a minute. Old Orchard is my favorite, but I'm afraid it would be
too noisy for her there, the hotels are so close to the railroad track.
I suppose your family, meaning your mother's, of course, will go to
Nahant, as usual. Sarah would have society convulsions at Old Orchard. I
should like to see her promenading down in front of the candy stores,
shooting for cigars in the shooting gallery, or taking a ride down to
Saco Pool on the narrow-gauge; excuse me for speaking so of your mother,
Quincy, but I have been acquainted with her much longer than you have."
She went on, "Newport is too stylish for comfort. Ah! I have it, Quincy.
I was there three years ago, and I know what I'm talking about. Quaint
place,--funny looking houses, with little promenades on top,--crooked
streets that lead everywhere and nowhere,--very much like Boston,--full
of curiosities,--hardy old mariners and peaceable old Quakers,--plenty
of nice milk and eggs and fresh fish,--more fish than anything
else,--every breeze is a sea breeze, and it is so delightfully quiet
that the flies and mosquitoes imitate the inhabitants, and sleep all day
and all night."

"Where is this modern Eden, this corner lot in Paradise?" asked Quincy;
"it can't be part of the United States."

"Not exactly," replied Aunt Ella; it's off shore, I forget how many
miles, but you can find it swimming around in the water just south of
Cape Cod."

"Oh! you mean Nantucket," cried Quincy.

"That's the place," assented his aunt. "Now, Quincy, I'll tell you just
what I want you to do, and I want you to promise to do it before I say
another word."

"That's a woman's way," remarked Quincy, "of avoiding argument and
preventing a free expression of opinion by interested parties; but I'll
consent, only be merciful."

"What I'm going to ask you to do, Quincy Sawyer, is for your good, and
you'll own up that I've been more than a mother to you before I get
through."

"You always have been," said Quincy, seriously. "Of course, I love my
mother in a way, but I'm never exactly comfortable when I'm with her.
But when I'm with you, Aunt Ella, I'm always contented and feel
perfectly at home."

"Bless you, my dear boy," she said. Then, rising, she went behind his
chair, leaned over and kissed him on the forehead; then, pulling a chair
close to him, she went on: "I haven't spoken to you of her, Quincy,
because I have had no opportunity until now. I've fallen in love with
her myself. I am a ph