e."

"What was your nickname?" asked Alice.

"Well," said Quincy, "they used to call me Quinn, but that had a
Hibernian sound to it, and Maude nicknamed me Ad, which she said was
short for adder. She told me she called me that because I was so deaf
that I never heard her when she asked me to take her anywhere."

"Well, Mr. Sawyer, if you will promise not to laugh out loud, I will be
pleased to have you read these letters to me. You can smile all you wish
to, for of course I can't see you."

"I agree," said Quincy; and he advanced towards her, took the two
letters and drew a chair up beside her.

"My dear May," read Quincy. He stopped suddenly, and turning to Alice
said, "Is this letter for you?"

"Before we go any further," said Alice, "I must explain my various names
and nicknames. I was named Mary Alice, the Mary being my mother's name,
while the Alice was a favorite of my father's. Mother always called me
Mary and father always called me Alice! and brother 'Zekiel and Uncle
Ike seem to like the name Alice best. When I went to Commercial College
to study they asked me my name and I said naturally Mary A. Pettengill.
Then the girls began to call me May, and the boys, or young men I
suppose you call them, nicknamed me Miss Atlas, on account of my
initials. Now that I have given you a chart of my names to go by, the
reading will no doubt be plain sailing in future."

Quincy laughed and said, "I should call it a M.A.P. instead of a chart."

"Fie! Mr. Sawyer, to make such a joke upon my poor name. No doubt you
have thought of one that would please you better than any I have
mentioned."

Quincy thought he had, but he wisely refrained from saying so. He could
not help thinking, however, that Miss Atlas was a very appropriate name
for a girl who was all the world to him. It is evident that Uncle Ike's
words of advice the previous afternoon had not taken very deep root in
Quincy's heart.

He resumed his reading:

"My dear May:--How are you getting along in that dismal country town,
and how are your poor eyes? I know you can't write to me, but I want you
to know that I have not forgotten you. Every time I see my sister,
Stella, she waves your photograph before my eyes. You know you promised
me one before you were sick. Just send it to me, and it will be just as
nice as a good, long letter. As somebody else will probably read this to
you, in order to keep them from committing a robbery I send you only one
kiss.