“So he is. So am I. But we grew on different bushes.” Feeling that he did not wish to confess that jealousy of others' attainments was the real foundation of his hostility, Mr. Strout took his departure. Two hours later Mrs. Strout was delighted at receiving a call from Miss Maude Sawyer and the Governor's wife.
Quincy wished to have a talk with 'Zekiel about Uncle Ike, so he walked over to the old Putnam house. He had asked his wife to accompany him, but she declined.
“That house gives me the shivers,” she had said. “I never can forget the ordeal I went through the day that Aunt Heppy died. I gave the house to 'Zekiel because I never could have lived in it. Maude and I are going to call on Mrs. Strout.”
Quincy found 'Zekiel in the barn, and broached the matter on his mind at once.
“I'm glad you spoke of it,” said 'Zekiel. “I was over to Mandy's yesterday and Uncle Ike wants to come and live with us. Not that he's dissatisfied where he is, for he likes Mandy and the children, and they do everything to make him comfortable—but it's the stairs. He wants to eat with the others; he says he feels like a prisoner cooped up in one room. We have a spare room on the ground floor that old Silas Putnam used to sleep in. I'm only afraid of one thing—'twill be too much care for Huldah. If I could get some one to help her with the work, she'd be glad and willing to look after Uncle Ike.” “We must find some way out of it,” said Quincy, as they parted.
His next visit was to the home of Arthur Scates. He found the young man in bed and in a very weak condition.
“He's had two o' them bleedin' spells,” said his grandmother, “an' las' night I thought sure he was a goner. But I giv him some speerits of ammony and he perked up a little. Yer see, Mr. Sawyer, we're poor, an' it's no use tryin' to cover it up, an' I can't give Arthur the kind of vittles he ought to have. He wants nourishin' things an'”—The old lady's feelings overcame her and she began to cry. “I'm ashamed of myself, but I can't help it. He's my only son's boy, and he's an orphan, an' wuss. I'm sixty years old, but I can do a day's work with any of the young ones, but I can't leave him alone. I should have a conniption fit if I did.”
Quincy thought it advisable to allow the old lady to have her say out before replying.
“Mrs. Scates, I think there are brighter days coming for you.”
“The Lord knows I have prayed hard enough for 'em.” Quincy spoke to Arthur. “I expected to see you in Boston, but I suppose you were in too poor health to come.”