“That is what they call a December and May marriage,” remarked Alice.
“Not quite as bad as that,” said the Deacon. “I should say about October and March.”
It was a jolly company that sat down to a well-filled table that evening. Quincy's first coming to town, and his exciting experiences during his four months' residence at Mason's Corner, formed the principal topics of conversation, and Alice appreciated more fully than ever her husband's persistency, which had shown itself as strongly in doing good to others as it had in manifesting love for herself.
When they reached the Hawkins House Mrs. Hawkins was on the watch for them.
“There's a young man here to see you, Mr. Sawyer. He came on the train to Cottonton and my man Andrew brought him over. I told him you wouldn't be home till late and I sent him off to bed. Was that all right?”
“I can tell better,” said Quincy, “when I find out who he is and what he wants.”
“He said his name was Gerry or Ferry or something like that. He's kind of bashful, I 'magine.”
“It's Merry,” Quincy exclaimed. “Something has turned up at the State House, but it will keep till morning.”
As they were ascending the stairs, Mrs. Hawkins called out, “Oh, Mr. Sawyer, there was a letter came for you. It's up in your room.”
It was from Maude. “Let us see what that volatile sister of mine has to say. Something very important or she wouldn't write.” As he opened the note sheet, he turned to his wife. “Shall I read it aloud?”