“It was not so intended, Sir Knight,” responded Alice brightly; “so I will make amends by answering your query.  If you return successful, tell me what you would prize the most, and even if it be half my kingdom, it shall be yours.”

“I am content, but modern locomotives do not wait even for gallant knights of old.  So adieu.”

He quitted the room, and Alice stood where he had left her until she heard the rumble of wheels as he drove off for the station; then she found her way to her chair before the fire, and her mind wove the outline of a romantic story, in which there was a gallant knight and a lovely maiden.  But in her story the prize that the knight asked when he returned successful from his quest was the heart and hand of the lovely maiden.

Jim Cobb went over to Eastborough Centre, so as to drive the team back.  Before going to the station, Quincy stepped into the post office and found a letter addressed to him in a peculiar, but familiar, handwriting.

“From Aunt Ella,” he said.  “I will read it after I get on the train.”

Quincy’s Aunt Ella was Mrs. Robert Chessman, his mother’s widowed sister.

As soon as the train started Quincy opened his letter.  It was short and to the point.

“My dear Quincy:—­Maude gave me your address.  What are you doing in a miserable, little country town in the winter?  They are bad enough in the summer, but in March!—­’Bah!  Come and see me at once, you naughty boy!  Aunt Ella.”

“Dated yesterday,” said Quincy; “how fortunate.  I will go up to Mt.  Vernon Street to-morrow noon and take lunch with her.”

When Quincy reached Boston he went directly to his father’s office.  The Hon. Mr. Sawyer was not present, but his partners, Mr. Franklin Crowninshield and Mr. Atherton Lawrence, were busily engaged.  Quincy took a seat at the desk which, he had occupied before going to Eastborough, and wrote out his advertisement for the New York “Herald.”  It read as follows:  “Linda.  Important paper discovered; communicate at once with Q.A.S., Eastborough.”

He enclosed a check to cover a fortnight’s insertion; then walked down State Street to the post office to mail his letter.  When he returned, Mr. Lawrence informed him that his father was in his private office.  His father greeted him pleasantly, but not effusively; in fact, any marked exhibition of approval or disapproval was foreign to the Sawyer character, while the Quincys were equally notable for their reticence and imperturbability.

“When shall we have the pleasure of your continued presence at home?” asked the father.

“To-night,” replied Quincy, with a smile, “I shall be with you at dinner, stay all night, and take breakfast with you.”

“I trust your long visit will not oblige you to neglect other more important matters,” said the father.

“Oh, no!” answered Quincy.  “I have looked out for that.”