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 would not
attract her attention, but her quick ear had caught the sound, and,
rising, she advanced towards the door, her hands extended before her.
"Is that you, Uncle Ike?" she asked in a clear, sweet voice. "I heard
you drive in."
She had started in a straight line towards the door, but for some cause,
perhaps the bright light coming from the wood fire in the open
fireplace, she swerved in her course and would have walked directly
towards the blazing wood had not Quincy rushed forward, caught her by
the hand and stopped her further progress, saying as he did so, "Miss
Pettengill, you will set your dress on fire."
"You are not Uncle Ike," said she, quickly. "He could not walk as fast
as that. Who are you? You must know me, for you called me by name."
Quincy replied, "Under the circumstances, Miss Pettengill, I see no way
but to introduce myself. I am your brother's boarder, and my name is
Sawyer."
"I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Sawyer," said she, extending her hand,
which Quincy took. "I feel acquainted with you already, for Uncle Ike
speaks of you very often, and 'Zekiel said you used to board at Deacon
Mason's. Don't you think Huldy is a lovely girl?"
Quincy avoided this direct question and replied, "Uncle Ike has been
equally kind in speaking of his niece, Miss Pettengill, so that I feel
acquainted with her even without this,--I was going to say formal
introduction,--but I think that we must both confess it was rather
informal."
Alice laughed merrily. "Won't you sit down, Mr. Sawyer? I have been
alone nearly all day, and have really been very lonesome."
She turned and groped, as if feeling for a chair. Quincy sprang forward,
placed a large rocking chair before the fire, then, taking her hand, saw
her safely ensconced in it. He then took a seat in a large armchair at
the end of the fireplace nearest the door.
"Thank you, Mr. Sawyer," said Alice. "Everybody has been so kind to me
since I have had this trouble with my eyes. Of course 'Zekiel has told
you about it."
"Yes," assented Quincy.
He really did not care to talk. He was satisfied to sit and look at her,
and he could do this with impunity, for she could not see his earnest
gaze fixed upon her.
"I have been used to an active life," said Alice. "I have had my
business to attend to every day, and evenings I had my books, papers,
pictures, and music. At first it seemed so hard to be shut out from them
all, but years ago Uncle Ike taught me to be a philosopher and to take
life as it came, without constantly fretting or finding fault. Uncle Ike
says, 'It is not work but worry that wears men out,' That's why he came
down here to live in the woods. He said they wouldn't let him work and
so he worried all the time, but when he came here he had plenty to do,
and in his work he found happiness."
"I am learning a good lesson," said Quincy with a laugh. "I have studied
much, but I actually never did a day's work in all my life, Miss
Pettengill."
"Then you are to be pitied," said Alice frankly; "but I see I should not
blame you, you are studying now and getting ready to work."
"Perhaps so," Quincy remarked. "My father wishes me to be a lawyer, but
I detest reading law, and have no inclination to follow in my father's
footsteps."
"Perhaps you are too young," said Alice, "to settle upon your future
career. I cannot see you, you know, and Uncle Ike did not say how old
you were."
Quincy smiled. "I am in my twenty-fourth year," said he. "I graduated at
Harvard two years ago."
"So old!" exclaimed Alice; "why, I am not twenty-one until next June,
and I have been working for my living since I was sixteen."
Quincy said, "I wish I had as honorable a record."
"Now you are vexed with me for speaking so plainly," said Alice.
"Not at all," Quincy replied. "I thank you for it. I have learned from
Uncle Ike that frankness of speech and honesty of heart are Pettengill
characteristics."
"You might add," said Alice, "firmness in debate, for none of us like to
own up that we are beaten. I remember years ago Uncle Ike and I had a
long discussion as to whether it were better to be stone blind or stone
deaf. I took the ground that it was better to be blind, for one could
hear music and listen to the voices of friends, and hear the sound of
approaching danger, and then, besides, everybody is so kind to a person
who is blind. But you see Uncle Ike don't care for music, and had rather
talk himself than listen, so he decided that it was best to be stone
deaf, for then he could read and write to his friends. But of course
neither of us gave in, and the question, so far as we are concerned, is
still unsettled."
At that moment the sound of a team was heard, and a few minutes later
Uncle Ike came upstairs, followed by the driver of the team bearing a
big basket and a large bundle. These contained Uncle Ike's purchases.
"Wait a minute and I will go upstairs with you," called out Uncle Ike to
the man. He entered the room, and looking somewhat surprised at seeing
Quincy, he said somewhat sharply, "So you two have got acquainted, have
you? I have been waiting for two days to introduce you."
"I am greatly indebted to Mr. Sawyer," said Alice. "When he passed my
door, which was open, I thought it was you and I started forward to meet
you, but I missed my way and was walking directly towards the fire, when
Mr. Sawyer interposed."
"I should have done the same thing had it been me," said Uncle Ike. "So
I don't see as you were in any real danger."
Quincy thought that it was noticeably evident that the Pettengills were
noted for plainness of speech.
"Here are three letters for you, Alice, and here is one for you, Mr.
Sawyer. I thought I would bring it over to you as I met Asa Waters down
to the post office and he said you'd started for home. I'll be down in a
few minutes, Alice, and read your letters for you." And Uncle Ike showed
the man the way up to his domicile.
Quincy arose, expressed his pleasure at having met Miss Pettengill, and
presuming they would meet again at dinner, took his leave.
The letter was from Quincy's father. It was short, but was long enough
to cause Quincy to smother an oath, crush the letter in his hands and
throw it into the open fire. The flames touched it, and the strong
draught took it still ablaze up the wide-mouthed chimney.
But Quincy's unpleasant thought did not go with it. The letter had said,
"Quinnebaug stock has dropped off five points. Foss & Follansbee have
written Miss Putnam that she must put up five thousand dollars to cover
margin. Better see her at once and tell her the drop is only temporary,
and the stock is sure to recover."
Quincy sat down in his easy-chair, facing the fire, upon which he put
some more wood, which snapped and crackled.
"I won't go near that girl again," said he, with a determined look upon
his face. The next moment he had banished Lindy Putnam from his mind,
and was thinking of that other girl who was sitting not six feet from
him. He could hear Uncle Ike's voice, and he knew that Alice's letters
were being read to her. Then he fell into a reverie as the twilight
shadows gathered round him. As the room grew darker the fire grew
brighter, and in it he could seem to see a picture of a fair-haired girl
sitting in a chair and listening with evident interest to a young man
who was reading to her from a newspaper.
The young girl placed her hand upon his arm and asked a question. The
young man dropped the paper and gazed into the girl's face with a look
full of tenderness, and placing one of his hands upon that of the young
girl clasped it fondly, and Quincy saw that the face of this young man
was his own. He sat there until there came a loud rap upon the door and
Mandy's voice called out, "Supper's ready."