“There's another good man dead—Deacon Mason,—and his wife has gone to live with her daughter, Mrs. Pettingill. That funny little man, Mr. Stiles, has gone there too.
“I saw Mrs. Hawkins, and she said: 'I mos' cried my eyes out when I heerd 'bout that collision at sea, an' what it did. I can't see no sense in them captains bein' so careless and reckless. Tell Miss Alice I wish she'd come home and bring that boy. I want ter see ef he looks like his father.'
“I came near forgetting what to me is the most important part of my letter. Harry has been appointed as Quincy's executor in place of Dr. Culver, and, this is the wonderful thing, father has induced Harry to leave Mr. Carter's office and go into his office. He told Harry that they were all getting old and they needed young blood in the firm—but Harry's not in the firm yet. No more this time from your loving,
“MAUDE MERRY.”
“My letter to Sarah did do some good,” said Aunt Ella triumphantly.
“Poor Uncle Ike, I wish I could have been with him. I wonder if I shall ever see Fernborough again?”
Aunt Ella did not answer the question as she would have liked to, and Alice went to her room to recall those former happy days which would never come again.
Nearly nine years had passed since young Quincy's birth, and Alice was still at Fernborough Hall. She could not leave it now, for Aunt Ella was again a widow. Her mind was troubled about her boy. He had recurrent attacks of throat trouble, and was not strong as she wished him to be.
“It's the damp, foggy weather,” said Aunt Ella. “We're too near the water, and this country, beautiful as it is, is not like our bright America.”
Dr. Parshefield suggested a trip to the South of France, but Alice declared that was impossible.