You know I am your mother confessor."

Quincy complied, and in his quiet, concise way gave her a full account of his doings in Eastborough, omitting nothing, concealing nothing. If anything, he gave fuller details of his acquaintance with Huldy, Lindy, and Alice than he did of the other portions of his story. He could not forbear to give at full length the account of his final settlement with the Professor.

Aunt Ella laughed heartily at some parts of the recital, and looked sorrowful and sympathetic when she listened to other portions. She rolled and smoked half a dozen cigarettes during its continuance, and when she saw that Quincy had finished his cigar she placed the remainder of the box before him.

When he closed she said, "Quincy, you're a brick. I haven't enjoyed myself so much for years. I do so love anything that isn't commonplace, and your experience is both novel and interesting. What a dear old man Deacon Mason is, and Ezekiel Pettengill is a fine young fellow, honest and square. That Hiram and Mandy must be a team. Are they going to get married?"

"I think so," said Quincy. "He stammers, you know, and I think he is afraid he will break down when he tries to propose."

Aunt Ella laughed heartily; then she said, "What a const.i.tutional liar that Stiles must be, and as for the Professor, I would like to have a set-to with him myself."

As she said this she doubled up her fists.

"Oh, he wouldn't meet you that way," said Quincy. "He only fights with a woman's weapon, his tongue;" and he told her of his little boxing match with Robert Wood.

Aunt Ella continued: "I can imagine what a pretty, sweet, little country girl Huldy Mason is. My heart aches for Lindy, her martyrdom has been out of all proportion to her contemplated wrongdoing, if wrongdoing it really was. Had I been in her place I would have married Jones and left my clothes behind; and then," said Aunt Ella, "how my heart goes out to that dear, sweet girl that you call Alice! Do you love her, Quincy?"

"Devotedly," answered Quincy, "I never really loved a woman before."

"Then marry her," cried Aunt Ella decidedly.

"Everybody at home but Maude will object," said Quincy.

"Maude's the best one in the family, next to yourself," snapped Aunt Ella.

"They will bring up Uncle Jim," continued Quincy.

"Nonsense!" replied Aunt Ella. "Uncle Jim was a fool; any man is a fool who thinks he can win the battle of life by making a sot of himself.

Bring this girl to me, Quincy. She must be a genius, if she can write as you say she can. Let me care for her and love her and make life pleasant and beautiful for her until you get ready to do it yourself."

"I will, some day, Aunt Ella. You are the best friend I have in the world, and when I have the right to bring Alice to you, I will lose no time in doing so. Thank you for your kind words about her. I shall never forget them, and she shall hear them some day. But I must go now."

They both arose, "Promise that you will come and see me every time you are in Boston, Quincy; if you don't, I shall come down to Eastborough to see you."

She gave him another kiss at parting.

As he left the house he deliberated for a moment as to where he should go next. It was half-past four. He decided to go to Leopold's lodgings in Chestnut Street. He found him at home, but for a wonder he was not working.

"This is an off day with me," he explained; "this is our haying season, and I've been working nights, days, and Sundays for a fortnight."

"I came to express Miss Pettengill's obligations and thanks for your kind and very successful efforts in her behalf."

"Oh! that's all right," said Leopold. "By the way, have you told her she ought to write a book?"

"Not yet," said Quincy; "but I'm going to soon. She has just lost a dear friend; but I won't forget it."

"Don't!" repeated Leopold. "She is a diamond that ought to be dug up, cut, and set in eighteen carat gold. Excuse my apparently brutal language, but you get my meaning."

"Certainly," said Quincy; "and you are not working to-day."

"No," replied Leopold; "loafing and enjoying it, too. I've a good mind to turn vagrant and loaf on, loaf ever."

"Come down to Parker's and have dinner with me."

"Can't do it," replied Leopold; "my stomach is loafing, too. 'Twouldn't be fair to make it work and do nothing myself. Just as much obliged.

Some other day. Don't forget the book," he cried, as Quincy left the room.

Quincy took his dinner at Parker's, caught the five minutes past six express, and reached Eastborough Centre at half-past seven. Abbott Smith drove him home to the Pettengill house.

The next day was Friday. Everybody at Mason's Corner, with quite a number from Eastborough and Montrose, came to Mrs. Putnam's funeral. The little Square in front of the church, as well as the shed, was filled with teams. While waiting for the arrival of the body, quite a number of the male residents of Mason's Corner were gathered upon the steps of the church.

Strout spied Abner Stiles and approached him. "Bob Wood has jest told me," said the Professor, "that he has decided not to leave his present place, so I've concluded on second thoughts to give yer that job at the grocery store."

Abner's eyes twinkled.

"I've had my second thoughts, too," said he, "I've hired out to Deacon Mason for life, and if I jine the church he says I can work for him in the next world. So I kinder guess I shall have to decline yer kind invitation to lift boxes and roll barrels."

When the services were over every person in the church pa.s.sed up the centre aisle to take a last view. Her husband had been buried in the Montrose cemetery, and she had told Mr. Tilton that she was to be laid by his side. The Eastborough cemetery was in West Eastborough, and for that reason many of the late residents of Mason's Corner slept their last sleep at Montrose.

As they stood by the coffin, Alice said, "How does she look?"

"Very pleasant," replied Quincy; "there is a sweet smile upon her face."

"I am so glad," said Alice. She pressed his arm a little tighter, and looking up to him, she said, "Perhaps she has met her boy, and that smile is but the earthly reflection of the heavenly one that rests upon her face in her home above."

"I hope so," replied Quincy; and they walked slowly out of church and took their places on the rear seat of the Pettengill carryall, Ezekiel and Uncle Ike sitting in front.

Mandy Skinner and Mrs. Crowley had not gone to the funeral The latter was busy skimming cream from a dozen large milk pans, while Mandy sat before the kitchen stove, with Swiss by her side. She was thinking of Hiram, and wondering if he really intended to ask her to marry him.

"I don't think he's been foolin' me, but now he's goin' into business I should think it was about time for him to speak up or quit."

Swiss suddenly arose, sniffed and went to the kitchen door. The door was opened softly and some one entered the room. Mandy did not turn her head. Perhaps she guessed who it was. Then some one placed a chair close to Mandy and took a seat beside her.

"Say, M-m-m-m-m-a-andy," said Hiram, "will you please read this to me?

It's an important doc.u.ment, and I want to be sure I've got it jest right." As he said this he pa.s.sed Mandy a folded paper.

She opened it and the following words met her eye: "This is to certify that I, Hiram Maxwell, of Mason's Corner, in the town of Eastborough, county of Normouth, and Commonwealth of Ma.s.sachusetts, hereby declare my intention to ask Miss Amanda Skinner of the village, town, county, and state aforesaid, to become my lawful wedded wife."

"Oh, you big silly!" cried Mandy, dropping the paper, for she didn't think it necessary to read any further.

"Is it all right?" cried Hiram, "it cost a quarter to git it drawn up.

Then I swore to it before old Squire Rundlett over to Montrose, and it ought ter hold water. You'd better keep it, Mandy, then I can't fling it up at yer that I never axed yer to marry me."

"Who told you that?" asked the girl indignantly.

"Ma Hawkins. Well, she didn't exactly say it to me, but she spoke it out so loud to Betsy Green that I heered it clear out in the wood-shed and I'll tell yer what, Mandy, it kinder made me mad."

"Well, it's all right now," said Mandy soothingly.