KENT KNOWLES: QUAHAUG By Joseph C. Lincoln 1914 CONTENTS CHAPTER I. Which is not a chapter at all II. Which repeats, for the most part, what Jim Campbell said to me and what I said to him III. Which, although it is largely family history, should not be skipped by the reader IV. In which Hephzy and I and the Plutonia sail together V. In which we view, and even mingle slightly with, the upper classes VI. In which we are received at Bancroft's Hotel and I receive a letter VII. In which a dream becomes a reality VIII. In which the pilgrims become tenants IX. In which we make the acquaintance of Mayberry and a portion of Burgleston Bogs X. In which I break all previous resolutions and make a new one XI. In which complications become more complicated XII. In which the truth is told at last XIII. In which Hephzy and I agree to live for each other XIV. In which I play golf and cross the channel XV. In which I learn that all abbeys are not churches XVI. In which I take my turn at playing the invalid XVII. In which I, as well as Mr. Solomon Cripps, am surprised XVIII. In which the pilgrimage ends where it began XIX. Which treats of quahaugs in general KENT KNOWLES: QUAHAUG CHAPTER I Which is Not a Chapter at All It was Asaph Tidditt who told me how to begin this history. Perhaps I should be very much obliged to Asaph; perhaps I shouldn't. He has gotten me out of a difficulty--or into one; I am far from certain which. Ordinarily--I am speaking now of the writing of swashbuckling romances, which is, or was, my trade--I swear I never have called it a profession--the beginning of a story is the least of the troubles connected with its manufacture. Given a character or two and a situation, the beginning of one of those romances is, or was, pretty likely to be something like this: “It was a black night. Heavy clouds had obscured the setting sun and now, as the clock in the great stone tower boomed twelve, the darkness was pitchy.” That is a good safe beginning. Midnight, a stone tower, a booming clock, and darkness make an appeal to the imagination. On a night like that almost anything may happen. A reader of one of my romances--and readers there must be, for the things did, and still do, sell to some extent--might be fairly certain that something WOULD happen before the end of the second page. After that the somethings continued to happen as fast as I could invent them.