“Oh!” said Alice, laughing.  “You thought I was very ungenerous to leave you out of the question entirely.”

“Honestly I did think so,” remarked Quincy.

“Well, now,” said Alice, “I did it from the most generous of motives.  I thought you knew about the surprise party as well as I did.  I knew ’Zekiel would go with me and I thought that perhaps you had some other young lady in view for your companion.”

“What?” asked Quincy.  “Whom could I have had in view?”

“Shall I tell you whom I think?” asked Alice.

“I wish you would,” Quincy replied.

“Well,” said Alice, “I thought it might be Lindy Putnam.”

Quincy bit his lip and gave the reins a savage jerk, as he turned up the short road that led to the Pettengill house.  “What could make you think that, Miss Pettengill?”

“Well, I have only one reason to give,” Alice replied, “for that opinion, but the fact is, when we made our call on Mrs. Putnam she pounded on the floor three times with her crutch before you came upstairs.  Am I justified, Mr. Sawyer?”

“I’m afraid you are,” said Quincy.  “I should have thought so myself if I had been in your place.”

But when he reached his room he threw his letters on the table, his coat and hat on the bed, and thrusting his hands into his pockets, he walked rapidly up and down the room, saying to himself in a savage whisper, “Confound that Putnam girl; she is a hoodoo.”

Quincy was philosophical, and his excited feelings soon quieted down.  It would come out all right in the end.  Alice would find that he had not intended to take Miss Putnam to the surprise party.  He could not betray Lindy’s confidence just at that time, even to justify himself.  He must wait until Mrs. Putnam died.  It might be years from now before the time came to destroy that letter, and he could not, until then, disclose to Alice the secret that Lindy had confided to him.  Yes, it would come out all right in the end, for it might be if Alice thought he was in love with Lindy that she would give more thought to him.  He had read somewhere that oftentimes the best way to awaken a dormant love was to appear to fall in love with some one else.

Somewhat reconciled to the situation by his thoughts, he sat down to read his letters.  The first one that he took up was from the confectioner.  It informed him that his order would receive prompt attention, and the writer thanked him for past favors and solicited a continuance of the same.  The second was from Ernst.  It was short and to the point, and written in his characteristic style.  It said: 

“Dear Quincy:—­Pseudonym received.  Bruce Douglas is a name to conjure with.  It smacks of ‘Auld Lang Syne.’  The Scotch are the only people on the face of the earth who were never conquered.  You will remember, if you haven’t forgotten your ancient history, that the Roman general sent back word to his emperor that the d——­d country wasn’t worth conquering.  Enclosures also at hand.  The shorter ones are more songs than poems.  I will turn them over to a music publisher, who is a friend of mine.  Will report his decision later.