To his Aunt Huldah Pettingill he seemed as though sent from another world. He was her husband's nephew, and hers--but there was a closer tie acknowledged within her own heart, and kept there as a precious secret. He was Quincy Adams Sawyer's son--the son of the man who had taught her what love was. It had been a bitter lesson, for when her heart was awakened, it was but to find that the one who had played upon its sensitive strings did not love her, and that her duty was to another who did love her. She had been a true and loving wife with no unsatisfied heart-longings, but-- “You may break, you may shatter the vase, if you will, But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.” So Huldah Mason still kept within a secret corner of her heart a fond remembrance of happy days gone by. And now Quincy's son was one of her family; she could be a mother to him and no one would have a right to question her manifestations of affection. It is often that the human heart thus finds solace for past sad experiences or suffering. It was only natural that Huldah, after her father's death, should take her mother to her own home. The old Deacon had acquired enough of this world's goods to avoid the necessity of hard labour during the last years of his life. Good books had been his constant companions, and an old-fashioned cane-bottomed rocking chair his favourite seat upon the piazza or by the kitchen fire. Abner Stiles had done the necessary farm work and the household chores. When the Deacon passed away, the town lost one of its broadest-minded, most honest, most helpful citizens. Mrs. Mason, still hale and hearty, assisted her daughter in her household duties, but allowed Abner to put up the clothes line and take it in. “And this is his son, and his poor father--” The Deacon's good wife could say no more, but clasped little Quincy close to her motherly breast. “You told me how it happened, Huldy, and I told father, but it don't seem real even now. His father was such a fine man.” She stopped, for her daughter had turned her head away, and her mother knew that it was to brush away some tears that could not be kept back. To 'Zekiel Pettingill, the boy was Alice's child. His only sister had been the apple of his eye, and his great, honest heart welcomed the boy as if he were his own. His own son, Quincy Adams Pettingill, was in his fourteenth year and upon him devolved the outdoor education of his young cousin. In this pleasant task he was aided by his sister Sophie who was a year younger than the newcomer. There was a scene of wild excitement when young Quincy paid his first visit to the old Pettingill place where his mother was born. It was still the home of Hiram Maxwell and his wife, formerly Mandy Skinner. The two boys, Abraham Mason Maxwell and Obadiah Strout Maxwell had been told often the story of Mr. Sawyer's visit to Eastborough, and how he boarded in that house, and little Mandy was glad to see “Kirwinzee.”