by the name of Jim Sawyer, Mr. Waters said "yes," but that he was
sick abed and had been for the last week.

"He coughs awful," said Waters; "in fact, I had to change his room
because the rest of us couldn't sleep. When we tried to move him he
became sort of crazy like, and it took three on us to get him out of the
room and take him upstairs. He seems sot on getting back in that room.
The other day he crawled down stairs and we found him trying to get into
the room, but I had it locked and we had another fight to get him
upstairs again."

"Well," said Quincy, "I would like to see him; it may be he is a distant
relative of our family. My father wishes me to talk with him and make
the inquiry anyway."

"What mought your name be?" asked Mr. Waters.

"My name is Quincy Adams Sawyer."

"Oh, yes, I remember you," said Waters. "Wasn't you the singer that Mr.
Strout hired to come down from Boston to sing at his concert. Strout
told me he paid you $50 for singing that night, and by gosh it was worth
it."

Quincy was not a profane young man, but he had to smother an oath on
hearing that. He replied, "Yes, I sang that night."

"And," said Waters, "didn't you whistle that piece, Listen to the
Bobolink, fine?"

"Here, Sam," said he to a young fellow who appeared in sight, "show this
gentleman up to Jim Sawyer's room; I'm getting kind of pussy, and I
don't go upstairs much."

Sam performed his mission and Quincy was ushered into the room and found
himself with the sick man.

"Is your name James Sawyer?" asked Quincy.

"Yes," said the man. "I used to be proud of it once."

"Did you have a brother?" asked Quincy.

"Well," said Jim, "I don't think he would be proud of me now, so I guess
I won't claim any relationship."

Quincy stopped for a moment. Evidently the man's pride would keep him
from telling anything about himself. He would try him on a new tack. The
man had a long fit of coughing. When it had subsided, Quincy said, "It
wearies you to talk. I will do the talking, and if what I say is true
you can nod your head." Quincy continued, "Your name is James Edward
Sawyer, your brother's name was Nathaniel." The man opened his eyes wide
and looked steadfastly at him. "Your father, Edward Sawyer, left you
fifty thousand dollars." The man clutched with both hands at the quilt
on the bed. "You are about sixty years of age." The man nodded. "You
married a young girl who lived in the country and took her to Boston
with yo