“See that? Read it out loud.” Mrs. Strout complied: “O. STROUT. FINE GROCERIES.” “What did I tell yer?” was his only comment. CHAPTER XXVIII THE HOME COMING Quincy desired to have his return to America unheralded by items in the newspapers of stories of his wonderful rescue, captivity, and final recovery of his reason, so when he booked for passage on the _Gallia_ he gave the name of Mr. S. Adams, wife and son. During the homeward voyage the father and son had an opportunity to become acquainted. The father told the story of his life at Mason's Corner; first going back to his college days. He told his son how he had opposed his father's wish that he would become a lawyer and sustain the reputation of the old firm of Sawyer, Crowninshield, and Lawrence; about his health breaking down and his visit to Mason's Corner; about the blind girl whom he had made his wife, and how he had secured medical assistance and her sight had been restored. Once again he lived over his life in the country town, and told about his friends and foes--Obadiah Strout and Bob Wood--who were enemies no longer, and honest, good-hearted 'Zeke Pettingill, and his sweet wife, little Huldah Mason. And Hiram who stammered so and Mandy who didn't. Nearly all the people mentioned in their long talks were well known to young Quincy and after his father had finished his reminiscences the young man supplied the sequel. “What do you think of Mr. Strout?” asked the father. “Think? I know he's a dishonest man. You say that you parted friends. He is no friend of yours or mine.” Then he told of his encounter with young Bob Wood. “I had some trouble with his father many years ago,” said Quincy. “What did he do to you?” “Nothing to me. He insulted a young lady, and I took her part. Tom was going to help me but I arranged to handle him, in a very unscientific way though.” “It was a rough and tumble of the worst sort,” interjected Tom. “I was afraid they'd bite each other before they got through.” “Quincy,” said his father, “you must take boxing lessons. When occasion requires, it is the gentleman's weapon.” The mention of Mary Dana naturally led to a rehearsal of the Wood case, and all Mary had done in helping Quincy at the beginning of the search for his father. “I think I see which way the wind blows,” laughed his father, while Quincy blushed to the roots of his hair, “and I want to meet the young lady who did so much to bring us all together again.” Alice was proud of her son. He resembled her, having light hair and blue eyes; a decided contrast to his father whose skin had been darkened by Italian suns, who had dark eyes, dark hair frosted at the ends, and a heavy beard, cut in Van Dyke fashion. Few, if any, would have recognized in him the young man who more than twenty-three years before had taken passage on the _Altonia_, looking forward to a pleasant trip and an early return to his native land.