"I'm not convinced yet," said Maude. "I am coming to hear you preach to-morrow. Do make it plain to me, please."

"With G.o.d's help, I will try to," the clergyman answered.

Quincy pa.s.sed 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," a.s.sented 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 a.s.sistance 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 h.o.a.rded 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, princ.i.p.ally, 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 h.o.a.rding 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 ent.i.tled 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."