Quincy did not inform her that Uncle Ike had a wife and two grown-up daughters living, thinking it best to reserve that information for a future occasion.

That night Strout & Maxwell's grocery store was the centre of attraction. Strout was in his glory, and was, of course, in his own opinion, the most successful feature of that eventful day. It was a very common thing to get married, but it was a most uncommon thing to play on a new church organ, and play as well as he had done, "for the first time, too," as he remarked a score of times.

Stepping upon a barrel, the Professor called out in a loud voice, "Order, please," and in a short time the a.s.sembled crowd became quiet.

"Friends and Feller Citizens: I have this day received my commission as postmaster at Mason's Corner, Ma.s.s. Mail matter will be sorted with celerity and delivered only to the proper parties, while the firm of Strout & Maxwell will always keep on hand a full a.s.sortment of the best family groceries at reasonable prices. Soliciting your continued patronage, I remain, yours respectively.

OBADIAH STROUT, Postmaster.

As the Professor stepped down from the barrel, Abner Stiles caught him by the arm and said in a low voice, "Isn't Deacon Mason one of your bondsmen?"

"Yes," said Strout, somewhat pompously, "but what of it?"

"Why, yer see," said Abner, "I'm workin' for the Deacon now, and I'm just as devoted to his interests as I used to be to yourn onct, and with a much better hope of reward, both on this earth and in Heaven, and if he's got money put up on yer, of course yer won't object if I drop in onct in a while and kinder keep an eye on yer." And with this parting shot he dashed out a side door and was lost to sight.

CHAPTER x.x.xIV.

BLENNERHa.s.sETT.

When comparatively great events follow each other in quick succession, those of minor importance are liable to escape mention. It was for this reason, probably, that the second visit of Dr. Tillotson was not spoken of at the time of its occurrence. He examined Alice's eyes and declared that progress towards recovery was being made, slowly but surely. He left a bottle of new medicine, and advised Alice, as an aid to recovery, to take a long walk, or a ride, each pleasant day. This advice he repeated to Uncle Ike, who was waiting for him outside the front door, and to Quincy, who brought him from the station and took him back.

On the day fixed upon, Quincy drove over to Montrose, and accompanied by Squire Rundlett, went to the county town and presented Mrs. Putnam's will for probate. In due time the will was admitted, the executors'

bonds were filed and approved, and Quincy, at the age of twenty-three, found himself one of the financial guardians of the young heiress, Mary Alice Pettengill, she being his junior by less than two years.

About ten days after Quincy's interview with his Aunt Ella, in which she had signified her intention of making him an allowance, he received a letter from a Boston banking firm, informing him that by direction of Mrs. Ella Chessman, the sum of five thousand dollars had been placed to his credit, and that a similar sum would be so placed on the first business day of January in each succeeding year. A blank card was enclosed for a copy of his signature, and the statement made that his drafts would be duly honored.

When Quincy and his aunt reached Eastborough Centre, after the trio of weddings, they found that they had a full hour to wait before the arrival of the next ingoing train.

This gave plenty of time for the reloading of the horses and carriage on the special car in which they had been brought from Boston and which had been side-tracked.

Quincy wished to accompany his aunt to Boston and escort her to her home, but she demurred. He insisted, but his aunt replied, "Don't go, please don't, Quincy; they will take me for your mother, and I really am not quite old enough for that."

This argument was unanswerable, and Quincy bade her a laughing good-by as the train sped on towards Boston, the special car in charge of the coachman and footman bringing up the rear.

Thus Aunt Ella's visit to Mason's Corner became an event of the past, but the memory of it remained green for a long time in the minds of those who had witnessed her arrival and departure.

Ellis Smith drove Quincy home to the Pettengill house. It was to be home no longer, for Hiram and Mandy were to have the room that Quincy had occupied so long. His trunk and other belongings he had packed up the night before, and at Quincy's request, Cobb's twins had taken them out to Jacob's Parlor, where he found them. He knew that Mr. and Mrs.

Hawkins were to spend the afternoon with their daughter and son-in-law.

Quincy also knew that Uncle Ike and Alice were at Deacon Mason's, where Ezekiel and Huldy were to remain for the coming week.

For the first time since he had been at Mason's Corner, Quincy felt lonesome and deserted. He reflected on his way to Mrs. Hawkins's boarding house that these weddings were all very nice, to be sure, but they had deprived him of the society of many good friends, who were now united by stronger ties than those of simple, everyday friendship.

He did not care to go to the grocery store, for he felt that the Professor was ent.i.tled to all the credit that he was likely to get for his day's performance, and he did not wish to detract from it. So he went directly to his room, and for the first time felt out of sorts with Eastborough and its people.

He was not hungry for food, so he did not answer the call to supper, but sat in the dark and thought. He realized that he was hungry, yes, desperately hungry, for love--the love of one woman, Alice Pettengill.

Why should he wait longer? Even if his father and mother objected his Aunt Ella was on his side, and her action had made him independent. He had felt himself so before, but now there was no doubt of it.

This determined young man then made up his mind he would declare his love at the first auspicious moment. Then he would go to his parents and learn their verdict on his proposed action. Thinking thus he went to bed, and in his dreams, ushers, and bridesmaids, and cut flowers, and potted plants, and miles of silken ribbon, and cream-colored horses, and carriages, and clergymen, and organists, and big pipe organs were revolving about him and Alice, as the planets revolve about the sun.

Once more Quincy's breakfast was on the stove being kept warm, and once more Mrs. Hawkins was waiting impatiently for him to come down.

Betsy Green and she were washing the breakfast dishes. How happy Eve must have been in Eden, where there was no china, no knives and forks, and no pots and kettles, and what an endless burden of commonplace drudgery she entailed upon her fair sisters when she fell from her high estate. Man's labor is uniformly productive, but woman's, alas! is still almost as uniformly simply preservative.

"Mr. Sawyer," said Mrs. Hawkins to Betsy Green, "is no doubt a very nice young man, but I shouldn't want him for a steady boarder, 'less he got up on time and eat his meals reg'lar."

"I s'pose he's all tired out," remarked Betsy. "He had a pretty hard day of it yesterday, you know, Mis' Hawkins."

"Wall, I s'pose I ought to be kinder easy on him on that account. I must say he managed things fust rate."

"How did the brides look?" asked Betsy.

Poor girl, she was one of the few who were not able to view the grand sight.

"I can think of no word to express my feelin's," replied Mrs. Hawkins after a pause, "but splendiferous! Huldy's dress was a white satin that would a stood alone. She had a overskirt of netted white silk cord, heavy enough to use for a hammock. You know she's neither light nor dark, kind of a between, but she looked mighty poorty all the same."

"Was Tilly James dressed in white, too?" inquired Betsy.

"No," answered Mrs. Hawkins. "She wore a very light pink silk, with a lace overskirt, and it just matched her black eyes and black hair fine, I can tell yer."

"Mandy must have looked pretty, with her light curly hair and blue eyes, and those rosy cheeks."

"Well," said Mrs. Hawkins reflectively, "I'm her mother, and a course I'm prejoodished, but I honestly think she was the best lookin' one of the three. Of course Hiram is no beauty, and I'm all out of patience when he tries to talk to me. But I know he'll make Mandy a good husband, and that's a tarnal sight better'n good looks."

"What color was Mandy's dress?" persisted Betsy.

"Lord a ma.s.sy," cried Mrs. Hawkins, "I e'en a'most forgot to tell yer.

Her dress was a very light blue silk, with a lace overskirt, 'bout the same as Tilly's. Mr. Sawyer gave her two hundred dollars to buy her things with, 'cause she's been so nice to him since he boarded at Pettengill's."

"Who was that stylish lookin' lady that came in a carriage with the four beautiful horses? I saw her outer the attic winder."

"She was a Mrs. Chessman," replied Mrs. Hawkins. I heern tell she's a widder'd aunt of Mr. Sawyer's, and she's as rich as Creazers."

"How rich is that?" inquired Betsey, with an astonished look.

"Creazers," replied Mrs. Hawkins, with an expression that savored of erudition, "was a man who was so all fired rich that he had to hire folks to spend his money for him."

At that moment a step was heard in the dining-room, and both Mrs.

Hawkins and Betsy flew to wait upon the new-comer who proved to be Mr.

Quincy Adams Sawyer. As he took his seat at the table the Connecticut clock on the mantelpiece struck ten.

At eleven o'clock that same morning Mr. Sawyer knocked at the front door of Mr. Ezekiel Pettengill's residence. How strange it seemed, how much more homelike it would have been to have entered by the back door and to have come through the kitchen and dining-room, as of old. But no! He was not a regular boarder now, only an occasional visitor.

The door was opened by young Mrs. Maxwell, and her usually rosy cheeks were ruddier than ever when she saw who the caller was.