lew rings
of smoke into the air, which she watched until they broke.

"Do you think it's horribly unbecoming for me to smoke?" she asked,
looking at Quincy.

"Do you wish me to express my real thoughts?" replied Quincy, "or
flatter you because you have money?"

Aunt Ella reddened a little, then said, "A good shot, Quincy, but I
deserve it. Go on."

"Well, Aunt Ella," said he, "you are the only woman whom I ever saw
smoke who, in my opinion, knew how to do it gracefully."

"I think you are sincere," she rejoined, "and I beg pardon for wounding
your feelings as I did before. Give me your hand on it."

They shook hands as two men would have done after settling differences.

Then she said, "Now draw your chair up closer, Quincy, and tell me what
you've been doing, and what other people have been doing to you since
the day before Christmas, the last time I set eyes on you until to-day.
You know I am your mother confessor."

Quincy complied, and in his quiet, concise way gave her a full account
of his doings in Eastborough, omitting nothing, concealing nothing. If
anything, he gave fuller details of his acquaintance with Huldy, Lindy,
and Alice than he did of the other portions of his story. He could not
forbear to give at full length the account of his final settlement with
the Professor.

Aunt Ella laughed heartily at some parts of the recital, and looked
sorrowful and sympathetic when she listened to other portions. She
rolled and smoked half a dozen cigarettes during its continuance, and
when she saw that Quincy had finished his cigar she placed the remainder
of the box before him.

When he closed she said, "Quincy, you're a brick. I haven't enjoyed
myself so much for years. I do so love anything that isn't commonplace,
and your experience is both novel and interesting. What a dear old man
Deacon Mason is, and Ezekiel Pettengill is a fine young fellow, honest
and square. That Hiram and Mandy must be a team. Are they going to get
married?"

"I think so," said Quincy. "He stammers, you know, and I think he is
afraid he will break down when he tries to propose."

Aunt Ella laughed heartily; then she said, "What a constitutional liar
that Stiles must be, and as for the Professor, I would like to have a
set-to with him myself."

As she said this she doubled up her fists.

"Oh, he wouldn't meet you that way," said Quincy. "He only fights with a
woman's weapon, his tongue;" and he told her of his little boxing