id, "I cannot afford to pay you, or rather my
mother, a thousand dollars for the secret. It is not worth it. I will
not ask you again for her name, but if you will answer me one simple
question I will absolve you from your promise."

Quincy reflected. He knew that Lindy was deep and that she was plotting
something while she stood at the window. But he wished this matter over,
he was tired of it, so he replied, "I will answer your simple question,
Miss Putnam, on one condition. It is that you will not deem me guilty
of any intentional discourtesy if, after replying to it, I at once take
my leave."

They faced each other, she hardly able to conceal her impatience, he
with a stern look upon his face.

"My simple question is this, Mr. Sawyer, have you ever eaten a meal at
the same table with my mother's heiress?"

"I have never seen her," replied Quincy coldly. He took his hat, and
with a low bow quitted the house and drove away.

Lindy threw herself in a passion on the sofa and burst into a flood of
tears. She had played her last card and had lost.

CHAPTER XVII.

AN INFORMAL INTRODUCTION.

When Quincy drove into the barn he found Jim Cobb there, and he turned
the horse over to him. Entering by the back door he passed through the
kitchen without seeing either Mandy or Mrs. Crowley, and went slowly
upstairs. The house was very quiet. He remembered that Uncle Ike had
gone to Eastborough Centre and 'Zekiel had gone to Deacon Mason's. It
was necessary for him to pass the door of the room occupied by Alice
Pettengill in order to reach his own room. The door of her room was
open. He involuntarily glanced in and then stood still.

What vision was this that met his eye? The sun, now dropping to the
westward, threw its rays in at the window and they fell upon the head of
the young girl seated beside it.

The hair was golden in the sunlight, that real golden that is seldom
seen excepting on the heads of young children. She seemed slight in
figure, but above the average stature. She wore a loose-fitting dress of
light blue material, faced down the front with white, and over her
shoulders was thrown a small knitted shawl of a light pink color. Quincy
could not see her face, except in profile, for it was turned towards the
window, but the profile was a striking one. He turned to step forward
and enter his own room. As he did so the board upon which he stood
creaked. He stopped again suddenly, hoping that the noise w