"I don't see that she is making any progress," said Uncle Ike frankly.

"I don't think she can see a bit better than she could when she came home. In fact, I don't think she can see as well. She had a pair of gla.s.ses made of black rubber, with a pinhole in the centre of them, that she could read a little with, but I notice now that she never puts them on."

"Well," remarked Quincy, "perhaps I have taken an unwarrantable liberty, Uncle Ike; but when I was last in Boston I heard of a new doctor who has made some wonderful cures, and I have engaged him to come down here next week and see your niece. Of course, if you object I will write to him not to come, and no harm will be done."

Quincy did not think it necessary to state that he had paid the doctor his fee of one hundred dollars in advance.

"Well," said Uncle Ike, "I certainly sha'n't object, if the doctor can do her any good. But I should like to know something about the course of treatment, the nature of it, I mean, before she gives up her present doctor."

"That's just what I mean," said Quincy. "I want you to be so kind as to take this whole matter off my hands, just as though I had made the arrangement at your suggestion. I am going down for the doctor next Thursday noon. Won't you ride down with me and meet Dr. Tillotson? You can talk to him on the way home, and then you can manage the whole matter yourself, and do as you think best about changing doctors."

"You have been very kind to my niece, Mr. Sawyer, since you have been here," said Uncle Ike, "and very helpful to her. I attribute your interest in her case to your kindness of heart and a generosity which is seldom found in the sons of millionaires. But take my advice, Mr.

Sawyer, and let your feelings stop there."

"I do not quite understand you," replied Quincy, though from a sudden sinking of his heart he felt that he did.

"Then I will speak plainer," said Uncle Ike. "Don't fall in love with my niece, Mr. Sawyer. She is a good girl, a sweet girl, and some might call her a beautiful one, but she has her limitations. She is not fitted to sit in a Beacon Street parlor; and your parents and sisters would not be pleased to have you place her there. Excuse an old man, Mr. Sawyer, but you know wisdom cometh with age, although its full value is not usually appreciated by the young."

Quincy, for the first time in his life, was entirely at a loss for a reply. He burned to declare his love then and there; but how could he do so in the face of such a plain statement of facts? He did the best thing possible under the circ.u.mstances; he quietly ignored Uncle Ike's advice, and thanking him for his kindness in consenting to meet the new doctor he bade him good afternoon and went to his room.

After Quincy had gone Uncle Ike rubbed his hands together gleefully and shook with laughter.

"The sly rogue!" he said to himself. "Wanted Uncle Ike to help him out."

Then he laughed again. "If he don't love her he will take my advice, but if he does, what I told him will drive him on like spurs in the side of a horse. He is a good fellow, a great deal better than his father and the rest of his family, for he isn't stuck up. I like him, but my Alice is good enough for him even if he were a good deal better than he is.

How it would tickle me to hear my niece calling the Hon. Nathaniel Sawyer papa!" And Uncle Ike laughed until his sides shook.

Monday promised to be a dull day. 'Zekiel told Quincy at breakfast, after the others had left the table, that Alice had spoken to him about Mrs. Mason's invitation to tea, and, of course, he was going. Quincy said that he had accepted the invitation and would be pleased to accompany him and his sister.

After breakfast he heard Alice singing in the parlor, and joining her there told her that he had received a letter from Mr. Ernst, which he would like to read to her. Alice was delighted with the letter, and they both laughed heartily over it, Quincy humorously apologizing for the swear word by saying that being historical it could not be profane.

Alice had in her hand the two letters that she had received on Sat.u.r.day.

"Have you answered your letters?" he asked.

"No, I have not even heard them read," she replied. "Uncle Ike has grown tired all at once and won't read to me nor write for me. I don't understand him at all. I sent for him yesterday afternoon, after you came down, and told him what I wanted him to do. He sent back word that he was too busy and I must get somebody else, but who can I get? Mandy and 'Zekiel are both too much occupied with their own duties to help me."

"If I can be of any service to you, Miss Pettengill, you know--"

"Oh, I don't think I should dare to let you read these letters,"

interrupted Alice, laughing. "No doubt they are from two of my lady friends, and I have always heard that men consider letters that women write to each other very silly and childish."

"Perhaps I have not told you," said Quincy, "that I have two sisters and am used to that sort of thing. When I was in college hardly a day pa.s.sed that I did not get a letter from one or the other of them, and they brightened up my life immensely."

"What are their names and how old are they?" asked Alice.

"The elder," replied Quincy, "is nineteen and her name is Florence Estelle."

"What a sweet name!" said Alice.

"The younger is between fifteen and sixteen, and is named Maude Gertrude."

"Is she as dignified as her name?" asked Alice.

"Far from it," remarked Quincy. "She would be a tomboy if she had an opportunity. Mother and father call them Florence and Maude, for they both abhor nicknames, but among ourselves they are known as Flossie, or Stell, and Gertie."

"What was your nickname?" asked Alice.

"Well," said Quincy, "they used to call me Quinn, but that had a Hibernian sound to it, and Maude nicknamed me Ad, which she said was short for adder. She told me she called me that because I was so deaf that I never heard her when she asked me to take her anywhere."

"Well, Mr. Sawyer, if you will promise not to laugh out loud, I will be pleased to have you read these letters to me. You can smile all you wish to, for of course I can't see you."

"I agree," said Quincy; and he advanced towards her, took the two letters and drew a chair up beside her.

"My dear May," read Quincy. He stopped suddenly, and turning to Alice said, "Is this letter for you?"

"Before we go any further," said Alice, "I must explain my various names and nicknames. I was named Mary Alice, the Mary being my mother's name, while the Alice was a favorite of my father's. Mother always called me Mary and father always called me Alice! and brother 'Zekiel and Uncle Ike seem to like the name Alice best. When I went to Commercial College to study they asked me my name and I said naturally Mary A. Pettengill.

Then the girls began to call me May, and the boys, or young men I suppose you call them, nicknamed me Miss Atlas, on account of my initials. Now that I have given you a chart of my names to go by, the reading will no doubt be plain sailing in future."

Quincy laughed and said, "I should call it a M.A.P. instead of a chart."

"Fie! Mr. Sawyer, to make such a joke upon my poor name. No doubt you have thought of one that would please you better than any I have mentioned."

Quincy thought he had, but he wisely refrained from saying so. He could not help thinking, however, that Miss Atlas was a very appropriate name for a girl who was all the world to him. It is evident that Uncle Ike's words of advice the previous afternoon had not taken very deep root in Quincy's heart.

He resumed his reading:

"My dear May:--How are you getting along in that dismal country town, and how are your poor eyes? I know you can't write to me, but I want you to know that I have not forgotten you. Every time I see my sister, Stella, she waves your photograph before my eyes. You know you promised me one before you were sick. Just send it to me, and it will be just as nice as a good, long letter. As somebody else will probably read this to you, in order to keep them from committing a robbery I send you only one kiss.

From your loving, EMMA FARNUM."

"Are you smiling, Mr. Sawyer?" asked Alice.

"Not at all," he answered. "I am looking grieved because Miss Farnum has such a poor opinion of me."

Alice laughed merrily. "Emma is a very bright, pretty girl," said Alice.

"She boarded at the same house that I did. Her sister Stella is married to a Mr. Dwight. I will answer her letter as she suggests by sending her the promised photograph. On the bureau in my room, Mr. Sawyer, you will find an envelope containing six photographs. I had them taken about a month before I was sick. Underneath you will find some heavy envelopes that the photographer gave me to mail them in."

Quincy went upstairs three steps at a time. He found the package, and impelled by an inexplicable curiosity he counted the pictures and found there were seven. "She said six," he thought to himself. "I am positive she said there were only six." He took one of the pictures and put it in one of the mailing envelopes. He took another picture, and after giving it a long, loving look he placed it in the inside pocket of his coat, and with a guilty flush upon his face he fled from the room.

Just as he reached the open parlor door a second thought, which is said to be the best, came to him, and he was about turning to go upstairs and replace the picture when Alice's acute ear heard him and she asked, "Did you find them?"

Quincy, seeing that retreat was now impossible, said, "Yes," and resumed his seat beside her.

"Did you find six?" said Alice.

"There are five upstairs in the envelope and one here ready to address,"

replied Quincy.

"Her address," continued Alice, "is Miss Emma Farnum, care Cotton & Co., Real Estate Brokers, Tremont Row."