"She wouldn't let them," said Ezekiel. "If it hadn't been for what the eye doctor told her she wouldn't have telegraphed to me what she did."

"Well, what's the matter with her?" cried Uncle Ike almost fiercely.

"Well, Uncle Ike," said Ezekiel, and the tears stood in his eyes as he said it, "our Allie is almost blind, but the eye doctor says she will get better, but it will take a very long time. She has had to give up her job, and I am going to Boston again to-morrow to bring her home to the old house."

"What's the matter with her eyes?" asked Uncle Ike.

"He called them cataracts," said Ezekiel, "or something like that."

Uncle Ike sat down in his armchair and thought for a minute or two.

"Yes," he said, "I know what they are; I have read all about them, and I know people who have had them. One was a schoolmate of mine. He was a mighty smart fellow and I felt sorry for him and used to help him out in his studies. I heard he had his eyes operated on and recovered his sight."

"Well, the doctor she has," said Ezekiel, "is agin operations. He says they can be cured without them. She drops something in her eyes and blows something in them, and then the tears come, and then she sits quietly with her hands folded, thinking, I suppose, till the time comes to use the medicine again."

"What can I do to help you?" asked Uncle Ike. "You know I always loved Alice even better than I did my own children, because she is more lovable, I suppose. Now, 'Zeke, if you want any money for doctor's bills or anything else, I am ready to do everything in the world I can for Alice. Did she ask after me, 'Zeke?"

"Almost the first thing she said was, 'How is dear old Uncle Ike?' and then she said how glad she would be to get back to Eastborough, where she could have you to talk to. 'I am lonesome now,' she said, 'I cannot write nor read, and the time pa.s.ses so slowly with no one to talk to.'"

"But the poor dear girl can't walk down here to see me," said Uncle Ike.

"That's just what I came to see you about," said Ezekiel. "The greatest favor you can do Alice and me is to come up to the old house and live with us for a while and be company for Alice. You can have the big front room that father and mother used to have, and Alice's room, you know, is just side of that. In a little while I shall have to be busy on the farm and poor Alice--"

"Don't talk any more about it, 'Zeke," said Uncle Ike. "Of course I'll come. She will do me as much good as I'll do her. Send down the boys with the team to-morrow noon and I'll be all settled by the time you get back."

"I'll do it," said Ezekiel. "It is very good of you. Uncle Ike, to give up your little home here that you like so much and come to live with us.

I know you wouldn't do it for anybody but Alice, and I'll leave her to thank you when she gets down here."

Uncle Ike and Ezekiel shook hands warmly.

"Don't you need any money, 'Zeke?" asked Uncle Ike.

"No," replied Ezekiel. "Alice wouldn't let me pay out a cent; she had some money saved up in the bank and she insisted on paying for everything herself. She wouldn't come home till I promised 'her I'd let her pay her board when she got able to work again."

"She always was independent," said Uncle Ike, "and that was one reason why I liked her. But more than that, she is the fairest-minded and best-tempered woman I ever met in my life, and I have seen a good many."

Ezekiel shook hands again with Uncle Ike, and then started off briskly with a much lighter heart than he had before the interview. Reaching home he astonished Mandy Skinner by telling her that he was going to bring his sister down from Boston and that Uncle Ike was coming to live with them for a while.

"My Lord!" cried Mandy, "and do you expect me to do all this extra work?"

"I don't expect nothing," said Ezekiel. "You can get old Mrs. Crowley to come and do the heavy work, and I guess you can get along. You allus said you liked her, she was such a nice washer and ironer. She can have the little room over the ell, and I'll give you a dollar a week extra for your trouble. Do you think you can get along, Mandy?"

Mandy answered, "I know I can with your sister all right, but if your Uncle Ike comes out here in the kitchen and tells me how to roast meat and make pies, as he did once, there will be trouble, and he may have to do all the cooking."

Ezekiel smiled, but said nothing, and went off upstairs to look at the two rooms that were to be occupied by Uncle Ike and poor Allie.

CHAPTER XII.

LOOKING FOR A BOARDING PLACE.

When Quincy awoke in his room at the hotel on the morning after the accident he found to his great surprise that it was nine o'clock. He arose and dressed quickly, and after a light breakfast started off towards Uncle Ike's. Reaching the house he was astonished at the sight that met his gaze. Everything was out of place. The bed was down and the bedding tied up in bundles; the books had been taken from the bookcase and had been piled up on the table. There was no fire in the stove, and the funnel was laid upon the top of it. Quincy had remembered that he had seen a pile of soot on the ground near the steps as he came up them.

All of Uncle Ike's cooking utensils were packed in a soap box which stood near the stove.

"What's the matter, Mr. Pettengill, are you going to move?" asked Quincy.

"For a time at least," replied Uncle Ike. "'Zeke Pettengill's sister has been struck blind and he is going to bring her down home this afternoon and I am going to live with them and be company for her. I always thought as much of Alice as if she was my own daughter, and now she is in trouble, her old uncle isn't going back on her. It isn't Ike Pettengill's way."

"Have you seen 'Zekiel Pettengill this morning?" asked Quincy.

"No, nor I didn't expect to," replied Uncle Ike. "I suppose he went to Boston on the nine o'clock train and will be back on the three o'clock express."

"Mr. Pettengill," said Quincy, "can you give me fifteen minutes' time for a talk?"

"Well," said Uncle Ike, looking at his watch, "it will be half an hour before Cobb's twins will be down here with the team, and I might as well listen to you as sit around and do nothing. They are coming down again by and by to get the chickens. I have a good mind to set the house on fire and burn it up. If I don't, I suppose some tramp will, and if I need another house like it, thank the Lord I've got money enough to build it."

"No, don't burn it up, Mr. Pettengill," said Quincy. "Let it to me. I am around looking for a boarding place myself."

"Why, what's the matter, what made you leave Deacon Mason's?"

"That's what I want to tell you," said Quincy. "Time is limited and I'll make my story short, but you are a friend of my father's, and I want you to understand the whole business."

"Why, what have you been up to?" asked Uncle Ike, opening his eyes.

"Nothing," said Quincy, "and that's the trouble. When I went to Deacon Mason's n.o.body told me that his daughter was engaged to Ezekiel Pettengill."

"And she isn't," interjected Uncle Ike.

"Well," said Quincy, "they have been keeping company together, but I didn't know it. Miss Mason is a pretty girl and a very pleasant one.

Time hung heavily on my hands and I naturally paid her some attentions; gave her flowers and candy, and took her out to ride, but I never thought of falling in love with her, and I am not conceited enough to think she is in love with me."

"Well, I don't know," said Uncle Ike reflectively. "Perhaps she has heard your father was worth a million dollars."

"No, I don't believe that," said Quincy. "Miss Mason is too true and honest a girl to marry a man simply for his money."

"Well, I think you are right there," remarked Uncle Ike.

"New Year's night," said Quincy, "at the concert in the Town Hall, Strout, the singing teacher, got down on me because Miss Putnam and I received so much applause for singing a duet together. Then I broke his heart by whistling a tune for the girls and boys, and then again he doesn't like me because I am from the city! he hired a fellow to whip me, but the fellow didn't know how to box and I knocked him out very quickly. Now that Strout can't hurt me any other way he has gone to work making up lies, and the village is full of gossip about Miss Mason and me. Deacon Mason was going to talk to me about it, but I told him yesterday morning that I was going to get another boarding place, and I should have done so yesterday but for a very unfortunate accident."

"Accident?" said Uncle Ike; "why, you seem to be all right."

"I wish I had been the victim," said Quincy, "instead of Miss Mason. I took her out riding yesterday and the buggy got tipped over right in front of Deacon Mason's house, and Miss Mason had her left arm broken above the elbow. I have done all I could to atone for my carelessness, but I am afraid 'Zeke Pettengill will never forgive me. I wish, Mr.

Pettengill, you would make him understand my position in the matter. I would like to be good friends with him, for I have nothing against him.

He is the most gentlemanly young man that I have seen in the town. I value his good opinion and I want him to understand that I haven't intentionally done anything to wrong or injure him."

Uncle Ike covered his eyes with his hands and mused for a few minutes; then he finally said, "Mr. Sawyer, I have got an idea. That fellow, Strout, thinks he runs this town, and it would tickle him to death if he thought he made things uncomfortable for you. Then, again, I happen to know that he is sweet on Huldy Mason himself, and he would do all he could to widen the breach between 'Zeke and her. You see, he isn't but forty himself, and he wouldn't mind the difference in ages at all. Now, my plan is this." Uncle Ike looked out the window and said, "Here comes Cobb's twins with the team. Now we will take, my things up to the house, then you take the team and go up to Deacon Mason's and get your trunk and bring it down to Pettengill's house. You will be my guest for to-night, anyway, and if I don't make things right with 'Zeke so you can stay there, I'll fix it anyway so you can stay till you get a place to suit you. Now don't say no, Mr. Sawyer. Your father and I are old friends and he will sort o' hold me responsible for your good treatment.