he first train after her death, and Eastborough
will never see me nor hear from me again."

"But how about your friends," asked Quincy, "supposing that I should
find out something that would be of interest to you; supposing that I
should get some information that might lead to the discovery of your
real parents, how could I find you?"

"Well," replied Lindy, "if you will give me your promise that you will
not disclose to any one what I am going to say, I will tell you how to
find me."

"You have my word," replied Quincy.

"Well," answered Lindy, "I'm going to New York! I would tell you where,
but I don't know. But if you wish to find me at any time advertise in
the Personal Column of the 'New York Herald'; address it to Linda, and
sign it Eastborough," said she, after a moment's thought. "I shall drop
the name of Putnam when I arrive in New York, but what name I shall take
I have not yet decided upon; it will depend upon circumstances. But I
shall have the 'New York Herald' every day, and if you advertise for me
I shall be sure to see it."

She then relapsed into silence, and Quincy forbore to speak any more, as
he saw she was busy with her own thoughts. They soon reached the city
and parted at the door of the station. She gave him her hand, and as he
held it in his for a moment, he said, "Good-by, Miss Linda." She thanked
him for not saying "Miss Putnam" with a glance of her eyes. "I may not
see you again, but you may depend upon me. If I hear of anything that
will help you in your search for your parents, my time shall be given to
the matter, and I will communicate with you at the earliest moment.
Good-by."

He raised his hat and they parted.

Town Meeting Day proved to be a bright and pleasant one. At nine o'clock
the Town Hall was filled with the citizens of Eastborough. They had come
from the Centre, they had come from West Eastborough and from Mason's
Corner. There were very nearly four hundred gathered upon the floor, the
majority of them being horny-handed sons of toil, or, more properly
speaking, independent New England farmers.

When Jeremiah Spinney, the oldest man in town, who had reached the age
of ninety-two, and who declared that he hadn't "missed a town meetin'
for seventy year," called the meeting to order, a hush fell upon the
assemblage. In a cracked, but still distinct voice, he called for a
nomination for Moderator of the meeting. Abraham Mason's name, of
Mason's Corner, was the only one p