“Will you allow me to make a suggestion, Miss Pettengill?”

Alice smiled and nodded.  “You are my literary as well as my financial adviser,” said she.

“It will no doubt appear quite an undertaking to you,” continued Quincy, “but I shall be very glad to help you.  My plan is to secure a lady who reads well and can write a good hand to assist you.  Besides this, she must understand correcting proof sheets.  I think Leopold could easily find such a person for you.  Then, again, you know what Dr. Tillotson said about your taking exercise and fresh air.  The second feature of my plan, and the most important in my mind, is to find some quiet place in the country, or at the beach, where you and your amanuensis can both work and play.  I can buy for you such books as you need, and you can finish the work this summer.”

Alice reflected.  After a few moments’ pause she said, “I like the plan and I thank you very much for speaking of it; but I prefer the beach.  I love the plash and roar and boom of the water, and it will be a constant inspiration to me.  How soon can I go?” she asked, with a look upon her face that a young child might have had in speaking to its father.

This was Alice Pettengill’s great charm.  She was honest and disingenuous, and was always ready to think that what others deemed it best for her to do was really so.  Imitation may be the sincerest flattery, but appreciation of the advice and counsel of others, combined with gratitude for the friendly spirit that prompts it, makes and holds more friends.

Quincy looked at his watch.

“I can get the afternoon train, I think,” said he.  “I will see Leopold, and then run up and make Aunt Ella a call.  She knows the New England coast from Eastport to Newport.  Did she speak to you at the wedding?”

“Some lady with a very pleasant voice asked me if I were Miss Pettengill, while we were in the church,” replied Alice.  “I said yes, and then she told me that her name was Chessman, adding the information that she was your aunt, and that you could tell me all about her.”

“I shall be happy to,” said Quincy; “but I can assure you it would be much more enjoyable for you to hear it from herself.  I hope you will have that pleasure some day.”  And again adopting a bantering tone, “I trust, fair lady, I shall not return this time from a bootless errand.”

Alice listened again, as she had often done, until she heard the sound of departing wheels, and then she fell to wondering whether her future paths in life would continue to be marked out by this Sir Knight, who was ever at her beck and call, and whether it was her destiny to always tread the paths that he laid out for her.

Quincy was fortunate in finding Leopold at home.

“I’m glad you’ve come, Quincy,” said he; “I was going to write you to-night.”

“What’s up?” inquired Quincy.

“Please pass me that package of papers on the corner of the table,” answered Leopold, being loath to rise from his recumbent position on the lounge.