ffering that always shows itself in a
true gentleman rose strongly in his breast.

"Miss Putnam," said he, "I have wronged you both in thought and action,
but I never suspected what you have told me. Will you forgive me and
allow me to be your friend? I will try to atone in the future for my
misdoings in the past."

He extended his hand, and Lindy laid hers in his.

"I care not for the past," said she. "I will forget that. I have also to
ask for forgiveness. I, too, have said and done many things which I
would not have said or done, but for womanly spite and vanity. You see
my excuse is not so good as yours," said she, as she smiled through her
tears.

"In what way can I serve you?" asked Quincy. "Why do you not go to
Boston and live? I could introduce you to many pleasant families."

"What!" cried Lindy. "Me, a waif and a stray! You are too kind-hearted,
Mr. Sawyer. I shall not leave the woman every one but you thinks to be
my mother. When she is dead I shall leave Eastborough never to return.
My sole object in life from that day will be to find some trace of my
parents or relatives. Now it may happen that through Mrs. Putnam or Miss
Pettengill you may get some clew that will help me in my search. It is
for this that I wish a friend, and I have a presentiment that some day
you will be able to help me."

Quincy assured her that if it lay in his power any time to be of
assistance to her, she could count upon him.

"By the way, Miss Putnam," said he, "how did your investment with Foss &
Follansbee turn out? I heard a rumor that the stock fell, and you lost
considerable money."

Lindy flushed painfully. "It did drop, Mr. Sawyer, but it rallied again,
as you call it, and when they sold out for me I made nearly five
thousand dollars; but," and she looked pleadingly up into Quincy's face,
"you have forgiven me for that as well as for my other wrong doings."

"For everything up to date," said Quincy, laughing.

At that instant a loud pounding was heard on the floor above.

"Mrs. Putnam is knocking for you," said Lindy. "Miss Pettengill must be
ready to go home. Good-by, Mr. Sawyer, and do not forget your unhappy
friend."

"I promise to remember her and her quest," said Quincy.

He gave the little hand extended to him, a slight pressure and ran up
the stairs. As he did so he heard the parlor door close behind him.

As they were driving home, Alice several times took what appeared to be
a letter from her muff an