before I
thought."

Quincy arose. "I must go now, Mrs. Putnam. I have business at
Eastborough Centre, and I don't know how long it will take me, and
besides, I am anxious to see Miss Pettengill after your glowing
description of her beauty and her virtues."

"Well, I haven't put the paint on half as thick as it would stand," said
Mrs. Putnam. "Well, good-by, Mr. Sawyer. It's very kind in you to come
and see two old folks like us. No use saying good-by to Silas; he's
stone deef and besides he's sound asleep."

When Quincy took up the reins and started towards Eastborough Centre it
was with conflicting emotions. If there had been no Alice Pettengill to
see, his thoughts, no doubt, would have related chiefly to Lindy Putnam,
who had never attracted his attention before as she had that morning.
Could Alice Pettengill be as pretty and as good as Mrs. Putnam had
portrayed? And she was to be an heiress. He was sorry that Mrs. Putnam
had told him. When he was talking to Miss Pettengill what he knew would
be continually in his mind. He was glad that she was to have the money,
but very sorry that he knew she was to have it; he had promised not to
tell her, but he had promised to tell Lindy. Mrs. Putnam had not told
him not to tell Lindy, but she had said Lindy would give a thousand
dollars to know. Now, was that the same as requesting him not to tell
Lindy, and should he tell Lindy for nothing what her mother said she
would give a thousand dollars to know? Anyhow, that question must be
decided within the next twenty-four hours.

Then he began to think of his intended visit to Eastborough Poorhouse.
Would the Jim Sawyer that he found there turn out to be his own uncle?
What a sweet morsel that would be for Strout if it proved to be true.
Anyhow, he would follow his father's instructions and do all he could
for his uncle, come what might.

Since he had arrived at Mason's Corner everything that he had done
seemed to give rise to gossip, and a little more of it could do no harm.

Quincy reached the Poorhouse and inquired for the keeper. A very stout,
red-faced man answered the summons.

He informed Quincy that his name was Asa Waters, and that he had been
keeper of the town Poorhouse for the last ten years.

Quincy thought from his size, as he evidently weighed between three and
four hundred pounds, that he had probably eaten all the food supplied
for the inmates. In reply to a direct question whether there was a man
there