Quincy took the cue. “Not exactly sick, but she wants to see you very much, and I felt so sure you would come to please her, that I ignored your refusal to accept an invitation from me. Come, we'll have lunch at Young's, and then a carriage to the station,--is your trunk there?” Maude nodded. She felt that Quincy had played a trick on her and she was in a rebellious mood. She ate her lunch in silence. Not a word was spoken during the drive to the station. When the train was under way Quincy remarked, casually, “I invited Mr. Merry to come down next Saturday and stay over Sunday.” From that moment until they reached Eastborough Centre, Quincy could not have desired a more talkative or vivacious companion. As they stepped upon the platform, Mr. Parsons came up. “They're there, safe and sound. I went up with them myself, so's to be sure.” CHAPTER VI “JUST LIKE OLD TIMES” Alice had a delightful day at Mandy Maxwell's. The twins, Abraham Mason and Obadiah Strout, sturdy little fellows of the same age as Ezekiel's boy, were full of fun and frolic. Swiss, Uncle Ike's dog, had grown old in the past five years, but the antics of the youngsters overcame at times both age and its accompanying dignity, or love of repose, and he was often as frisky as in his younger days. Mrs. Crowley told Alice, in confidence, that she “was most dead” with the noise of them, and that, some day, she would be “kilt intirely” by falling over them. Alice held the little girl for hours, and, remembering Mrs. Hawkins' complaint, called her “Martha” instead of “Mattie.” After the death of Capt. Obed Putnam, his companion, Uncle Ike came down from his attic and had the room that Quincy occupied when he boarded with Ezekiel Pettingill. He was now eighty-one years of age, and too feeble to go up and down stairs, so his meals were taken to his room. He was greatly pleased to see Alice and to learn that there had been no return of the trouble with her eyes. “If we had known as much then as we do now, you wouldn't have needed any doctor, Alice.” “Why, how's that?” she asked. “Because the mind governs the body; as we think we are--we are.” “Well, Uncle Ike, why don't you think you are able to go down stairs and walk back again?” “I was referring to disease, not the infirmities of old age.” “What's the difference, Uncle?” “I can't explain it, but there's a mighty sight of difference. I've been trying to get Mandy to let me live on sour milk, because a great doctor in Europe says we'll live longer if we do.” “How long would you care to live?” “As long as I could. I've been reading up on all the religions and all the substitutes, and it's going to take me some time to decide which is best--for me, I mean. I don't presume to dictate to others.” “Which do you favour so far?”