ng to leave the house forever, as soon as Mrs. Putnam
died. She also told me that if I ever learned anything about her parents
I could reach her by advertising in the Personal Column of the New York
'Herald,' addressing 'Linda,' and signing it 'Eastborough.'"

"And will you do this at once for me?" cried Alice, eagerly. "I am so
thankful; you have taken such a load from my mind, Mr. Sawyer. How
fortunate it was that you met her as you did?

"I think Mr. Sawyer is about as lucky as they make 'em," remarked! Uncle
Ike, with a laugh.

"Kind fortune owes me one or two favors yet before I shall be entirely
satisfied," said Quincy. "Now, Miss Pettengill, will you allow me to
make a suggestion that will free you from the further care of this
document?"

"I don't care what is done with it," said Alice; "but no one but Lindy
must read it."

"That is any idea exactly," assented Quincy. "I will go to Boston on the
noon train and send that advertisement to the New York 'Herald,' With
your permission, I will turn that document over to a legal friend of
mine. He will put it in an envelope and seal it up. He will write on the
outside, 'To be delivered only to Miss Putnam, on the written order of
Miss Alice Pettengill,' and it will repose quietly in his big safe until
Miss Putnam is found."

"That will do splendidly!" said Alice, with animation. "What magicians
you lawyers are! You discover a way out of every difficulty."

"Wait until you get one of those lawyers working against you," remarked
Uncle Ike, "then you'll change your mind. Well, I s'pose now this
matter's settled, I can go upstairs and have my morning smoke."

"And I've got to go to the store," said Ezekiel to Uncle Ike, "and get
some corn, or those chickens of your'n will swaller the hen coop." And
both men left the room together.

"If you can give me a little of your time, Miss Pettengill," said
Quincy, "I have some news for you that I think will please you very
much."

"About my stories?" cried Alice.

"Yes," replied Quincy. "Just before I went to Boston last Saturday I got
a letter from Leopold, asking me to call on him as soon as convenient. I
found him at home Sunday evening, and this is what he said. The New York
house has accepted your series of eight detective stories, and will pay
you twenty-five dollars for each of them. The house will send you a
check from time to time, as they publish them. Leopold has accepted your
long story for the magazine pub