I won't take no for an answer. If you have no objections, Mr. Sawyer, I wish you would keep your eye on those books when they are put into the team, for those Cobb boys handle everything as though it was a rock or a tree stump." And Uncle Ike, taking his kerosene lamp in one hand and his looking gla.s.s in the other, cried, "Come in," as one of the Cobb boys knocked on the door.

CHAPTER XIII.

A VISIT TO THE VICTIM.

It was not until Quincy had reached the Pettengill house and helped Uncle Ike get his things in order, that he finally decided to accept Uncle Ike's offer. If he went to Eastborough Centre to live at the hotel, he knew Strout would consider he had won a victory. He had thought of going to Mr. and Mrs. Putnam about a room and board, but then he remembered Lindy, and said to himself that Miss Putnam was a pretty girl and it would be the same old story over again. Then he thought, "There won't be any danger here with a blind girl and Mandy Skinner, and if Uncle Ike can arrange matters it will be the best thing I can do."

And so he drove up to Deacon Mason's with Cobb's twins, saw Mrs. Mason, went upstairs and packed his trunk quickly, and the Cobb boys drove away with it to his new, though perhaps only temporary, lodgings.

When Quincy went downstairs, Mrs. Mason was in the parlor, and she beckoned to him to come in. He entered and closed the door.

"I want to speak to you a few minutes," said she, "and I want to tell you first I don't blame you a bit. I know you told 'Zeke Pettengill that the tip-over was all your carelessness, but Huldy says it ain't so. She said she was driving, though you didn't want her to, and the accident was all her fault. Now, I believe my daughter tells the truth, and the Deacon thinks so too."

"Well, Mrs. Mason," said Quincy, "what your daughter says is partly true, but I am still to blame for allowing her to drive a horse with which she was not acquainted."

"That warn't the trouble, Mr. Sawyer," said Mrs. Mason. "Huldy told me the whole truth. You said something to her about going away. She had heard what the village gossips were saying. Huldy's got a high temper and she was so mad that she got fl.u.s.trated, and that's what caused all the trouble. I like you, Mr. Sawyer, and Huldy likes you. She says you have allus been a perfect gentleman, and the Deacon now is awful sorry you are going, but I hope you will come and see us often while you stay at Mason's Corner."

"I certainly shall, Mrs. Mason," replied Quincy. "How is Miss Mason?"

"Oh, she is fust rate," said the Deacon's wife. "That doctor from the city fixed her arm all up in what he called a jacket, and that nurse that you sent just seems to know what Huldy wants before she can ask for it I hear them nurses are awful expensive, and I don't think she better stay but a day or two longer."

"She can't leave till the surgeon comes from Boston and says she can go," he remarked, thinking this was the easiest way to get out of it.

"May I see Miss Mason?" he added.

"Certainly," replied Mrs. Mason. "She is in the front chamber. We moved her in there 'cause there is a fireplace in the room and the nurse objected to the wood stove that Huldy had in her room. She said it was either too hot or too cold, and that Huldy must have an even temperature."

As Quincy entered the room Huldy looked up and a faint smile lighted her face. Her usually rosy cheeks showed only a faint touch of pink. The helpless left arm, in its plaster of paris jacket, rested on the outside of the white quilt, the fingers on her little hand projecting beyond the covering.

Quincy advanced to the bedside and took a vacant chair. The nurse was sitting by the window. She glanced up at him and at Mrs. Mason, who followed close behind him, but continued the reading of her book.

Quincy said lightly, as he reached over and took the right hand and gave it a little shake, "You're not shaking hands with the left, Miss Mason."

"No," said Huldy, "I wish I could shake it, but nurse says it will have to stay on for two or three weeks, and it is so heavy, Mr. Sawyer."

Mrs. Mason went to the nurse and whispered to her, "Don't let him stay too long." The nurse nodded and Mrs. Mason left the room.

Quincy said in a low tone, as he sat in the chair by the bedside, "Miss Mason, I can't express my sorrow for this unfortunate occurrence. Your mother says you have told her it was your fault. But I insisted it was my fault in allowing you to drive a strange horse."

Huldy smiled. "It wasn't the horse, Mr. Sawyer," she said, and quickly changing the subject asked, "Where are you going to board now?".

"Old Uncle Ike Pettengill has taken pity on me," replied Quincy, thinking he would not say anything about going to Ezekiel Pettengill's house.

"But," said Huldy, "Zekiel called here this morning before he went to Boston for his sister and told me that Uncle Ike was coming to live with him. Didn't I hear them take your trunk away a little while ago?"

Quincy saw it was useless to prevaricate, so he said, "My trunk was taken to Mr. Ezekiel Pettengill's house."

"I hope you and 'Zekiel will be good friends," said Huldy, with a grave look on her face.

"I trust we may become so," remarked Quincy. "I am afraid we are not now, and I am still more afraid it is my fault that we are not on the best of terms."

Huldy turned her face towards him, a red flush coloring her cheeks and brow. "No," she said, with vehemence, "it was my fault, and you know it, Mr. Sawyer. How you must hate me for having caused you so much trouble."

She gave a convulsive sob and burst into a flood of tears.

Quincy was on the point of a.s.suring Huldy that he could never hate her and that they would always be good friends, but he had no opportunity to frame the words.

As Huldy sobbed and began to cry, the nurse jumped to her feet, dropped her book on the floor, and came quickly to the bedside. She said nothing, but the look upon her face convinced Quincy that he must wait for a more auspicious moment to declare his friendly sentiment. So with a "Good-by, Miss Mason, I'll call again soon," he quitted the apartment and left the victim to the ministrations of the nurse.

CHAPTER XIV.

A QUIET EVENING.

After the somewhat exciting termination of his interview with Miss Mason, Quincy left the house quickly and walked down to Ezekiel Pettengill's. Uncle Ike was there and he told Mandy to show Mr. Sawyer to his room, which proved to be the big front one upstairs.

When he was alone, Quincy sank into the capacious rocking chair and fell to thinking. His mind went back to his parting with Miss Mason. She had said that it wasn't the horse, so it must have been what he said to her.

Was she angry because he had decided to go in order to stop village gossip, or had she really cared for him? Well, it was over now. He would never know what her real feelings were, and after all it was best for him not to know. He would drop the whole matter where it was. Then he began to think about his present position. Here he was located in the house of the man who would naturally be considered the last one to desire his company.

Uncle Ike had told him that he would make it all right. If he failed in this and Ezekiel objected to his remaining he could move again. He was determined not to leave Mason's Corner till he got ready, and he felt sure he would not be ready to go until he had squared accounts with Strout.

Presently he heard the sound of wheels. The Pettengill house faced the south and Eastborough Centre lay west of Mason's Corner, so he could not see the team when it arrived, as it drove up to the back door, but he knew that Ezekiel had arrived with his sister. Uncle Ike and Cobb's twins went down stairs quickly; there was a jumble of voices, and then the party entered the house. A short time after he heard persons moving in the room adjoining his, and guessed that Ezekiel's sister was to occupy it.

Then he fell to imagining the conversation that was doubtless going on between Uncle Ike and his nephew. Quincy was not naturally nervous, but he did not like suspense; almost unconsciously he arose and walked back and forth across the room several times. Then it occurred to him that probably the uncle and nephew were having their conversation in the parlor, which was right under him, and he curbed his impatience and threw himself into the armchair, which stood near the open fireplace.

As he did so there came a sharp rap at the door. In response to the quick uttered "Come in," the door opened and Uncle Ike entered. He came forward, took a seat in the rocking chair near Quincy and pa.s.sed him two letters.

Quincy looked up inquiringly. He had had his mail sent to Eastborough Centre, where he had hired a box. At the Mason's Corner post office the letters were stuck upon a rack, where every one could see them, and Quincy did not care to have the loungers at Hill's grocery inspecting his correspondence.

Uncle Ike saw the look and understood it. Then he said, "'Zekiel brought these over from Eastborough Centre. He didn't want to, but the postmaster said one of them was marked 'In haste,' and he had been over to the hotel and found that you had gone to Mason's Corner, and probably wouldn't be back to-day, and so he thought 'Zekiel better bring it over."

"It was very kind of Mr. Pettengill," said Quincy, "and I wish you would thank him for me."

In the meantime he had glanced at his letters. One bore, printed in the corner, the names, Sawyer, Crowninshield, & Lawrence, Counsellors at Law, Court Street, Boston, Ma.s.s. That was from his father. The other was directed in a feminine hand and bore the postmark, Mason's Corner, Ma.s.s.

He could not imagine from whom it could be.

"I have had a talk with 'Zekiel," said Uncle Ike, "and the whole matter is satisfactorily arranged; he is a fair-minded young fellow and he don't believe you have done anything with the intention of injuring him.

What did you pay up to Deacon Mason's?"

"Five dollars a week," replied Quincy.

"Well, it will be the same here," said Uncle Ike. "You can stay as long as you like. 'Zeke wouldn't charge you anything, but I said no, you have got to look out for your sister, and Mr. Sawyer can afford to pay."

Quincy broke in, "And I wouldn't stay unless I did pay. I am able and willing to pay more, if he will take it."