had never seen her
looking better. She had on a handsome gown that he had never seen
before. Quincy opened the conversation.

"Did you enjoy your trip to Boston yesterday, Miss Putnam?"

"Oh, yes," replied Lindy, "I must tell you all about it."

"There is no need to, Miss Putnam, I am acquainted with the most
important events of your trip already."

"Why, how?" asked Lindy. "Oh, I see," said she, "you had a letter from
your father."

"No," said Quincy. "I had the pleasure of a conversation with my father
yesterday afternoon in Boston."

"Is that so?" exclaimed Lindy.

"Yes," said Quincy, "but I might have learned all the principal facts
without leaving Mason's Corner. In fact, I did learn them in a somewhat
distorted shape late last evening."

Lindy colored until her forehead was as red as her cheeks.

"I do not understand you, Mr. Sawyer," she remarked.

"It is easily explained," said Quincy. "Mr. Stiles forgot to mention
that it was my father who was your escort and not myself. Of course he
would offer the similarity in names as his excuse."

"And so," said Lindy, recovering herself, "you have come here to scold
me because Abner Stiles didn't tell the truth. I told you he was a
wonderful story teller."

"No, Miss Putnam," said Quincy, "I did not come here for any such
purpose. I made you a promise yesterday and I have come to keep it. I
know who is to inherit your mother's money. She did not intend to tell
me, but the name escaped her unintentionally."

"Did she ask you not to tell me?" asked Lindy.

"No," replied Quincy, "not in so many words."

"Then you must tell me," cried Lindy eagerly.

"Well, I don't know," said Quincy. "Your mother said you would give a
thousand dollars to know the name of the person. This fixes the
condition on which I shall divulge the name."

"And if I did give you a thousand dollars," inquired Lindy, "what would
you do with the money?"

"I should give it to your mother," said Quincy. "She fixed the price of
the secret, not I."

Lindy walked to the window and looked out. She wished to know the name.
She had her suspicions, but she could not bear to give up a thousand
dollars of her own money, for she knew that this, too, would go to the
unknown heiress. She knew Alice Pettengill was in town and at her
brother's house. She had been there for a whole day and parts of two
others. She would save her money and at the same time learn the truth.

Turning to Quincy she sa