“Certainly,” said Quincy; “and you are not working to-day.”

“No,” replied Leopold; “loafing and enjoying it, too.  I’ve a good mind to turn vagrant and loaf on, loaf ever.”

“Come down to Parker’s and have dinner with me.”

“Can’t do it,” replied Leopold; “my stomach is loafing, too.  ’Twouldn’t be fair to make it work and do nothing myself.  Just as much obliged.  Some other day.  Don’t forget the book,” he cried, as Quincy left the room.

Quincy took his dinner at Parker’s, caught the five minutes past six express, and reached Eastborough Centre at half-past seven.  Abbott Smith drove him home to the Pettengill house.

The next day was Friday.  Everybody at Mason’s Corner, with quite a number from Eastborough and Montrose, came to Mrs. Putnam’s funeral.  The little Square in front of the church, as well as the shed, was filled with teams.  While waiting for the arrival of the body, quite a number of the male residents of Mason’s Corner were gathered upon the steps of the church.

Strout spied Abner Stiles and approached him.  “Bob Wood has jest told me,” said the Professor, “that he has decided not to leave his present place, so I’ve concluded on second thoughts to give yer that job at the grocery store.”

Abner’s eyes twinkled.

“I’ve had my second thoughts, too,” said he, “I’ve hired out to Deacon Mason for life, and if I jine the church he says I can work for him in the next world.  So I kinder guess I shall have to decline yer kind invitation to lift boxes and roll barrels.”

When the services were over every person in the church passed up the centre aisle to take a last view.  Her husband had been buried in the Montrose cemetery, and she had told Mr. Tilton that she was to be laid by his side.  The Eastborough cemetery was in West Eastborough, and for that reason many of the late residents of Mason’s Corner slept their last sleep at Montrose.

As they stood by the coffin, Alice said, “How does she look?”

“Very pleasant,” replied Quincy; “there is a sweet smile upon her face.”

“I am so glad,” said Alice.  She pressed his arm a little tighter, and looking up to him, she said, “Perhaps she has met her boy, and that smile is but the earthly reflection of the heavenly one that rests upon her face in her home above.”

“I hope so,” replied Quincy; and they walked slowly out of church and took their places on the rear seat of the Pettengill carryall, Ezekiel and Uncle Ike sitting in front.

Mandy Skinner and Mrs. Crowley had not gone to the funeral The latter was busy skimming cream from a dozen large milk pans, while Mandy sat before the kitchen stove, with Swiss by her side.  She was thinking of Hiram, and wondering if he really intended to ask her to marry him.

“I don’t think he’s been foolin’ me, but now he’s goin’ into business I should think it was about time for him to speak up or quit.”