"And," continued Mr. Strout, "Mr. Sawyer here is goin' to push through
my app'intment as postmaster."

By this time Abner's mouth was wide open. Quincy saw it, and imagined
the conflict going on in poor Abner's mind.

"What Mr. Strout says is correct," remarked Quincy, "but you have no
time to lose now. Perhaps to-night Mr. Strout will explain the matter
more fully to you."

Abner turned, without a word, and left the room.

"Mr. Stiles is a faithful friend of yours," said Quincy, turning to the
Professor.

"Yes," assented Strout; "Abner's a very good shaft horse, but he
wouldn't be of much vally as a lead."

Quincy again extended his cigar case. This time the Professor did not
refuse, but took two. Holding up one of them between his fingers, he
said, "This is the one I didn't take when I came in."

"I will have the partnership papers drawn up in a few days, Mr. Strout,
ready for signature, and I will write at once to my friends in
Washington, and urge them to see the Postmaster General, and have your
appointment made as soon as possible."

"Yer don't let no grass grow under yer feet, do yer?" said Strout.

Quincy was a little taken aback by this remark, for he had not
anticipated a compliment from the Professor. He turned to him and said,
"Until you forfeit my esteem, we are friends, and it is always a
pleasure to me to help my friends."

The men shook hands again, and the Professor left the room.

"Not a bad man at heart," soliloquized Quincy. "I am glad the affair has
had such a pleasant termination. Poor Alice! What a time she must have
had with Mrs. Putnam, and so Lindy is going to keep her word, and not
stay to the funeral. Well, knowing what I do, I don't blame her. Perhaps
Mrs. Putnam told Alice that Lindy was not her own child, for Alice would
not accept the fortune, I know, if she thought she was wronging Lindy by
doing so. I'll go home,"--he smiled as he said this,--"and probably
Alice will tell me all about it."

He went down stairs, and not seeing Mrs. Hawkins in the dining-room,
walked out into the kitchen, where she was hard at work washing the
dinner dishes.

"Law, Mr. Sawyer, why didn't you holler for me ef you wanted anything?"

"I don't wish for anything particularly," said Quincy, "but I do wish to
compliment you on your chicken salad; it was as fine as any I ever ate
at Young's, or Parker's, in Boston, and," continued he, "here are twelve
dollars." He held out the money to her, sh