went to sleep. + He left each of Mrs. Maxwell's boys five thousand dollars, and the same + amount to Quincy Adams Pettingill. The remainder of his fortune, I don't + know how much, is bequeathed to build a free hospital in Fernborough. + </p> + <p> + “There's another good man dead—Deacon Mason,—and his wife has + gone to live with her daughter, Mrs. Pettingill. That funny little man, + Mr. Stiles, has gone there too. + </p> + <p> + “I saw Mrs. Hawkins, and she said: 'I mos' cried my eyes out when I heerd + 'bout that collision at sea, an' what it did. I can't see no sense in them + captains bein' so careless and reckless. Tell Miss Alice I wish she'd come + home and bring that boy. I want ter see ef he looks like his father.' + </p> + <p> + “I came near forgetting what to me is the most important part of my + letter. Harry has been appointed as Quincy's executor in place of Dr. + Culver, and, this is the wonderful thing, father has induced Harry to + leave Mr. Carter's office and go into his office. He told Harry that they + were all getting old and they needed young blood in the firm—but + Harry's not in the firm yet. No more this time from your loving, + </p> + <h3> + “MAUDE MERRY.” + </h3> + <p> + “My letter to Sarah did do some good,” said Aunt Ella triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Uncle Ike, I wish I could have been with him. I wonder if I shall + ever see Fernborough again?” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Ella did not answer the question as she would have liked to, and + Alice went to her room to recall those former happy days which would never + come again. + </p> + <p> + Nearly nine years had passed since young Quincy's birth, and Alice was + still at Fernborough Hall. She could not leave it now, for Aunt Ella was + again a widow. Her mind was troubled about her boy. He had recurrent + attacks of throat trouble, and was not strong as she wished him to be. + </p> + <p> + “It's the damp, foggy weather,” said Aunt Ella. “We're too near the water, + and this country, beautiful as it is, is not like our bright America.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Parshefield suggested a trip to the South of France, but Alice + declared that was impossible. + </p> + <p> + “Something must be done—now what shall it be?” was Aunt Ella's + declaration and inquiry. Then Alice remembered what Maude had said in one + of her letters—that young Quincy should be brought up as an + American. She spoke to Aunt Ella about the matter, repeating what Maude + had written. + </p> + <p> + “Where could we send him?” + </p> + <p> + “The <i>where</i> is not so important” Aunt Ella remarked, “as the <i>to + whom</i>. Florence and Maude are both out of the question for they have + young children of their own who might, or might not, take to an outsider. + Quincy's mother would be delighted to have him for he is her son's son, + but Boston, with its east winds would be no better than here. Besides, his + grandfather would say that he'd raised one family of disobedient children + and he wanted a quiet life.” + </p> + <p> + The question remained unsettled that day, but the next morning Aunt Ella + burst into Alice's room with a loud cry— + </p> + <p> + “Eureka! I have it! Why didn't we think of it before?” + </p> + <p> + “You say you have it,” said Alice, “but what is it? That pattern that you + were looking for?” + </p> + <p> + “No, a happy home for this youngster,” as she patted his curly head + lovingly. + </p> + <p> + “Now, can't you guess?” + </p> + <p> + Alice shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I must say, you are not a very thoughtful <i>sister</i>,” and the + last word was strongly emphasized. + </p> + <p> + “What, do you mean—'Zekiel?” cried Alice. + </p> + <p> + “The very man, and Fernborough is the place. You must write to your + brother at once.” + </p> + <p> + As Alice was writing the thought came to her, “Perhaps if my boy goes to + Fernborough, some day I may go to see him, and the old town, and the + people there, once more.” + </p> + <p> + In due time a reply came from 'Zekiel. It was short, but to the point. + “Huldy will be delighted to have him. Our boy Quincy is nearly fourteen + years old now and he'll take good care of his little cousin. I'll try and + be a father to him until you come for him.” + </p> + <p> + The important question, “How was the boy to reach America?” was answered + by one of those happy coincidences which happen often in books and + occasionally in real life, such as is being depicted. The Rev. Mr. Gay, + who had been a constant visitor to Uncle Ike during his last days, paid a + visit to Fernborough Hall on his return from a trip to the Holy Land. + </p> + <p> + “Heaven must have sent you,” said Alice, and she told him of her desire to + have her boy go to Fernborough. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gay consented to take charge of young Quincy. In a few days the + parting came. The mother's heart was sorely tried. But mother-love is + unselfish, and Alice's only consolation came from the conviction that her + temporary loss was for her son's permanent good. + </p> + <p> + Her nights were sleepless, filled with thoughts of accidents, and storms + and collisions at sea, until a welcome letter dispelled her imaginings, + for it brought the intelligence that young Quincy was safe with his + father's friends. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. — HIS FATHER'S FRIENDS + </h2> + <p> + It is the good fortune of some fatherless or motherless children to be + adopted into good families where the natural love and care that have been + denied them are supplied, as it were, by proxy. With young Quincy it was + so, only much more so. It fell to his lot to be adopted by an entire town. + Its residents had been, with few exceptions, his father's friends. The sad + story of his father's loss at sea was known to all, and the town's heart + warmed towards him; the town's arms were open to embrace him, and care for + him. + </p> + <p> + To his Aunt Huldah Pettingill he seemed as though sent from another world. + He was her husband's nephew, and hers—but there was a closer tie + acknowledged within her own heart, and kept there as a precious secret. He + was Quincy Adams Sawyer's son—the son of the man who had taught her + what love was. It had been a bitter lesson, for when her heart was + awakened, it was but to find that the one who had played upon its + sensitive strings did not love her, and that her duty was to another who + did love her. She had been a true and loving wife with no unsatisfied + heart-longings, but— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “You may break, you may shatter the vase, if you will, + But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.” + </pre> + <p> + So Huldah Mason still kept within a secret corner of her heart a fond + remembrance of happy days gone by. And now Quincy's son was one of her + family; she could be a mother to him and no one would have a right to + question her manifestations of affection. It is often that the human heart + thus finds solace for past sad experiences or suffering. + </p> + <p> + It was only natural that Huldah, after her father's death, should take her + mother to her own home. The old Deacon had acquired enough of this world's + goods to avoid the necessity of hard labour during the last years of his + life. Good books had been his constant companions, and an old-fashioned + cane-bottomed rocking chair his favourite seat upon the piazza or by the + kitchen fire. Abner Stiles had done the necessary farm work and the + household chores. When the Deacon passed away, the town lost one of its + broadest-minded, most honest, most helpful citizens. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mason, still hale and hearty, assisted her daughter in her household + duties, but allowed Abner to put up the clothes line and take it in. + </p> + <p> + “And this is his son, and his poor father—” The Deacon's good wife + could say no more, but clasped little Quincy close to her motherly breast. + </p> + <p> + “You told me how it happened, Huldy, and I told father, but it don't seem + real even now. His father was such a fine man.” + </p> + <p> + She stopped, for her daughter had turned her head away, and her mother + knew that it was to brush away some tears that could not be kept back. + </p> + <p> + To 'Zekiel Pettingill, the boy was Alice's child. His only sister had been + the apple of his eye, and his great, honest heart welcomed the boy as if + he were his own. + </p> + <p> + His own son, Quincy Adams Pettingill, was in his fourteenth year and upon + him devolved the outdoor education of his young cousin. In this pleasant + task he was aided by his sister Sophie who was a year younger than the + newcomer. + </p> + <p> + There was a scene of wild excitement when young Quincy paid his first + visit to the old Pettingill place where his mother was born. It was still + the home of Hiram Maxwell and his wife, formerly Mandy Skinner. The two + boys, Abraham Mason Maxwell and Obadiah Strout Maxwell had been told often + the story of Mr. Sawyer's visit to Eastborough, and how he boarded in that + house, and little Mandy was glad to see “Kirwinzee.” + </p> + <p> + The old dog, Swiss, had, with difficulty, been dragged from the grave of + his former master, Uncle Ike, but no force, or persuasion, could induce + him to leave the old house. Probably the name “Quincy” had a familiar + sound and he wagged his tail slowly as an evidence of recognition and + welcome. + </p> + <p> + The most explosive greeting came from Mrs. Crowley. + </p> + <p> + “An' it's the foine young man he is, the picter of his feyther.” She would + have taken him in her arms and hugged him but for the presence of others, + but, afterwards, when alone with him she patted his curly head and told + him that he would have to be a fine man to be as good as his father. + Everywhere he went his father was talked about and praised, and his mother + had taught him to love his father's memory. Thus early the ambition to be + like his father was instilled in the boy's mind. Confident as Alice was + that her husband was still living, Aunt Ella had protested effectually + against her implanting any such hope in the child's mind, and he had been + brought up with the belief that his father had died before he was born. + There was one place where his father's praises were faint, and that was at + the grocery store. + </p> + <p> + {ILLUSTRATION: “'I S'POSE ONE OF THESE DAYS YOU'LL BE WEIGHIN' SUGAR AND + DRAWIN' 'LASSES.'”} + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my young man,” said Mr. Obadiah Strout, on his first visit, “your + father's money started this business, but I've worked mighty hard to build + it up to what it is now. I s'pose one of these days you'll be weighin' + sugar and drawin' 'lasses.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess not,” exclaimed Hiram. “Rich men's sons don't us'ally take to + their father's business.” + </p> + <p> + “You're right for once, Hiram,” Mr. Strout acknowledged. “They uzally run + through the money, bust the biz'ness and bring up in jail.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, this young fellow won't,” cried Hiram, hotly. “He's goin' to be a + great man like his father, won't you, Bub?” + </p> + <p> + “Bub” took a handful of raisins from an open box, and eyed his questioner + wonderingly. + </p> + <p> + “There's many a slip 'twixt the cow and the churn,” said Mr. Strout as he + took a ten cent cigar from the case and lighted it. Perhaps the sight of + the son recalled a scene in the same shop many years before on Quincy's + first visit to Mason's Corner when a box of cigars had been the subject of + an animated discussion between the boy's father and himself, followed by a + passage-at-arms—or, more correctly speaking—fists. We humans + are only veneered with politeness or good nature; underneath, man's + revengeful nature lies dormant—but not dead. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hawkins was delighted to see him. “Olive, don't you think he's the + likeness of his father?” + </p> + <p> + Olive agreed, because she had found that agreement with her employer's + opinions made life pleasant, and also led to many desirable additions to + her wardrobe. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hawkins surveyed him again. “I'll never forget what a poor appetite + his father had when he boarded here. He never came to his meals reg'lar. + But he was in love, head over heels an' an extry dip,—an' I don't + blame him, for 'Zeke Pettingill's sister was good enough for any man, even + if he did git to be guv'nor. Have a cookey?” and Quincy's pockets were + filled with cakes that contained raisins and citron. + </p> + <p> + “Them's seedless raisins, Quincy. I had a boarder once, a reg'lar hayseed + who came down here from Montrose to work hayin' time, an' he asked me how + I got the stuns out of the raisins. Jes' to fool him, I said I bit 'em + out, an' do you know, that old fool never teched another bit o' cake while + he stopped here.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Jonas Hawkins took him out to see the hens and chickens, and told him + that he “kalkilated that mos' on 'em eggs that was bein' sot on would + hatch out.” Quincy's great delight was going with Hiram in the grocery + wagon. One day they went over the same road from the Pettingill farm to + Eastborough Centre that his father had travelled so many times. + </p> + <p> + The old sign board “Three Miles to Mason's Corner” was still there, but + how changed the other conditions. No consumptive uncle in the Poor House, + no philosophical Uncle Ike living in a chicken coop, no inquisitive Mrs. + Putnam, no mysterious Lindy, no battle royal with the music teacher, no + town meeting to engineer, no grocery store to buy, no Deacon's daughter to + go driving with, no singing school, no surprise party, no blind girl to + comfort and aid—and finally marry. + </p> + <p> + There were none of the incidents that had made his father's life at + Mason's Corner so exciting and interesting. Now, there was only a little + boy riding in a red wagon with yellow wheels, inhaling the pure air and + sweetness of the wild flowers, listening to the songs of birds, and + wishing that Uncle Hiram would make the horse go faster. + </p> + <p> + It is safe to leave him with his father's friends, for surely his lines + had fallen in a pleasant place. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. — AN OLD STRIFE RENEWED + </h2> + <p> + It was February and the air was stinging cold. It was one of those nights + such as Lowell wrote about in “The Courtin'.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “God makes sech nights, all white an' still + Fur'z you can look or listen, + Moonshine an' snow on field an' hill, + All silence an' all glisten.” + </pre> + <p> + In the store of the Strout and Maxwell Company quite a number of the + town's people were gathered about the big air-tight stove which was kept + stuffed full of wood by willing hands and from which came great waves of + almost scorching heat. + </p> + <p> + Such congregations of villagers are often said to be composed of loafers + and loungers, but it was not so at Fernborough. The men who represented + the brains and marrow of the town met there. It was the home of the town + debating society and supplied a free forum for the discussion of public + questions. If the advanced ideas in statesmanship and social economy + incubated there could have become the property of the nation, our country + would have grown wiser and better. + </p> + <p> + But for the intense cold the company gathered there on the evening in + question would have been much larger. Benoni Hill, the former proprietor + of the store and the richest man in town, did not think his wealth was any + reason why he should hold aloof or consider himself above his neighbours, + whose patronage had been the foundation of his fortune. He was given an + old arm-chair while the others sat upon soap-boxes and nail-kegs. Cobb's + Twins, William and James, were there, Emmanuel Howe, the minister's son, + and Bob Wood who still sang bass in the village church choir. + </p> + <p> + The store door was opened letting in a gust of cold air which made all + draw nearer to the red-hot stove. The newcomer was Samuel Hill, Benoni's + son. + </p> + <p> + A chorus of voices cried: “Hello, Sam!” and a place was made for him so he + could thaw out his almost frozen fingers. + </p> + <p> + “It's mighty cold, ain't it?” said his father. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I should smile,” replied Sam. This expression he had heard the last + time he was in the city, and he derived great pleasure from its + repetition. + </p> + <p> + “How's Tilly?” asked Bob Wood. + </p> + <p> + “Able to be up and have her bed made.” + </p> + <p> + All laughed at the rejoinder. Smiles and laughter are easily evoked in a + village grocery. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Obadiah Strout and Mr. Hiram Maxwell, general partners, were in the + private office, a small room adjoining the post-office. Mr. Strout was + smoking a cigar and reading a letter between the puffs. Hiram, with his + chair tilted back against the wall, was smoking his after-supper pipe, for + it was after seven o'clock in the evening. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Maxwell,” said Obadiah, laying down the letter he had been reading, + “this is from the trustees of the estate of the Honourable Quincy Adams + Sawyer, formerly our special partner, and the ex-Governor of this + Commonwealth. I mention the fact of him being our former special partner + first, before I said anything about his political elevation, for I don't + believe, Mr. Maxwell, that he would ever have been Governor if he hadn't + jined in with us.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout always called Hiram “Mr. Maxwell,” when they talked over + business affairs. + </p> + <p> + Hiram blew a cloud from his pipe. “Wall, I guess they're putty well + satisfied with what we've been doin', ain't they?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout leaned back in his chair with a self-satisfied look on his + face. + </p> + <p> + “Wall, they must be a pretty near set if they expect more'n twelve per + cent, on the capital. No, they're all right, 'though one of 'em, that Mr. + Merry, is mighty inquisitive 'bout small things. Marryin' inter the Sawyer + family 'counts for it, I s'pose.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram was used to hearing covert slurs and open flings at the Sawyer + family, but had found replies only provocative of attacks upon himself, so + he listened in silence. Mr. Strout took up the letter. “I wrote 'em 'bout + startin' that new branch over to Westvale, and although they answered in a + kinder top-lofty style—I reckon that young Merry writ the letter—I + 'magine they're in for it, horse, foot, and dragoons. They'll put up the + money. An' the question now is who'll go over and take charge of it.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram put his pipe on the table. “There's two folks that don't want to go, + an' that's Mandy an' me. I don't s'pose the children would find any fault, + but they're not old enough to vote on the question.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram knew that his partner was anxious to get him out of the Fernborough + store, and so he filed his objections at once. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Strout, “of course I didn't have no sech idee as askin' you to + go, even if you did know who was the best man for the job. The snail + thinks he's travelled a long ways when he goes a foot, an' some men are + jus' like him.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram ignored the personal application. + </p> + <p> + “Well, bein's you didn't want me to go, I s'pose you've somebody in mind. + Suit yourself, as us'al.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I've thought it all over, an' I think Billy Ricker's our man. He'll + be over from Montrose to-morrow an' I'll talk it over with him. We've got + that Montrose trade so solid he can be spared from there now. Guess there + ain't any trade tonight or Bob would have called us in afore this.” + </p> + <p> + “Ef we sold cord wood we might be doin' somethin',” and, laughing in his + old way at his own joke, Hiram started to follow his partner into the + store. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Hiram,” called out Strout in a loud voice, “bring in them two chairs—everything's + occupied out here 'cept the counter.” + </p> + <p> + As the proprietors took their seats, the store door was opened again, this + time admitting Mr. Abner Stiles. His teeth were chattering, and he stamped + his feet upon the floor, and beat his hands against his shoulders in + old-fashioned country style. + </p> + <p> + “Moses Williams!” he cried. “I kinder think the North Pole must have slid + down an' come to stop in this 'ere town. I say, Strout, if that organ of + yourn was pumped to-night you'd have to play 'From Greenland's Icy + Mountains,' or some sech tune.” + </p> + <p> + “Where have you been?” asked Mr. Strout. + </p> + <p> + “Hain't been nowhere. Jes' came from the Pettingill house. Young Master + Sawyer wants some brown sugar to make some candy. Give me five pounds.” + </p> + <p> + “So it's Master Sawyer, is it?” said Strout as he weighed the saccharine + substance. “I thought it was Mister before a man was a Master.” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't a talkin' about men—he's only a boy, and a mighty smart boy + too.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm tired hearing about him,” said Strout. “Can't you give us something + new?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I kin,” said Abner. “Boys, I've got something funny to tell you. I + went to Cottonton this afternoon and I'd jest got back when they sent me + for the sugar.” + </p> + <p> + “What ye doin' over there?” asked Benoni. + </p> + <p> + Abner scratched his head then winked at Benoni. + </p> + <p> + “I went to buy somethin' for an individual who shall be nameless out of + respect—” + </p> + <p> + “Go on with your story,” shouted Strout. “You'd better hurry home with + that sugar or the 'Master' may make it hot for you.” + </p> + <p> + This remark caused a laugh at Abner's expense. + </p> + <p> + “Jes' go ahead, Abner,” said Benoni, “we're all a-waitin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I met a feller on the train and he buzzed me all the way here. He + wanted to know where I lived, an' when I told him I lived in Fernborough, + that used to be a part of Eastborough, he jest piled me full of questions. + I told him all I knew—” + </p> + <p> + “An' added a little something” broke in Strout. + </p> + <p> + “No, I jest stuck close to the truth. He wanted to know about Mr. Quincy + Adams Sawyer. I told him he was dead, but he said he wanted to know about + him when he lived here. Then I told him there was a man in town who could + tell him more'n I could about that, an' I jest giv' him your name, + Obadiah.” + </p> + <p> + This sally turned the laugh on Strout who was about to make a sharp + rejoinder, when the store door opened and a strong current of cold air + caused all to turn. + </p> + <p> + “Shut the door!” cried Bob Wood in his gruff voice. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” said the man, as he complied. + </p> + <p> + He was very tall,—more than six feet in height. He was dressed in a + suit of shiny black; his coat was buttoned tightly and the collar was + turned up. The most noticeable part of his costume was a broad-brimmed + straw hat. He wore no overcoat and his hands were ungloved. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, I must beg pardon for this intrusion, but I used to live in + these parts many years ago, and I am here to inquire whether any of my + family are awaiting the return of a long-lost relative.” + </p> + <p> + Abner nudged Mr. Strout and said in a whisper: “That's the feller.” + </p> + <p> + “What might your name be?” asked Mr. Benoni Hill in his genial manner. + </p> + <p> + “I have occupied many stations in life, and whether high or low have + always assumed a cognomen to match my position.” + </p> + <p> + “A cog what?” asked Bill Cobb in a voice so low that he thought only his + brother Jim could hear; but his question reached the stranger's ear. + </p> + <p> + “By cognomen I mean a desirable <i>alias</i> or a characteristic + appellation.” + </p> + <p> + This explanation gave rise to a chorus of “Oh's.” + </p> + <p> + “Kerzactly,” remarked Benoni, and then all laughed. + </p> + <p> + “When I left this town thirty years ago, my name was Richard Ricker. On + returning to those paths which my childish feet so often trod—I have + just come from the West Indies where the climate is hotter than that stove—it + seems appropriate that I should assume my family name. It is done. I am + now Richard Ricker.” + </p> + <p> + Abner nudged Strout again, who resented it, but Mr. Stiles remarked in a + whisper: “He's crazy—mad as a March hare.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ricker did not hear his opinion of his sanity. + </p> + <p> + “My father's name was Benjamin, Martha was my mother, and I had a brother + William—that is, I had them all when I ran away to sea at the age of + seventeen years, ten months, and fifteen days. I always remember my exact + age for I wished to know just how long I had been gone when I got back.” + </p> + <p> + The villagers looked at the stranger with marked variations in expression, + but no one spoke until Abner remarked: + </p> + <p> + “I guess you've struck the right place. There's a young feller named Billy + Ricker that works for Mr. Strout here,” and he pointed to that gentleman. + “Billy's father was named Bill, but he's dead; so's Ben and Marthy. I + know'd 'em all.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to learn that I have a nephew in the land of the living. Where + is he?” + </p> + <p> + “He lives in Montrose, the next town north of us,” said Mr. Strout. “We + have a branch store there an' Billy has charge of it.” + </p> + <p> + “If he had some capital, I suppose he could become a partner,” remarked + Mr. Ricker. + </p> + <p> + “Not much,” said Strout. “We have all the money we need, and know where to + get more. What we want is men, an' we have a good one in Billy.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ricker removed his unseasonable headgear and moved nearer to the + stove. + </p> + <p> + “I have heard of the late Mr. Sawyer and was sorry to hear of his early + demise.” He looked at Abner, then at Mr. Strout. + </p> + <p> + “Your friend here has told me about his wonderful exploits—how he + thrashed the town bully, and beat the singing-master at his own game.” + </p> + <p> + Bob Wood and Strout glared at Abner. + </p> + <p> + “But his experiences, which I have been told have appeared in print,” the + stranger continued, “are trifling compared with the perils and adventures + which have fallen to my lot. I could make your blood run cold.” + </p> + <p> + “Ef we open the front door, I guess the weather will do that,” said Hiram, + and it was the general opinion, though not verbally expressed, that Hiram + had got one on the stranger. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Emmanuel Howe, the clergyman's son, was noted for his extreme + politeness. He had attended one term at a divinity school before he met + Miss Dixie Schaffer. He arose from the nail-keg upon which he had been + sitting, and motioned for the stranger to take his place. + </p> + <p> + As he accepted the mute invitation, Mr. Ricker turned to the company and + said: “Gentlemen, shall I intrude upon your time if I relate just one of + my adventures?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, go ahead,” said Strout. “It's our rule to let a man talk until we get + enough, and then—” + </p> + <p> + He raised his right foot, suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” said Mr. Ricker. “When I was about twenty-two years old + our vessel was wrecked and I, the only one saved, was cast ashore on a + cannibal island—or, to be more correct ethnologically, an island + inhabited by cannibals. I was a handsome young fellow, and it is not at + all surprising that the Queen, who was young, unmarried, and, fortunately, + very pretty, fell in love with me and wished to become my wife. + </p> + <p> + “But the Prime Minister, or Great Panjandrum, as he was called, wished his + son to marry the Queen and become King, so he, and his minions planned to + get rid of me. + </p> + <p> + “Lola-Akwa, that was the Queen's name, discovered the plot, and resolved + to save me. + </p> + <p> + “You all read your Bibles, and you will remember that in the olden days + there were places that were called 'Cities of Refuge.' On that island + there was a Tree of Refuge. It was at least one hundred feet high and for + two hundred feet from it, in every direction, not a tree or shrub could be + found. This open space gave the pursuers a fine chance for an arrow shot + before the refugee reached the tree. + </p> + <p> + “Lola-Akwa told me to climb to the top of that tree and stay there until + she sent word for me to come down. + </p> + <p> + “But the Great Panjandrum discovered my hiding place. The Queen declared + that I was protected by all that was sacred in their religion, but the + Great Panjandrum proved by the cannibal Bible that only cannibals were + entitled to its protection. He said they would roast a man, and if I would + eat him and pick his bones I might go free. I declined, for I am rather + particular about my diet. + </p> + <p> + “Then the Great Panjandrum seized an axe and struck at the foot of the + tree. Others followed his wicked example and it soon began to totter. They + next tied a rope about the trunk of the tree. The plotters were sixteen in + number—I counted them. They stood in line, tugging at the rope. + </p> + <p> + “Lola-Akwa stood far back awaiting the terrible moment of my death. I + could see that her eyes were filled with tears. The tree fell, and I went + flying through the air—to certain death! + </p> + <p> + “When I came to, I found myself clasped in Lola-Akwa's arms. 'Where am I?' + I asked. 'Look' she said. I did, and learned the wonderful truth. + </p> + <p> + “The Great Tree had fallen upon the Great Panjandrum and his fifteen + conspirators and killed them all.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment there was silence, then a chorus of voices exclaimed: “Did + you marry the Queen?” + </p> + <p> + The stranger pressed his hand upon his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “No. If I remember correctly some one held an ace and took my Queen.” + </p> + <p> + He rose from the nail-keg. + </p> + <p> + “I'm hungry. I would like some supper and a bed for the night. To-morrow I + will embrace my only living relative. Is there a boarding house in town?” + </p> + <p> + “Somethin' better'n that,” said Abner. “We've got a Hotel—the + Hawkins House. Mrs. Hawkins keeps it. I'm going along that way and I'll + interduce you. She's a pretty good talker herself,” and Abner winked with + both eyes as they went out. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Benoni, as the door closed after them. “The Bible says + Ananias was a pretty good story teller, but that gentleman seems to have + added some modern improvements.” + </p> + <p> + “He's a cussed liar,” said Bob Wood. + </p> + <p> + “And if Mrs. Hawkins is smart she'll make him pay in advance.” + </p> + <p> + The door was thrown open full width and two men rushed in. + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen him?” cried one. + </p> + <p> + “Seen who?” asked Strout. + </p> + <p> + “He's tall—black clothes—had on a straw hat—” + </p> + <p> + “Who in thunder is he?” cried Strout. + </p> + <p> + “He's a lunatic—just escaped from the asylum. We tracked him to this + town—” + </p> + <p> + “He's gone to the hotel,” said Bob Wood. “You can nab him easy there. I'll + show you the way.” + </p> + <p> + The men started on the run, led by Bob Wood, and followed by all who had + been enjoying the hospitality afforded by the soap-boxes, nail-kegs, and + the red-hot stove. + </p> + <p> + “What beats me,” said Hiram, “is how he knew all about the Ricker family.” + </p> + <p> + “Simple enough,” said Strout with a sneer, “That ass Abner told him the + whole business. He never could keep his mouth shet. That's the reason I + wouldn't give him a job in this store.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout extinguished some of the lights, locked the door, and resumed + his seat by the stove. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't you going home?” asked Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “Not jest yet; I've some thinkin' to do. I don't take much stock in + fightin' but I'd like to punch Abner Stiles' head.” + </p> + <p> + “What's he been doing?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, didn't you hear what he said he said to that crazy fellow about + Sawyer getting the best of me at my own game?” + </p> + <p> + “Wall, he told the truth, didn't he, Strout?” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Mr. Hiram Maxwell, I want you to understand that if we are to + continue together as partners in this 'ere grocery business, there must be + mutual respect atween us.” + </p> + <p> + “Wall,” said Hiram, “I s'pose you mean by that, that ef I ain't what you + consider respec'ful to you, you'll get out and leave me the business. You + see, Obadiah, it's not for you or me to say who'll stay in—that's + for the trustees. So, I wouldn't lay down the law too fine, Obadiah.” + </p> + <p> + “Wall, I hoped,” said Strout, “that when that Sawyer married 'Zeke + Pettingill's sister and left this town that we'd be able to have a little + peace round here and run things our own way. Course, I don't want any man + to get drowned, but it wasn't my fault that the ship he was on ran into + another. He was allus runnin' into somethin' that didn't concern him. But + bein' he's gone, and no blame can be laid at my door, I thought we'd heard + the last of him, but since he's died the air's fuller of Sawyer than it + was afore. It makes me sick the way everybody tumbles over themselves to + make of that boy of his'n. I don't think there's much to him.” + </p> + <p> + “He's got a big head, an' he's a mighty bright little fellow,” said Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “Wall, then he resembles his father in one respect—<i>he</i> had a + big head.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm surprised, Obadiah, to hear you talk the way you do. I ain't forgot + that meetin' in the Town Hall where you got up and owned up that he was + 'bout right, and thet you'd been mean as dirt, but he shook hands with + you, and forgave you like a gentleman as he was, and I thought you were + good friends.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm good friends with anybody that keeps out of my way,” said Strout. + “But that Sawyer was like that <i>malary</i> that the boys got off to war. + It gets into your blood and you can't get it out. Why, he snubbed 'Zeke + Pettingill jest the same as he did me when they had that sleigh ride, and + he didn't have spunk enough to hit back. If 'Zeke had jined in with me + we'd had him out o' town lively. And then the way he butted in at my + concert and turned a high-class musical entertainment inter a nigger + minstrel show by whistling a tune vas enough to make anybody mad clean + through.” + </p> + <p> + “Wall, you got mad, didn't you?” said Hiram. “What good did it do yer?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout's newly aroused wrath was not appeased. + </p> + <p> + “Then again, the way he squeezed himself in at that surprise party. Since + I married Bessie Chisholm, I've talked to her a good many times 'bout the + way she danced with him that night.” + </p> + <p> + “Come now, Strout, what did she say? She wasn't engaged to you then. What + did she say? Now be honest.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout could not restrain a grim smile. + </p> + <p> + “Wall, to tell the truth, Hiram, she told me it was none of my business, + an' when I came to think it over I didn't believe it was—but it + would be now.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout's vials of wrath had not all been emptied. He seemed to be + enjoying a rehearsal of all his past troubles and grievances. + </p> + <p> + “I guess that if the folks had known at first that the Jim Sawyer who died + in the Poor House was his uncle, they wouldn't have considered him such + great shucks after all. An' the way he tried to get Huldy Mason to marry + him and throw over 'Zeke Pettingill, who had loved her ever since she was + a baby, was a mighty mean piece of business in my opinion.” + </p> + <p> + This remark gave Hiram an opportunity which he was not slow in improving. + </p> + <p> + “I heerd as how there was another feller in town who tried to get Huldy to + marry him and throw poor 'Zeke over.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout puckered up his mouth and there was a strained look on his face + which indicated that the shot had gone home. But his verbal ammunition was + not all expended. + </p> + <p> + “You can tell me what you've a mind to, but I know that he tried mighty + hard to get Lindy Putnam to marry him, an' I don't imagine he'd have taken + up with a blind girl if he hadn't heard that Heppy Putnam was going to + leave her all her money. I had him looked up by some friends of mine in + the city. They said he didn't have much himself, but his father paid his + bills. His father jest gave him to understand that if he didn't marry the + right girl, with plenty of dough, he wouldn't get much from him.” + </p> + <p> + “Wall, you may be right and you may be wrong, Obadiah. But when a man's + dead I don't think it does you any good to roast him and pick his bones. + It's too much like those <i>cannibiles</i> that crazy feller told us + about. Quincy Adams Sawyer was always a good friend to me, and a better + one to you, Strout, than you deserved, judgin' from the way you've been + talkin'. His money has been the makin' of both on us, and while we do + business together I hope we'll let Mr. Sawyer, as the church folks say, + rest in pieces.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. — BOYHOOD TO MANHOOD + </h2> + <p> + Until he was fourteen years of age, young Quincy attended the public + schools in Fernborough and Cottonton. While in England he had had a + governess and later a tutor, so that when he reached America he was much + farther advanced than Fernborough boys of his own age. Methods in the New + England town were different, however, and his Uncle Ezekiel was satisfied + to have him keep pace with the others, and not arouse antagonism by asking + for any special promotion. + </p> + <p> + Ezekiel's son Quincy had decided to become a farmer, following in his + father's footsteps. But scientific farming was supplanting old methods, + and he had taken the course at the Agricultural College and received his + diploma. + </p> + <p> + Young Quincy wished a college education. To obtain admission it was + necessary for him to attend a preparatory school, and, relying upon Mr. + Gay's description of its advantages, Andover was selected. + </p> + <p> + While at the Cottonton High School, Quincy's chum had been a boy two years + older than himself, named Thomas Chripp. He was the son of a weaver at + Cottonton. Like Quincy, he had been born in England, but his father had + been drawn to America by the lure of higher wages, nothing having been + said to him, however, about the increased cost of living. + </p> + <p> + Thomas's father would not let him become a back-boy in the mill. + </p> + <p> + “I've breathed cotton all my life,” said Mr. Chripp to Ezekiel, “and I + think too much of my only boy to condemn him to a life in a hot room, + where the only music is the whizzing shuttles. No, my boy Tom shall + breathe God's fresh air and become a big, strong man instead of a + wizened-up little fellow like me. Why, would you believe it, Mr. + Pettingill, I began work in a cotton mill when I was eight years old, and + I've lived in one ever since—forty years! Sundays when I walk out in + the fields I can't get the din out of my ears, and I told Susan, my old + wife, the other day, that if I died before she did to have the lid screwed + down extra tight so I could be sure of a little quiet.” + </p> + <p> + “My nephew,” said 'Zekiel, “thinks a lot of your boy and wants him to go + to college with him.” + </p> + <p> + “But I haven't got the money to pay his way,” said Mr. Chripp. + </p> + <p> + “My nephew has plenty of money, and if he's willing to help your boy along + in the world there's nobody to object that I know of.” + </p> + <p> + So it was arranged that Tom Chripp should go to the preparatory school and + college with Quincy, the latter to pay the expenses of both. “'Twas a + lucky day for Tom that sent that Sawyer boy to school in Cottonton,” said + Mr. Chripp to his wife. + </p> + <p> + “It'll be the making of Tom,” he added, and the happy mother thought so + too. + </p> + <p> + When Mr. Strout heard of it, he remarked to his partner Mr. Maxwell, + </p> + <p> + “More of the arrogance of wealth. If I was a young man like Tom Chripp I'd + make my own way in the world.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram swallowed some smoke, coughed, and then replied: “Probably he will, + when he gits his eddikation. Money makes the mare go now as it always has, + Obadiah, an' you an' me can't stop it.” + </p> + <p> + “Like father, like son, I guess, Hiram. His father used to enjoy throwing + his money away an' the son's goin' to sail in the same boat. I shouldn't + be surprised if he came back to town some day and licked somebody jest to + be like his father.” + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn't nuther,” said Hiram as he began putting up an order for the + Hawkins House. + </p> + <p> + While Quincy was attending the public schools, Mrs. Nathaniel Sawyer made + two visits each year to Fernborough to learn of her grandson's progress. + Thanksgiving he passed at his Uncle 'Zekiel's where he had eagerly watched + the growth of the turkey that was destined to grace the festal board on + that day. At Christmas he went to Boston and returned laden with gifts, + many of which were immediately donated to his cousins and Mandy Maxwell's + children. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout's ire was kindled when Hiram described the presents his + children had received from Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “Thank the Lord I've got money enough to buy my children's presents myself + without dependin' on second-hand things that other folks don't want.” + </p> + <p> + “So've I,” said Hiram, “but what I save that way I puts in the bank, for + I'm bound to own the old Pettingill Place some day.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, spend your money, Hiram. Your rich friends will give you the house + some day.” He was so pleased with the subtle humour of his last remark + that he tossed a scoop half full of coffee into the sugar barrel, much to + Hiram's amusement. + </p> + <p> + During Quincy's first year at Andover he was twice called from his + studies. The Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer after his return home from a bank + directors' banquet was taken with an attack of acute indigestion. He was + in great pain. One of the most prominent physicians in the city was + summoned. He gave a strong hypodermic injection of morphine to stop the + pain, but did nothing to remove the cause. The pain itself was stopped by + the anodyne, but the cause of the pain—the indigestion—stopped + the beating of Mr. Sawyer's heart within an hour. + </p> + <p> + By his will, $250,000 were left to his daughter Florence, and $100,000 to + his daughter Maude. To compensate for the $150,000 difference in the + bequests, the Hon. Nathaniel Sawyer's interest in the firm of Sawyer, + Crowninshield, and Lawrence was conveyed to Mr. Harry Merry, provided that + one-third of his share from the income of the law-business was paid to the + trustees of the estate of his grandson Quincy Adams Sawyer. The remainder + of his property, both real and personal, was left to his wife, Sarah + Quincy Sawyer. + </p> + <p> + Quincy's grandmother did not live long to enjoy her fortune. Maude wished + her to sell the Beacon Street house and come to Mount Vernon Street. Her + mother wished her to come to Beacon Street. While the <i>pros</i> and <i>cons</i> + were being considered, the old lady died of absolute inanition. She had + been dominated so long by a superior will power, she had been so dependent + upon her late husband in every event of her life, that without him she was + a helpless creature, and so willing to drop her burden, that she did not + cling to life but gave up without the semblance of a struggle. Her last + will and testament was very short, containing but one clause, which gave + all her property to her grandson Quincy Adams Sawyer. When Aunt Ella heard + of her sister's death, she said to Alice: + </p> + <p> + “They were not two distinct beings, Nathaniel was one and a half, and + Sarah only a half.” + </p> + <p> + “That boy will sure go to the devil now,” was Mr. Strout's comment. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think so,” said Hiram. “He's too much like his father.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know where his father has gone?” snapped Mr. Strout, who did + not believe, evidently, that good works were a sure passport to future + bliss. + </p> + <p> + Quincy's vacation after his first year at Andover was passed at + Fernborough. He was warmly welcomed and congratulated upon the great + fortune that had fallen to him. + </p> + <p> + “He's got a big head, sure enough,” said Mr. Strout, “but I think he's a + little weak in the legs. He won't disgust the community by fightin' as his + father did.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish he'd thrash Bob Wood's son—he's too impudent to live,” said + Mrs. Amanda Maxwell, to whom Mr. Strout had addressed his remark. + </p> + <p> + “No danger o' that,” and Mr. Strout laughed gleefully. “Young Bob's as + good with his fists as his father was.” + </p> + <p> + “He didn't amount to much when Mr. Sawyer tackled him,” and with a + scornful laugh Mrs. Maxwell flounced out of the store. + </p> + <p> + “Your wife's as bad as the rest on 'em, Hiram.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Obadiah; it seems to be whoopedemic, as the doctors say.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy's second and third years at Andover passed quickly and again + vacation time had come. + </p> + <p> + “Let's go to Fernborough as usual,” said Quincy, and Tom, without + argument, seconded the motion. This time, Tom was Quincy's guest. They + were young men now. Quincy was seventeen and Tom nineteen, but the fields + were as green, the fruit as sweet, the vegetables as crisp and fresh, and + their friends as glad to see them as when they were children. + </p> + <p> + A year had brought some changes. Mrs. Maxwell mourned the loss of her son + Obadiah, who had been gored by an angry bull and found dead in the West + pasture. For a wonder, Mr. Strout showed some sympathy, perhaps because + the little boy was his namesake. + </p> + <p> + The Rev. Caleb Howe had passed away. In his place the church had called + the Rev. Hudson Quarles, a bachelor of forty, whose hobby was fancy fowls. + He joined the Grange and talked on “Poultry Raising” and “A Small Fortune + in Squabs.” His hens were the heaviest for their age in the community, and + to prove it he was always willing to “weigh up” at the grocery store. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout called him a crank and played a joke on him that led to a + division in the church and came near costing Mr. Strout his position as + organist. + </p> + <p> + There were two scales on the long grocery counter. Mr. Strout tampered + with one of them by affixing two pounds of lead to it which he covered + with gold paint to hide the deception. + </p> + <p> + Bob Wood's hen was weighed in the fraudulent scales and beat Mr. Quarles' + by a half pound, the clergyman's being really a pound and a half the + heavier. The plot would have been a success but for the keen-eyed Quincy + who examined the scales and discovered the imposition. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout declared it was all a joke and that he was going to own up when + he got ready to do so. This explanation was accepted by some and scoffed + at by others. Naturally, Mr. Strout looked upon Quincy as a meddler. + </p> + <p> + “By Godfrey!” he exclaimed to Hiram, “either that Sawyer boy or me has got + to leave town.” + </p> + <p> + “When are yer goin'?” asked Hiram, quietly, but he got no reply. + </p> + <p> + Miss Dixie Schaffer retired from the stage and settled down. Her + mother-in-law, being an invalid confined to her room, prevented any + interference in her household affairs, and she was free from suggestions + as to what she should give, and what she shouldn't give her son, who had + been named Hugh after her own father. + </p> + <p> + Many new people had moved into the town. Among the newcomers was a former + detective on the Boston police force named Horace Dana. Through an injury + received in making an important arrest, he had become a cripple, able to + get around only slowly and with crutches. He was a widower with one + daughter, about fifteen years of age, named Mary. + </p> + <p> + The young lady was as old in appearance as many girls of eighteen, and her + looks so belied her age, that the village beaux paid court to her at once. + Her most persistent suitor was young Bob Wood who had just reached his + majority. + </p> + <p> + As she was walking one day in the Center Road, far from any dwelling, she + met Bob. He improved the opportunity by asking her to be his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mr. Wood, I'm too young to marry.” + </p> + <p> + “But I'm just old enough,” said Bob, “and you suit me exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wood, I'm going to tell you the truth. I'm not yet fifteen years old. + Father says I can't have a beau till I'm eighteen, and I'm sure I don't + want one.” + </p> + <p> + Bob had learned much street slang during his visits to Cottonton, and + considered its acquisition a benefit and its use an accomplishment. + </p> + <p> + “You've said it. Now sneeze it, and dust your brain.” + </p> + <p> + Mary regarded him with astonishment. “I don't understand such language, + Mr. Wood. What do you mean? I haven't a cold in my head.” + </p> + <p> + Bob laughed insolently. + </p> + <p> + “No, but you've got a cold heart. What I meant by my French was that + you're bluffing. If you ain't eighteen, I'm a primary school boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you don't believe me!” Mary's blue eyes opened to their fullest + extent. + </p> + <p> + Bob thought those blue eyes and light brown hair, golden in the sunlight, + those rosy cheeks, and pretty mouth made a most attractive picture, and, + in his rough way, he really loved her. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going home,” said Mary, “and I shall tell my father you said I lied + to you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you don't,” cried Bob, and he grasped her arm so tightly that she + winced. “You don't go until you promise me not to say anything to your + father.” + </p> + <p> + “I won't promise!” Hot tears filled her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Then you don't go,” and Bob tightened his grip. + </p> + <p> + The next moment a hand clutched his coat collar and he was thrown + violently on his back. + </p> + <p> + Bob, who was agile, was quickly on his feet again and faced his assailant. + “Oh, that's you, Sawyer, is it? Why do you interfere with what's none of + your business?” + </p> + <p> + “I think it is,” said Quincy, calmly. “My, friend and I—” He turned, + and at that moment Tom emerged from behind a clump of bushes at the + roadside. + </p> + <p> + “My friend and I,” Quincy repeated, “were behind those bushes and + overheard your insulting language to this young lady and your brutal + treatment of her.” + </p> + <p> + “Hiding to see what you could hear,” said Bob, sneeringly. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. We came 'cross lots and were just stepping into the road when + we espied you, and retreated, awaiting your departure.” + </p> + <p> + “Very prettily said, Master Sawyer, but I don't believe a word of it.” + </p> + <p> + “You called this young lady a liar and she was powerless to resent it, but + I'm not. Tom, hold my coat.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, please don't fight,” pleaded Mary. “I'll never speak to him again.” + </p> + <p> + “Say, Quincy,” exclaimed Tom, “he's too heavily built for you. Let me + tackle him.” + </p> + <p> + “Two to one! I s'pose that's what you city snobs call fair play.” + </p> + <p> + Bob removed his coat and threw it on the ground. “If you'll come one at a + time, I'll lick you both.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy addressed Mary. “Don't be distressed. You may pardon his offence to + you if you choose, but I'm going to settle my personal account with him. + He doubted my word. I'm going to make him believe what I said, and by that + time he'll be ready to apologize to you.” + </p> + <p> + Bob squared off, but Quincy did not raise his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Are you 'fraid? Don't you know how to put up your dukes?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not a boxer,” said Quincy, “if that's what you mean. I'll look out + for myself, rough and tumble.” + </p> + <p> + Bob rushed forward and aimed a blow at Quincy's face. It fell short, for + Quincy retreated; then, springing forward, he gave Bob a violent kick on + his left knee. As his opponent threw his right leg over to keep his + balance he was obliged to lean forward; Quincy caught him by the collar + and Bob went sprawling upon the ground. He leaped to his feet, red with + rage. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you fight fair?” he bellowed. + </p> + <p> + “You fight your way and I'll fight mine,” was Quincy's reply. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” cried Bob, “I'll try your way.” + </p> + <p> + He sprang upon Quincy and grabbed him by the collar with both hands and + pulled him forward. This just suited Quincy, for, catching Bob around the + legs, he lifted him high in the air and threw him backwards over his head. + Bob's face was cut and bleeding, when he arose. + </p> + <p> + “Time's up,” cried Tom. “Three straight falls settle it.” + </p> + <p> + “The first one don't count,” growled Bob. “He sneaked in on me and I had + no show.” + </p> + <p> + “He's right, Tom,” said Quincy. “We'll have one more after this if he + wants it.” + </p> + <p> + This time Bob profited by having observed his antagonist's tactics. He + caught Quincy around the body and tried to crush him with his brawny, + muscular arms. + </p> + <p> + Tom gave a cry of alarm and came close to the wrestlers. + </p> + <p> + “Keep back, Tom,” cried Quincy. As he spoke he fell backwards, carrying + Bob with him, who gave a yell of exultation as Quincy's shoulders struck + the ground. His hold was relaxed while falling. Quincy doubled his legs + up, put both feet against Bob's stomach, gave him a violent kick, and Bob + was once more upon his back. + </p> + <p> + “'Twarn't fair,” he yelled. “I had him down first.” + </p> + <p> + “We weren't playing for points,” said Quincy, “and everything's fair in + rough and tumble. If you want some more, I'm ready.” + </p> + <p> + Bob stood sullenly, but made no move forward. + </p> + <p> + “Now, let's talk it over,” said Tom. “Do you think this young lady or my + friend lied to you? Before you answer, just remember this is my fight now, + and unless you take back the lie and apologize for what you said and did + to this young lady, I'll thrash you so they'll have to send a wagon to + carry you home.” + </p> + <p> + Bob did not speak. + </p> + <p> + “Quincy,” said Tom, “you go along with the young lady, and I'll settle my + account after you're gone. You look a little white around the gills. You + had no right to fight a heavy-weight like him.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish to thank you both,” said Mary, “but I'm a stranger in this town—I + have lived here only a few months, and—I don't know your names.” + </p> + <p> + She blushed prettily and the lids modestly covered the blue eyes. The + three had moved along the road a short distance while she was speaking. + </p> + <p> + “My name is Quincy Adams Sawyer, and this is my friend and classmate at + Andover, Thomas Chripp.” + </p> + <p> + The lids were lifted but the blush deepened. “My name is Mary Dana. I live + with my father on Pettingill Street.” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” cried Quincy, “Ezekiel Pettingill is my uncle—I live with + him. I'm going home your way, and, with your permission, I will escort you + to your father's house.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, Quincy—you go ahead,” said Tom. “But you must excuse me. + I've kept Mr. Wood waiting.” + </p> + <p> + They were around a bend in the road by this time. When Tom returned to the + scene of the encounter, Mr. Wood was not in sight. Mr. Chripp laughed, and + paraphrased an old couplet. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “He who fights, then runs away, + Will have to fight some other day.” + </pre> + <p> + Quincy walked beside Mary, but said little. He would not acknowledge it, + but the exertion had been too much for him. His knees felt weak, his sight + grew dim, and, before Mary was aware of his condition, he sank upon the + grass by the roadside. + </p> + <p> + She knelt beside him, took off his straw hat and fanned him. Then she + lifted his head upon her knee and fanned more vigorously. Her big blue + eyes were gazing at him when he opened his and looked up into her face. + Again, a rosy flush came to her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “I'm better now,” said he. “I'm not very strong, but I can walk now.” + </p> + <p> + He got up with a show of vigour that did not deceive Mary. + </p> + <p> + “You rest here, and I'll send your uncle for you with a carriage.” + </p> + <p> + “By no means, Miss Mary, It was only a momentary feeling. Throwing him + over my head is what did it.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm so sorry you met Mr. Wood and me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm not, Miss Mary. Uncle 'Zeke told me that Bob Wood's father used + to be the town bully, and that my father, when they were both young, gave + him a good thrashing. I've watched Bob—we were in school together, + and he was always impudent and overbearing to me when I was a little + fellow. I've felt that some day we'd have it out together. I'm glad it's + over, and that I had the good fortune to serve you at the same time.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dana thanked Quincy for his defence of his daughter from further + insult and perhaps injury. + </p> + <p> + “I've been in a good many scraps myself, Mr. Sawyer. For seventeen years I + was a member of the detective squad in Boston. I resigned because of + injuries received in a fight with some bank robbers,” and he pointed to + the crutches beside his chair, “and although they wanted me to stay at + police headquarters I wouldn't hang onto a job I couldn't do to my own + satisfaction.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope your daughter will have no further trouble with Mr. Wood.” + </p> + <p> + “No danger, Mr. Sawyer. She is going to boarding school very soon to + finish her education. Why, Mary, we have been very remiss. Can you not + offer Mr. Sawyer some refreshment?” + </p> + <p> + Mary smiled and ran from the room. + </p> + <p> + “You'll be lonely without her,” remarked Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, certainly, but I shall not be alone. It's a secret as yet, but the + fact is I'm going to marry a young lady who lives in Westvale, part of + Eastborough, you know, and I don't wish to force Mary to live with a + step-mother. I think they would agree all right, but my plan will prevent + any possible unpleasantness. I love them both too well to make them, and + myself, unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + Some dainty cakes, fruit, and cold well water were served in the dining + room. Quincy ate slowly, but his thoughts were not about the food. He had + shown little interest in the Fernborough girls with the exception of those + in the families of his relatives and closest friends. But he was nearing + the susceptible age, when, to a pure-minded boy, a girl playmate, by some + mysterious transformation, becomes an object of admiration, and even + veneration. That delicious mystery that surrounds young womanhood was + attracting him. Mary was the cause of his newly-awakened interest, and + soon a strong friendship sprang up between the two. + </p> + <p> + When Hiram heard that Quincy had got the best of young Bob Wood he ran + back to the store and told his partner. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Strout, you can run the store for an hour or so. I must tell Mandy. + She'll be 'mos' tickled to death.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout's disgust was shown in both voice and manner when Abner Stiles + came in. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Abner, is it true that Sawyer boy licked Bob?” + </p> + <p> + “I should say so,” said Abner. “He must have got an all-fired trouncing, + for his face looks like a raw beefsteak, an' one of the fellers said he'd + been spittin' blood.” + </p> + <p> + “Them Sawyers is brutes,” was Mr. Strout's comment. “I hope to the Lord + that he is the last one of that brood to come to this town. Their money's + the best part of 'em, but it ain't any better, when you come to that, than + other folkses.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. — MARY DANA + </h2> + <p> + Quincy and Tom spent one more year at Andover. When they parted from the + old school it was with feelings of deep regret. + </p> + <p> + “I could be happy here for ten years more,” said Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “So could I,” replied Tom. “But, after all, this is only a narrow path in + the world of knowledge. Harvard is but a street and when we get out into + the world I suppose we shall find a boulevard.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to look down upon the world before I investigate its + thoroughfares,” remarked Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall visit Fernborough for only a short time this summer, a few days + in which to see the folks, and then I shall go to the White Mountains. I'm + going to stand on the top of Mount Washington, and look down on the busy + hives of men.” + </p> + <p> + Tom knew Quincy had received a letter from Mary, saying that she and her + aunt intended spending the summer at Fabyans, and he felt that Quincy, + being near Mary, would probably be on a higher pinnacle than any mountain + could supply, and the “eternal hills” would become objects of secondary + importance. But, Tom wisely refrained from mentioning these thoughts, for + lovers do not seek confidants unless help is needed. + </p> + <p> + Quincy found Fernborough but little changed, During the fourteen years + that he had been a resident of, or a visitor to, the town there had been + but little to disturb its serenity. Goldsmith's “Deserted Village” could + not have had a better record for unbroken placidity. The wrestling match + between young Quincy and Bob Wood had been an incentive to some animated + conversations at meal times and at the grocery, but the “locals” in the <i>Fernborough + Gazette</i> had never risen above the usual level of, + </p> + <p> + Hal Prentiss has bought a Jersey cow, + </p> + <p> + Strout and Maxwell have a new wagon, + </p> + <p> + William Jones has painted his fence green, + </p> + <p> + Sol. Peters cut twenty tons of hay from his lot on the Center Road, + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Jerusha May is visiting her daughter Hannah at Westvale, + </p> + <p> + And more of the same kind, interesting to a rural community but considered + inconsequential by those conversant with more exciting intelligence. + </p> + <p> + But Fernborough was destined to have its share of important events, which + incidentally interfered with the well laid plans of both Quincy and Mary + for the vacation in the mountains. + </p> + <p> + For the first time in the town's history newsboys went through its + streets, calling out “All about the Murder at Cottonton,” and offering for + sale copies of the <i>Cottonton Journal</i>. The boys held up the papers + so the headlines in large type could be seen. The word “Fernborough” + caught the eyes of those attracted by the word “Murder” and the copies + were soon disposed of, obliging many intending purchasers to share the + news with those who had been fortunate enough to obtain copies. + </p> + <p> + Quincy was in Mason Square when the newsboys arrived and he purchased a + paper. He glanced at the headlines and saw a name that caused him to utter + an exclamation of astonishment. He did not stop to discuss the matter with + any of the large crowd that had been collected, but whipping up his horse + soon reached Mary's home. Leaving the animal standing in the yard he burst + into the sitting room crying loudly, “Mary! Mary!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what is the matter, Quincy—are you hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “No, but something has happened in Cottonton and they sent newsboys over + here with the papers.” + </p> + <p> + “Somebody living in Fernborough must be mixed up in the affair,” said Mr. + Dana, who was sitting in his rocking chair near the window. + </p> + <p> + “I should say there was, decidedly so. Sit down, and I'll read what it + says.” + </p> + <h3> + “THE MURDER AT COTTONTON + </h3> + <p> + “A YOUNG MAN NAMED ROBERT WOOD, A NATIVE OF FERNBOROUGH, ARRESTED AS THE + CRIMINAL AND LOCKED UP WITHOUT BAIL. ANOTHER CANDIDATE FOR THE ELECTRIC + CHAIR!” + </p> + <p> + “Bob Wood, he was the one who insulted you, wasn't he?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father, but that was a long time ago,” said Mary. “Do let Quincy + read the rest of it.” + </p> + <p> + “A brutal murder was committed last night at the Ellicott Mills,” Quincy + continued. “The unfortunate victim was Mr. Samuel Ellicott, the treasurer + and principal owner. He was found sitting at his desk with his head + crushed in. The blood-stained implement of destruction has been + discovered. Robert Wood, Jr., a native of the adjoining town of + Fernborough, has been arrested and held without bail. Young Wood has been + an employee at the mill, but had aspired to the hand of Mr. Ellicott's + only daughter Mabel. Mr. Ellicott was firmly opposed to the match, and, + with the view, probably, of forcing the young man to leave the city, had + discharged him from his employ. Mr. Ellicott was busily engaged in making + preparations for pay day, which occurs to-day, and was alone in his office + at the time. There seems to be no doubt of the guilt of the accused. His + cane was found in Mr. Ellicott's office and must have been used to inflict + the murderous blows which have deprived Cottonton of one of its most + enterprising and respected citizens.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of that, Mary?” asked Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know yet. What do you think, father?” + </p> + <p> + “The case has no mystery—no charm for the detective's mind. I was + thinking that naughty boys who plague little girls often become wicked + men. Now, what do you think?” + </p> + <p> + Mary did not answer at once. When she did speak it was the result of + deliberation. In a small way she had often tried to help her father out in + solving some of the mysteries that had come up in his line of work, and + now the detective instinct in her was strongly aroused as Quincy knew it + would be. + </p> + <p> + “Quincy and I both know the young man,—not pleasurably, I'll admit,” + she said, finally. “Everybody thinks him guilty, but we have no right to + join the multitude without cause. He may be innocent. It would be a double + victory to repay an enemy with kindness, and, perhaps, save an innocent + man's life.” + </p> + <p> + “Just what I thought you would say,” cried Quincy. “I feel too that there + is a chance that Wood is not the one. But what can we do?” he continued. + </p> + <p> + “First, you must go and see Bob Wood's father, Quincy, and tell him that I + am going to investigate the affair, with my father's help. But tell him he + must be quiet about it. If we are to accomplish anything, it must be done + without any one knowing we are interested in the matter. Father and I will + look over all the papers that have reports of the trial, and, perhaps you + had better attend the trial yourself, and make careful notes, for the + papers do not always get things just straight. Then, I want to see Miss + Mabel myself, and see what she says.” + </p> + <p> + “But, why do you wish to do all this, Mary?” said Mr. Dana. “It strikes me + as being a simple case of a very brutal murder, and one in which there is + no doubt that the authorities have got the right man.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe him guilty, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “That's an opinion,—not a reason.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it, but woman's intuition often comes nearer to the truth than + man's judgment.” + </p> + <p> + She threw her arms about her father's neck, and her eyes looked down into + his, “You'll help all you can, won't you, father?” she pleaded. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I have nothing else to do, and this affair awakens my interest. But + from what I know of the case now, I think they have the right man.” + </p> + <p> + “You're a dear, good father to help,” and she gave him another embrace and + a kiss. + </p> + <p> + The next day there was a preliminary meeting which Quincy attended at + Mary's request. It was with difficulty that Mary waited until he made his + report. + </p> + <p> + “The principal witness was Gustave Pinchot, the night watchman. He heard + loud voices but as Mr. Ellicott was quite deaf he did not attach much + importance to that. Pinchot didn't see anyone come in or go out.” + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't Bob Wood prove an alibi?” + </p> + <p> + “Hardly, for he testified that he went to the office that evening, and + Miss Ellicott said that he told her he was going.” + </p> + <p> + “No alibi—and no evidence yet,” said Mr. Dana. + </p> + <p> + “It's coming,” said Quincy. “Mrs. Larrabee with whom Wood boarded + testified that he had a heavy oaken staff and that he took it with him + when he went out that evening because he had sprained his ankle.” + </p> + <p> + “Did Mr. Wood acknowledge that the staff was his?” + </p> + <p> + “He did finally. He injured his case by saying, at first, that he didn't + take it with him, but Mrs. Larrabee's testimony knocked that.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that all the testimony against him?” inquired Mary. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” continued Quincy. “Wood made a damaging statement that will make + it go hard with him. When he asked Ellicott for his daughter's hand, the + old man got mad and threatened to kick him out. Then the judge asked Wood + what he said when Ellicott threatened him and the young fellow + incriminated himself by saying that he told Ellicott if he did that he + would not live to do it again.” + </p> + <p> + “Did it appear that he had been kicked out?” inquired Mary. + </p> + <p> + “No; and Wood denied it as well.” + </p> + <p> + “And you saw his father, Quincy? What did he have to say?” + </p> + <p> + “He's all broken up, but says that his son is innocent.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, that's to be expected,” said Mary, and then continued, “I saw + Mabel Ellicott yesterday. She's in love with him, sure, and of course does + not think him guilty. She told me, though, that Bob Wood had said to her + that if she were an orphan there would be no objection to their marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “That would probably go against him, if the prosecution calls her at the + trial, and she testifies to that. But, what do you really think about it, + Mr. Dana?” asked Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “I have my suspicions, but I am not going to mention them yet. You two + young people are taking hold of the matter in good shape, and I want to + see what you can do about it; but, although, I do not say that Wood is not + guilty, I do say that I doubt if the government has sufficient evidence to + convict him.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * * * * * +</pre> + <p> + Mary became so interested in the case that she decided not to go to the + White Mountains for the summer, and Quincy also remained in Fernborough, + helping Mary as much as he could. Often they would go off on long tramps + in the surrounding country, and once Quincy went to Boston and was gone + several days. That they procured some evidence was clear from the + satisfied remarks made by Mr. Dana, who approved of the lines on which + they were working. + </p> + <p> + Although they had made some headway they were not ready to present their + theories when the time came for Bob Wood's trial. Many thought him + innocent, but the jury were of a different opinion, and brought in a + verdict of murder in the first degree. + </p> + <p> + The day after the close of the trial, the district attorney of Normouth + County was sitting in his office opposite the Court House. He was + preparing his address opposing the granting of a new trial, which he knew + would be proposed the next day by the counsel for the defence. + </p> + <p> + He had gone over the evidence time and time again. He was a conscientious + man. He felt that the law of the State had been defied—had been + outraged—and yet within his heart was that natural feeling of + sympathy and pity for the unfortunate being for whom but a few short weeks + of life remained, and he could not help regretting the part he had been + obliged to take in convicting the young man. + </p> + <p> + At that moment, a clerk entered and said that a young lady wished to see + him. In obedience to the direction given, the clerk withdrew; the door was + opened again, and a blue eyed, fair-haired girl entered. Standing near the + district attorney's desk, she said: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Harlow, as there is no one here to introduce me, I will introduce + myself. My name is Mary Dana. My father is, or rather was, a detective for + seventeen years in Boston, but our present abiding place is the town of + Fernborough. In the city he often used to tell me of the cases on which he + was working, and I would try to solve them with him. Robert Wood lived in + Fernborough, and from the day of his arrest I have been much interested in + the case, and with the help of my father and a friend of mine, Quincy + Adams Sawyer, the son of the former governor, I have been trying to find + the man who murdered Mr. Ellicott,—for I have never believed that + Robert Wood was the guilty person.” She smiled, and added, “Detectives, I + believe, are more often interested in strengthening evidence, and bringing + about imprisonment and executions than they are in trying to prove people + innocent.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear young lady,” said the district attorney, “the young man whom + you speak of has already been proved guilty by a fair-minded jury. There + seems to be no question of his being innocent, and, after the jury have + returned their verdict it is rather late to still try to prove him not + guilty.” + </p> + <p> + “What I have to tell you I think is important. Can't you spare me a little + time?” + </p> + <p> + “I have a luncheon engagement in half an hour, and can give you twenty + minutes, but it will do no good, I am sure. Won't you sit down?” and Mr. + Harlow placed a chair for her near his desk. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Mary, as she seated herself, “I will be as brief as + possible. I have read of many murder cases, but I believe I never knew of + one in which there was more conclusive evidence against the person accused + than in this instance. When I first took up the case, my father did not + think there was a possible loophole of escape for him; but the truth does + not always appear on the surface. Then, jurors get wrong impressions. + Witnesses are often prejudiced. Sometimes the judge is not impartial. Then + there are coincidences which are fatal so far as appearances go, but which + can be satisfactorily explained.” + </p> + <p> + The district attorney nodded, somewhat impatiently, and fingered his + watch-chain. + </p> + <p> + “The day after the murder I called on Mabel Ellicott, primarily to ask her + some questions about Robert Wood, but I also had a chance to see the body + of her father, and to examine the wound upon the murdered man's head. I + decided that Mr. Ellicott had been struck with something else beside the + oaken staff which, covered with blood, was found near his chair. In fact, + I found in the wound certain foreign substances which could not have + formed part of an oaken staff. + </p> + <p> + “That was a clue, but I told it only to my father and Mr. Sawyer. It led + us to look for something else. I must confess that a week passed without + our discovering anything to bolster up my opinion. Finally, it occurred to + me that perhaps the foreign substances I had found in the wound might have + been on that part of the cane that comes in contact with the ground. But + we will drop that for the present. + </p> + <p> + “Back of the mill is a piece of sunken ground. During the night, after Mr. + Ellicott was murdered, there was a heavy fall of rain, and this piece of + sunken ground was covered with water to the depth of several inches, in + some places, at least six. I do not mean that the rainfall was so great, + but the water ran down from higher elevations until it made, what appeared + to be, quite an extensive pond. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Sawyer and I made several circuits of this temporary pond; why, I + could not exactly tell you. A detective, I have been told, can seldom tell + why he examines certain objects so closely, but something seemed to draw + me towards that improvised lake. + </p> + <p> + “While looking at the water, I saw something which projected several + inches above its surface, and I had a curiosity to know what it was. Mr. + Sawyer put on a pair of rubber boots, and waded out to it, lifted it from + the water, and found it to be a large, irregular shaped stone weighing at + least ten pounds, which he brought back to me. He then went back and + splashed round in the pond with the hope of finding something else of + interest, but could discover nothing. + </p> + <p> + “I wondered how that stone came to be in the middle of that pond, and we + devoted several days after that to an examination of the surrounding + country. Back from the mill, some four or five hundred feet away, was a + ledge of rock. We, that is Mr. Sawyer and I, for I forgot to tell you my + father is now a cripple and could only help us with his advice at home, + examined its surface very carefully, using a magnifying glass and, to my + great satisfaction, I finally located a place into which the stone found + in the pond fitted nicely. Evidently, then, the stone had been detached + for some purpose, and that purpose having been accomplished, the stone had + been thrown into the pond.” + </p> + <p> + The district attorney looked at his watch again and betrayed signs of + uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, Mr. Harlow, but would you not rather lose a dinner than send + an innocent man to his death?” + </p> + <p> + “You still have ten minutes,” was the district attorney's reply, “But, I + cannot see the connection between what you are relating and your idea that + Robert Wood is not guilty.” + </p> + <p> + Mary continued her narration. + </p> + <p> + “I asked Mr. Sawyer to examine the tools and implements in the mill + workshop and he found a pickaxe, one point of which had been subjected to + rather rough treatment. I naturally connected that pickaxe with the ledge + of rock that had been found in the pond. + </p> + <p> + “An examination of the night watchman's quarters followed. Mr. Sawyer + could discover nothing until he came to a small cupboard which was locked. + Locks, however, do not keep detectives, or criminals either, from making + further investigations. In the cupboard, he found a coil of rope. There + was a certain peculiarity about that rope of which I will speak later. + </p> + <p> + “After that Mr. Sawyer loafed around the mill quite a good deal in the + evenings and became acquainted with Mr. Pinchot the night watchman. He is + a French Canadian. He told Mr. Sawyer that his parents lived in a small + town near Montreal, that they were both quite old and he was their only + living son, although he had five sisters, all working in the States. + </p> + <p> + “He had saved some money, and as his parents had a farm, and needed his + assistance, he had resigned his position and the day following the murder + was to have been the last one at the mill. He had withdrawn his + resignation when told that the law would require him as a witness, and has + continued in service. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Sawyer then made a trip to Boston and found that Mr. Pinchot had not + intended to go to Canada but had been making inquiries as to when a + steamer would sail for France. He had been told he would have to go to New + York. Am I taking up too much of your time, Mr. Harlow?” + </p> + <p> + “It makes no difference now. I am too late for the dinner. Pray proceed.” + </p> + <p> + “While in the city Mr. Sawyer called upon the architects who drew the + plans for the Ellicott Mills. I mean the original plan, for many changes + have been made in the interior. He procured a copy of this, and we found + that when the mill was first constructed, the part used by the treasurer + at the time of the murder had been the receiving room for raw materials. I + next made an excuse for us to visit the mills one Sunday and we + investigated the second story of the mill. The floor was covered with + grease and dirt and was black with age. I got upon my hands and knees and, + with my magnifying glass, examined every foot of the floor. + </p> + <p> + “For a long time, my search was not rewarded, but, finally, I found a + white place in the wood. A splinter had been detached. With a knife, I + scraped the dirt from the floor. My search was rewarded. I had found a + trap door! Its former use was apparent. On the wall, above the trap door, + was a stout hook. Upon this hook the tackle had been put and goods lifted + from the receiving room to the story above.” + </p> + <p> + “Well what does all this lead up to?” asked the district attorney. + </p> + <p> + “I will show you very soon, now, Mr. Harlow. If you remember, the safe at + the mill was found open the morning after the murder but had been closed + and locked by the superintendent. This was a very foolish thing to do, as + the combination had been known only to the treasurer, and it was several + days before it was opened by an expert sent by the manufacturers. It was + then found that the money drawn by Mr. Ellicott for the payroll, some + three thousand dollars, had disappeared.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I remember,” said the district attorney, “the thief was never found, + and with the more important matter of the murder on our hands little + attention was paid to the loss of the money. It was clear from the start + that Robert Wood had nothing to do with it, because revenge, not robbery + was his motive. But, what does all this mean that you are telling me?” + </p> + <p> + “I forgot to state, or, rather postponed saying it, that the coil of rope + that was found in the cupboard had a noose in one end of it, and that in + Mr. Ellicott's wound I found small particles of stone. I summed up the + case thus: Pinchot plotted to steal the money drawn for payday and to kill + Mr. Ellicott if it became necessary. He lifted the trap door, having + thrown the noose in the rope over the hook in the wall. Mr. Ellicott was + quite deaf and did not notice the opening of the trap door or the man's + descent by means of the rope. He used the stone because he could throw it + away and no weapon could be found. The murderer saw the oaken staff. He + knew that Mr. Ellicott had a visitor that evening so he used the staff to + complete his deadly work and left it behind as a witness against an + innocent man. He took the money from the safe, drew himself up by the + rope, closed the trap door, locked up the rope and threw the stone into + the pond. In France he would be safe to spend the proceeds of his crime. A + nice bit of circumstantial evidence, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Then you believe in circumstantial evidence, Miss Dana?” + </p> + <p> + “In certain cases. But I think it would render the community just as safe, + and be more just to the accused if, in cases of circumstantial evidence + where there is the least doubt, the sentence should be imprisonment for + life with a provision in the law that there should be no pardon unless the + innocence of the life convict was conclusively proven. When a murderer is + taken red-handed, I would not abate one jot or tittle of the old Mosaic + law—an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a life for a life. But + you know that many murderers of whose premeditated guilt there could be no + doubt have been much more leniently dealt with by our judges and juries + than those caught in the coils of circumstantial evidence.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is the watchman now?” asked the district attorney. + </p> + <p> + “Here in Cottonton, but he is intending to leave to-night for New York, I + found out this morning. Of course, he was not able to leave before this as + he had to stay in the vicinity, being a witness at the trial, but his + leaving so soon now simply seemed to confirm my suspicions, and I thought + it time to bring the matter to your attention.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dana,” said the district attorney, rising, and holding out his hand + to her. “I have done the best I could to convict Robert Wood of the murder + of Samuel Ellicott, because I really believed him guilty, and my oath of + office bound me to do my duty; but, if he is innocent, I believe it as + much my duty to right the wrong done him. You have built up a careful + case, and I myself shall ask for a stay of sentence until after this new + evidence can be presented to the Grand Jury. I believe you have saved an + innocent man, and I feel your future as a great detective is assured.” + </p> + <p> + It was unnecessary for Mr. Harlow to apply for stay of sentence in the + case of The Commonwealth of Massachusetts <i>vs.</i> Robert Wood. Within + an hour after Mary Dana had left the district attorney's office, Gustave + Pinchot was under arrest, and, sitting in the same chair which Mary had + occupied, was confessing his crime. + </p> + <p> + The day that Robert Wood was discharged, with no stain upon his name, + Quincy and Mary took her father to Cottonton. At the prison they met + Robert's father who had come to take his son home. He was profuse in his + thanks to Mr. Dana, for to him he considered his son's escape from death + was due. + </p> + <p> + “You are wrong, Mr. Wood,” said Mr. Dana. “Your son owes his life not so + much to me as to my daughter here, and to Mr. Sawyer. She practically + worked up the case herself; I made but few suggestions, and it was at her + request that Mr. Sawyer made certain investigations that fitted in with + her own ideas and made success possible.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dana,” said young Robert, “a year ago I insulted you, and was + properly treated for my words and actions by Mr. Sawyer. I owe you both an + apology which I now make and ask your forgiveness. But for you, and Mr. + Sawyer, I should have died a felon. You have, indeed, heaped coals of fire + on my head.” + </p> + <p> + Mary answered, “That was forgiven long ago, but if you wish my forgiveness + you have it freely. How does Miss Ellicott feel now that you are declared + innocent?” + </p> + <p> + “She came to see me this morning and we are to be married as soon as + possible, and I am to become the treasurer of the mill. She will own + three-quarters of the stock.” + </p> + <p> + When Mr. Strout learned that Robert's release was due to the exertions of + Mary and Quincy he sniffed and exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Folks in love will do all sorts of things. She's gone on that young + Sawyer, and she only started in on the thing so she could have a chance to + traipse around the country with him. He'll come back here for her some + day, and her market'll be made. All I hope is that he'll take her to + Boston, or some other foreign place to live an' we shall see and hear the + last of 'em.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. — AT HARVARD + </h2> + <p> + The newspapers gave much space to the near approach to miscarriage of + justice in the Wood's case, and many editorials were written on the + fallacy of allowing circumstantial evidence to carry as much weight as it + did. But what was spoken of most was the clever detective work of Mary + Dana. She was the recipient of congratulatory letters for her work from + all parts of the country, and the press could not say too much in her + praise. + </p> + <p> + Mary received a most flattering offer to join the Isburn Detective Bureau + in Boston. Mr. Irving Isburn, the proprietor of the world-wide known + agency, had for more than fifty years been engaged in solving mysteries + and apprehending offenders against the law. His success had been + phenomenal, and if his agency had been called “The Scotland Yard of + America” it would have been a derogation rather than a compliment. He had + surrounded himself with the most expert men and women in the profession, + and in a letter to Mr. Dana he said he considered Miss Dana would be a + most important and valuable acquisition to his staff. Mr. Dana, however, + decided that Mary was too young to start business life, so she was sent to + Boston to boarding school for a year. At the expiration of that time she + joined Mr. Is burn's staff, and soon that gentleman wrote her father that + in certain lines of investigation she was unexcelled. + </p> + <p> + With the coming of autumn, after Bob Wood's release, Quincy and Tom + started in on their four years at Harvard. They had passed their entrance + examinations without conditions, so the few days in the last of September, + spent so anxiously by many of the freshman class in trying to make up + conditions given them the spring before, allowed Quincy and Tom to live in + Arcady until the portals of the temple of learning were ajar. Rooms were + engaged at Beck Hall, and the young men began their inspection of the + classic city on the Charles. + </p> + <p> + “This city is on the square,” remarked Tom. “Lafayette, Central, Putnam, + Harvard, Brattle, and some more on the East side I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “The college is on the square too,” said Quincy, “as long as Dr. Eliot is + Prexie.” + </p> + <p> + College life has been depicted many times in books, and Quincy and Tom's + four years probably contained few events that had not had their + counterparts in the lives of other young Harvard men. They joined many + clubs and societies the initiation ceremonies being, in reality, a mild + form of hazing. + </p> + <p> + Quincy and his chum were not goody-goody boys, but they had mutually + pledged each other that they would lead temperate lives and refrain from + all dissipation that would prejudice their standing as students. Quincy + saw Mary frequently, and, after she was employed by Mr. Isburn, they + talked over some of the most interesting of Mary's cases. + </p> + <p> + In their college life, Tom and Quincy were unsuspecting, and became the + butt of many good-natured and some unkind jokes. On one occasion they were + invited to join a theatre party. It was a variety or vaudeville show and + ended with a pantomime, the closing scene in which was a skating carnival. + </p> + <p> + When the skaters came on, the members of the theatre party rose in their + seats and pelted the performers with paper snowballs made hard by the + liberal use of paste. The police were called in. Quincy and Tom had taken + no part in the snowballing but, as examination showed their pockets were + full of the substitutes for the natural product, they were adjudged as + guilty as the others. + </p> + <p> + One evening Quincy and Tom went to the theatre together. During a pathetic + speech by the heroine the clang of a big cow bell was heard. The audience + vented its displeasure in hisses. Again came the clangour and all eyes + were turned towards the unconscious youths, Quincy and Tom. Again were the + policemen called in. Two young men who sat behind Quincy and his friend + were accused of causing the disturbance. They indignantly denied any + knowledge of it and left the theatre threatening a suit for damages. + Further investigation by the minions of the law discovered the bell + fastened to the hat-holder beneath Quincy's seat, while the string that + served as a bell pull was under Tom's foot. Denial of such strong + circumstantial evidence was useless and Quincy and Tom promised to cause + no further annoyance. On their way home in the car they discussed the + situation. + </p> + <p> + “It's Dupont and Kidder that put that up on us, and we must get even,” + said Tom. + </p> + <p> + “But how?” was the question. + </p> + <p> + A week later Tom purchased tickets for a whole row of seats at one of the + principal theatres, explaining that they were for a large theatre party. + Dupont and Kidder had been recipients of complimentary tickets which + entitled them to seats in the middle of the row. They expected that Quincy + and Tom and other students would complete the party. Not so, as events + proved. Dupont and Kidder, immaculately dressed, had for companions two + waitresses at a well-known Cambridge café, two Harvard Square + hairdressers, and a number of individuals whose dress and general + appearance indicated physical strength rather than mental powers. Dupont + and Kidder went out at the end of the first act and did not return. + </p> + <p> + The next time that Tom met Fred Dupont he asked, + </p> + <p> + “Do you believe in the Declaration of Independence?” + </p> + <p> + “My great-grandfather signed it,” said Dupont proudly. + </p> + <p> + “How does it read?” asked Tom—“something about men being born free + and equal—a barber's as good as a millionaire's son—isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “It's all right,” replied Dupont, “Kidder and I only took one bell to the + theatre, but you kindly supplied us with two. Nothing's too good for us at + that café now, and we've invited Kitty and May to go to the theatre with + us to-morrow night.” + </p> + <p> + “It's no use, Quincy,” said Tom. “Dupont and Kidder took their medicine as + patiently as we did, and they liked it so well they're going to have more + of it.” + </p> + <p> + Then he told Quincy what Dupont had said. + </p> + <p> + “The victory's ours,” cried Quincy. “That shows that Americans, rich or + poor, are democratic at heart. All that keeps them apart is the foolish + idea that the possession of money lifts them above their fellows. Put them + on a money equality, and only the very exclusive ones will care about the + colour of their blood. It was a good lesson for Dupont and Kidder whose + fathers are wealthy men, and they have wisely profited by it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you don't believe in social castes?” said Tom. + </p> + <p> + “Why should I? My father married a poor girl and I don't expect to find my + wife on Beacon Street or Commonwealth Avenue.” + </p> + <p> + After Tom had asked his question the thought came to him that if Quincy + had believed in social distinctions on account of wealth he would not have + chosen the son of a cotton weaver as his boon companion, but it was too + late to take back the question, and Quincy had answered it. + </p> + <p> + The four years of study were at an end. Quincy was loaded with scholastic + honours while Tom's prowess has been most effectually shown on the ball + team and in the 'Varsity Eight, which came near winning a trophy for the + Crimson. + </p> + <p> + Just before Class Day, Quincy went into the office of Sawyer, + Crowninshield, Lawrence & Merry to see Harry Merry about some matters + connected with his income. + </p> + <p> + “Quincy, I am glad to see you,” exclaimed Mr. Merry. “I was on the point + of sending a messenger out to Cambridge to have you come right in. + Something very strange has happened this morning and it may be a question + which even your friend Miss Dana may find worthy of her skill in + attempting to solve.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Uncle Harry? There is nothing I love like a mystery, and Miss + Dana often talks her cases over with me.” + </p> + <p> + “This is a mystery in which you and your mother in England may be greatly + concerned; but before letting her know anything about it I think it better + to find out what it really means. For you to understand the matter + clearly, I will have to go back a number of years. In your father's will + your grandfather and Dr. Paul Culver were named as executors. After a + while the doctor wished to resign, and as you know I was appointed in his + place.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and you have always done more than your duty, and I am truly + grateful. But, pardon me for interrupting you. Please go on.” + </p> + <p> + “To make myself thoroughly familiar with all the details of my trust, I + went over all the old accounts. When your father and mother started on + that unfortunate trip to Europe, your father took with him some English + gold, some bank notes, and, to last him for his further expenses while + abroad, five bills of exchange, each for two hundred pounds, Sterling, a + total of about five thousand dollars. These bills of exchange were drawn + by his bank here in Boston, and in favour of the bank's agents in London. + About six years ago I changed the deposits of your trust account to + another bank. Until then I had always kept that five thousand still + intact, as it was drawing fair interest, and as, you may not know, your + mother has always had an idea that your father was not drowned. But, when + I changed the account, it seemed foolish to leave that money still there, + and as the bills of exchange had never been presented for payment, I had + no trouble in having them cancelled, and receiving the money. + </p> + <p> + “But, and here is where the important part of the matter comes in for you, + one of those bills of exchange, drawn over twenty-three years ago, has + to-day been returned to the bank here in Boston from the London agents.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Uncle Harry,” cried Quincy, “what can it mean? Is it possible that + my father is still alive? I can't understand it, I am bewildered,” and + strong man as he was he was unnerved. + </p> + <p> + “Calm yourself, Quincy,” said Harry Merry, “I am afraid that would be + entirely too good news to be true, but at least it must mean that your + father's body was found some time or other, and probably the bill of + exchange got into the hands of some dishonest person who has cashed it.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you got it here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” and Mr. Merry handed a paper to him. + </p> + <p> + “Is the signature that of my father?” asked Quincy turning the bill over, + and looking at the various endorsements on the back. + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure. If I were, there would be one great question solved, for + he would never have put his name to it, of course, until he was ready to + cash it. In a way it looks a little like his writing, but it may be, and I + think it is, a rather bungling forgery. It is more than likely that in the + wallet in which he kept the bills of exchange he may have had some papers + to which he had signed his name, and the signature was copied from that.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to show this to Miss Dana,” said Quincy, “perhaps she can help me + solve the problem. Have you got any paper with my father's signature to + it?” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a few minutes, and I will see if I can find any in the old files.” + </p> + <p> + After a good quarter of an hour, which to Quincy seemed as though it would + never end, Mr. Merry came back, covered with dust, but with the required + paper in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “A lawyer should never destroy a paper,” said Mr. Merry, “and I am glad to + say this firm never does. Here is a letter your father wrote to your + grandfather nearly thirty years ago, and is dated from Mason's Corner. + Take it, and the bill of exchange with you. I hope you can solve the + mystery, and let's pray it will turn out to mean that you are Quincy Adams + Sawyer, Junior; but, my boy,” and Harry put his hand on Quincy's shoulder, + “do not build too many air castles on it. If you do, I am afraid you have + a bitter disappointment before you.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy immediately called on Mary Dana, and had a long talk with her about + the matter. He told her all his conversation with Harry Merry and showed + her the bill of exchange, and the signature of his father's which he knew + to be genuine. After examining them both Mary said, + </p> + <p> + “In many ways, this looks like a very clever forgery. The characters are + all made the same as in the signature to the letter,—notice the + peculiar little twist to the S in the word Adams, but your father wrote a + very firm, strong hand, and the writing on the bill of exchange is weaker + and a little shaky. That is undoubtedly due partly to the fact that the + signature on the bill of exchange is written with a very fine steel pen, + while that in the letter was written with a quill. But, what makes me + doubt the genuineness of the signature is this,—although the + characters are practically the same on the two pieces of paper, your + father's name in the letter is the writing of an educated man, that on the + bill of exchange looks like the efforts of a man unaccustomed to write, + probably through ignorance, but perhaps due to the fact that he has not + held a pen for a long time.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Mary,” asked Quincy, “how are we going to find out about it, how can + we learn who did sign it?” + </p> + <p> + “There are the endorsements on the back. They are the only clues. Below + your father's name appears that of Jonathan Drake; then that of Agostino + Tombini, and, below that, Macquay Hooker. There is also the stamp of the + London bank. Where the bill of exchange was cashed does not appear. It is + evident, however, that the last person who signed it before it reached the + bank in London was Macquay Hooker. We will cable London now, and in the + morning will have an answer. Be in to see me early, but, if I were you, I + would hold myself in readiness to leave for Europe at a moment's notice. + Is your work all finished at Cambridge?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I had my last examination yesterday, and I should leave for the + summer in a few days. Class Day is all that keeps me now, but I am + perfectly willing to recall the invitations I have sent out, and can leave + at any time.” + </p> + <p> + On his return to his rooms Quincy told Tom what had happened. + </p> + <p> + “I had been intending to speak about our going abroad anyway this summer,” + said Quincy. “It's the style for college boys after being graduated to go + to Europe. I want to see my mother and aunt, too. To be sure, I have had + nice long, loving letters from them, and I've kept them fully posted as to + my doings, but that doesn't quite come up to seeing them. Now, with this + mystery on my hands, with all it may mean to me, I must go anyway. Will + you come along with me?” + </p> + <p> + “If dad don't mind, I'll go.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll run down to Fernborough for a day or two to say good-bye, if there + is time, and you can see your father about it.” + </p> + <p> + At ten o'clock the next morning, Quincy entered the office of the Isburn + Detective Bureau. + </p> + <p> + “I have good news for you, Quincy,” said Mary. “I have found out from + London that Macquay Hooker is a banker in Rome, and I have cabled him, + asking who the other two endorsers are. We should receive a reply by noon + at the latest.” + </p> + <p> + A good half hour before noon a messenger boy came in and handed Mary an + envelope. She scanned the cablegram quickly, and handed it over to Quincy. + It read, “Tombini banker, Drake American consul, Palermo, Sicily.” + </p> + <p> + “You see,” said Mary, with a smile, “matters are simplifying themselves + considerably. I shall cable now to Drake at Palermo, and find out what I + can about the original signer of the bill of exchange. This is Wednesday. + The Gallia sails from here to England on Saturday. You had better engage + passage, and make arrangements to go then. Come back late this afternoon, + and I will tell you what has developed in the meantime.” + </p> + <p> + After engaging a stateroom for Saturday, Quincy returned to Cambridge, + packed what things he needed for a couple of days, and with Tom came back + to Boston, intending to go to Fernborough on the late train in the + evening. + </p> + <p> + “The answer has just come,” said Mary, when Quincy saw her later in the + day, “but, I am sorry it is not as satisfactory as I could wish. Mr. Drake + is away from Palermo at present, and beyond the fact that a Quincy Adams + Sawyer had registered at the consulate about a month ago and has since + left the town, they seem to know nothing about the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Quincy, “we have a starting point anyway, and more than we + had in Bob Wood's case in the beginning. I shall go directly to + Fernborough Hall to see my mother for a day or so, but I think I will not + mention the real reason for my trip abroad until I have found out more. I + will tell her that Tom and I are anxious to get to the continent as soon + as possible, and that we will return to England later on. Then we will go + down through Italy to Sicily, and start in there tracing the signer of + that bill of exchange.” + </p> + <p> + “I think that is the best plan,” said Mary. “In the meantime I will keep + in close touch with Mr. Merry here, and if another one of those bills of + exchange comes in I will cable you, care of your bankers in London, the + names of the endorsers.” + </p> + <p> + “Mary,” said Quincy as he took her hand at parting, and held it perhaps a + little longer than was really necessary, “I can't thank you for all you + have done for me. I am truly grateful, and wish there were some way in + which I could show you my true appreciation.” + </p> + <p> + “Your thanks are all I want. Besides, you may be the means of bringing a + very clever criminal to justice,” and the smile left her face as she said + it, “for I am afraid that is all you will find. You must not hope too much + for what seems the impossible.” + </p> + <p> + On their way to Fernborough that evening, Quincy and Tom decided it would + be best not to mention the real object of their going to Europe, so Mr. + Chripp thought it was only a pleasure trip. He did not object to his son + going,—but he made one condition, that Tom should visit the village + in old England in which he was born and bring him back a picture of the + little thatched cottage in which Mr. Chripp had lived until the tales of + high wages and better prospects in America had drawn him from his native + land. + </p> + <p> + Quincy had said good-bye to all his relatives, friends, and acquaintances + except Mr. Obadiah Strout. That gentleman should have no reason to say he + had been snubbed. + </p> + <p> + When Quincy entered the store Mr. Strout was weighing some butter. Quincy + noticed that the wooden plate and a sheet of thick paper were put on the + scales before the butter was cut from the tub. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what can I do for you, Master Sawyer?” said Strout when the + customer who had paid thirty cents a pound for butter including wood and + paper had departed. + </p> + <p> + “I came to say good-bye. I am going to Europe.” + </p> + <p> + “I s'pose you'll like England with its 'ristocrats and kings so well that + you won't come back to these ordinary United States.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy knew that Mr. Strout wished he would stay in England, so he + replied, + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. I'm coming back sure. I know a little about weighing groceries + and I've decided to come back and go into business.” + </p> + <p> + “What good will your book larnin' do you then?” + </p> + <p> + “For one thing, they teach something besides dead languages in colleges + nowadays. I studied moral philosophy, which points out the difference + between right and wrong, between honesty and dishonesty, between fifteen + ounces of butter and one ounce of wood and paper, and sixteen ounces of + butter to the pound.” + </p> + <p> + With this parting shot, Quincy joined Tom in front of the store and they + started for Boston, from which port the <i>Gallia</i> was to sail two days + later. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. — ALICE'S DREAM + </h2> + <p> + “Do you believe in dreams, Aunt Ella?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Alice, I do not.” + </p> + <p> + “Not if they come true?” + </p> + <p> + “Only a coincidence. If they don't come true are you willing to + acknowledge that all are unreliable? Or, if some prove true do you + consider them all reliable? You can have either horn of the dilemma.” + </p> + <p> + “What causes dreams, Aunt Ella?” + </p> + <p> + “Usually what's on your mind. Your brain doesn't wake up all at once and + dreams flit through it until it gets full control.” + </p> + <p> + “What if a person dreams the same thing three nights in succession?” + </p> + <p> + “That proves nothing. When my first husband died I dreamed for a month or + more that he was still alive and that I must wake him at a certain time + because the morning he died he was to take a train at an early hour. You + make your own dreams.” + </p> + <p> + “But supposing you see something in your dreams that you never saw before—that + you never knew existed until you viewed it when asleep?” + </p> + <p> + “What have you been dreaming, Alice?” + </p> + <p> + “You won't laugh at me?” + </p> + <p> + “I promise not to laugh, but I won't promise to believe.” + </p> + <p> + “If my husband is dead,” said Alice, “he is dead and I shall never see him + again in this world; if he is still living, he is somewhere in this world, + and it's my duty to find him.” + </p> + <p> + “I will agree to that,” assented her hearer, “but you know that I have no + faith that he is alive. Just think, twenty-three years have passed away + and you have had no word from him. Out of deference to your feelings, + Alice, I had put off making my will since Sir Stuart died until yesterday. + It is now signed and in my lawyer's hands. It is no secret, I have left + all I possess to your son Quincy.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you do that?” + </p> + <p> + “I promised his father that he should have it, but as I think he will + never come to claim it, I gave it to his son, as he or you would do if it + was yours. Now, your dreams have put some idea into your head. Where do + you think your husband is?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what country it is, but, in my dreams, thrice repeated, I + have seen him standing in a grove of trees filled with fruit—lemons + and oranges they appeared to be.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he speak to you or you to him?” + </p> + <p> + “He looked at me but gave no sign of recognition. I called his name, but + he did not answer me.” + </p> + <p> + “That proves what I said. You are always thinking about him, and your mind + made up your dream.” + </p> + <p> + “Where do lemons and oranges grow?” + </p> + <p> + “In so many countries that you would have to go round the world to visit + them all.” She thought to herself, “they don't grow in the ocean.” + </p> + <p> + “You speak of twenty-three years having passed. That's not so long. I have + read of sailors being away longer than that and finally returning home. + Men have stayed in prison longer than that and have come out into the + world again. Why, Quincy is only fifty-three now.” + </p> + <p> + “And I'm seventy—an old woman some think me, and others call me so, + but if I were sure that by living I could see Quincy again, I'd manage + some way to keep alive until he came.” + </p> + <p> + “You are just lovely, Aunt Ella, and I love you more than ever for those + words. I believe that Quincy wants me to come to him—and I am + going!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Alice, I'm sure the only way you will ever see Quincy is by going + to him, for he can never come to you.” + </p> + <p> + The next day Alice spent in studying the cyclopedias and maps. She + estimated the cost of a six months' trip to the citron groves of Europe + and America. For a week she pondered over the matter. + </p> + <p> + Then something occurred that led her to make up her mind definitely. She + had the same dream for the fourth time. She awoke screaming, and shaking + with terror. Her aunt was awakened and ran to her room. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Alice? Dreaming again?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the same and yet different. I saw a big man raise a club and strike + Quincy on the head. He fell and I awoke.” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Ella grew cynical. “Why didn't you wait long enough to see the effect + of the blow?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Auntie,” and Alice burst into tears. “What shall I do?” + </p> + <p> + “I know what I'm going to do. I shall send for Dr. Parshefield and have + him give you a sleeping potion.” + </p> + <p> + The next day Alice began making preparations for her journey. Aunt Ella's + arguments and appeals were in vain. + </p> + <p> + “I must go,” said Alice. “Where, I do not know, but God will direct me.” + </p> + <p> + “God won't do anything of the kind,” exclaimed Aunt Ella. + </p> + <p> + Her patience was exhausted. Then her manner changed. She accepted the + inevitable, and did all she could to help her niece. One thing she + insisted upon, and that was that Alice should have a companion. One who + could speak French and German was found and Alice started upon her quest + into, to her, unknown lands. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. — “BY THE BEAUTIFUL BLUE DANUBE” + </h2> + <p> + Alice did not tell Aunt Ella where she was going. To have done so would + have led her aunt to say that it was foolish to go there, for although she + aided Alice in getting ready for her journey she was decidedly opposed to + it. In fact, in her own mind she called it “a wild goose chase.” But she + had learned that Alice had an indomitable will and she fully realized that + further argument and opposition were useless. + </p> + <p> + Alice went on board the boat at Dover with some foreboding. She had read + and had been told of the rigours of the Channel passage and her experience + was equal to the descriptions. Had it not been for the presence of + Babette, the maid so wisely provided by her aunt, her journey might have + ended at Calais, or even before. She had a horror of the water and it was + with a sense of great mental and physical satisfaction that her feet + touched solid ground again. + </p> + <p> + They went to Paris, but spent no time in the gay city. Their objective + point was the south of Italy, and then the island of Sicily. Did not the + guide books say that Sicily was the home of the orange and the lemon? + </p> + <p> + They would stop a short time in each important town. Carriages were taken + from day to day and inquiry was made at the principal groves in the near + vicinity of the towns. Then trips were made into the country, but + everywhere Alice's questions were answered in the negative. She was + allowed to talk to the labourers, by the aid of an interpreter, but none + had any remembrance or had heard of any such man as she described. + </p> + <p> + At only one grove, near Palermo, was she refused admittance. The + proprietor, Silvio Matrosa, said he had no authority to admit strangers. + Besides, two of the men had been fighting and one was so seriously injured + by a blow upon his head by a club, that he had been sent to the hospital + and it was thought he would die. Under the circumstances “Would the ladies + excuse him?” and Alice was obliged to give up her search in that + direction. + </p> + <p> + She had been so impressed with the reality of her dreams that she had + thought she could easily recognize her husband's surroundings, but she + confessed to Babette, who was sympathetic and engaged eagerly in the + search, that she had seen no place that resembled the scene of her dreams. + </p> + <p> + More weary wandering without result followed, and so intent was she on the + object of her search that the beauties of “Sunny Italy” were lost upon + her. The weather was hot and enervating and Babette suggested that her + mistress should go to Switzerland and rest before continuing her search. + Alice consented, but when they reached Vienna she was too ill to proceed + farther. Babette was at home in Vienna for she could speak German, and she + soon learned that the Hospital of St. Stephen's would give her mistress + the rest and medical treatment that her condition required—for she + was on the verge of nervous prostration. The discomfort of travelling was + not the cause of her physical break-down for Aunt Ella had told her “that + nothing was too good for a traveller” and every comfort and convenience + that money could supply had been hers. Her mental disquietude had produced + the physical relapse. She had been so confident of the truth of her + dreams, and that some power, she knew not what, but which she trusted + implicitly, would lead her to her husband, that her disappointment was + more than her strained nervous system could bear. + </p> + <p> + After a week's rest, although unable to rise, she called Babette to her + bedside. “I wish to send word to my aunt in England but I do not feel able + to sit up and write. I will dictate, you can write, and I will sign it.” + </p> + <p> + Then Babette wrote: + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR AUNT ELLA: Confession, they say, is good for the soul. My body is + weak to-day and so Babette is writing my confession. I have been to Sicily + and all over the southern part of Italy, but no success has come to me. If + Quincy had been in one of those orange or lemon groves he could not have + lived there for so many years; the work is too hard, and he was never used + to manual labour. So, as soon as I am able, I am coming home. I will never + trouble you with any more dreams. I believe, as you do, that they are + products of imagination. I am not sick, only tired out, and naturally, at + first, very much disheartened. I shall be with you very soon, never more + to leave you.” ALICE. + </p> + <p> + “P. S. As soon as I am able to take a drive I am going to view the + attractions of this city—which Babette says is even more beautiful + than Paris. I must see 'The Beautiful Blue Danube,' and I must hear Johann + Strauss's orchestra. They will be the only happy memories of my fruitless + journey.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. — “WE THREE” + </h2> + <p> + Nothing marred the pleasure of the trip on the <i>Gallia</i> and young + Quincy and Tom could not have been happier than they were when the great + steamer made its way up the Mersey towards its Liverpool pier. + </p> + <p> + A few hours only in the great bustling city and then they were off to find + the house in which Tom's father was born and lived. It was near Chester, + that modernized reminder of the old Roman days, and on their way to + Fernborough Hall. + </p> + <p> + They found it uninhabited. The thatched roof was full of holes and the + interior showed the devastation that wind and water had worked. Tall weeds + filled the little garden and the general effect was dismal indeed. + </p> + <p> + “It won't do to take Dad a picture of this old shanty,” said Tom. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps we can find a house that looks like it,” Quincy suggested. + </p> + <p> + They had no difficulty in doing that, for the same architectural plan, if + the design be worthy the name, had plainly been followed in the + construction of many cottages. They found one with the roof covered with + moss and a garden full of old-fashioned flowers, and several views were + taken with Quincy's camera. + </p> + <p> + “It's cheating in one way,” said Tom, “but it would break Dad's heart to + see a picture of his old home as it really is—so we'll show him one + as it ought to be.” + </p> + <p> + “And as it shall be,” said Quincy. “It won't cost much to fix it up, all + but the moss, and that will come on it in time. You get a man, Tom, find + out the cost of renovating the house, and I'll pay the bill. So will the + sense of untruthfulness be removed from our sensitive feelings.” This was + quickly arranged, for work, with the pay in advance, was a delectable + possession in those parts. + </p> + <p> + When they reached Fernborough Hall, and Quincy was told of the search on + which his mother had started out, he pretended to agree with his aunt that + it was useless, and the height of folly, but from that moment hope sprang + up within him, that, by some miracle, his father was still alive. He did + not confide his hopes to Aunt Ella, and gave her no inkling of the real + reason for his trip to Europe. + </p> + <p> + “It would make me very happy to know that my father was living,” he said, + “but after so long a time it seems foolish to think it, does it not? When + do you expect mother home, Aunt Ella?” + </p> + <p> + “The letter was written a month ago from Vienna, but, unfortunately, she + did not give her address. If she were well, she should have been here + before this. I have an idea that she may have gone to Switzerland on her + way home, and charmed by its scenery, or forced by her weak condition, has + remained there. Stay here for a week with your friend, and perhaps some + word will come.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Auntie,” said Quincy, “Tom and I will run over to Vienna, and if we + don't find her we will push on to William Tell's republic. We will write + you often—Tom one day and I the next.” + </p> + <p> + “I have often wondered,” said Quincy to Tom two days later as they were on + the cars speeding to Vienna—“I have often wondered,” he repeated, + “how my mother could let me go away and stay away from her for fourteen + long years. That she loves me, her letters show plainly. She says often + that I am all she has in the world, but she never sent for me to come and + see her nor did she ever come to see me. How do you explain it, Tom?” + </p> + <p> + “Very easily. That disaster at sea and the loss of your father has given + her a horror of the ocean which she cannot overcome. She fears to trust + herself or one she loves to its mercies again. Perhaps we can't understand + her feelings, but you must respect them.” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” replied Quincy. “I have never doubted her love for me, and your + theory, perhaps, explains her failure to manifest her love more forcibly.” + </p> + <p> + On the train they made a most agreeable acquaintance and regretted their + inability to accept his invitation to visit him. His name was Louis + Wallingford. He was an American, born in Missouri. He had been a reporter, + then editor. His passion was music and he had forsaken a literary life for + that of a musician. He had joined an orchestra much in demand at private + parties given by the wealthy residents of St. Louis. At one of these, he + had become infatuated with the daughter of a railroad magnate who counted + his wealth by millions. A poor violinist, he knew it was useless to ask + her father for his daughter's hand. The young lady's mother was dead. The + father died suddenly of apoplexy, and Miss Edith Winser came into + possession of the millions. Then he had spoken and been accepted. + Conscious that her husband, talented as he was, would not be accepted, + without a hard struggle, by the upper class, they decided to live in + Europe. + </p> + <p> + He had found a deserted chateau on the borders of Lake Maggiore. Money + bought it, and money had transformed it into an earthly Paradise. The + building, of white marble, was adapted for classic treatment, and Greek + and Roman art were symbolized therein. + </p> + <p> + The chateau contained a large music room and a miniature theatre in which + Mr. Wallingford's musical compositions and operas were performed. + </p> + <p> + “I have just come from Paris,” said Mr. Wallingford, “where I have made + arrangements for six concerts by my orchestra which will play many of my + own pieces. Can you not be in Paris in a month and hear them?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell him your story,” whispered Tom to Quincy, and he did so. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wallingford was deeply interested. + </p> + <p> + “If you find both your father and mother, they deserve another honeymoon. + Bring them to Vertano and in the joys of the present we will make them + forget the sorrows of the past.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” said Quincy, “that such good fortune would be more than + miraculous.” + </p> + <p> + “Come with your mother and friend then,” said Mr. Wallingford as he left + them to change cars. + </p> + <p> + They went to the Hotel Metropole in Vienna. Quincy consulted his guide + book. + </p> + <p> + “Everybody lives in apartment houses in Vienna, so this book says. The + question is, in which one shall we find my mother and her maid?” + </p> + <p> + “All we can do,” said Tom, “is to plug away every day. Keep a-going, keep + asking questions, keep our eyes and ears open, and keep up our courage.” + </p> + <p> + “Your plan is certainly 'for keeps,' as we children used to say. Come + along. Your plan is adopted. Have you written Lady Fernborough? 'Tis your + turn.” + </p> + <p> + Many days of fruitless travel and the young men began to despair of + success. Quincy was debating with himself whether it would not be better + to give up the search for his mother, and follow up the clue about his + father. He felt that every day was precious. + </p> + <p> + “I have an idea, Quincy,” Tom said one morning. “Perhaps your mother is + quite sick and has gone to a public hospital or a private one of some + kind.” + </p> + <p> + “That's a fine idea, Tom. We'll begin on them after breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + The sharp reports of gun shots and the softer cracking of pistols were + heard. + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” cried Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “Some men are on a strike. They had trouble with the police last night and + this morning's paper says the strikers have thrown up barricades. Probably + the police and soldiers are trying to dislodge them.” + </p> + <p> + The firing continued, and from their windows the soldiers and people could + be seen moving towards the scene of disturbance. + </p> + <p> + “Let's go out and see what is going on,” said Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “Let's stay in and keep out of trouble,” was Tom's reply. “It is the + innocent bystander who always gets shot.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going down to the office to find out about it,” and Quincy took his + hat and left the room. + </p> + <p> + Tom was suspicious of his intentions and followed him. Quincy had left the + hotel and was walking rapidly towards the scene of disturbance. Tom ran + after him, and kept him in sight, but did not speak to him. At first he + felt offended that Quincy had not asked him to go with him. Then he + reflected: “I virtually told him in advance that I wouldn't go. He's his + own master.” + </p> + <p> + They were nearing a street from which came the sounds of conflict—loud + cries, curses, and the reports of firearms. Tom ram forward to prevent + Quincy from turning into the street. He was too late—Quincy had + turned the corner. Tom, regardless of danger, followed him. He started + back with a cry of horror. Quincy had been shot and was lying upon the + sidewalk, the blood streaming from a gun-shot wound in his right arm. Tom + took him up in his arms, as though he had been a child, and returned to + the safety of the unexposed street. + </p> + <p> + As he lay Quincy upon the sidewalk and took out his handkerchief to make a + tourniquet with which to stanch the flow of blood, he cried: “Oh, Quincy, + why did you walk right into danger?” + </p> + <p> + As he uttered the words, a man who was standing nearby, whose dress and + swarthy face proclaimed him to be a foreigner, stepped forward and grasped + Tom roughly by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “What did you call that young man,” asked the stranger, his voice + trembling, perceptibly. + </p> + <p> + “I called him by his name—Quincy.” + </p> + <p> + “Quincy what? Pardon me, but I have a reason for asking.” + </p> + <p> + “His name is no secret,” said Tom, as he twisted the handkerchief tightly + above the wound. “I can't understand your interest in him, but his name is + Quincy Adams Sawyer.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank Heaven,” exclaimed the man. “And thank you,” he added, grasping + Tom's hand—“Is he English?” + </p> + <p> + “No, we're both Yankees, from Fernborough, Massachusetts.” + </p> + <p> + The man knelt beside Quincy and gazed at him earnestly. He looked up at + Tom. + </p> + <p> + “I could bless the man who fired that shot. My name is Quincy Adams Sawyer + and this young man is my son!” + </p> + <p> + Tom's surmise had been correct. Alice did not improve and a long stay at + the Hospital became necessary before the return to England would be + possible. + </p> + <p> + “What's that noise, Babette?” asked Alice. + </p> + <p> + “There must be a riot somewhere,” was the reply. “The soldiers are + marching past. They are fighting in a street nearby.” + </p> + <p> + Alice said no more. What had she to do with fighting and bloodshed? Her + suffering was greater than any bullet could inflict. She fell into a doze + from which she was awakened by a loud cry from Babette. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Madame, a carriage has just stopped here, and they are bringing a + wounded man into the Hospital. There are two men with him—one looks + like an Englishman or American.” + </p> + <p> + “Go down, Babette, and see if you can find out who they are. I should be + glad if I could be of help to one of my own countrymen.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed a very long time before the maid returned. When she did, the + usually self-confident Babette seemed dazed. She did not speak until her + mistress asked: + </p> + <p> + “Did you find out anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Madame.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “They are all Americans, Madame. A young man and his friend; the older man + is the father.” + </p> + <p> + “The companion's?” + </p> + <p> + “No, the young man's.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you learn their names or where they are from?” + </p> + <p> + Babette sank upon her knees by the bedside. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Madame, I am so happy.” + </p> + <p> + Alice regarded her with astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Happy! Happy because a young man has been shot. You must have a + bloodthirsty nature, Babette.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't the shooting, Madame. It's the name.” + </p> + <p> + “The name? What name? You are nervous, Babette. You must lie down and + rest. I keep you up too late nights reading and writing.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Madame, how can I say it? Can you bear it?” + </p> + <p> + “I have borne suspense for twenty-three years. I can bear much. What is it + you would tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “You know, Madame, I said the older man was the young man's father. They + both have the same name.” + </p> + <p> + “That's not uncommon, especially in America. The young man is called + Junior. Sometimes when they are very proud of a family name they number + them. Supposing my husband were living, and my son had a son, named after + himself, the little boy would be Quincy Adams Sawyer 3rd.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, I must tell you. The father and the son bear the name of Quincy + Adams Sawyer!” + </p> + <p> + Alice regarded her as if affrighted. Then she leaped from the bed and + cried: “Bring me my clothes, Babette. My husband and son! We three, + brought together by the hand of God once more.” + </p> + <p> + The revulsion was too great. The pent-up agony of twenty-three years + dissolved in a moment. Alice fainted and fell into Babette's arms. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. — A PERIOD OF TWENTY-THREE YEARS + </h2> + <p> + It took hours for the overjoyed wife and mother and the long-lost husband + and father to tell their stories. Alice's was told first, and was followed + by young Quincy's recital of his life at Fernborough, his four years at + Harvard, and the story of the returned bill of exchange leading him to + Europe, and his search for his mother in Vienna which ended with such + happiness for all. Finally, the father began: + </p> + <p> + “On the night of the collision, after seeing you safely started in the + life-boat with the last of the passengers, Captain Hawkins thought of a + small boat on the upper deck which had been overlooked in the general + scramble to get away from the doomed <i>Altonia</i>. Shouting to me to + follow him, the Captain rushed up the ladder to the railing, and together + we started to lower the boat. It was raised about three feet above the + deck, being held in position by two supports shaped like a letter X. I had + already loosened the ropes on my side, and then tried to kick out the + support nearest me. It stuck, and finally I got down on my hands and knees + thinking I could force it out better in that position. The water was + steadily pouring in at the ship's side, and it was only a question of a + few minutes before the <i>Altonia</i> would founder. Finally I gave one + mighty push, the support gave away, the boat came down upon me like a ton + weight,—and that was the last I knew until I awoke in a large room + full of single beds, and a kindly faced old priest told me I was in the + Hospital of San Marco, Palermo, Sicily. + </p> + <p> + “My God, the shock when I found that my sleep,—for such it was to + me,—had lasted over twenty-three years! What thoughts went through + my mind! Had you, Alice, been saved or lost? If saved, were you still + living, and my son, whom I had never seen, was he living? Were Aunt Ella + and my father and mother and my sisters still alive? I was roused from my + revery by the good Father Paolo. + </p> + <p> + “He told me that the week before he had been summoned to the death-bed of + an old seaman, Captain Vando, who had confessed that over twenty years + before, while sailing from Boston to Palermo, two days after a very bad + fog, he had picked up at sea a small open boat in which were two men, both + of whom at first seemed dead. One, it was Captain Hawkins, was beyond all + help; he was frozen to death,—frozen to death, Alice, in an effort + to save my life, for, besides my own coat, his was found tucked around me. + </p> + <p> + “After hours of work, I was brought back to life,—but a life worse + than death. The Captain told Father Paolo that my mind was a blank, I + could remember nothing of my past, I did not know my name. Then temptation + came to Captain Vando. He took from me my belt, in which I had some + English gold, a few English bank-notes, and the five bills of exchange, + each for a thousand pounds. The latter he did not dare to dispose of, but + the money he appropriated to his own use. He soon found I could be of no + use to him on ship-board, so, on his arrival at Palermo, he sold me to a + rich planter, for a hundred lire, and I was put to work in the orange + groves. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Vando in his confession told Father Paolo that he still had my + belt containing the bills of exchange, and before his death he delivered + these over to the priest. After the Captain's death, Father Paolo went to + Signor Matrosa, who, when confronted with the facts, admitted I had been + sold to him, and that I was known under the name of Alessandro Nondra, but + he told him that I had been mixed up in a fight, and had received such a + bad wound that I had been sent to the hospital. One of his managers, an + Italian, had married an English girl, and they had a daughter with light + hair, and blue eyes. It seems I had been sent to his house one day with a + message, and when I saw his daughter, I cried out, 'Alice, Alice,' and + caught the girl in my arms. Her father was so enraged that he picked up a + gun lying near at hand, and gave me such a terrific blow on the head that + I was knocked senseless. I remember nothing of it, but mistaking Anita for + you was, undoubtedly, my first approach to my former consciousness. That + scene was probably the one which you saw in your dream, Alice, and to + think that afterwards you should be so near me in Palermo, and neither of + us know it! + </p> + <p> + “At the hospital the doctors found that the blow on my head had caused but + a comparatively unimportant scalp wound, but, in dressing it, they found + that at some earlier time my skull had been crushed. They performed the + delicate operation of trepanning the skull, and when I came out from the + effects of the ether, my mind was in the same state as it had been + twenty-three years before. + </p> + <p> + “After that my recovery was rapid. Father Paolo made Signor Matrosa pay me + thirty-three hundred lire as my wages for the many years I had worked for + him, and I gave a thousand of it to the manager's daughter, to whom, in a + way, I owed my return to my natural self. The rest I gave to Father Paolo + for the use of his church. + </p> + <p> + “Luckily, in my belt that Captain Vando had appropriated was my passport. + I went to the United States consul at Palermo, Mr. Drake, had the passport + viséd, and got him to cash one of the bills of exchange for me. Suddenly, + one day, the thought came into my mind, had you, Alice, thinking me dead, + married again? I decided to find out before the announcement of my return + to the land of the living could be spread broadcast, and I persuaded Mr. + Drake to keep back the information from his official report for a while, + at least. This he was able to do easily, as he was on the point of going + away for a vacation of a few months, and the other members of the + consulate knew very little of my case. + </p> + <p> + “I decided to continue bearing the name of Alessandro Nondra for a while, + at least, and I knew I could make a living in some way when my present + funds were exhausted. How I regretted the cashing of that bill of + exchange, because I knew it would eventually lead to my discovery; but I + was so changed, with my iron-gray hair, and Van Dyke beard, that I felt I + could escape detection until I knew whether my wife still waited for me or + not. + </p> + <p> + “I decided to make my way north to Ostend, and would cross from there to + England, where I felt sure I could find some news of you, or Aunt Ella. I + stopped off here in Vienna for a day or two. When I heard my son called by + name this morning I could not resist, and instead of finding my son alone, + I have also found his mother, my wife.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. — “CATESSA” + </h2> + <p> + Quincy gloried in his wife's faith and constancy. Alice, while she + rejoiced in her husband's return bewailed his lost opportunities. + </p> + <p> + “Think what you have lost, Quincy. You might have been President.” + </p> + <p> + “If I have escaped that I shall not regret my long imprisonment.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Quincy, would you have refused a nomination?” + </p> + <p> + “Many are called, but few are chosen. I have never cherished any such + ambition. I am not in love with politics and I detest the average + politician. Our country produces few statesmen and it never will until the + civil service law is made applicable to legislators and to high officials. + We have much to learn from China in this respect.” + </p> + <p> + Telegrams had been sent to Aunt Ella and Mr. Wallingford apprising them of + the happy reunion. From the latter came a message extending a hearty + invitation to come to Vertano. + </p> + <p> + Young Quincy's wound though painful, and particularly uncomfortable, was + not serious. Tom was his constant companion and attendant while Quincy + passed nearly all his time with his wife. She improved rapidly and their + departure was delayed only until young Quincy's wound was healed. + </p> + <p> + “You now have a longer name than ever,” his mother said to him one day. + </p> + <p> + “How's that? It's too long now. What must be added?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, now that your father is alive, you are Quincy Adams Sawyer, Junior.” + </p> + <p> + “I am more than willing to make the addition, mother, and hope it will be + many years before I am obliged to shorten it.” + </p> + <p> + When they reached Vertano but three days remained before the departure of + Mr. Wallingford and his orchestra for Paris, but during that time there + were drives through the beautiful country, boat rides upon the lake, + rehearsals by the orchestra and the performance of an operetta written by + Mr. Wallingford in which he, his wife, and seven children took part. + </p> + <p> + “Shall we go to Paris?” asked Alice. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said Quincy. “We owe Mr. Wallingford the return courtesy of + our attendance at his six concerts.” + </p> + <p> + The trip across the channel did not possess so many terrors for Alice with + her husband and son for company, but she was glad when they stepped upon + land at Dover. + </p> + <p> + “I shall never love the water,” she said. + </p> + <p> + They reached London in the afternoon too late to take the train for + Heathfield in which town Fernborough Hall was situated. A telegram was + sent to Aunt Ella informing her of their safe arrival in London, and that + they would be with her the next day. + </p> + <p> + “What can I do to amuse you this evening, Alice?” + </p> + <p> + “Sit down and let me look at you, I have so much time to make up.” + </p> + <p> + “They give <i>Martha</i> at the opera to-night—it is my favourite—full + of the sweetest melodies in which I substitute Alice for Martha. Quincy + and Tom would like to go, and I have another reason which I will tell you + after the first act.” + </p> + <p> + Alice's curiosity was aroused and she expressed her desire to go. After + the first act, Alice turned an inquisitive face to her husband. + </p> + <p> + “What was your other reason for coming here to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think Catessa is a fine tenor?” + </p> + <p> + “He has the most beautiful voice I ever heard,” Alice replied. + </p> + <p> + “I know him. He is an old friend of mine. I'm going behind the scenes to + congratulate him personally.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you meet him in Italy?” + </p> + <p> + “No—in Fernborough, Massachusetts.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Quincy, what <i>do</i> you mean? There were no Italians in + Fernborough.” + </p> + <p> + “He is not an Italian. He's a Yankee. Look at his name.” + </p> + <p> + “That's Italian surely.” + </p> + <p> + “It's only his Yankee name transposed. Aren't you good on anagrams?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, I'm not. Please tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember a young man in Fernborough with consumption whom I sent + to a sanatorium in New York?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Scates.” + </p> + <p> + “You've hit it. Mr. Arthur Scates, or A. Scates for short. Now look at + that Italian name again.” + </p> + <p> + “I am doing so, and it looks just as foreign as ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Agreed, but Catessa contains just the same letters as A. Scates, only + they are arranged differently.” + </p> + <p> + After the second act, Quincy visited Mr. Scates in his dressing room. The + tenor insisted on Quincy and his party taking supper with him at his hotel + after the opera. He offered to repay the cost of his treatment with + interest. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Quincy, “I do not need it, and will not take it. Use it to help + some poor artist.” + </p> + <p> + It was one o'clock when Quincy and his party reached their hotel. + </p> + <p> + “Did you enjoy yourself, Alice?” + </p> + <p> + “I had a delightful evening. But how happy you must feel to know that your + money saved such a precious life.” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” said he. “Good deeds always bring their reward. See what I got—twenty-three + years hard labour in an orange grove.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Quincy. There is no possible connection between the two events.” + </p> + <p> + “I disagree with you. I think I am the connection, but I don't really + think one caused the other.” + </p> + <p> + “I should say not. You are not often cynical.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not, dear. Only when one does a good deed he must not expect to be + repaid in exactly his own coin.” + </p> + <p> + “Did Mr. Scates offer to repay you?” + </p> + <p> + “He did, and I told him to give it to some poor fellow who needed it.” + </p> + <p> + “Quincy, I don't know which to admire most. Your good heartedness, or your + ability to make one sum of money perform many good actions.” + </p> + <p> + The home coming to Fernborough Hall was a sad contrast to the pleasure of + the evening before. They found Aunt Ella in bed with two doctors in + attendance. Though weak, and failing fast there was no diminution of her + mental powers. She expressed a wish to see Quincy alone. + </p> + <p> + “Quincy, your wife's faith has made a new woman of me. I have always + wished to live for ever, I had such a fear of death and uncertainty as to + the future. My fears are all gone. + </p> + <p> + “The same Power that put me in this world and has given me so many + blessings, with some sorrows, so that I would properly appreciate the + blessings, will take care of me in the next. I have never been a wicked + woman, but often a foolish one. The most foolish thing I have ever done + was to doubt the faith your wife had that you were still alive. She's an + angel. + </p> + <p> + “Give me a sup of that wine, Quincy,” she continued, “I haven't smoked a + cigarette since I promised Alice I wouldn't. Wasn't that self-denial? Now, + there's a very important matter that needs attention. I told you when you + married Alice that when I died you should have everything. Don't interrupt + me. Believing you were dead I made a new will and left everything to your + son.” + </p> + <p> + She drew a paper from under the bedclothes. + </p> + <p> + “Here it is. Burn it up. The other one is in the hands of my solicitor in + London.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy laid the will upon the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Ella, I shall not burn the will nor destroy it. I am satisfied with + the disposition of your fortune. I should have been equally well satisfied + if you had possessed other heirs. But, did you leave your property to + Quincy Adams Sawyer Junior?” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Ella's eyes snapped with some of their old fire. + </p> + <p> + “I've got it right. I have described my heir so carefully that there can + be no mistake. Don't you imagine that there is a chance for you to break + my will.” + </p> + <p> + There was a smile on her face as she spoke, and Quincy smiled to show that + he did not misunderstand her pleasantry. As he turned to go, Aunt Ella + called: + </p> + <p> + “Quincy!” + </p> + <p> + He approached the bed again. + </p> + <p> + “Another sip of that wine. I always liked wine—but not too much of + it.” + </p> + <p> + She beckoned to him to come nearer. “Quincy, I want you, before you go + away to have the fish cleared out of the lake. Stuart wouldn't let me do + it, and since he died I have kept them as a tribute to his memory. He said + to me, when the name dies out, let the fish die too. The name is near + death, and the fish must go. Now, send Alice to me.” + </p> + <p> + When she came, she bent over and kissed her aunt tenderly. + </p> + <p> + “Alice, I wish you were going with me. You know what I mean, dear. I hope + you will have long life and great happiness to make up for what you've + gone through. You have your husband back again. I am going to mine, Robert + and Stuart. There is no marriage or giving in marriage there—only + love. Quincy is going to look after the fish in the lake.” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Ella lingered for a week, then passed quietly away while asleep. She + was laid beside Sir Stuart in the family vault, and the name Fernborough + lived only as that of a little country town in New England. + </p> + <p> + At the funeral Quincy met his sister Florence who looked upon him as one + raised from the dead. + </p> + <p> + “I did not forget you, Quincy, for my first-born bears your name.” + </p> + <p> + Linda, Countess of Sussex, came with her husband the Earl, and her + daughter, the Lady Alice Hastings, a tall, statuesque blonde, in her + twenty-eighth year. + </p> + <p> + “I've something wonderful to tell you,” said the Countess to Quincy and + his wife. “My daughter is soon to be married, but not to one of our set. + Her choice has fallen upon Mr. John Langdon, an American. He's very + wealthy, and is coming to England to live. Isn't that romantic—so + out of the usual.” + </p> + <p> + “America loses every time,” said Quincy. “First our girls and their + father's money, and now our men and their money. In time, England will + form part of the great American nation.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean,” said the Countess, “the great English-speaking nation,” and + Quincy bowed in acceptance of the amendment. + </p> + <p> + The probating of the will, making arrangement for the sale of Fernborough + Hall, and providing for the payment of the proceeds and annual income to + Quincy Jr. caused a long delay, for English law moves but little faster + than it did when Jarndyce brought suit against Jarndyce. + </p> + <p> + Quincy Jr. and Tom were thrown on their own resources during the long + wait. London was their resort, and, to them, Scotland Yard and its + detectives, the most interesting part of the city. + </p> + <p> + When the party finally embarked, by a coincidence, it was on the <i>Gallia</i> + which had brought young Quincy and his companion to England seven months + before. + </p> + <p> + No storms or heavy fogs were met upon the way, and the party was landed + safely in New York. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. — O. STROUT. FINE GROCERIES + </h2> + <p> + During the summer that the foregoing events were happening in Europe, Mr. + Hiram Maxwell, in the little New England town of Fernborough had a serious + accident happen to himself the effects of which were far reaching, and + finally affected many people. + </p> + <p> + In unloading a barrel of sugar from a wagon, it slipped from the skid and + fell upon his leg causing a compound fracture. He was taken home, but when + the doctor was called he advised his immediate removal to the Isaac + Pettingill Free Hospital for he was afraid an amputation would be + necessary. Unfortunately, his fears proved to be true, and Hiram's right + leg was amputated just below the knee. + </p> + <p> + “That Hiram's an unlucky cuss,” said Mr. Strout to his hearers one evening + at the grocery. “But think of me. This is our busy season and with + everything piled onto me I'm just about tuckered out. What help will he be + stumbling around on crutches?” + </p> + <p> + “Can't he have a wooden leg?” asked Abner Stiles. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course he can. An' if you lost your head and got a wooden one in + its place you'd be just as well off as you are now.” + </p> + <p> + This remark caused a laugh at Abner which he took good-naturedly. When Mr. + Strout was out of sorts he always vented his spleen on somebody. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Benoni Hill, “I'm awful sorry for Hiram with a wife and + children to support. Of course his pay will go right on, bein' as he's a + partner.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know about that,” said Strout. “That's for the trustees to + decide, and I've got to decide whether I'll do two men's work for one + man's pay.” + </p> + <p> + “He would for you,” Abner blurted out. + </p> + <p> + “If you think so much of him, why don't you come in and do his work for + him?” said Strout. + </p> + <p> + “When you were going to buy this store, and Mr. Sawyer got ahead of yer, + yer promised me a job here as pay for some special nosin' round I'd done + fer yer—but when yer got in the saddle you forgot the feller who'd + boosted yer up. When a man breaks his word to me onct he don't do it a + second time. That's why,” and Abner went out and slammed the door after + him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout was angry, and when in that state of mind he was often lacking + in prudence in speech. + </p> + <p> + “That comes of turning a place of business into a resort for loafers. If I + owned this store outright there'd be a big sign up somewhere—'When + you've transacted your business, think of Home Sweet Home.'” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon that's a hint,” said Benoni Hill, as he arose and put on his + hat. “You won't be troubled with me or my trade in futur'. There are + stores in Cottonton jus' as good as this, and the proprietors are + gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + He left the store, and one by one the “loafers” followed him as no one had + the courage to break the silence that fell upon the company after old Mr. + Hill's departure. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout, left alone to close up the store, was more angry than ever. + </p> + <p> + “What cussed fools. I was hitting back at Abner and they thought the coat + fit and put it on. They'll come round again. They won't enjoy tramping + over to Cottonton for kerosene and molasses.” + </p> + <p> + The store was lighted by kerosene lamps resting on brackets. It was Mr. + Strout's custom to take them down, blow them out, and replace them on the + brackets. One was always left burning, as Mr. Strout said “so burglars + could see their way round.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout's anger rose higher and higher and there was no one present + upon whom he could expend it. He grasped one of the lamps, but his hold on + the glass handle was insecure and it fell to the floor, the lamp breaking, + while the burning oil was thrown in every direction. He wished then that + some of the “loafers” were present to help him put the fire out. There was + no water nearer than the pump in the back yard. He grabbed a pail and + started to get some water. He forgot the back-steps and fell headlong. For + some minutes he was so dazed that he could do nothing. The glare of the + fire lighted up the yard, or he would have had difficulty in filling the + pail. When he returned, he saw that the fire was beyond his control. He + could not go through the store, so he climbed the back yard fence and made + his way to the front of the store crying “Fire” at the top of his voice. + </p> + <p> + It seemed an age to him, before anyone responded. He felt then the need of + friends, neighbours—even “loafers” would have been acceptable. + </p> + <p> + A bucket brigade formed, but their efforts were unavailing. As the other + lamps were exploded by the heat new inflammable material was thrown about. + In a quarter of an hour the whole interior was in flames, and in an hour + only a grim, black skeleton, lighted up by occasional flashes of flame, + remained of Strout and Maxwell's grocery store. + </p> + <p> + Next morning comment was rife. Mr. Strout had told how the fire was caused + but there were unbelievers. + </p> + <p> + “I think the cuss set it on fire himself,” said Abner Stiles to his + employer, Mr. Ezekiel Pettingill. + </p> + <p> + “Be careful, Abner,” was the caution given him. “It don't do to accuse a + man of anything 'less you have proof, an' your thinkin' so ain't proof.” + Mr. Strout went to Boston to see the trustees. The insurance was adjusted + and Mr. Strout was authorized to proceed with the re-building at once. + During the interim orders were filled from the Montrose store. + Fortunately, the stable and wagon shed were some distance from the store, + and had not been in danger. + </p> + <p> + The new store was larger than the old one, and many improvements, in Mr. + Strout's opinion, were incorporated in the new structure. He ordered the + new sign. When it was put up, the whole town, including the “loafers” were + present. “I s'pose he fixed it with the trustees” said Benoni Hill to + Abner Stiles. + </p> + <p> + “Danged if I think so,” was the reply. “He's allers been meaner'n dirt to + Hiram, an' has allers wanted to git him out. Burnin' up the store giv' him + his chance.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean the store burnin' up,” corrected Benoni. + </p> + <p> + “I dunno. The Bible says God works in a mysterious way his wonders to + perform, an' so do some individooals.” + </p> + <p> + One noon after dinner, Mr. Strout said to his wife. “Bessie, put on your + things an' come down to the new store. I want to show you somethin'.” + </p> + <p> + “And leave the dishes?” + </p> + <p> + “You can bring 'em with you if you want to,” her husband replied. + </p> + <p> + When they reached the store, upon which the painters were at work, he + pointed to the new sign. + </p> + <p> + “See that? Read it out loud.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Strout complied: + </p> + <h3> + “O. STROUT. FINE GROCERIES.” + </h3> + <p> + “What did I tell yer?” was his only comment. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII. — THE HOME COMING + </h2> + <p> + Quincy desired to have his return to America unheralded by items in the + newspapers of stories of his wonderful rescue, captivity, and final + recovery of his reason, so when he booked for passage on the <i>Gallia</i> + he gave the name of Mr. S. Adams, wife and son. + </p> + <p> + During the homeward voyage the father and son had an opportunity to become + acquainted. The father told the story of his life at Mason's Corner; first + going back to his college days. He told his son how he had opposed his + father's wish that he would become a lawyer and sustain the reputation of + the old firm of Sawyer, Crowninshield, and Lawrence; about his health + breaking down and his visit to Mason's Corner; about the blind girl whom + he had made his wife, and how he had secured medical assistance and her + sight had been restored. Once again he lived over his life in the country + town, and told about his friends and foes—Obadiah Strout and Bob + Wood—who were enemies no longer, and honest, good-hearted 'Zeke + Pettingill, and his sweet wife, little Huldah Mason. And Hiram who + stammered so and Mandy who didn't. Nearly all the people mentioned in + their long talks were well known to young Quincy and after his father had + finished his reminiscences the young man supplied the sequel. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of Mr. Strout?” asked the father. + </p> + <p> + “Think? I know he's a dishonest man. You say that you parted friends. He + is no friend of yours or mine.” + </p> + <p> + Then he told of his encounter with young Bob Wood. + </p> + <p> + “I had some trouble with his father many years ago,” said Quincy. “What + did he do to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing to me. He insulted a young lady, and I took her part. Tom was + going to help me but I arranged to handle him, in a very unscientific way + though.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a rough and tumble of the worst sort,” interjected Tom. “I was + afraid they'd bite each other before they got through.” + </p> + <p> + “Quincy,” said his father, “you must take boxing lessons. When occasion + requires, it is the gentleman's weapon.” + </p> + <p> + The mention of Mary Dana naturally led to a rehearsal of the Wood case, + and all Mary had done in helping Quincy at the beginning of the search for + his father. + </p> + <p> + “I think I see which way the wind blows,” laughed his father, while Quincy + blushed to the roots of his hair, “and I want to meet the young lady who + did so much to bring us all together again.” + </p> + <p> + Alice was proud of her son. He resembled her, having light hair and blue + eyes; a decided contrast to his father whose skin had been darkened by + Italian suns, who had dark eyes, dark hair frosted at the ends, and a + heavy beard, cut in Van Dyke fashion. Few, if any, would have recognized + in him the young man who more than twenty-three years before had taken + passage on the <i>Altonia</i>, looking forward to a pleasant trip and an + early return to his native land. + </p> + <p> + Alice explained to her son her apparent lack of affection for him in + allowing him to be separated from her so long. + </p> + <p> + “I knew you were with your relatives and good friends, Quincy. In my + nervous, depressed state I was poor company for a young, healthy boy. + Then, I had such a fear of the ocean I dared not go to you and was afraid + to have you come to me. Can you forgive me?” + </p> + <p> + “My darling mother,” said young Quincy, “what you did turned out for the + best. I have been educated as an American and that fully atones for my + apparent neglect. Your beautiful letters kept you always in my mind, and I + used to take great pleasure in telling my schoolmates what a pretty mother + I had.” + </p> + <p> + Alice, despite her years, blushed. + </p> + <p> + “Quincy, you are like your father in praising those you love.” + </p> + <p> + Tom gave Quincy's father graphic descriptions of the changes in + Fernborough and fully endorsed his friend's opinion of Mr. Strout. + </p> + <p> + “He's a snake in the grass,” said Tom. “He'd pat you on the back with one + hand and cut your throat, figuratively speaking, with the other.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think he'd recognize me?” asked Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “I think not,” said Tom. “His perceptive powers are not strong. He's + sub-acute rather than 'cute.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy and Alice sat for hours looking out upon the wide expanse of ocean, + and at the blue sky above them. It did not seem possible that so many + years had passed since they were together. Memory is a great friend. It + bridged the great gap in their lives. They were lovers as of yore, and + would be always. They did not hesitate to talk of the cruel past—not + sadly, for were they not in the happy present? + </p> + <p> + Said Alice one morning, “While you were gone I was in a terribly nervous + condition. Aunt Ella said that I must have something to employ my mind—and + I wrote, or tried to write. I couldn't keep my mind on one thing long + enough to write a story, but I have collected the material for one, and + now that I am happy once more, when we have settled down, I am going to + write it.” + </p> + <p> + “What's the title, or, rather, the subject?” her husband inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it opens with a ship-wreck—not a collision but a fire was the + cause. Among the passengers are many children—of high and low degree—and + they get mixed up—fall into wrong persons' hands,—fathers and + mothers are lost and cannot claim them, and their future lives have + supplied me with the strongest and most intricate and exciting plot that I + have ever constructed.” + </p> + <p> + “Which is the 'star' child?” + </p> + <p> + “He is the son of a Russian Grand Duke—the offspring of a morganatic + marriage—his mother is driven from the country by order of the Czar. + The title is <i>The Son of Sergius</i>.” + </p> + <p> + They did not remain in New York but took the first train for Boston. They + were driven to the Mount Vernon Street house. + </p> + <p> + “I knew you were coming,” cried Maude, as she ran eagerly down the steps + to meet them. + </p> + <p> + “Who has turned traitor? I pledged them all to secrecy,” cried Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “Harry told me, and I had a cablegram from Florence.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she use my name? If so, we are undone and the reporters will swarm + like bees.” + </p> + <p> + “You are safe,” said Maude. “The message read: Brother found. Keep quiet.” + </p> + <p> + Tom was prevailed upon to remain in Boston until Quincy could go to + Fernborough. At supper they were introduced to Maude's family. + </p> + <p> + “Six of them,” said Quincy. “I am uncle to a numerous extent. Maude, what + are all their names—the girls first.” + </p> + <p> + “This is Sarah, named after mother; Ella for Aunt Ella, and little Maude + for her mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! Now the boys.” + </p> + <p> + “Stuart—the old gentleman was so nice to Harry and me when we were + on our wedding tour—Nat for father, and Harry—” + </p> + <p> + “Thank Heaven—no Quincy. That name was becoming contagious. I am + glad, Maude, that you were wise and kept the epidemic out of your family.” + </p> + <p> + That evening Quincy and Mr. Merry talked about business matters. Harry + told of Hiram's accident and the destruction of the store by fire. + </p> + <p> + “There's something funny about it,” said Harry. “We authorized Mr. Strout + to rebuild and restock at once, and we hear that he has done so, but he + has not called on us for a dollar, nor has he sent up any bills for + payment.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would send a telegram to Mr. Ezekiel Pettingill the first + thing to-morrow morning asking him to come to the city—say important + business.” + </p> + <p> + About three o'clock Ezekiel arrived at the office of Sawyer, + Crowninshield, Lawrence and Merry. He was shown into what had been the + late Hon. Nathaniel's private office, and came face to face with Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “I'm heartily glad to see you again,” he exclaimed as he wrung Quincy's + helpless hand after the first surprise of the meeting. “Huldy'll be + delighted too. You must come down and tell us all about it. Just to think—more'n + twenty years—but you're looking well.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy assured him that his health was never better. + </p> + <p> + “What I wanted to see you about are affairs in Fernborough. What is Strout + up to?” + </p> + <p> + “You've used just the right word. He's up to something. He's got up a sign—O. + Strout, Fine Groceries—an' says Hiram's out of the firm, and that he + owns the whole business.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy smiled. “So, I've got to fight it out with him again, have I? Well + it will be the final conflict. To use Mr. Strout's words, one or the other + of us will have to leave town. You aren't going back to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I must.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, come up to the house first and see Alice and the boy. Well go down + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX. — THE FINAL CONFLICT + </h2> + <p> + When Tom Chripp showed his father the photograph of the house in which he + was born, he burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + “Just as pretty as ever,” he exclaimed. “The roof's been mended, beent it, + and just the same flowers all around it as when I was a boy. Tom, I'm glad + to see you back safe and sound—but that picter—Tom, when I + die, you just put that picter in the coffin with me, won't you? I want + your grandfather to see that the old place was looked after when he was + gone.” + </p> + <p> + Tom promised. + </p> + <p> + A dark featured, dark haired man entered Mr. Strout's store. The + proprietor knew he was a stranger—perhaps just moved into town, and + a prospective customer. + </p> + <p> + “What can I do for you?” he inquired blandly, for he was capable of being + affable. + </p> + <p> + “I am looking for Mr. Hiram Maxwell.” + </p> + <p> + “He ain't here no more.” + </p> + <p> + “But he's your partner, isn't he?” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you read my sign? There ain't no partner on it.” + </p> + <p> + “There ought to be.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout looked at the stranger with astonishment. Then he laughed, and, + with a remembrance of Mr. Richard Ricker, asked sneeringly: + </p> + <p> + “What asylum did you come from?” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” said the stranger. “I used to know Mr. Maxwell, and + they told me in the city that he was a member of the firm of Strout and + Maxwell.” + </p> + <p> + “Who told ye?” + </p> + <p> + “The trustees of the estate of Mr. Sawyer. Mr. Quincy Adams Sawyer. Did + you know him?” + </p> + <p> + “I never knew any good of him. So they told yer, did they? That shows how + much attention they give to business. The old store was burned up and that + busted the firm. This store's mine from cellar to chimney.” + </p> + <p> + “The old firm must have paid you well.” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty well—but I made my money in State Street, speculating and + I'm well fixed.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad to hear that you've prospered. I wish my friend Maxwell had been + as fortunate. What became of his interest and Mr. Sawyer's in the store?” + </p> + <p> + “Went up in smoke, didn't I tell yer?” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” said the stranger again. “But doesn't your store + stand on land belonging to the old firm?” + </p> + <p> + Strout squinted at the stranger. “I guess you're a lawyer lookin' for + points, but you're on the wrong track. You won't get 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not a lawyer, Mr. Strout. I only inquired thinking my friend Mr. + Maxwell might—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he won't,” said Strout. “Mr. Quincy Adams Sawyer cheated me out of + one store but he can't drive me out of this. He thought he was awful + smart, but when he bought the store he didn't buy the land. It belonged to + the town. I'm one of the selectmen, and one of the assessors found it out + and told me, and I bought it—an' this store an' way up to the sky, + and the land way down to China belongs to O. Strout.” + </p> + <p> + “I am much obliged, Mr. Strout, for your courtesy—only one more + question and then I'll try and find my friend Mr. Maxwell—if + somebody will be kind enough to tell me where he is.” + </p> + <p> + “You didn't ask where he was. If you want to know he's up to the Hospital. + He's had his leg off, an'll have to walk on crutches.” + </p> + <p> + “So bad as that,—I'm <i>very</i> sorry,” said the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “I've got to put up some orders—see that sign?” and he pointed to + one which read: + </p> + <p> + “When You've transacted your Business, Think of Home, Sweet Home.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, Mr. Strout, for taking so much of your valuable time. + Do you know whether Mr. Quincy Adams Sawyer is in town?” + </p> + <p> + Strout laughed scornfully. “In town? That's good. Why, man, he's been dead + more'n twenty years—food for fishes, if they'd eat him, which I + doubt. He's left a boy, same name, that used to go to school here, but, + thank Heaven, he's got lots of money, and probably won't trouble us any + more. Perhaps he's the one you want.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure the boy's father is dead? I saw him in Boston yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't take any stock in any such nonsense. This ain't the days of + miracles.” + </p> + <p> + “I saw him in this town this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” gasped Strout. + </p> + <p> + “Right here. That's my name, Quincy Adams Sawyer. Do you want me to + identify myself?” He stepped back, puckered up his mouth, and began + whistling “Listen to the Mocking Bird.” + </p> + <p> + Strout was both startled and mad. “Just like you to come spyin' round. You + allers was a meddler, an' underhanded. But now you know the truth, what + are you going to do about it?” + </p> + <p> + Quincy walked to the door. “Well, Mr. Strout, I'm going to put it about as + you did when I first came to Mason's Corner, Either you or I have got to + leave town. This is our last fight, and I'm going to win.” + </p> + <p> + He left the store quickly and made his way to where Ezekiel was waiting + for him with the carryall. + </p> + <p> + “Now, 'Zeke, we'll go to the Hospital and see poor Hiram.” + </p> + <p> + They found him hobbling about on crutches in the grounds of the Hospital. + </p> + <p> + “How long have you been here, Hiram?” was Quincy's first question. + </p> + <p> + “About twelve weeks. You see, besides breaking my leg I cracked my knee + pan an' that's made it wuss.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll fix you up very soon. I'll get you an artificial leg from New York. + You'll be able to walk all right but you mustn't do any heavy lifting.” + </p> + <p> + “Guess I shan't have no chance to lift anything now Strout's got the + store.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry about that, Hiram. There are towns that have two stores in + them. How's Mandy?” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “'JUST LIKE YOU TO COME SPYIN' ROUND. YOU ALLERS WAS A + MEDDLER.'”} + </p> + <p> + “Gettin' along all right. Mr. Pettingill, there, sends a man over to help + her, and Mrs. Crowley is as good as two any day.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry, Hiram. You'll come out on top yet” + </p> + <p> + “If I do, 'twill be because you'll put me there, I reckon.” + </p> + <p> + As they were driving back 'Zekiel asked Quincy if he knew Mrs. Hawkins was + going to sell out. + </p> + <p> + “No, why. Getting too old?” + </p> + <p> + “No, she's as spry as a cat, and she's seventy odd. That ain't the reason. + Jonas is dead.” + </p> + <p> + “What was the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Chickens.” + </p> + <p> + “What—overeating?” + </p> + <p> + “No, somebody stole his chickens. So he arranged a gun with a spring and + he must have forgotten it.” + </p> + <p> + “He didn't 'kalkilate' on its hitting him?” + </p> + <p> + “Guess not. Mrs. Hawkins says she's too old to marry agin, and she can't + run the house without a man she can trust.” + </p> + <p> + “Let's stop and see her.” + </p> + <p> + When they entered, Mrs. Hawkins threw up her hands. “Lord a Massy! I heerd + at the store all about you comin' back, but where on airth <i>did</i> you + come from? They said you was dead an' here you are as handsome as ever. + How's your wife, an' that boy o' yourn?” + </p> + <p> + “Both well, I'm happy to say. 'Zeke tells me you want to sell out.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Now Jonas has gone there's nobody to take care of the chickens, an' + a hotel 'thout chickens an' fresh eggs is no home for a hungry man.” + </p> + <p> + “What will you take for the place just as it stands?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I've figured up an' I should lose money ef I took less'n four + thousand dollars, an' I ought to have five.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll take the refusal of it for forty-eight hours at five thousand. Is it + agreed?” + </p> + <p> + “I'd hold it a month for you, Mister Sawyer, but I want to go and help + Mandy soon's I can now that Hiram's laid up for nobody knows how long.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll have Hiram on his feet again very soon, Mrs. Hawkins. I'll be down + again in a few days.” + </p> + <p> + “Give my love to Alice,” she called after them as they were driving away. + </p> + <p> + The next evening Quincy asked his son to come to the library with him. + </p> + <p> + “Quincy, I want to borrow fifty thousand dollars. Can you spare it?” + </p> + <p> + “Twice as much if you need it. I'll give it to you. It's yours anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I want to borrow it at six per cent.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going into business?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” Then Quincy told him of his conversation with Mr. Strout. + </p> + <p> + “How are you going to beat him?” asked young Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you. I'm going to buy the Hawkins House. I shall have it lifted + up and another story put underneath. There will be room for a store twice + as large as Strout's, and a hotel entrance and office on the ground floor. + I'll put Hiram Maxwell in charge of the store.” + </p> + <p> + “Who'll run the hotel?” + </p> + <p> + “'Zeke says Sam Hill is the man for the place, and his wife Tilly will be + the housekeeper, chief cook, etc.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to run Mr. Strout out of town?” + </p> + <p> + “That is my present intention. Not for personal vengeance but for the + ultimate good of the community.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to help, but the work isn't in my line.” + </p> + <p> + “Seriously speaking, Quincy, what is your line—the law?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Business?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “What then?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't know. Am thinking it over.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen that Miss Dana yet?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Mr. Isburn told me she is out West now on an important case.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll get her to find Strout after he leaves Fernborough. Give me that + check to-morrow early. I'm going to Fernborough with an architect to have + plans made for the alterations.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout could look from his window and see what was going on at the + Hawkins House. + </p> + <p> + “Who's bought the hotel, Abner?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Strout, they do say it's Mr. Quincy Adams Sawyer, an' that Sam + Hill and his wife Tilly are going to run it.” + </p> + <p> + “I won't sell them a darned thing.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Stiles grinned. “Can't they buy in Cottonton, or Montrose, or + Eastborough? Mr. Sawyer's got stores there.” + </p> + <p> + “Well they'll want things in a hurry, but they won't get them from me.” + </p> + <p> + A month later Abner rushed into the store. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Strout, they're putting up a new sign on the Hawkins House. Come and + see it.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout walked leisurely to the window and put up his hand to shade his + eyes. Great white letters on a blue ground. + </p> + <h3> + THE SAWYER GROCERY COMPANY + </h3> + <p> + “By George, Strout, there's going to be another grocery.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout did not speak, but walked back behind the counter. Abner went + to see the sign raising. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strout soliloquized: “So, he's going to fight me, is he? Well, I'll + spend every dollar I have, and borrow some more, before I'll give in. + He'll cut prices—so will I.” + </p> + <p> + Then a troubled look came into his face. + </p> + <p> + “Confound it. My commission as postmaster runs out in a month, but our + Congressman is a good friend of mine.” + </p> + <p> + Opening night came at the new store, Saturday being selected. Over the + doorway was an electric sign— + </p> + <h3> + WELCOME TO ALL + </h3> + <p> + Mr. Strout's store was nearly deserted. About ten o'clock Abner came in. + </p> + <p> + “I say, Strout, it's just scrumptious. They got three times as many goods + as you have. An' there's a smoking room back of the store with a sign over + the door <i>'Exclusively for Loafers. Loaf and Enjoy Your Soul.'</i> They + say a poet feller named Whitman writ that last part. Saturday morning is + to be bargain day and everything is to be sold at half price. And, say, + isn't the hotel fine? Everybody was invited upstairs, an' there was a free + lunch spread out.” + </p> + <p> + “Abner, you've talked enough. You'd better go home.” + </p> + <p> + The warfare continued for three months. At the end of the first, Hiram + Maxwell, an old soldier, was appointed postmaster, <i>vice</i> Obadiah + Strout. At the end of the second month Mr. Strout resigned his position as + organist and the gentleman who led the orchestra that played during the + evening at the hotel was chosen in his stead. At the end of the third + month a red flag was seen hanging at the door of Mr. Strout's store and + Mr. Beers the auctioneer whose once rotund voice had now become thin and + quavering, sold off the remaining stock and the fixtures. Then the + curtains were pulled down and the door locked. The next day Mr. and Mrs. + Strout and family left town. + </p> + <p> + “What's become of Strout?” Quincy asked his son, who had just returned + from Fernborough. Another month had passed since the auction sale. + </p> + <p> + “I heard he was seen on State Street a few days ago, and he said the best + move he ever made was leaving that one-horse country town; that he could + make more money in a day in State Street than he could in a month in the + grocery business. It seems he has become what they call a curb broker or + speculator.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad,” said Quincy, “that Mr. Strout has found a more profitable and + congenial field. It must have been very dull for him the last three months + of his stay in that one-horse town.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX. — TOM, JACK AND NED + </h2> + <p> + Quincy decided to have his company incorporated. This necessitated visits + to the Secretary of the Commonwealth and the Tax Commissioner. The amount + paid in cash capital was $200,000. Besides the four stores doing business, + sixteen more were contemplated in Boston, Cambridge, Lowell, Lawrence, + Fall River, New Bedford, and other small cities and large towns. + </p> + <p> + The design was not to form a trust with a view of controlling certain food + products and raising prices, but to establish a line of stores in which + the best grade at the lowest cash price should be the rule. This price was + to be fixed for the Boston store and was to be the same in all the stores. + </p> + <p> + “Whom shall I put in charge of the Boston store, Quincy?” his father + asked. “He will have to be general manager for the whole circuit.” + </p> + <p> + “I know a man,” said young Quincy, “who is honest, conscientious, and a + perfect tiger for work, but he knows nothing about the grocery business. + He has adaptability, that valuable quality, but, while learning, he might + make some costly mistakes.” + </p> + <p> + “I want you to act as Treasurer for the company. It's your money, and you + should handle it.” + </p> + <p> + “I've no objection to drawing checks. We sha'n't have to borrow any money + for there's half a million available any time. Why didn't you have a + larger capital, father?” + </p> + <p> + “Because the State taxes it so heavily; but there's no tax on borrowed + money. The fellow who lends pays that.” + </p> + <p> + “If I loan money do I have to pay taxes on it when I haven't got it?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, and you pay just the same if there's no prospect of its ever + being repaid.” + </p> + <p> + “That's funny.” + </p> + <p> + “Funny! Why, our Massachusetts tax laws are funnier than a comic almanac, + and about as sensible.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy took up a pen and began writing. + </p> + <p> + “What are you writing, father?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll show you in a few minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “How will that do?” + </p> + <p> + Quincy read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER, <i>President</i>. QUINCY + ADAMS SAWYER, Jr., <i>Treasurer</i>. THOMAS CHRIPP, + <i>General Manager</i>. Cash Capital, $200,000. + + Cable, <i>Vienna</i>. 20 <i>Stores</i>. + + THE SAWYER GROCERY COMPANY, INC. + + Wholesale and Retail. +</pre> + <p> + “Just the man I had in mind, father. You can depend upon him every time, + and he'll keep his subordinates right up to the mark.” + </p> + <p> + Upon his return to his native state Quincy had found many of his old + friends still in office. The governor and higher officials were only + annuals—some not very hardy at that—while the minor officials, + in many cases, were hardy perennials, whom no political hot weather or + cold storm could wither or destroy. + </p> + <p> + A presidential campaign was on, and speakers, for there were few orators, + were in demand. Quincy's visits to so many cities inspecting the Company's + stores had brought him in contact with hundreds of local politicians. One + day there came a call from the State Committee to come in and see the + Secretary. + </p> + <p> + “Do you want to do something for the party?” asked Mr. Thwing, the + Secretary. + </p> + <p> + “I have already subscribed,” said Quincy. “Do you need more?” + </p> + <p> + “Money talks,” said Mr. Thwing, “and so do you. I have a score of letters + from different cities asking me to add you to our list of speakers, and to + be sure and let the writers hear you.” + </p> + <p> + “I had no intention—” Quincy began. + </p> + <p> + “You're an ex-governor, and know all the State. Aren't you in the grocery + business in a big way?” + </p> + <p> + “Rather.” + </p> + <p> + “'Twill boom your business in great style. Better even for groceries than + boots and shoes, for food is a daily consumption.” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't go on the stump just to advertise my business.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not. You would take just what the gods provided and ask no + questions, and make no comments. Shall we put you down for, say, twenty + nights?” + </p> + <p> + Quincy consented, but he stipulated that he was not to be placed in any + city or town where he had a store. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Thwing vehemently objected. “Why, the men who want you to come live + where the stores are.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't help it. Put me in the next town, and if they're so anxious to + hear me they'll come.” + </p> + <p> + After the campaign was over, the votes cast, and the victory won, Mr. + Thwing said, “That was a good business idea of yours, Governor, about your + not going into the towns where your stores were. Of course you instructed + your general manager.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what you mean,” said Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you know when you spoke in places adjoining those in which you had + stores that your Mr. Chripp, I think that's the name—just flooded + the towns with circulars announcing that you were to speak and that you + were the President of the grocery company doing business in the adjoining + city, that your goods were the best, your prices the lowest—and that + your teams would deliver goods free of charge in all places within five + miles?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Thwing stopped to take breath, and Quincy nearly lost his in + astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Great business idea, Mr. Sawyer.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew nothing about it. I should have stopped it had I known.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so? You got a double ad. Bright man that Chripp. You'll have to raise + his salary.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy did not reply. The deed was done, and a public explanation would do + no good. Chripp surely had his employer's interests at heart, even if he + had mixed politics and business rather too openly. The next month's + statement showed a great increase in trade. Mr. Chripp was not called to + account, but his salary was materially increased at the suggestion of + young Quincy. + </p> + <p> + The new President had been inaugurated, the Cabinet nominees confirmed, + and the distribution of political “plums” began. Quincy felt that the + lightning had struck in the wrong place when he was approached and sounded + as to whether he would accept a foreign mission. He talked the matter over + with his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Quincy,” said she, “I would go, if I were you.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you not happy here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and no. Happy to be near my son, and relatives and friends; no, + because your business takes you away so much that I see little of you. If + you take the mission, I shall have you with me all the time. I am selfish, + I know, but it is my love for you that makes me so.” + </p> + <p> + The Hon. Quincy Adams Sawyer was nominated and confirmed as Ambassador to + Austria-Hungary. Alice had made the selection. + </p> + <p> + “Let us go to Vienna, Quincy. It was there we met after our long + separation—and, this is purely a personal matter, I wish to study + the scenes of my story, 'The Son of Sergius,' at close range.” + </p> + <p> + Before Quincy's departure it had been decided to lease the Beacon Street + house for four years. Maude was given her choice but preferred the house + in Mount Vernon Street where she had lived since her marriage. + </p> + <p> + Young Quincy was obliged to take bachelor quarters which he found at + Norumbega Chambers. + </p> + <p> + His suite consisted of a sitting-room, two sleeping rooms each with bath, + and a small room intended for a library or study, and which was utilized + by him as an office. + </p> + <p> + Quincy went down the harbour with his father and mother on the ocean + liner, returning on the tug with Tom. On the way back young Quincy took a + small envelope from his pocket and extracted a short note which he had + read at least a dozen times since its receipt. It was from Miss Mary Dana + and informed him that she had returned to Boston and would be pleased to + see him, the next day, at her office with the Isburn Detective Bureau. + </p> + <p> + It was a cold, raw day in the early part of April and when they reached + the city Quincy was taken with a chill. When they reached Norumbega + Chambers the chill had turned to a fever, and Tom suggested sending for a + doctor. Quincy stoutly protested against any such action being taken, but + Tom summoned one despite his objections. In this way, Quincy became + acquainted with John Loring Bannister, M. D. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Bannister was unknown to his patient when he paid his first visit, and + was professionally non-communicative, but he told him afterwards, when + their acquaintance had ripened to such an extent that the names Quincy and + Jack took the place of more formal designations, that it had always seemed + a wonder to him that he had survived. Quincy, with no intention of + indulging in flattery, replied that if a certain physician had not been + called in he, probably, would not have done so. + </p> + <p> + Quincy's condition on the second day was so low, indeed, that Dr. + Bannister told Tom if his friend had not made a will he had better do so. + Tom's first thought was to send for Mr. Merry, but he decided that might + lead to a charge of family influence, and he appealed to the doctor. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Bannister told Tom he was well acquainted with a young lawyer and that + he would send him up to see Mr. Sawyer. Quincy was in such a condition + when Lawyer Edward Everett Colbert made his first visit, that if he had + been asked the name of the principal beneficiary he would probably have + told the lawyer to let it go to the Devil. The second time that Mr. + Colbert called, Quincy's physical will had resumed control and he had no + need of any other. + </p> + <p> + When convalescing Quincy said to Tom, when the nurse was absent, “If you + thought I was going to die, why didn't you send for Aunt Maude, and—and—you + know whom I mean—Miss Dana?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw them every day, but you were too weak to see them, but if—they + would have been summoned.” + </p> + <p> + “Tom, your head is so level that a plane couldn't make a shaving.” + </p> + <p> + Tom was obliged to be away daytimes, the buying for twenty stores + requiring much travel. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Bannister and Lawyer Colbert were occasional visitors and Quincy + received a manifest mental exhilaration from his intercourse with them. + His sickness had led him to think about the future. Was he to live and die + as the treasurer of a grocery company? Had he no higher ideal? + </p> + <p> + A story told by Jack and Ned, which they knew to be true, because they + were the principal actors therein, led Quincy to give himself up to some + mighty thinking. + </p> + <p> + The story was related one evening in the sitting-room when Tom was + present. + </p> + <p> + “What I'm going to tell,” began Ned, “will include much more than I saw or + knew myself, but it all comes from authentic sources. I shall omit names, + since they are unessential. + </p> + <p> + “Among my clients was an old gentleman, over seventy years of age, but + still erect and vigorous. One morning I received a letter requesting me to + call at his house. I found him in bed feeling all tired out. He said he + had never had a doctor in his life. + </p> + <p> + “The doctor, here, assures me that those people who never need a doctor + until they are well advanced in life are not likely to require a + physician's services more than once. The next call is for the undertaker.” + </p> + <p> + “That's so,” broke in Jack; “it's the person who is continually calling + upon a doctor for every little ailment who lives to an old age, for + instead of letting disease creep upon him, he calls for medical assistance + as soon as he experiences any derangement of his physical system. If all + the people would follow this plan, it would increase the longevity of the + human race.” + </p> + <p> + “And materially increase the income of the medical profession,” added + Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “It proved to be the old gentleman's first and last sickness. In order + that you may fully understand the wonderful event which took place the + night he died, I shall have to give you a history of his family.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy consulted his watch. “It is now but a few minutes past seven. I + will give you until midnight, my usual time for retiring.” + </p> + <p> + “I have an engagement at ten or thereabouts,” said Jack, “but it's a + matter of life instead of death.” + </p> + <p> + Ned continued: “My client had a son and daughter, both married. They were + good children and loved their father on the American plan. The son had + married an avaricious woman, while the daughter was married to a man who + was not so avaricious as his sister-in-law. The old gentleman was very + wealthy and like all good children they were thinking of the time when the + property would be divided.” + </p> + <p> + “I see signs of a family squabble,” remarked Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “It came to pass,” said Ned. “The French have a maxim which says it is + advisable to search for the woman in all mysterious cases. In this + instance, the woman did not wait to be searched for but came of her own + accord. She insisted upon having the card bearing the name of Mrs. James + Bliss sent up to the sick man; when he saw it he, in turn, insisted upon + seeing the woman. The family wished to be present at the interview but my + client demanded a private conversation which lasted for an hour. + </p> + <p> + “Jack had been in daily attendance as a physician, but I was not sent for + until the day following Mrs. Bliss's visit. He had told his son that he + wished to make his will, and the son told the other members of the family. + They wished him to make a will, of course, but they were afraid that woman + had exercised undue influence. As the son expressed it, the better way + would be to let the law make the decision. + </p> + <p> + “My client insisted upon seeing me alone. He told me the woman's story. + Many years before, when my client was a poor man, her father had set him + up in business. He had told his daughter of the loan before his death, and + her visit was to ask for payment as she was a widow and poor, with three + children to support. + </p> + <p> + “My client directed me to put her in the will for fifty thousand dollars, + saying the original loan at six per cent, would amount to fully that + amount. + </p> + <p> + “The son, when told the story by me made no objection to the bequest but + the son's wife and the son-in-law declared that the note she had was + outlawed and that she shouldn't have a cent. The son-in-law put a private + detective on her track who learned that Mrs. Bliss was a test and trance + medium, and that she gave materialization séances at private houses. The + whole family then declared her to be a fraud and impostor, and declared + their intention of breaking the will if it was signed. + </p> + <p> + “Now we are getting to the lively part of the story. The will was ready + for signing. It was about five minutes past six when I was admitted and I + went right up to my client's room. I had been there about five minutes + when Jack came in. He was followed by the entire family, the son-in-law + having been chosen to prevent the signing of the will. + </p> + <p> + “Then occurred a sensational episode. Mrs. Bliss came to inquire about my + client's condition and the unsuspecting nurse admitted her. She came + directly to the room where we were all assembled.” + </p> + <p> + “A strong situation for a play,” remarked Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “They played it,” said Ned. “The son-in-law took Mrs. Bliss into an + adjoining room and ordered her to stay there. Then he returned. This was + to be a Waterloo but he was the Wellington. + </p> + <p> + “My client was propped up in bed, a pen placed in his hand, while the + document rested on a large book which Jack held. + </p> + <p> + “The son-in-law began the oratory. 'I protest,' he screamed. 'This + sacrilege, this injustice shall not be done with my consent.' What was it + you said to him, Jack?” + </p> + <p> + “I told him unless he stopped talking in such an excited manner, and made + less noise, it would have a very prejudicial effect upon my patient's + health. + </p> + <p> + “The son-in-law then denounced Mrs. Bliss as an adventuress, and that she + had no legal claim upon his father-in-law. His loud voice and violent + gestures were too much for the invalid. The pen dropped from his nerveless + fingers and he fell back exhausted. I think you had better take it up now, + Ned.” + </p> + <p> + “All right. You gave me a chance to rest my voice. Yes, thank you,” as Tom + passed him a glass of water. + </p> + <p> + Ned resumed, “The door was opened and Mrs. Bliss looked in. 'Has he + signed?' she asked. + </p> + <p> + “'No, he hasn't,' yelled the son-in-law, 'and while I live he never shall' + Now you come in again, Jack.” + </p> + <p> + “'Ladies and gentlemen.' said I, 'this excitement must stop. As medical + adviser I order you all to leave the room.' They objected, but I told them + if they didn't, I should resign charge of the case and refuse to give a + death certificate unless there was an inquest. That frightened them, and + they all went out, the son-in-law escorting Mrs. Bliss.” + </p> + <p> + “We propped up the patient again, and I gave him some brandy. He said, 'I + must sign.' He took the pen and made a ragged, disjointed capital 'T.' + </p> + <p> + “The pen dropped from his hand and he fell back upon the pillow. Ned put + the unsigned will in his pocket. I found that the end was very near and I + told Ned to call the family. Now, it's your turn, Ned.” + </p> + <p> + “I told the family they had better go to their father's room at once. Mrs. + Bliss arose with the intention of following them but I told her she was + not one of the family; that she could remain with me as my services were + no longer needed. She turned to me and asked: 'Was it signed?' I shook my + head. Without a word she sank upon the nearest chair and buried her face + in her arms. + </p> + <p> + “I stood irresolute. The spectacle of this silent woman, speechless + because she was to be deprived of what was justly due her, was a situation + with which I did not know how to deal. I was saved the necessity of saying + or doing anything by the sudden entrance of Jack who cried: 'Ned, it's all + over; he's dead.'” + </p> + <p> + “Now comes the wonderful, inexplainable, part of the story. There was a + single gas-burner alight in the room. It was turned down low; faces were + discernible, but the room was only half lighted. Hearing a movement, Jack + and I turned towards Mrs. Bliss. She had lifted her head from the table + and was gazing directly at us. Her eyes were open, but they had a glassy + look. Then it seemed as though the room was gradually becoming darker and + darker, until the darkness became intense. + </p> + <p> + “My first thought was that Mrs. Bliss had put out the gas. Before I had + time to question her, Jack and I caught sight of a white spot that was + approaching us from the corner of the room nearest the doorway which led + into the hallway. This light, which was no larger than a man's hand at + first, increased in size and intensity until it covered a space at least + two feet wide and six feet high. I must admit that my hair was inclined to + stand on end.” + </p> + <p> + “And mine too,” exclaimed Jack. + </p> + <p> + “Suddenly,” said Ned, “the light, which was nebulous, began to fall away + in places and assume a shape like the form of a man. Then the portion + where a man's head ought to be, assumed the appearance of one. Jack and I + clasped hands and retreated to the farther corner of the room. This act on + our part was purely voluntary. If I had possessed a Remington rifle, six + Colt's revolvers, and a dynamite bomb, I should have backed out just the + same. + </p> + <p> + “We could not remove our eyes from the glittering, moving, thing; and now + a most surprising change took place. The light seemed to leave the figure, + so that it was not visible as a light, and yet it filled the room with a + radiant glow. + </p> + <p> + “Who was that who stood before us? Could we believe our eyes? Were they + playing us a trick? Were we the victims of a too active imagination? No, + there could be no mistake. The form that stood before us was that of the + man who lay dead in the next room. + </p> + <p> + “Turning towards us, from the form came the words distinctly spoken—'It + must be signed!' The figure pointed to the table near which Mrs. Bliss + still sat in an apparently unconscious state. I took the will from my + pocket, opened it, advanced to the table, and laid it thereon. The figure + reached out its right hand and beckoned. The thought came to me that he + wanted a pen. There was none in the room. Jack divined the situation as + quickly as I did and took his stylographic pen from his visiting book, + fitted it for use, and laid it on the table beside the will. The form + advanced, took up the pen, joined a small letter to the capital 'T' + already written, and finished out the name in full. + </p> + <p> + “The form then laid the pen upon the table and pointed to the places set + apart for witnesses. I wrote my name, Edward Everett Colbert, and Jack put + his,—John Loring Bannister, under mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Did the form sit down?” asked Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “No. The only chair near the table was the one in which Mrs. Bliss sat. I + could not resist the inclination to whisper in Jack's ear: 'What do you + think of that?' We both turned with the intention of taking another look + at 'That,' but it had disappeared and the gas was burning at about + half-light. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Bliss arose from her seat with a pleasant smile on her face. 'You + said that he had signed it—I understood you to say so, did I not?' I + said nothing, but drew the will from my pocket and pointed to the + signatures. Then Jack said it was his duty to see the sorrowing family and + for me to escort Mrs. Bliss to a car. + </p> + <p> + “Jack and I took dinner together in a private room at Young's the next + day. We decided that it was my duty to present the will for probate. + Although it is presumed by the statutes of this Commonwealth that a will + is signed by a living man, I was unable to find anything in said statutes + to prevent a dead man, if he were so disposed and able, or enabled, doing + so.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course the will was presented for probate,” said Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “It was,” replied Ned, “and despite the energetic efforts of the + avaricious son-in-law, was admitted. His lawyer brought up the point that + the will should have had three witnesses, but I showed him the note, told + him Mrs. Bliss's story, and declared that I would fight the case up to the + Supreme Court if necessary. + </p> + <p> + “There was no doubt in the mind of the registrar as to the authenticity of + the will for was it not duly signed and witnessed by Dr. Bannister, a + physician of the highest repute, and Lawyer Colbert, a bright and shining + light of the legal profession?” + </p> + <p> + “Your story taxes my credulity,” said Quincy, “but I will not allow it to + break our friendship. Tom, kindly ring for that supper to be sent up.” He + looked at his watch. “Doctor, you've time to spare. 'Tis only + nine-thirty.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI. — THE GREAT ISBURN RUBY + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Irving Isburn, the proprietor of the great detective bureau was over + seventy years of age, and, although he still had a general supervision + over the business, and was in his office for a short time anyway, nearly + every day, he was leaving the details more and more to his subordinates. + From the very beginning Mary Dana had made wonderful improvement in her + detective work, and the results of her last case, on which she had been + kept in the West for several months, were so satisfactory that she was + given practically the entire management of the Bureau. + </p> + <p> + One day, shortly after her return from the West, Mr. Isburn called her + into his private office. He took great interest in electrical inventions, + and had one in his office of a decidedly novel design. Back of his office + chair, standing against the wall, just behind the door that led into the + hallway, was a mahogany bookcase fully seven feet in height. Upon the top + were several valuable statuettes, but the most noticeable object was a + rosy-cheeked apple. It was not really an apple—only an imitation of + one—made of brass. Using the stem as a handle, the upper portion of + the apple could be lifted off, forming a cover. The apple was fastened + firmly to the top of the bookcase. + </p> + <p> + While talking over the case in hand with her employer, Miss Dana chanced + to fix her eyes upon the brass apple. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Isburn, why do you keep that peculiar ornament on the top of your + bookcase?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you mean the apple. It contains something that is very valuable. The + method of opening it is a secret, but as somebody may succeed in doing so + some day I will show you its contents, for otherwise I might be unable to + prove that it contained anything.” + </p> + <p> + He opened a secret drawer in his desk, inserted his forefinger and, + apparently, pressed a button. The doors of the bookcase flew open as if by + magic, and, at the same time, a bell inside the bookcase rang sharply. + Miss Dana watched each motion of her employer intently. + </p> + <p> + “That is all done by electricity,” said he. “But it does something else—opens + the apple.” + </p> + <p> + He reached up and lifted the cover. Then he removed something from the + apple and placed it in Miss Dana's hand. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how lovely!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + It was a ring made of the finest gold and containing an immense ruby. + </p> + <p> + “That,” said her employer, “I call the Isburn Ruby. It belonged to my + mother, and it is precious to me, both on account of its great intrinsic + value, and as an heirloom.” + </p> + <p> + He dropped it into the brass apple, replaced the cover, and shut the doors + of the bookcase. + </p> + <p> + “That cover can only be removed when the bookcase doors are open; they can + only be opened by touching the button in the secret drawer in my desk, + and, even then, a notice of the opening is given by the electric bell. I + think the ruby is well protected, but if anybody steals it I shall call + upon you to find the thief.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Dana said, laughingly, that she feared she would never have a chance + to distinguish herself in that direction. + </p> + <p> + About a fortnight later, Mr. Isburn sat at his desk one morning opening + his mail. He was so preoccupied with an interesting letter containing an + account of the very mysterious disappearance of a young woman, that he was + not aware, for some time, of the presence of a person who stood beside his + desk. + </p> + <p> + He looked up, suddenly, and saw a pretty girl, dressed in picturesque + Italian costume, holding a basket filled with roses, pinks, and other cut + flowers. Mr. Isburn was passionately fond of flowers and kept a vase + filled with them upon his desk. He selected a large bunch of flowers made + up of the different kinds. + </p> + <p> + At that moment the door was opened and a clerk appeared: “Mr. Isburn, + there is a call for you on the long distance telephone.” + </p> + <p> + “I will be back in a moment,” he said to the flower girl, as he went into + an adjoining room. The telephone bell was being rung continuously, and he + called “Hello” several times before the tintinnabulation ceased. + </p> + <p> + The call was from a town some fifty miles away. The operator informed him + that No. 42 wished her to tell him that she had a valuable clue in case T + 697 and would not return for several days. Mr. Isburn knew that No. 42 was + Miss Dana. + </p> + <p> + He returned to his office. The young Italian girl still stood by his desk + holding the basket of flowers. He gave her more than the amount she asked + for, and, bowing low and smiling, she left the office: Referring to his + call index, he found that T 697 was that of a young man, Tarleton, + belonging to a wealthy family, who was the buyer for a manufactory of + electrical machines. In their construction, a large quantity of platinum + was used, a metal more valuable, weight for weight, than gold. His + purchases had been very heavy, but a checking up of stock used showed that + not half of it had been applied to actual construction. The question was—“What + had become of the missing metal?” and that question it was No. 42”s + business to answer. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Isburn was a frequenter of clubs and social functions, partly because + he enjoyed them, but, principally, because many valuable clues had been + run across while attending them. + </p> + <p> + He had been invited to be a guest at a reception tendered to an Indian + Maharajah. He knew that the East Indian princes were profuse in their use + of gems and he decided to wear the ruby, for it was a beautiful stone and + would be sure to attract the Maharajah's attention. On opening the brass + apple he found, to his astonishment, that the ring was gone. Three days + later Miss Dana returned and made her report on the Tarleton case. The + young man had stolen the platinum, sold it, and lost the money in + speculation. His rich father had made good the company's loss, and there + would be no prosecution. + </p> + <p> + “He'll be a bigger criminal some day,” remarked Mr. Isburn. + </p> + <p> + “Money saved him,” said Miss Dana. “While I was in the town a workman + stole a pound of brass screws—he is a poor inventor and needed them + to complete a model, and he got six months in jail.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dana, what punishment would be adequate for the thief who stole my + ruby?” + </p> + <p> + She laughed, and said: “Anybody smart enough to do it, should have a + reward.” + </p> + <p> + “The reward,” said he, “will go to the one who finds and returns it.” + </p> + <p> + “You are joking, Mr. Isburn.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I were. No, it is gone. I cannot imagine how it was possible for + any one to get possession of that ring. Only you and I knew how to open + the bookcase doors, and I would as soon suspect myself as you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad that you have that opinion,” said Miss Dana. “I have thought + several times that I was sorry that you told me about it, for I have felt + that if anything happened I should be an object of suspicion.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” cried Mr. Isburn. “No such suspicion ever entered my mind. I + could not be so mean and ungenerous as to think such a thing. The only + person I suspect is an Italian girl who came in here to sell some flowers. + It was the day I received the long distance telephone message from you in + regard to the Tarleton case. I was only out of the room a few minutes, and + when I came back she was standing just where I left her.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack to find that girl,” + said Miss Dana. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, those Italian girls look very much alike. She was one of medium + height, as a great many women are. You are of medium height, Miss Dana, so + that is a very poor clue to work upon. She had dark hair.” + </p> + <p> + “Mine is light,” remarked Miss Dana. + </p> + <p> + “I did not notice the colour of her eyes—probably black.” + </p> + <p> + “Mine are blue.” + </p> + <p> + “Her complexion was dark.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I surely have not a dark complexion.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” asked Mr. Isburn. + </p> + <p> + “You talk as though you were, in some way, connected with this affair.” + </p> + <p> + “But I am.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” and Mr. Isburn's voice betrayed his astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you remember saying if the ring was lost or stolen that you should + call upon me to recover it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, I do remember. If you find it, you shall have a big reward. If + found, I am going to give the ring to a young lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is she? Pardon my hasty inquisitiveness.” + </p> + <p> + “My niece, Rose Isburn. She is my only brother's daughter. He has just + died and left her in my charge. Nothing has happened since I began my + professional career that has so puzzled and disgusted me as the loss of + that ring. I thought myself acute, and I am outwitted by a chit of a girl. + I think I'll sell out, take my niece to Europe and marry her off to a + Prince or a Duke.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't do it!” laughed Miss Dana. “Leave her your money, and let her + choose some honest, clean, young American.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I think you are right,” answered Mr. Isburn, laughing at Mary's + half serious, half comic air, “but I must first sell my business. Will you + find me a purchaser? I want to travel, and loaf the rest of my life. I've + had my fill of adventure and excitement.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you can find a purchaser while I'm finding the ring. As you say, + your description of her is very meagre. But she was a flower girl and that + is one point gained.” + </p> + <p> + “But she may be selling oranges or dragging a hand-organ to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” replied Miss Dana, “and she may be selling flowers again + to-morrow,” and the conversation dropped. + </p> + <p> + About a week later, Miss Dana entered Mr. Isburn's private office. There + was a smile upon her face, as she cried: + </p> + <p> + “I have been successful!” + </p> + <p> + “You usually are,” Mr. Isburn remarked, not comprehending to what she + alluded. + </p> + <p> + “You will be somewhat surprised, no doubt, when I tell you—that I + have recovered the ruby!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Isburn sprang to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “I know that you are a truthful young woman, Miss Dana, but, pardon me, I + shall disbelieve your statement, until the ruby is once more in my hands.” + </p> + <p> + “I have not only recovered the ruby, but I have induced the Italian girl + who took it—” + </p> + <p> + “By George!” cried Isburn, “I always suspected her.” + </p> + <p> + “I have induced the culprit, Mr. Isburn, to come here and place it in your + hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you're a wonder, Miss Dana. You should give up being a detective + and become a teacher of morals.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Dana ignored his suggestion. “I have her in my office and the door is + locked. You see, I have the key here,” and she held it up for his + inspection. + </p> + <p> + “She is quite overcome at being discovered. I am going to talk with her + for a few minutes. You may come, say, in ten minutes. The door will be + unlocked if she is ready. I shall be with her to witness the restitution + of your property.” + </p> + <p> + Never did ten minutes pass so slowly as did those to Mr. Isburn. He placed + his watch upon his desk and watched each minute as it slowly ticked away. + When the time was up, he went to the door of Miss Dana's office. He turned + the knob—the door opened at a slight pressure, and he entered. In a + chair by the window, with her head bowed, sat a young Italian girl. As + Isburn approached her; he glanced about the room, but Miss Dana was not + present. + </p> + <p> + “Signorita,” he said, “I am informed that you have come to restore the + ring which you took from me.” Then he noticed by her side was the same + basket in which she had brought the flowers, but this time it was empty. + </p> + <p> + She rose to her feet and looked into his eyes with a glance of mute + appeal. She took up the basket, and walked towards the door, beckoning to + him to follow. Without resenting the incongruity of the situation, he did + so. They passed through the hallway and into his private office. + </p> + <p> + She lifted the cover of one side of the basket and took from it a small + parcel. She removed the tissue paper disclosing a bunch of cotton wool. + From this she extracted the jewel that he prized so highly. + </p> + <p> + He reached forward to take it, but she drew back. She first shut down the + cover of the basket. Then she went to the desk, opened the private drawer + and pressed the button. The bookcase doors flew open. Her next move was to + place the basket in front of the bookcase. Stepping upon it, which enabled + her to reach the apple, she removed the cover, and dropped the ring into + its receptacle, replaced the cover, stepped down and took up her basket, + then closed the bookcase doors. + </p> + <p> + “And that's how you did it,” ejaculated Isburn, greatly astonished at her + coolness and audacity. “But how did you find out how to open the bookcase + doors?” + </p> + <p> + “You told me,” said the girl in good English, the first words she had + spoken. + </p> + <p> + “I told you?” he cried. + </p> + <p> + The Italian girl had a fit of uncontrollable laughter. + </p> + <p> + “Have you forgotten the old adage, Mr. Isburn, that it is a good plan to + set a thief to catch a thief?” + </p> + <p> + Isburn sank into a chair. “Can I believe my ears? Miss Dana?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly,” said the young woman. “This is one of my make-ups. This is what + I wore when I discovered the clue that led to the arrest of Corona in that + Italian murder case.” + </p> + <p> + “But I don't understand yet,” cried Isburn. “How could you be here as an + Italian flower girl when you telephoned me from a place more than fifty + miles away?” + </p> + <p> + “Money will do a great deal,” replied Miss Dana, “but you must tell your + subordinates what to do for the money. I induced the operator in that + little country town to give you to understand that I was still there. The + fact was, I left the noon before, located young Tarleton, turned him over + to the police, and was in the city by 8 o'clock. I told the operator to + keep on ringing until you came for you were very deaf. Pardon me for that, + but I was afraid you would hear the bell when the bookcase doors opened. + Now, you know all, and I await my discharge.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Isburn looked serious. “Miss Dana, I see but one matter to be arranged + now, and that is your half-interest in the business. You know I told you + that if you found the ruby I would take you as a partner.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's all a joke,” cried Miss Dana. “What I did was for fun. I only + wished to show you how the thing could be done, and I beg your pardon for + causing you so many hours of uneasiness on account of the supposed loss of + your valuable ring.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mr. Isburn, “I feel as though you should make some atonement + for the disquietude you have caused me. I shall insist upon going to + Europe with Rose, and you must manage the business while we are gone, as + full partner.” + </p> + <p> + “The staff won't take orders from a woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they will, if you tell them how you fooled me. If they object then, + call for their resignations and engage a new force.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII. — “IT WAS SO SUDDEN” + </h2> + <p> + The Hotel Cawthorne was, in some respects, a correct designation but in + others a misnomer. It had rooms to let, or rather suites, and it had a + clerk. So far, a hostelry. It had no dining room, no bar, no billiard + room, no news-stand, no barber shop, no boot-black, no laundry—and + in these respects, at least, it belied its name. + </p> + <p> + Some childless couples, some aged ones with married children, many young + men, a few confirmed old bachelors, and a few unmarried women roomed + therein. On stormy days, or when their inclinations so prompted, the + tenants could have meals served in their rooms at a marked increase over + hotel rates. + </p> + <p> + But the “Cawthorne” was exclusive, and for that reason, principally, Miss + Dana had chosen it as her city domicile. Tenants were not introduced to + each other, and one could live a year within its walls without being + obliged to say good morning to any one, with the possible exceptions of + the housekeeper, or the elevator man, but that was not compulsory, but + depended upon the tenant's initiative. + </p> + <p> + Every hotel has an “out”; at the “Cawthorne” it was an “in.” The “in” was + Mr. Lorenzo Cass, the clerk and general <i>factotum</i>. His besetting sin + was inordinate curiosity, but it was this oftentime disagreeable quality + which particularly commended him to the ex-Rev. Arthur Borrowscale, the + owner of the “Cawthorne.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Borrowscale had not given up the ministry on account of advanced age, + for he was only forty; nor on account of physical infirmity, for he was a + rugged specimen of manhood and enjoyed the best of health. His critics, + and all successful men have them, declared that he had forsaken the + service of God for that of Mammon. While officiating, he had received a + large salary. Being a bachelor, he had lived economically and invested his + savings in real estate. He was the owner of six tenement houses—models + of their kind, and the “Cawthorne.” Before leaving college, he had loved a + young girl named Edith Cawthorne. She had died, and at her grave he had + parted with her,—and love of women, but, that sentiment was not + wholly dead within him, the name of his hotel attested. + </p> + <p> + He had another attribute; he was intensely moral. The “Cawthorne” was his + pride, but he had a constant fear that some undesirable—that is, + immoral—person would find lodgment in his caravansary. For certain + reasons, Mr. Cass was indispensable. He had been a “high roller” until he + came under the Rev. Mr. Borrowscale's tutelage. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Cass, you know the bad when you see it—I do not. The reputation + of my house must be like Caesar's ghost—above suspicion.” + </p> + <p> + He had said “ghost.” He had seen but two plays—“Hamlet” and “Julius + Caesar,” and for that reason his dramatic inaccuracy may be excused. + </p> + <p> + So Mr. Cass became a moral sleuth, and woe betide an applicant for rooms, + and occasional board, who could not produce unimpeachable references, and + point to an unsullied record in the past. + </p> + <p> + Miss Dana's respectability and social standing had been abundantly vouched + for, and her financial responsibility had been demonstrated by monthly + payments in advance. + </p> + <p> + It was the first evening Quincy had been out since his illness. + </p> + <p> + “Is Miss Dana in?” asked Quincy as he presented his card to Mr. Cass. + </p> + <p> + “I am quite positive she is. I am strengthened in this belief by the fact + that she had her supper sent up to her room. A fine specimen of womanhood, + and a remarkable appetite for so lovely a creature.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy had an inclination to brain him with the telephone stand, but + restrained his murderous impulse. + </p> + <p> + “Will you please send up my card?” was his interrogatory protest against + further enumeration of Miss Dana's charms and gastronomic ability. “No + need to do so, Mr. Sawyer,” for he had inspected the card carefully. “We + have a private telephone in each room. Will you await her in the public + parlour?” + </p> + <p> + “Hasn't she more than one room?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes; a three room suite, sitting-room, boudoir, which I am sure she + uses more as a study, a chamber—and private bath.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy said, “I would prefer to see her in her sitting-room.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, certainly,” replied Mr. Cass. “Our rules are only prohibitive in the + case of single chambers or alcove suites, when the caller and tenant are + of opposite sexes. The proprietor—he was formerly a clergyman—is + tenacious on certain points.” + </p> + <p> + “And so am I,” was Quincy's response, for his temper was rising, “and you + will oblige me by communicating with Miss Dana at once, and informing her + of my desire to see her.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, certainly,” replied Mr. Cass, “but my employer, who, as I have said, + was formerly a clergyman, is tenacious on another point; all tenants who + receive visitors in their rooms must have their names entered in a book + prescribed for the purpose, and also the names of their callers.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy's murderous instinct was again aroused, but Mr. Cass was unmindful + of his danger and made the required entry. The humourous side of the + affair then struck Quincy, and taking a memorandum book from his pocket, + he said: + </p> + <p> + “I, too, am tenacious on one point. I never visit a hotel for the first + time without writing down the name of the clerk. Will you oblige me?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, certainly. Cass, Mr. Lorenzo Cass.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you spell it with a 'C'?” asked Quincy, innocently, as he pretended to + write. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, certainly. C-a-s-s-.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “We make it a rule, or rather my employer does, that tenants and their + callers shall be treated with civility and their wants attended to + promptly.” + </p> + <p> + Again Quincy eyed the telephone stand with a view to its use as a weapon. + </p> + <p> + “Ting-a-ling! Ting-a-ling! Miss Dana—yes, Mr. Cass—Mr. Quincy + Adams Sawyer, Junior, wishes to call upon you in your sitting-room. Is it + agreeable to you? Very well, he will come right up.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cass replaced the receiver with deliberation, first unwinding a + tangled coil in the cord. + </p> + <p> + “Take the elevator—third floor—number 42—she insisted + upon taking that suite for some personal reason—” + </p> + <p> + Quincy waited to hear no more but started for the elevator. Mr. Cass + reached it as soon as he did, and motioned for the elevator man to + postpone the ascent until he had finished his remarks. + </p> + <p> + “The outside door is locked at eleven, Mr. Sawyer, but you have only to + turn the upper handle to insure an exit.” + </p> + <p> + “Your clerk is quite loquacious,” remarked Quincy as they slowly mounted + upward. + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” + </p> + <p> + “He has a sore tongue,” said Quincy, as the elevator door was closed + behind him. + </p> + <p> + After cordial greetings on both sides, for they had not seen each other + for nearly a year, Quincy exclaimed, as he sank into a proffered easy + chair: “Mary, I am a murderer at heart.” + </p> + <p> + “That is not strange, Quincy. I have read that the friends of police + officers and detectives often imbibe, or rather absorb, criminal + propensities. Who is the intended victim, and how do you expect to escape + arrest, conviction, and punishment, after incriminating yourself by a + confession to a licensed detective?” + </p> + <p> + “If I had killed your hotel clerk it would have been due to emotional + insanity, and I should expect an acquittal—and, perhaps, a + testimonial.” + </p> + <p> + “I got a testimonial to-day from Mr. Isburn. He said I was a wonder.” + </p> + <p> + “I agree with him.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Dana flushed perceptibly. + </p> + <p> + “He had what he considered a good reason for his compliment. I am afraid + yours rests on unsupported grounds.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. Have I not known you since you were a child? Can he say as + much? Did I not work with you on Bob Wood's case? The help you were to me + in trying to solve the mystery of the return of my father's bill of + exchange I will never forget,” and for a long time Quincy and Mary talked + over the miraculous return of his father. + </p> + <p> + Finally Quincy said, “I interrupted you. You said that Mr. Isburn + considered he had good reasons for complimenting you. Will you tell me + what they were?” + </p> + <p> + “It is a long story.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm all attention.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I'll begin at once. If you need a stimulant at any stage of the + narrative, just signify your want and I'll ring for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there a bar?” + </p> + <p> + “No, but there's a cellar.” + </p> + <p> + “I may need some Apollinaris,” said Quincy, as he settled himself more + comfortably in the easy chair; “as my flesh is again strong, I always take + my spirit very weak.” + </p> + <p> + Mary had that sweetest of woman's charm—a low-pitched voice, and as + she told the story of the loss of the great Isburn ruby and its recovery + Quincy's thoughts were less on the words that he heard than the woman who + uttered them. In his mind he was building a castle in which he was the + Lord and the story-teller was the Lady. + </p> + <p> + He was awakened from his dream by Mary's query: + </p> + <p> + “Didn't I fool him nicely?” + </p> + <p> + “You certainly did. And so he's going to give you a half-interest in the + business. If he keeps his word”— + </p> + <p> + “Which I very much doubt,” interrupted Mary. + </p> + <p> + “I'll buy the other half and we'll be partners.” + </p> + <p> + He came near adding “for life,” but decided that such a declaration would + be inopportune. “Why should you engage in business, Quincy? You are not + obliged to work.” + </p> + <p> + “That's the unfortunate part of it. I wish I were. I have so much money + that I don't know what to do with it, except let it grow. But, speaking + seriously, I've no intention of remaining a do-nothing. I'm treasurer of + my father's grocery company but I have no liking for mercantile business. + I can give away, but can neither buy nor sell—to advantage. I heard + a story not long ago that set me thinking.” + </p> + <p> + “I told you my story, Quincy, why not tell me yours?” + </p> + <p> + “I will. It's a mystery—unsolved, and, I think, unsolvable. But I + feel that my vocation will be the solving of mysteries. My mother wrote + detective stories and I must have inherited a mania for mysteries and + criminal problems. But I'll tell you what set me thinking.” + </p> + <p> + Then he related the story that had been told him by Jack and Ned. As he + concluded, he asked: “Do you think it was signed?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it was, but not by the dead man.” + </p> + <p> + “By whom, then?” + </p> + <p> + “By Mrs. Bliss. She materialized the form by her mediumistic prowess, but + she signed the will.” + </p> + <p> + “But Jack and Ned saw the form, as they called it, take the pen and write + his name.” + </p> + <p> + “They thought they did. She hypnotized them so they saw whatever she + impressed upon their minds.” + </p> + <p> + “Can sensible, highly educated people be so influenced?” + </p> + <p> + “The bigger the brain the more easily influenced. She couldn't have so + impressed an idiot, or an illiterate, unreceptive man. Let me tell you how + a hundred people were fooled lately.” + </p> + <p> + “I should be delighted to hear you tell it.” + </p> + <p> + “You should have sympathy for them, after your spiritualistic experience,” + said Mary with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “There is a married couple in this city whom we will call Mr. and Mrs. + Cartwright, because those are not their names. They have been married less + than two years. He is 68 and she 28, so you see it was what they call a + December and May union. It was worse. He is a bank president and his god + is money—his diversion sitting in his elegant library and reading <i>de + luxe</i> editions of the world's literary masterpieces. She is young, and + beautiful, and craves society, attention, admiration. + </p> + <p> + “She didn't get the last two at home, but society furnished them. He + attended her to parties and receptions and then went back to his library + until it was time to escort her home. + </p> + <p> + “One night when he went for her she could not be found. No one had seen + her leave—she had mysteriously disappeared. Mr. Isburn gave me the + case. I'll make the story short for it is eleven o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + “I know how to get out. Mr. Cass told me.” + </p> + <p> + “Your knowledge of a method of egress does not warrant an extension of + your visit to midnight, does it?” asked Mary laughingly. + </p> + <p> + “Considering the attractions presented, I think they do,” replied Quincy, + banteringly. + </p> + <p> + She resumed her story. + </p> + <p> + “There was a man in the case, young, handsome, and wealthy. Just such a + man as she should have married. They had planned an elopement to Europe. + Not together. She was to go to Liverpool, he was to follow later to Paris, + and there meet her. Quite ingenious, wasn't it? Our agent at Liverpool was + called to locate her and prevent her inamorata from communicating with + her, at the same time using his influence to induce her to return to + Boston without meeting her lover. His powers of persuasion, I mean our + agent's, must have been great, for she consented. + </p> + <p> + “A month later she attended a reception next door to the house from which + she disappeared, and silenced the tongue of scandal by saying that she had + been hastily summoned to the bedside of a sick friend, her chum at + Wellesley, and had returned home only the day previous. Her last statement + was true. Good detective work by a good detective, and a great, big white + lie fooled her friends and acquaintances, but if I were her husband she + would not lack attention or admiration in the future, and I would furnish + it.” + </p> + <p> + “When I get married, I will bear your admonition in mind.” + </p> + <p> + “I have another admonition. If you meet Mr. Cass when you go down, be nice + to him. Why, when you know him, he is a treasure. I can bear his + inquisitiveness, for it shields me from others. This is my sanctuary, and + Mr. Cass protects me from the literary wolves—the reporters. He + thinks I am a writer because I have so many books, and, to him, an author + is next to an angel. Was he rude to you? You must forgive him, for he is + my Saint George who protects me from the Dragon.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy was mollified to a certain extent. “Do I look like a Dragon? If I + am one, history came near being reversed, for at one time your Saint + George's hold on life was frail.” + </p> + <p> + Late in the afternoon of the next day Quincy made another call on Mary. He + had telephoned and learned that she was in her room. Mr. Cass was + temporarily absent from his desk and Quincy went at once to the elevator. + </p> + <p> + “I axed Mr. Cass about his tongue,” said the elevator man. + </p> + <p> + “Was it better?” asked Quincy. + </p> + <p> + “He said I was labourin' under a misapprihinsion. What's that?” + </p> + <p> + “He meant that it was improving,” said Quincy, as he hurried from the + elevator. + </p> + <p> + “How did you get home last night?” was Mary's salutation as he entered. + </p> + <p> + “I groped my way down two flights of stairs in the dark. When I opened the + front door by the upper handle as Mr. Cass had kindly instructed me to do, + I found that gentleman on the steps. 'Quite late,' said he. 'Not for me,' + said I. At that moment my auto drew up at the curb.” + </p> + <p> + “A narrow escape from a Cass-trophe,” exclaimed Miss Dana. “Pardon the + pun, but sometimes he is insufferably loquacious.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy smiled grimly. “He wasn't through with me. He followed me. 'My + employer.' he began, 'is very tenacious on several points, and one of them + is the acceleration of matrimonial preliminaries, commonly called + courting, in the house which he owns and successfully conducts with my + humble assistance. Will you allow me to ask you a question?' + </p> + <p> + “Alexander had opened the auto door, and I stood with one foot on the + step.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy was silent for a moment. Miss Dana's curiosity was excited. + </p> + <p> + “What did he ask you to do?” + </p> + <p> + “His question was—'are you going to marry Miss Dana?'” + </p> + <p> + “Preposterous!” cried Miss Dana. “I shall leave the 'Cawthorne' to-morrow. + What answer did you give to so impertinent a question?” + </p> + <p> + “I said, not to-night. Not until to-morrow. Then I jumped in, slammed the + door, and off we went leaving Mr. Cass fully informed as to my + intentions.” + </p> + <p> + Mary thought, under the circumstances, that a change of subjects was + necessary. + </p> + <p> + “I am working on the Harrison case. I don't believe he poisoned his wife. + I think the law killed an innocent man.” + </p> + <p> + “Another Robert Wood affair? Have you seen your little namesake, Mary + Wood?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I am going to spend to-morrow in the laboratory making toxic + analyses.” + </p> + <p> + “I've been very busy to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Not working?” + </p> + <p> + “No, getting ready to. I've bought out an established business.” + </p> + <p> + “You said you disliked business.” + </p> + <p> + “Not this kind. You were right about Isburn. He didn't mean what he said + about giving you a half-interest in the agency.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not disappointed. I didn't think he did. Why should he pay me for + returning what I took from him as a professional joke?” + </p> + <p> + “Well I fixed it up with him, and he will sail for Europe with his niece + as soon as we can take charge.” + </p> + <p> + “We? Why, what <i>do</i> you mean, Mr. Sawyer?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that I've engaged to pay Mr. Isburn one hundred thousand dollars + for his agency, a one-half interest to become mine and the other half to + be transferred to my wife as soon as I am married, which will be soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you will be my employer,” and Mary's blue eyes were opened as wide + as they could be. + </p> + <p> + “Within a week, I shall be Mr. Isburn. I shall not use my own name.” + </p> + <p> + His manner changed instantly. + </p> + <p> + “This morning I met an old college friend. He was doing the historical + points of old Boston with his father and his father's friend, a Rev. Mr. + Dysart of Yonkers, New York.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Dana started, and exclaimed, involuntarily, “Mr. Dysart—not Mr. + Octavius Dysart?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that was the name. Why, do you know him? I'll be honest, I know you + do.” + </p> + <p> + “My mother was born in Yonkers, and Mr. Dysart was the clergyman who + officiated at my father's wedding. He used to call on us whenever he came + to Boston. But how did he know that you knew me?” + </p> + <p> + “He said he was going to Fernborough to see your father, and I availed + myself of the opportunity to mention my acquaintance with you. He wished + you could come and see him.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he? Of course I will go.” + </p> + <p> + “He is staying with Mr. Larned, my college mate's father, who lives in + Jamaica Plain, but he will not be there until this evening. He's attending + a religious conference this afternoon and goes to Fernborough early + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I can't see him.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? I'm going out this evening—small party invited—entirely + informal—half my auto is at your service.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you get me back to the hotel before the doors are closed? I shall + pack up to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “I promise,” said Quincy. “I will come for you at seven sharp.” + </p> + <p> + Punctually at seven, a closed auto stopped before the “Cawthorne” and + Quincy alighted. Mary stepped from the elevator, wearing a new spring + costume and a marvellous aggregation of flowers upon her hat, walked to + the door without looking at Mr. Cass, and before he could frame one of his + employer's tenacious points and follow her, she had been handed into the + auto and whirled swiftly away. + </p> + <p> + “Is Alexander driving?” she asked. “No. He's asleep—up too late last + night. We have a strange <i>chauffeur</i>. I selected him for that + reason.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't wish anybody to know where we had gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not, pray?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean, what we'd gone for.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense. Why, a friendly call—what more?” + </p> + <p> + “Are your gloves on?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I didn't have time. I'll put them on now.” + </p> + <p> + “No hurry—plenty of time. You are agitated. Allow me to feel your + pulse.” + </p> + <p> + “You are funny to-night, Quincy.” + </p> + <p> + “Not funny—just happy.” + </p> + <p> + Quincy took forcible possession of her half-resisting hand and slipped a + diamond solitaire on the proper finger. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what are you doing? Isn't it a beauty? Is this the great Sawyer + diamond? Whose is it?” + </p> + <p> + “It's yours. It is an engagement ring. It's the first step towards keeping + my promise to Mr. Cass, and he's tenacious, you know. I told you all about + it when I called this afternoon. So, please don't say 'this is so + sudden.'” + </p> + <p> + “Are you crazy, Quincy?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sane. Delightfully so. I told Mr. Cass I couldn't marry you until + to-day. I got the license this noon.” + </p> + <p> + They were passing through a dimly-lighted street, but, occasionally, the + street lamps threw flashes across two earnest faces. She endeavoured to + remove the ring. + </p> + <p> + “Mary,” said Quincy, “if you allow the ring to remain, I shall be a very + happy man, dear,—for I love you. I have loved you ever since the day + that I thrashed Bob Wood, and when I lay exhausted, you looked down at me + with those beautiful blue eyes and said 'all for me!' I am all for you,—are + you for me?” + </p> + <p> + He put his arm about her and drew her towards him; their lips met. A + bright light shone in the auto windows—but they were sitting erect—they + even looked primly. + </p> + <p> + “It is a long ride,” she ventured. + </p> + <p> + “Too short,” he replied, “and yet, I wish we were there.” + </p> + <p> + Again she spoke: “This is a most unprecedented affair. Can it be real, or + are we actors?” + </p> + <p> + “We are detectives, and they always do unexpected and unprecedented + things.” + </p> + <p> + “What will your father say—you a multimillionaire and I a poor girl + who works for a living?” + </p> + <p> + “My mother was poor and blind when my father married her.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know; but she wrote a book and became famous.” + </p> + <p> + “You're a 'wonder' now, and you will become famous.” + </p> + <p> + “What will your friends say?” + </p> + <p> + “If they wish to remain my friends they will either say nothing, or + congratulate me. How shall we be married—in church? I'll spend a + hundred thousand on our wedding, if you say so.” + </p> + <p> + “No. As little publicity as possible. Use the money to help those poor + creatures who are sick with the disease called crime; that is the symptom. + The cause is often bad environment, and the poverty which prevents + improvement.” + </p> + <p> + “What a philosopher you are. That simple ceremony suits me exactly, Mary. + What a sweet name you have. Why not have Mr. Dysart perform the ceremony? + We'll be married with a ring.” + </p> + <p> + Mary laughed: “Where will you get yours?” + </p> + <p> + “Detectives are always prepared for emergencies. I bought them this noon, + after I procured the license. They seemed to go together.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Quincy, I think you are the most presumptuous mortal in existence. + How dared you do such a thing—so many things, I mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Was not the prize worth even more of an endeavour? I have always thought + <i>Young Lochinvar</i> was a model lover. But here we are.” + </p> + <p> + The Rev. Mr. Dysart received them with pleasant words of welcome, and + reminiscences of life in Yonkers, and memories of Mary's mother, held + Cupid in abeyance for an hour. Quincy passed the license to the clergyman + who read it and looked up inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right, isn't it?” Quincy asked. + </p> + <p> + “Why yes,—but—I never supposed—why, of course—but + when?” + </p> + <p> + “Now, at once,” said Quincy. “We must be home by eleven, for they lock the + doors.” + </p> + <p> + The simple ceremony was soon over. + </p> + <p> + “Can you give Mrs. Sawyer a certificate, Mr. Dysart?” + </p> + <p> + “Fortunately, yes. I bought some to-day, for I needed them.” + </p> + <p> + He went into an adjoining room to fill it out. + </p> + <p> + “Mary, my darling, I am a rich man—richer than I deserve to be, for + I have created nothing—but I would give every dollar of my fortune + rather than lose you. Does your wedding ring fit? Mine is all right.” + </p> + <p> + “It ought to be—you had a chance to try yours on.” + </p> + <p> + “I am a designing villain, Mary. While you were telling that story last + night, you will remember that I walked about the room. One of your rings + was on the mantelpiece and I tried it on.” + </p> + <p> + When the clergyman handed Mrs. Sawyer the certificate, Quincy passed him + his fee. + </p> + <p> + “You've made a mistake, Mr. Sawyer. This is a hundred dollar bill.” + </p> + <p> + “It ought to be a thousand. I'll send you a check for the difference + to-morrow—for yourself, or your church, as you prefer.” + </p> + <p> + As they descended the steps, the clergyman raised his hands. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you both long life and prosperity, and may Heaven's blessing fall + upon you.” + </p> + <p> + “Back to the 'Cawthorne,'” said Quincy, as he pressed a small roll of + paper into the <i>chauffeur's</i> hand—which roll of paper a + friendly street light showed to be a five dollar bill. + </p> + <p> + “What will that horrid Mr. Cass say?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll fix him,” replied Quincy. “Just await developments, patiently, my + dear.” + </p> + <p> + It was a quarter of eleven when they reached the hotel. Mr. Cass was at + his desk, the light turned down in anticipation of the closing hour. + </p> + <p> + “The certificate, darling,” Quincy whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Please turn up the light, Mr. Cass, and read that.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cass adjusted his <i>pince-nez</i>. Quincy was relentless. His turn + had come. + </p> + <p> + “Is that in proper form, Mr. Cass? I know your rules are strict, and that + your employer holds you to them tenaciously,” and there was a strong + accent on the last word. + </p> + <p> + “Would your reverend employer object to your harbouring a newly-married + couple for one night? Show him your wedding ring, Mrs. Sawyer. We must + satisfy his moral scruples.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cass regarded them attentively. Then he said, slowly: “I anticipated + such a result, but wasn't it rather sudden?” + </p> + <p> + “We shall lose the elevator,” cried Mary. “It shuts down at eleven.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall we go on a tour?” asked Quincy the next morning. + </p> + <p> + “I can't leave the Harrison case. I must follow a clue this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Where shall we live, Mary? In grandfather's house on Beacon Street, or + shall I build a new one? I'll make it a palace, if you say so.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I sha'n't say so—but let's live anywhere but here.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll bid Mr. Cass a long farewell—but I admire his tenacity. He's + a sort of moral bull-dog. I might use him in my business.” + </p> + <p> + “Our business, Quincy.” + </p> + <p> + “That's so—we are partners professionally, and lovers ever.” + </p> + <p> + As she disengaged herself from his embrace, Mary exclaimed: “I've planned + a model honeymoon for us, Quincy. You must go over the Harrison case with + me. I'm sure <i>we</i> can prove that he was an innocent man, and—” + </p> + <p> + “We'll find the real criminal, Mary, and bring him to justice.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be a long and tedious investigation. I may have to visit every + drug store in the city.” + </p> + <p> + “That's easy. I'll buy you a touring car—I will act as <i>chauffeur</i>—” + </p> + <p> + “Why a touring car—why not a runabout just for two?” + </p> + <p> + “As you say, my dear. Your word is law—or the next thing to it. By + the way, Mary, we must live on Beacon Street.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, must?” + </p> + <p> + “Because Mr. Strout has bought a house on Commonwealth Avenue, and we must + keep the line drawn sharp between the old families and the <i>nou-veaux + riches!</i>” + </p> + <h3> + THE END. + </h3> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Further Adventures of Quincy Adams +Sawyer and Mason's Corner Folks, by Charles Felton Pidgin + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER *** + +***** This file should be named 7497-h.htm or 7497-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/4/9/7497/ + + +Text file produced by Charles Franks + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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