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+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
+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
+
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