He said, “Good morning, Miss Mason,” and then added with that tone which the society belle considers a matter of course, but which is so pleasing to the village maiden, “You look charming this morning, Miss Mason.  I don’t think our ride to-day could make your cheeks any redder than they are now.”  Huldy blushed, making her cheeks a still deeper crimson.  “I will be here at one o’clock with the team,” said Quincy.  “Will you be ready?”

“Yes,” answered Huldy softly.

Quincy raised his hat, and a moment later he was on his way to Eastborough Centre.

He walked briskly and thought he would stop at Uncle Ike’s and carry out the resolution he had made the night before, but as he turned up the path that led to the house he saw a man standing on the steps talking to Uncle Ike, who stood in the doorway.  The young man was Ezekiel Pettengill.  Shakespeare says,

     “’Tis conscience that makes cowards of us all,”

and although Quincy at heart was a gentleman, he also knew it was not quite right for him to take Miss Mason out riding again under the circumstances; but young men are often stubborn and Quincy felt a little stiff-necked and rebellious that morning.

He reached Eastborough Centre, mailed his father the letter relating to Jim Sawyer, and going to the stable, picked out the best rig it could supply.  He always had the same horse.  It was somewhat small in size, but a very plump, white mare; she was a good roadster and it was never necessary to touch her with the whip.  Shake it in the stock and she would not forget it for the next two miles.  The stable keeper told with much unction how two fellows hired her to go from Eastborough Centre to Montrose.  On their way home they had drunk quite freely at the latter place, and thought they would touch the mare up with the whip; they were in an open team and the result was that she left them at different points along the road and reached home with no further impediment to her career than the shafts and the front wheels.

Instead of coming back by the main road which led by Uncle Ike’s, Quincy went through by what was called The Willows, which increased the distance a couple of miles.  Nevertheless, it lacked five minutes of one o’clock when he drove up to Deacon Mason’s front door.

Huldy was all dressed for the occasion, and with a “Good-by, mother,” to Mrs. Mason, who was in the kitchen, was out the front door, helped into the team, and they were off just as the startled matron reached the parlor window.  Mrs. Mason returned to the kitchen and at that moment the Deacon came in from the barn.

“What’s the matter, mother?” asked the Deacon, noticing her excited and somewhat troubled look.

“Huldy is gone out riding again with Mr. Sawyer,” said she.

The Deacon was a good Christian man and didn’t swear, but he was evidently thinking deeply.  Finally he said, “Well, mother, we must make the best of it.  I’ll help him find a boarding place if he don’t get one by to-morrow.”