When coffee was served, Toastmaster Obadiah Strout, Esq., arose, and the eyes of banqueters and sightseers were turned toward him.

“This is a glorious day in the history of our town,” the toastmaster began, “The pleasant duty has fallen to me of proposing the toasts to which we shall drink, and of introducing our honored guests one by one.  I know that words of advice and encouragement will come from them.  But before I perform the duties that have been allotted to me, it is my privilege to make a short address.  Instead of doing so, I shall tell you a little story, and it will be a different kind of a story from what I have been in the habit of telling.”

This remark caused an audible titter to arise from some of the auditors in the galleries, and Abner Stiles, who was sitting behind Mrs. Hawkins, leaned over and said to her, “I guess he’s goin’ to tell a true story.”

The toastmaster continued:  “More than six years ago a young man from the city arrived in this town.  It was given out that he came down here for his health, but he wasn’t so sick but that he could begin to take an active part in town affairs as soon as he got here.  They say confession is good for the soul, and I’m goin’ to confess that I didn’t take to this young man.  I thought he was a city swell, who had come down here to show off, and in company with several friends, who looked at his visit down here about the same as I did, we did all we could for a couple of months to try and drive him out of town.  Now I am comin’ to the point that I want to make.  If we had let him alone the chances are that he wouldn’t have stayed here more than a month any way.  Now, s’posen he had gone home at the end of the month; in that case he never would have met the lady who sits by his side to-night, and who by her marriage has added new lustre to her native town.  If he had not remained, she never would have written those stories which are known the world over, and I tell you, fellow-citizens, that in writing Blennerhassett, An American Countess, The Majesty of the Law, and The Street Boy, she has done more to make this town famous than all the men who were ever born in it.”

The speaker paused and drank a glass of water, while cheers and applause came from all parts of the gallery.  Abner Stiles apparently forgot his surroundings, and, thinking probably that it was a political rally, called out, “Three cheers for Alice Pettengill”! which were given with a will, much to his delight, and the surprise of the banqueters.

The toastmaster resumed:  “If he had gone away disgusted with the town and its people, he never would have found out who Linda Putnam really was, and she, consequently, would never have been what she is to-day, a peeress of England and the great benefactress of this town, a lady who will always have our deepest affection and most sincere gratitude.”

Again the orator paused, and the audience arose to its feet.  Applause, cheers, and the waving of handkerchiefs attested that the speaker’s words had voiced the popular feeling.  Once more Abner Stiles’s voice rose above the din, and three cheers for “Lindy Putnam, Countess of Sussex,” were given with such a will that the band outside caught the enthusiasm and played “God Save the Queen,” which most of the audience supposed was “America.”