er intimate," said Lindy. "You can tell her from me, you are
quite the gallant chevalier, Mr. Sawyer, and what you say to her will
sound sweeter than if it came from other lips. Are you going to marry
her, Mr. Sawyer?"

"I do not think that our acquaintance is of such long standing that you
are warranted in asking me so personal a question," replied Quincy.

"Perhaps not," said Lindy, "but as I happened to know, though not from
your telling, that she is to be my mother's heiress, I had a little
curiosity to learn whether you had already proposed or were going--"

"Miss Putnam," said Quincy sternly, "do not complete your sentence. Do
not make me think worse of you than I already do. I beg your pardon for
intruding upon you. I certainly should not have done so had I
anticipated such an interview."

Lindy burst into a flood of tears. Her grief seemed uncontrollable.
Quincy closed the parlor door, thinking that if her cries and sobs were
heard upstairs it would require a double explanation, which it might be
hard for him to give.

He stood and looked at the weeping girl. She had evidently known all
along who her mother's heiress was. She had been fooling him, but for
what reason? Was she in love with him? No, he did not think so; if she
had been she would have confided in him rather than have sought to force
him to confide in her. What could be the motive for her action? Quincy
was nonplussed. He had had considerable experience with society girls,
but they either relied upon languid grace or light repartee. They never
used tears either for offence or defence.

A surprise was in store for Quincy. Lindy rose from her chair and came
towards him, her eyes red with weeping.

"Why do you hate me so, Mr. Sawyer?" she asked. "Why will you not be a
friend to me, when I need one so much? What first turned you against
me?"

Quincy replied, "I will tell you, Miss Putnam. They told me you were
ashamed of your father and mother because they were old-fashioned
country people and did not dress as well or talk as good English as you
did."

"Who told you so?" asked Lindy.

"It was common talk in the village," he replied.

"I should think you had suffered enough from village gossip, Mr. Sawyer,
not to believe that all that is said is true."

Quincy winced and colored. It was a keen thrust and went home.

"Where there is so much smoke there must be some fire," he answered,
rather lamely, as he thought, even to himself.

"Mr.