out your asking."

"But when could we begin?" asked Alice, hesitatingly.

"At once," replied Quincy. "I brought with me from Boston a half ream of
legal paper and a dozen good pencils. I can write faster and much better
with a pencil than I can with a pen, and as all legal papers have to be
copied, I have got into the habit of using pencils for everything."

It took Quincy but a few minutes to go to his room and secure his paper
and pencils. He drew a table close to Alice's chair and sat down beside
her.

"What is the name of the story?" asked he.

Alice replied, "I have called it in my mind, 'How He Lost Both Name and
Fortune.'"

CHAPTER XXIII.

A VISIT TO MRS. PUTNAM.

It must not be supposed that Alice's story was written out by Quincy in
one or even two days. The oldest inhabitants will tell you that the
great snowstorm lasted three days and three nights, and it was not till
the fourth day thereafter that the roads were broken out, so that safe
travel between Eastborough Centre and Mason's Corner became possible.

The day after the storm the sad intelligence came to Quincy and Alice
that old Mr. Putnam had passed quietly away on the last day of the
storm. Quincy attended the funeral, and he could not help acknowledging
to himself that Lindy Putnam never looked more beautiful than in her
dress of plain black. The only ornament upon her was a pair of beautiful
diamond earrings, but she always wore them, and consequently they were
not obtrusive.

Quincy bore an urgent request from Mrs. Putnam that Alice should come to
see her. As the story was finished and copied on the seventh day after
the storm, Quincy had the old-fashioned sleigh brought out and lined
with robes. Taking the horse Old Bill, that sleigh bells or snow slides
could not startle from his equanimity, Alice was driven to Mrs.
Putnam's, and in a few minutes was clasped to Mrs. Putnam's bosom, the
old lady crying and laughing by turns.

Quincy thought it best, to leave them alone, and descending the stairs
he entered the parlor, the door being halfway open. He started back as
he saw a form dressed in black, seated by the window.

"Come in, Mr. Sawyer," said Lindy. "I knew you were here. I saw you
when you drove up with Miss Pettengill. What a beautiful girl she is,
and what a pity that she is blind. I hope with all my heart that she
will recover her sight."

"She would be pleased to hear you say that," remarked Quincy.

"We were nev