"Considerin' as how you put it," said Strout, "I don't think you and me will clash in the futur'."

Quincy extended his hand, which Strout took, and the men shook hands.

"That settles it," said Quincy.

"Just half an hour!" exclaimed Strout, looking at his watch.

A loud knock was heard on the door.

"I guess Abner has got tired o' waitin' and has come arter me," remarked Strout.

Quincy opened the door and Mr. Stiles stood revealed.

"Is Professor Strout here?" asked he.

"Yes," said Quincy; "come in."

"I guess I'll see him out here," continued Abner. "What I've got to say may be kinder private."

"Come in, Abner," cried Strout, "and let's hear what's on your mind."

"Wall," said Abner, looking askance at Quincy, "if yer satisfied, I am.

Hiram Maxwell's jest came down from Mis' Putnam's, and Mis' Heppy Putnam's dead,"--Quincy started on hearing this,--"and Samanthy Green is at her wits' end, 'cause she never was alone in the house with a dead pusson afore, an' Hiram's goin' to take Betsy Green back to stay with her sister, and then he's goin' to take Miss Alice Pettengill down home, cuz Miss Pettengill's most tired out; cuz, you see, she's been there since eight o'clock this mornin', and Mis' Putnam didn't die till about one o'clock, and Samanthy says Mis' Putnam took on awful, so you could hear her all over the house, and Miss Lindy Putnam, she's goin' to take the next train to Bosting--she's goin', bag and baggage--and I've got to drive her over to the station, and Bob Wood, he's comin' along with a waggin to carry her trunks and bandboxes and sich, and so I've come to tell yer, Professor, that I can't take yer over to the Centre this arternoon, no how."

"That's all right, Abner," said Strout; "considerin' as how things has gone, to-morrow will do just as well, but I wish you'd drop in and tell the town treasurer that I'm goin' into business with Mr. Maxwell and Mr.

Sawyer here,"--Abner's eyes dilated,--"under the firm name of Strout, Maxwell, & Co."

"No!" interrupted Quincy, "let the sign read, Strout & Maxwell."

"And," continued Mr. Strout, "Mr. Sawyer here is goin' to push through my app'intment as postmaster."

By this time Abner's mouth was wide open. Quincy saw it, and imagined the conflict going on in poor Abner's mind.

"What Mr. Strout says is correct," remarked Quincy, "but you have no time to lose now. Perhaps to-night Mr. Strout will explain the matter more fully to you."

Abner turned, without a word, and left the room.

"Mr. Stiles is a faithful friend of yours," said Quincy, turning to the Professor.

"Yes," a.s.sented Strout; "Abner's a very good shaft horse, but he wouldn't be of much vally as a lead."

Quincy again extended his cigar case. This time the Professor did not refuse, but took two. Holding up one of them between his fingers, he said, "This is the one I didn't take when I came in."

"I will have the partnership papers drawn up in a few days, Mr. Strout, ready for signature, and I will write at once to my friends in Washington, and urge them to see the Postmaster General, and have your appointment made as soon as possible."

"Yer don't let no gra.s.s grow under yer feet, do yer?" said Strout.

Quincy was a little taken aback by this remark, for he had not antic.i.p.ated a compliment from the Professor. He turned to him and said, "Until you forfeit my esteem, we are friends, and it is always a pleasure to me to help my friends."

The men shook hands again, and the Professor left the room.

"Not a bad man at heart," soliloquized Quincy. "I am glad the affair has had such a pleasant termination. Poor Alice! What a time she must have had with Mrs. Putnam, and so Lindy is going to keep her word, and not stay to the funeral. Well, knowing what I do, I don't blame her. Perhaps Mrs. Putnam told Alice that Lindy was not her own child, for Alice would not accept the fortune, I know, if she thought she was wronging Lindy by doing so. I'll go home,"--he smiled as he said this,--"and probably Alice will tell me all about it."

He went down stairs, and not seeing Mrs. Hawkins in the dining-room, walked out into the kitchen, where she was hard at work washing the dinner dishes.

"Law, Mr. Sawyer, why didn't you holler for me ef you wanted anything?"

"I don't wish for anything particularly," said Quincy, "but I do wish to compliment you on your chicken salad; it was as fine as any I ever ate at Young's, or Parker's, in Boston, and," continued he, "here are twelve dollars." He held out the money to her, she wiped her hands on her ap.r.o.n.

"What's that fur?" she asked. "I've got six dollars of your money now."

"That's for Mandy," said Quincy; "and this," pressing the money into her hand, "is for four weeks' room rent; I am liable to come here any time during the next month. I am going into business with Mr. Strout and Mr.

Maxwell--we're going to run the grocery store over here, and it will be very handy to be so near to the store until we get the business established. Good afternoon, Mrs. Hawkins," and he took her hand, which was still wet, in his, and shook it warmly.

He turned to leave the house by the kitchen door, but Mrs. Hawkins interposed.

"You better go out the front way," said she, and she ran before him and opened the door leading to the front entry, and then the front door. As he pa.s.sed out, she said, "I wish you success, Mr. Sawyer, and we'll gin you all our trade."

"Thank you!" said Quincy. He walked down the path, opened the front gate, and as he closed it raised his hat to Mrs. Hawkins, who stood in the front doorway, her thin, angular face wreathed in smiles.

"Wall," said she, as she closed the front door and walked back into the kitchen, "what lies some folks tell. Now, that Professor Strout has allus said that Mr. Sawyer was so stuck up that he wouldn't speak to common folks. Wall, I think he's a real gentleman. 'Twon't do for any one to run him down to me after this."

Here she thought of her money, and, spreading out the three bills in her hand, she opened the kitchen door and screamed at the top of her voice, "Jonas! Jonas!! Jonas!!!" There were no signs of Jonas. "Where is that man? He's never 'round when he's wanted."

"What is it, Marthy?" said a voice behind her. Turning, she saw her husband puffing away at his brierwood pipe.

"I thought you went out to the barn," said she, "to help Abner hitch up?"

"Wall, I did," he replied; "but it didn't take two on us long to do that. I eat so much chicken salad that it laid kinder heavy on my stummick, so I went out in the wood-shed to have a smoke. But where did you git all that money?"

"Mr. Sawyer took the front room for two weeks and paid for it ahead, and do you know he said my chicken salad was jist as good as Mrs. Young and Mrs. Parker makes down to Bosting."

"I don't know Mrs. Young nor Mrs. Parker," said Jonas, "but on makin'

chicken salad I'll match Mrs. Hawkins agin 'em any day;" and he went out in the wood-shed to finish his smoke.

As Quincy walked down the road towards the Pettengill house his mind was busy with his thoughts.

"To think," said he to himself, "that while I was listening to those stories, to call them by no worse name, at the dinner table, the woman I love was witnessing the death agony and listening to the last words of a dear friend--the woman who's going to leave her a fortune. Now that she knows that she's an heiress, I can speak; she never would have listened to me, knowing that she was poor and I was rich, and I never could have spoken to her with that secret in my mind that Mrs. Putnam told me--that she was going to leave her all her money. I am so glad for Alice's sake, even if she does not love me. She can have the best medical attendance now, and she will be able to give all her time to her literary work, for which she has a decided genius. Won't she be delighted when I tell her that Leopold has placed all her stories and wants her to write a book?"

As he reached the front gate he saw Hiram driving up the road and Alice was with him. As Hiram stopped, Quincy stepped forward and took Alice's hand to a.s.sist her in alighting from the buggy.

"Oh, Mr. Sawyer," said she, "have you heard that Mrs. Putnam is dead, and I've had such a terrible day with her?"

Her nervous system had been wrought to its highest tension by what she had undergone during the past six hours. She burst into a flood of tears. Then she tottered and would have fallen if Quincy had not grasped her.

"Can you walk?" he asked.

She took a step forward, but he saw at a glance that she had not sufficient strength to reach her room.