for lots of fun, and Hiram suspects," and her voice
fell to a whisper, "that Strout is going to try and work the Deacon for
that five hundred in cash to put up for the grocery store next Tuesday.
That's all," said she.

"Where is Miss Pettengill?" Quincy inquired.

"She's in the parlor," said Mandy. "She has been playing the piano and
singing beautifully, but I guess she has got tired."

Quincy went directly to the parlor and found Alice seated before the
open fire, her right hand covering her eyes.

She, looked up as Quincy entered the room and said, "I am so glad you've
got back, Mr. Sawyer. I have been very lonesome since you have been
away."

Alice did not see the happy smile that spread over Quincy's face, and he
covered up his pleasure by saying, "How did you know it was I?"

"Oh," said Alice, "my hearing is very acute. I know the step of every
person in the house. Swiss has been with me all the morning, but he
asked a few minutes ago to be excused, so he could get his dinner."

Quincy laughed, and then, said, "Miss Pettengill, we forgot a very
important matter in connection with your stories; we omitted to put on
the name of the author." He told her of his meeting with Ernst, and what
had taken place, and Alice was delighted. Quincy did not refer to the
coming visit of Dr. Tillotson, for he did not mean to speak of it until
the day appointed arrived. "Now, Miss Pettengill, I have some letters to
write to send back by the hotel carriage, so that they can be mailed
this afternoon. While I am doing this you can decide upon your
pseudonym, and I will put it in the letter that I am going to write to
Ernst."

Quincy went up to his room and sat down at his writing table. The first
letter was to his bankers, and enclosed a check for five hundred
dollars, with a request to send the amount in bills by Adams Express to
Eastborough Centre, to reach there not later than noon of the next
Tuesday, and to be held until called for. The second letter was to a
prominent confectioner and caterer in Boston, ordering enough ice cream,
sherbet, frozen pudding, and assorted cake for a party of fifty persons,
and fifty grab-bag presents; all to reach Eastborough Centre in good
order on Monday night on the five minutes past six express from Boston.
The third letter was to Ernst. It was short and to the point. "The
pseudonym is--." And he left a blank space for the name. Then he signed
his own. He glanced over his writing table an