MR. SAWYER CALLS ON MISS PUTNAM.

Quincy had a double purpose in calling on Lindy; he actually wished to
see her, for they had not met since the concert, but his principal wish
was to meet a real old-fashioned country couple. To be sure, Deacon
Mason and his wife often dropped into the vernacular, but the Deacon was
a very dignified old gentleman and his wife was not a great talker. What
he desired was to find one of the old-fashioned style of country women,
with a tongue hung in the middle and running at both ends. His wish was
to be gratified.

When he clanged the old brass knocker on the door, Samanthy Green
answered the call.

"Is Miss Putnam at home?" asked Quincy politely.

"No, she ain't," said Samanthy, "but Mr. and Mrs. Putnam is. They're
allus to hum. They don't go nowheres from one year's end to t'other."

"I would like to see them," said Quincy.

"Yes, sir," said Samanthy, "walk right in."

She threw open the door of the sitting-room. "Here's a gentleman that
wants to see you, Mas' Putnam. Leastwise he asked for Lindy fust."

Samanthy left the room, slamming the door after her.

"My name is Sawyer," said Quincy, addressing the old lady and gentleman
who were seated in rocking chairs. "I met your daughter at the concert
given at the Town Hall New-Year's night."

Mrs. Putnam said, "Glad to see ye, Mr. Sawyer; have a chair."

As Quincy laid his hand upon the chair, the old gentleman called out in
a voice that would have startled a bull of Bashan, "What's his name,
Heppy?"

Mrs. Putnam answered in a shrill voice with an edge like a knife,
"Sawyer."

"Sawyer!" yelled the man. "Any relation to Jim Sawyer that got drunk,
beat his wife, starved his children, and finally ended up in the town
Poorhouse?"

Quincy shook his head and replied, "I think not. I don't live here; I
live in Boston."

"Du tell," said Mrs. Putnam. "How long you been here?"

Quincy replied that he arrived two days after Christmas.

"Where be you stoppin'?" asked Mrs. Putnam.

Quincy answered, "I am boarding at Deacon Mason's."

"He's a nice old gentleman," said Mrs. Putnam, "and Mrs. Mason's good as
they make 'em. Her daughter Huldy's a pert young thing, she's pretty and
she knows it."

Quincy remarked that he thought Miss Mason was a very nice young lady.

"Oh, yes," said Mrs. Putnam, "you young fellers never look more than
skin deep. Now the way she trifles with that young 'Zekiel Pettengill I
think's shameful. Th