Jonas Hawkins entered, bearing a huge
head of lettuce in his hand.

"Wall, Marthy," said Mr. Hawkins, "how did the man from Bosting like his
breakfast? I kalkilated them fresh-laid eggs would suit him to a T."

"He ain't got up yet," replied Mrs. Hawkins.

"Must have been putty tired," continued Mr. Hawkins. "I kinder envy him.
Do yer know, Marthy, if I wuz rich I wouldn't 'git up any day till it
wuz time to go to bed agin." And he laughed loudly at his own remark.

"What do yer expect me to do with that head of lettuce?" asked Mrs.
Hawkins with some asperity in her tone.

"Wall," said Jonas, "I was over to Hill's grocery and he'd ordered some
from Bosting for Mis' Putnam, but she's too sick to eat 'em, so Sam gave
me this one, 'cause we're putty good customers, you know, and I
kalkilated that if you made up one of them nice chicken salads o' yourn
it might please the new boarder and the old ones too;" and chuckling to
himself he laid the lettuce on the kitchen table and walked out into the
wood-shed. In a few moments he was vigorously at work chopping wood,
whistling to himself as he worked.

"Mr. Hawkins is an awful good-natured man, isn't he?" asked Betsy.

"Yes," replied Mrs. Hawkins, "he's too all-fired good-natured for his
own good. If I'd known him twenty-five years ago he'd have money in the
bank now. His fust wife wuz slacker'n dish water. But I guess we've
talked enough for one mornin', Betsy. You jest git that chicken I boiled
and bone it and chop it up, and I'll make the dressin'."

When twelve o'clock sounded from the bell in the church tower, dinner
was on the table at Mrs. Hawkins's boarding house. By five minutes past
twelve there were fourteen seated at the table, with one vacant chair.
Professor Strout sat at the head of the table. At his left was Abner
Stiles, while Robert Wood sat next to Stiles. The vacant seat was at the
Professor's right hand, and all eyes were turned toward it, for all had
heard of the Boston man who had arrived the night before, but who, much
to their disappointment, had not appeared at breakfast.

At ten minutes past twelve the door leading into the dining-room from
the front entry was opened quietly, and the young man who entered,
seeing the vacant chair near the head of the table, took possession of
it.

For a moment nobody looked up, each apparently waiting for some one else
to take the initiative.

Quincy, for it was he, broke the silence, and immediately every