e fall," explained Nancy, turning
to look appealingly at her stern companion. "Mr. Aldis had to remain
with a friend who had sprained his ankle. Is Mr. Carew quite well
now?" she turned again to ask.

"Oh yes," answered Tom. "I saw him last week; he's in New York this
winter. But where are you staying, Nancy?" he asked eagerly, with a
hopeful glance at uncle Ezra. "I should like to take you somewhere
this afternoon. This is your first visit, isn't it? Couldn't you go to
see Rip Van Winkle to-morrow? It's the very best thing there is just
now. Jefferson's playing this week."

"Our folks ain't in the habit of attending theatres, sir," said uncle
Ezra, checking this innocent plan as effectually as an untracked
horse-car was stopping traffic in the narrow street. He looked over
his shoulder to see if there were any room to turn, but was
disappointed.

Tom Aldis gave a glance, also, and was happily reassured; the street
was getting fuller behind them every moment. "I beg you to excuse me,
sir," he said gallantly to the old man. "Do you think of anything else
that Miss Gale ought to see? There is the Art Museum, if she hasn't
been there already; all the pictures and statues and Egyptian things,
you know."

There was much deference and courtesy in the young man's behavior to
his senior. Uncle Ezra responded by a less suspicious look at him, but
seemed to be considering this new proposition before he spoke. Uncle
Ezra was evidently of the opinion that while it might be a misfortune
to be an old man, it was a fault to be a young one and good looking
where girls were concerned. "Miss Gale's father and mother showed me
so much kindness," Tom explained, seizing his moment of advantage, "I
should like to be of some use: it may not be convenient for you to
come into town again in this cold weather."

"Our folks have plenty to do all the time, that's a fact,"
acknowledged uncle Ezra less grimly, while Nancy managed to show the
light of a very knowing little smile. "I don't know but she'd like to
have a city man show her about, anyways. 'T ain't but four miles an' a
half out to our place, the way we come, but while this weather holds I
don't calculate to get into Boston more 'n once a week. I fetch all my
stuff in to the Quincy Market myself, an' I've got to come in day
after to-morrow mornin', but not till late, with a barrel o' nice
winter pears I've been a-savin'. I can set the barrel right for'ard in
the sleigh here, and I d