Quincy Adams Sawyer And Mason's Corner Folks Part 32

Quincy had been greatly interested in Lindy's story, and that feeling of sympathy for the unhappy and suffering that always shows itself in a true gentleman rose strongly in his breast.

"Miss Putnam," said he, "I have wronged you both in thought and action, but I never suspected what you have told me. Will you forgive me and allow me to be your friend? I will try to atone in the future for my misdoings in the past."

He extended his hand, and Lindy laid hers in his.

"I care not for the past," said she. "I will forget that. I have also to ask for forgiveness. I, too, have said and done many things which I would not have said or done, but for womanly spite and vanity. You see my excuse is not so good as yours," said she, as she smiled through her tears.

"In what way can I serve you?" asked Quincy. "Why do you not go to Boston and live? I could introduce you to many pleasant families."

"What!" cried Lindy. "Me, a waif and a stray! You are too kind-hearted, Mr. Sawyer. I shall not leave the woman every one but you thinks to be my mother. When she is dead I shall leave Eastborough never to return.

My sole object in life from that day will be to find some trace of my parents or relatives. Now it may happen that through Mrs. Putnam or Miss Pettengill you may get some clew that will help me in my search. It is for this that I wish a friend, and I have a presentiment that some day you will be able to help me."

Quincy a.s.sured her that if it lay in his power any time to be of a.s.sistance to her, she could count upon him.

"By the way, Miss Putnam," said he, "how did your investment with Foss & Follansbee turn out? I heard a rumor that the stock fell, and you lost considerable money."

Lindy flushed painfully. "It did drop, Mr. Sawyer, but it rallied again, as you call it, and when they sold out for me I made nearly five thousand dollars; but," and she looked pleadingly up into Quincy's face, "you have forgiven me for that as well as for my other wrong doings."

"For everything up to date," said Quincy, laughing.

At that instant a loud pounding was heard on the floor above.

"Mrs. Putnam is knocking for you," said Lindy. "Miss Pettengill must be ready to go home. Good-by, Mr. Sawyer, and do not forget your unhappy friend."

"I promise to remember her and her quest," said Quincy.

He gave the little hand extended to him, a slight pressure and ran up the stairs. As he did so he heard the parlor door close behind him.

As they were driving home, Alice several times took what appeared to be a letter from her m.u.f.f and held it up as though trying to read it.

Quincy glanced towards her.

"Mr. Sawyer, can you keep a secret?" asked Alice.

"I have a big one on my mind now," replied Quincy, "that I would like to confide to some one."

"Why don't you?" asked Alice.

"As soon as I can find a person whom I think can fully sympathize with me I shall do so, but for the present I must bear my burden in silence,"

said he.

"I hope you Will not have to wait long before finding that sympathetic friend," remarked Alice.

"I hope so, too," he replied. "But I have not answered your question, Miss Pettengill. If I can serve you by storing a secret with you, it shall be safe with me."

"Will you promise not to speak of it, not even to me?" she asked.

"If you wish it I will promise," he answered.

"Then please read to me what is written on that envelope."

Quincy looked at the envelope. "It is written in an old-fas.h.i.+oned, cramped hand," he said, "and the writing is 'confided to Miss Alice Pettengill, and to be destroyed without being read by her within twenty-four hours after my death. Hepsibeth Putnam.'"

"Thank you," said Alice simply, and she replaced the envelope in her m.u.f.f.

Like a flash of lightning the thought came to Quincy that the letter to be destroyed had some connection with the strange story so recently told him by Lindy. He must take some action in the matter before it was too late. Turning to Alice he said, "Miss Pettengill, if I make a strange request of you, which you can easily grant, will you do it, and not ask me for any explanation until after you have complied?"

"You have worded your inquiry so carefully, Mr. Sawyer, that I am a little afraid you, you being a lawyer, but as you have so graciously consented to keep a secret with me, I will trust you and will promise to comply with your request."

"All I ask is," said Quincy, "that before you destroy that letter, you will let me read to you once more what is written upon the envelope."

"Why, certainly," said Alice, "how could I refuse so harmless a request as that?"

"I am greatly obliged for your kindness," said Quincy to her; but he thought to himself, "I will find out what is in that envelope, if there is any honorable way of doing so."

Hiram came over to see Mandy that evening, and Mrs. Crowley, who was in the best of spirits, sang several old-time Irish songs to them, Hiram and Mandy joining in the choruses. They were roasting big red apples on the top of the stove and chestnuts in the oven. Quincy, attracted by the singing, came downstairs to the kitchen, and was invited to join in the simple feast. He then asked Mrs. Crowley to sing for him, which she did, and he repaid her by singing, "The Harp That Once Thro' Tara's Halls" so sweetly that tears coursed down the old woman's cheeks, and she said, "My poor boy Tom, that was killed in the charge at Balaklava, used to sing just like that."

Then the poor woman began weeping so violently that Mandy coaxed her off to bed and left the room with her.

When Hiram and Quincy were alone together, the latter said: "Any news, Hiram?"

"Not much," replied Hiram. "The snow is too deep, and it's too darned cold for the boys to travel 'round and do much gossipin' this weather. A notice is pasted up on Hill's grocery that it'll be sold by auction next Tuesday at three o'clock in the afternoon. And I got on to one bit of news. Strout and his friends are goin' to give Huldy Mason a surprise party. They have invited me and Mandy simply because they want you to hear all about it. But they don't propose to invite you, nor 'Zeke, nor his sister."

"Has Strout got anybody to back him up on buying the grocery store?"

asked Quincy.

"Yes," said Hiram, "he has got two thousand dollars pledged, and I hear he wants five hundred dollars more. He don't think the whole thing will run over twenty-five hundred dollars."

"How much is to be paid in cash?" Quincy inquired.

"Five hundred dollars," said Hiram; "and that's what troubles Strout.

His friends will endorse his notes and take a mortgage on the store, for they know it's a good payin' business. They expect to get their money back with good interest, but it comes kinder hard on them to plunk down five hundred dollars in cold cash."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "QUINCY READING ALICE'S LETTER TO HER." (ACT III.)]

At that moment Mandy returned, and after asking her for a spoon and a plate upon which to take a roast apple and some chestnuts upstairs, Quincy left the young couple together. As he sat before the fire enjoying his lunch, he resolved that he would buy that grocery store, cost what it might, and that 'Zeke Pettengill, Alice, and himself would go to that surprise party.

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE NEW DOCTOR.

Quincy improved the first opportunity offered for safe travelling to make a visit to the city. He had several matters to attend to. First, he had not sent his letter to his friend, requesting him to make inquiries as to Obadiah Strout's war record, for the great snowstorm had come the day after he had written it. Second, he was going to take Alice's story to show to a literary friend, and see if he could secure its publication. And this was not all; Alice had told him, after he had finished copying the story she had dictated to him, that she had written several other short stories during the past two years.

In response to his urgent request, she allowed him to read her treasured ma.n.u.scripts. The first was a pa.s.sionate love story in which a young Spanish officer, stationed on the island of Cuba, and a beautiful young Cuban girl were the princ.i.p.als. It was ent.i.tled "Her Native Land," and was replete with startling situations and effective tableaus. Quincy was delighted with it, and told Alice if dramatized it would make a fine acting play. This was, of course, very pleasing to the young author.

Quincy was her amanuensis, her audience, and her critic, and she knew that in his eyes she was already a success.