The other event of importance that took place during George’s two years of probation was the obtaining of a quit-claim by Mr. Fayerweather from Jemmy and Nanny Boynton. This he had obtained through the assistance of his new nephew, Mr. Wendell, and without paying more than one third more than it was worth. After securing this deed or quit-claim the kind uncle converted Boynton’s house and his old ware-house, which stood near it, into a pretty residence for the young married couple, in order, as he said, to have Cousin Amy still under his own wing. As soon as the important negotiation with the Boyntons was concluded, Mr. Fayerweather came with all possible haste to make the joyful communication to the family. As he laid the document in triumph on the table he said, “There, my dear, I have got the quit-claim at last from the Boyntons. The land is all our own now.” On hearing these words, madam aroused herself from a deep reverie and exclaimed, “La! Mr. Fayerweather, you don’t say so; how thankful I am. How did you prevail on them?” “Oh, Wendell and I were too strong for them; though Nanny, I believe, would still have held on if I had not offered a good deal more than I had intended; and she was not satisfied after all; but I don’t care, I have the deed, and now we shall be rid of them.” The two lads, who were laying their heads together at the window, and planning, it is to be feared, some mischief, started up in a transport— “Then we’ll have a bonfire out in the field to-night, as high as the house, in spite of them,” cried John, “to-night’s Gunpowder Treason.” “Yes,” added George, “and we’ll burn Jemmy for Pope; I know a capital way to get his old wig.” “You’ll do no such thing, boys,” interrupted their father; “you may make your bonfire up to the moon if you will, but let Jemmy Boynton alone—we are quit of him now, and you shall give no occasion for any more brawls with him or Nanny either.” “With Nanny! no indeed!” and madam, clasping her hands, cast her eyes upward, rolling them in a very remarkable manner. The youths went out, and their father was following them, when a “Mr. Fayerweather, my dear,” stopped him short, and he turned round to his better half, who, he saw, was dying to make some very momentous communication. “Well, my dear, what is it? What have you to tell me?” “Oh, my dear, I meant to have told you before, but you were so full of business this morning that I had not a chance; but I think you ought to know.” Madam looked awful and mysterious. “Why, what was it? Did Nanny’s red cloak take another flight?” “La! no, my dear—you’ll never forget that, I believe—but this is what took place in our own kitchen, and I saw it with my own eyes.” “Well, what was it then? I am all impatience to know?”