Chapter 10

THE RAISED CHECK

The Rev. Mr. Gay's parishioners looked at him in astonishment. He had disbelieved in God but had been converted in what seemed a miraculous manner. And yet, perhaps, after all, it was only a coincidence. Alice felt sure that Uncle Ike would be of that opinion.

The pastor, as soon as he had made his sensational declaration, said “Let us pray.” His appeal was for those who doubted--that God would open their eyes--but not as his had been--to acknowledge his power and mercy.

Then followed “Old Hundred.”

“Praise God from whom all blessings flow, Praise Him all creatures here below.”

A benediction, and the service was over.

There were seats for four in the carryall. Maude preferred to walk and Mr. Merry was of the same mind. Mrs. Hawkins sat with Quincy on the front seat, and Alice with Uncle Ike.

“What did you think of the sermon, Uncle Ike?” Alice asked.

“A thrilling personal experience. The fear of death has a peculiar effect on some people--it kills their will power. Did Mr. Gay know that I was to attend his church?”

Alice flushed. “Quincy mentioned it at the breakfast table.”

“Was he informed of my opinions on religious matters?”

“They were not mentioned before him.”

“Another coincidence”--and Uncle Ike relapsed into silence.

As they were nearing the Maxwell house, Alice asked, “Uncle Ike, are you willing to have Mr. Gay call upon you?”

“I have no objection, if he will let me choose the subjects for conversation,” was the reply.

In the evening Maude and Mr. Merry walked to the Willows and back.

“Have you become a matchmaker?” Alice asked her husband.

“What prompts the question?”

“Maude and Mr. Merry have been thrown together very much. You approve of you would prevent their intimacy.”

Quincy laughed. “Maude undoubtedly has a heart, but she doesn't know where it is. Mr. Merry is too sensible a fellow to imagine Maude will fall in love with him, or that he could support her if she did.”

“Poor logic, Quincy. Such marriages take place often, but unless they are followed with parental blessings,--and financial backing,--seldom prove successful.

“Well, the intimacy will end to-morrow morning. He will return to the city, and, probably, never see her again.”

“I've no objection to Mr. Merry. I consider him a very fine young man. I was thinking of Maude's happiness.”

Mr. Merry did return to Boston early the next morning, and, to all appearances, Miss Sawyer looked upon his action as a very natural one, and one in which she was not particularly interested. If she had any secret thoughts concerning him they were driven from her mind by the receipt of a telegram just as they sat down to dinner.

“REDFORD, MASS., July 2, 187--. “MAUDE SAWYER, Care of Q. A. Sawyer, “Fernborough, via Cottonton. “Do please come home at once. Something terrible has happened. FLORENCE.”

“What can it be? What do you think is the matter? The message is so inexplicit.”

Her brother replied, “Florence evidently is living, unless some one used her name in the telegram. If father or mother were sick or dead she certainly would have said so.”

“Perhaps not,” said Maude. “She might wish to break the news gently, in person.”

“I am willing to wager,” said Quincy, “that the trouble affects her more than any one else. But you must go, Maude, and Alice and I will go with you, by the first train to-morrow morning.”

Quincy had Andrew get the carryall ready and he and Alice went round to say good-bye. He told Arthur Scates he would come or send for him soon, and that his grandmother could go and help Mrs. Pettingill.

Andrew was told to return the saddle to Cottonton, and Quincy decided that they would go to Boston by way of Eastborough Centre, so Mr. Parsons could be informed that they were through with the saddle horses. They found Uncle Ike fully committed to the idea of founding the hospital. He had seen Squire Rundlett, who was drawing up his will. The goodbye seemed more like a farewell in Uncle Ike's case, for he had aged much in the last year and was really very feeble. Alice told him that Mr. Gay had promised to call upon him in a few days.

When they reached Boston, Quincy said:

“Maude, you must take the train at once for Redford and see what the trouble is. I will leave Alice at home and run down to see you this afternoon.”

Maude found Florence in her room, her nose red and her eyes filled with tears.

“Now, Florence, what is it all about?”

“Oh, it is horrible,” and there was a fresh flood of tears.

“Are you sick? Mother says she is well and so is father.”

“It's all about Reggie.”

“Capt. Hornaby? Is he dead?”

“Worse. I wish he was. No, I don't mean that. But the disgrace.”

Maude was getting impatient. “What has he done? Married somebody else? But he never proposed to you, did he?”

Florence wiped away her tears. “No, not exactly. But we understood each other.”

“Well, I can't understand you. Why don't you tell me what he's done?”

“Well, you know that father loaned him some money when he lost his pocketbook in the pond.”

Maude sniffed. “I imagined he did--nobody told me so.”

“Father gave him a check for five hundred dollars.”

“And the Captain's run away and won't pay. Those foreign fellows often do that. What an appropriate name Hornaby Hook is.”

“He has paid. He sent father the money and said he was going back to England at once.”

“So, ho! I understand now. My sister has been deserted, jilted, snubbed, and her Sawyer pride is hurt. If you'd written me that I'd be in Fernborough now, and so would Quincy and Alice. Florence, it was mean of you to send such a bloodcurdling telegram for so simple a thing.”

“But that isn't all,” cried Florence. “When the check for five hundred dollars that father gave him came back it had been raised to five thousand, and father has lost all that money. Oh, it is all over, and I shall never see him again.”

Another paroxysm of sobs, and a flood of tears. Maude's sisterly sympathy was, at last, aroused.

“Don't take on so, Flossie. Perhaps he didn't do it after all.”

“But father is so indignant. Think of his being paid back with his own money.”

Maude could not help laughing. “That was rather nervy, I'll admit. But that very fact makes me think he's innocent.”

She didn't really think so, but Florence was likely to go into hysterics and something must be done.

“You know his address. You had better write to him and see what he has to say for himself.”

“I can't. Father says if I have any further communication with him, directly, or indirectly, he'll disown me.”

“Well, wait awhile. Father'll calm down in time. Cheer up, Flossie, dry your eyes, and do put some powder on your nose. It's as red as a beet.”

* * * * * * *

A little later in the season, Quincy and Alice started for their summer home at Nantucket, where they spent a pleasant two months, Quincy going up to Boston when needed at the State House. As autumn approached, and the time for the state election drew near, great influence was brought to bear on Quincy to make him rescind his decision, and run for governor a second time, but his mind was fully made up, and in spite of the urgings of the leaders of his own party, as well as those of the public at large, he remained firm in his resolve.

Mr. Evans worked hard for the nomination, but his predilections were well known among the labouring classes, and he failed to receive the necessary votes. Benjamin Ropes, a man respected by all, was elected governor, and in January Quincy retired from public life, and settled down to what he thought would be a period of rest and quiet with his wife in the Mount Vernon Street home.

About the middle of the month, however, a letter came from Aunt Ella.

* * * * * * *

“FERNBOROUGH HALL, “HEATHFIELD, SUSSEX.

“MY DEAR QUINCY AND ALICE: I was going to write nephew and niece, but you both seem nearer and dearer to me than those formal titles express. I see that Quincy is now out of politics, and I know that he needs a change. Your rooms are all ready for you here, and I want you both to come, just as soon as you can. It will be the best for you, too, Alice, as you will escape the very bad winter that Boston always has. I was delighted to hear the news, and I do hope and pray it will be a boy,--then we shall have a Quincy Adams Sawyer, Junior.

“I wish Maude could come with you. I could introduce her to society here, and, I have found--don't think me conceited--that there is nothing that improves an English gentleman so much as having an American wife. If some of your nice young American gentlemen would marry some English girls and transplant them to American soil, I think the English-speaking race would benefit thereby.

“Sir Stuart is well, and so is “Your loving aunt, “ELLA.”

* * * * * * *

“The same Aunt Ella as of old,” said Quincy, “always full of new ideas and quaint suggestions. It would be a good thing for you to go, I think, Alice, and I should really relish the change myself. What do you say, a steamer sails next week from here; shall we go?”

“Why, Quincy, it is rather sudden, but I should be glad to see Aunt Ella and Linda again, and I really see no reason why we should not go.”

“Well, we will call that settled, then. And Maude, do you think she would join us?”

“Not unless you take Mr. Merry with you,” replied Alice with a good natured laugh.

Quincy called at the Beacon Street house that afternoon, and had a talk with Maude about going to Europe with them. He read her Aunt Ella's letter, and added,

“You see, she wishes you to come with us.”

“Well, I won't go. She wants to marry me off to some Englishman with a title and no funds. If I ever get married, my husband will be an American. No, take Florence, and let her hunt up Captain Hornaby, her recreant lover,--if he was one. She says they 'understood' each other, but it's evident none of us comprehended--I came near saying apprehended--him.”

“I will speak to father about it,” said Quincy. “Please tell him that I'll call at his office to-morrow morning. Give my love to Florence. I won't trouble her about it until I've seen father.”

Alice thought Florence's substitution for Maude, as regarded the trip to England, was advisable, and certainly showed Maude's good-heartedness.

When Quincy saw his father he made no mention of the Hornaby incident in connection with Florence joining them on their trip abroad, but in spite of this the Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer was, at first, strongly opposed to the idea of his daughter going away from home. Quincy knew his father too well to argue the matter, and turned the conversation to other subjects.

“I have brought my will, father, and wish you would put it in your safe. I have left everything to Alice to do with as she pleases. I have named you and Dr. Paul Culver as my executors. Have you any objection to serving?”

“You will be more likely to act as my executor than I as yours, but I accept the trust, feeling sure that I shall have no duties to perform.”

“There's another matter, father, I wish to speak about. My former private secretary, Mr. Merry, is studying law. When my term expired he, of course, lost his position, for my successor, naturally, wished one of his own friends in the place. If I were a lawyer, I would take him into my office, but--”

“You can't use him in your grocery store,” interrupted the Hon. Nathaniel. Quincy took the sarcasm good-naturedly, and laughed. That his father had, to some extent, overcome his displeasure at his son becoming a tradesman, was shown by his next words.

“Our law business is increasing daily, and perhaps I can make an opening for him in the near future. I will bear him in mind.”

The Hon. Nathaniel reserved his decision in relation to Florence's trip until he had discussed the matter with his wife, but the next day Maude saw Alice and told her that her father had consented, on one condition, and that was that Quincy would bring her back with him when he returned to America. The Hon. Nathaniel was still suspicious of Aunt Ella, and evidently thought that she wished to get control of his daughter as she had of his son.

Quincy gave his father the required promise. Florence must have time to prepare for such a long journey, so Quincy was obliged to give up the plan of sailing from Boston on a certain date as he had intended. Besides, he wanted, personally, to see how Arthur Scates was getting along at the Sanatorium which was at Lyndon in the Adirondacks, and so he booked passage on the steamer _Altonia_, to sail from New York in three weeks.