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 pa.s.s 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 princ.i.p.al 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."