The Further Adventures of Quincy Adams Sawyer and Mason\'s Corner Folks
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Charles Felton Pidgin >> The Further Adventures of Quincy Adams Sawyer and Mason\'s Corner Folks
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"Some of us do not allow that," said Mr. Acton.
"I know it, and that causes the difficulty. Your relations with your
employees should be based upon trade agreements, legalized and
strongly adhered to by both sides."
"I have just come from a meeting of leading manufacturers," said Mr.
Acton, "and they wished me to express to you their urgent request, I
may say solicitation, that you will veto this bill."
After Mr. Acton's departure, Quincy rang for his secretary, to whom
he delivered the papers containing his official decisions.
Mr. Williams was renominated for the position that he had so long and
so ably filled.
As members of "The Industrial Expansion Commission" nine
manufacturers were named, one for each of the leading industries of
the State, chosen independent of known or presumed political
affiliations; Mr. Collingwood's name was not among them.
A vigorous veto of the bill giving a private corporation control of
public property was sent to the Senate.
The "peaceful picketing" bill was signed.
The door opened, and a pretty face looked in.
"Come in, Maude--I've just finished." As the secretary withdrew,
keeping his eyes fixed on the governor's youngest sister, she
advanced slowly into the room. The door closed automatically and
Maude tip-toed to her brother's side, returning his welcoming kiss.
"What's his name?" she asked, pointing towards the self-closing door.
"My secretary? Harry Merry," said Quincy, "but the press boys all
call him Sober Harry."
"I think he's just splendid," said the impulsive Maude--"such
beautiful eyes! But that isn't what I came for. I went up to your
house and just brought Alice down to ours, and she told me all about
the fine time you had and your speech. Will it be printed?"
"Mr. Sylvester Chisholm, editor of the Fernborough Gazette was there
and a faithful transcript of my feeble remarks will, no doubt, appear
in his paper."
"Feeble!" said Maude contemptuously. "Have you been doing feeble
things since you came back?"
"No, Maude, I have done some very strenuous things, and I shall be
glad to get home to my family."
Maude repeated, seriously,
"To make a happy fireside clime
For weans and wife
Is the true pathos, and sublime,
Of human life.
"But you are not going home," she continued,--"you are invited to
dinner with your respected pa and ma and your two young--"
"And beautiful sisters," added Quincy with a laugh. "I'll come, but
you must play the latest popular songs for me, and Alice will sing
'Sweet, Sweet Home,' and perhaps I can forget the cares of State--
until to-morrow, anyway."
Maude flounced out of the door tossing a kiss from the tips of her
fingers, to the astonishment of Sober Harry who had just entered, and
who wished, from the bottom of his heart, that the flying salutation
had been for him.
CHAPTER III
A VACATION AT FERNBOROUGH
The Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer did not dine at home that evening.
Quincy's mother said that he had gone to Salem but would return
later. After dinner the little company of five repaired to the
parlour. Maude sang negro melodies despite the protests of her
mother, and her sister Florence's assertion that they were only sung
at cheap variety shows.
"How do you know that?" cried Maude. "Did Reginald tell you?"
"Who is Reginald?" asked Quincy.
"Oh," said Maude, tossing her head, "he's Florence's latest. She met
him night before last--"
"Maude!" Her sister's voice was full of angry protest. "Don't say
another word."
"Such matters," said her mother mildly, "are not suitable subjects
for general conversation. There is a privacy about them which should
be respected."
"We'll leave Florence out of it, then," said Maude. "I met him at
Mrs. Dulton's reception. His name is Capt. Reginald Hornaby, and he's
the fourth son of Sir Wilfred Hornaby, of Hornaby Hook, Hornaby,
England--don't you know," and she winked spitefully at Florence.
"He told me all that himself," she continued, "so I know it must be
so. Won't it be nice to have a place in England where we can make
ourselves at home?"
"Aunt Ella will be glad to see you at any time," remarked Quincy.
"Why don't you go back with her? She'd be delighted."
"I would but for one thing," replied Maude. "I'm afraid I might fall
in love with an Englishman, and one title in the family is enough."
Alice interposed: "Aunt Ella has an English husband with a title."
"Yes," said Maude, "but he _has_ his title, while Reggie is four
blocks away from the fire."
"You're as big a tease as ever," and Quincy drew his favourite sister
towards him. "Don't plague Flossie any more. Think of your possible
fate. You may marry a Jap."
"I know a lovely little Jap, now. His name is Hioshato Konuka. Oh,
Alice, won't you stay all night? When are you going on your vacation,
Quincy?"
"In about ten days, if the legislature is prorogued by that time."
"Where are you going?" asked his mother.
"Alice wishes to go to Fernborough for a week or two, and then we
shall go to Nantucket."
"Will the Earl and Sir Stuart pay us a visit?" was the next question.
"I invited them in your name, mother, but Linda and Aunt Ella were
anxious to get back to their yacht at Nantucket. They will sail from
there to New York and take the steamer home next week."
"Is the Countess of Sussex' sister-in-law, the Lady Elfrida, married
yet?" asked Florence.
"I understand she is engaged," Quincy replied.
Maude was incorrigible. "Reggie told me she was practising deep
breathing, owing to the length of the Episcopal marriage service."
"Maude," said her mother sharply, "if you were not of age I should
send you to bed."
"I'm going. Alice, while Quincy runs up to the house to say that you
are not coming home, you come to my room. I've some pretty things to
show you."
As Quincy walked up Walnut Street, he saw a bright light in Dr.
Culver's window. He rang the bell, and the doctor himself came to the
door.
"Is that you, Quincy? Come in."
"Paul, how are you?"
"Fine as silk. Business is good, but I'm doing my best to keep the
undertakers out of a job. Have you read the evening papers?"
"I seldom do. I prefer to wait until morning." "The papers are
rapping you hard for signing that picketing bill, but the labour men
are delighted. You'll run ahead of your ticket sure next fall."
"I'm not going to run. One year is enough."
"Will Evans get the nomination? I won't vote for him. How are your
wife's eyes?"
"All right. She has better vision, now, than I have. We owe you a
great debt of gratitude for sending us to Dr. Tillotson."
"He's a wonder. He told me the other day that he is going to cure
what is called split retina, which has never been done."
Quincy bethought himself of the message he had to deliver and made a
hurried departure, first inviting the Doctor to dine with him the
next day. On his return to the Beacon Street house, he found his
father at home reading an evening paper.
"Quincy, I see that you vetoed that railroad bill."
"Yes, I did. I saw no reason why public property should be given to a
private corporation without compensation."
"The public would be compensated indirectly. I am a large stockholder
in the railroad, and, to speak plainly, I drew that bill myself. I
met Senator Downing and he says the bill will be passed over your
veto."
"I cannot help that, father. I did my duty as I saw it. If the bill
becomes a law without my signature, I cannot be blamed for future
developments."
The Hon. Nathaniel dropped the subject. "Quincy, I have purchased a
house in the country and shall go there in a few days. Won't you and
your wife pay us a short visit?"
"Certainly, we will. We are going to Fernborough for a few days and
then will drop in on you, before we go to Nantucket."
By the look on his father's face Quincy knew that he was
disappointed. The Hon. Nathaniel never liked "to play second fiddle."
Quincy hastened to rectify his mistake. "We can put it the other way
round, just as well. We'll come and see you before we go to
Fernborough."
"That will please me better, but, of course, you must not do it if
your wife objects."
"She will not object. She is upstairs, now, with Maude. Of course,
the girls are going."
"Yes, and I have invited Captain Hornaby, a very fine young man. But,
I must retire. I have a case in court to-morrow."
Quincy found both commendation and criticism in the morning papers.
His face wore its usual genial expression as he entered the elevator,
and Robert's "good morning" was particularly cheerful.
The Governor's first caller was Mr. Acton.
"You see," he began, "that your approval of the picketing bill is
receiving universal condemnation."
"Hardly," was the reply. "Two papers and the Governor sustain it and
the labour press and unions are yet to be heard from."
"We shall endeavour to secure a repeal of the bill next year. In the
meantime, we shall carry the matter to the courts."
"May the cause of truth and justice prevail in the end" was Quincy's
comment, and Mr. Acton took his departure in an uncomfortable state
of mind.
The day wore away. At three o'clock a vote was taken in the Senate
and the so-called Downing bill was passed over the veto. Not so, in
the House, for one newspaper, read by nearly all the working men, had
so strongly pointed out the nature of the "grab" proposed by the
bill, that the State House was besieged by its opponents, and the
veto was sustained by a narrow margin.
About five o'clock, Mr. Evans and Senator Downing were dining in a
private room at a hotel. "So, the Governor won't run again," said the
Senator.
"He so informed me yesterday. He may change his mind."
"You're not satisfied with things as they are," remarked the Senator.
"No," replied the lieutenant-governor, "I'm disgusted with the
Williams matter. When I'm governor, I'll request his resignation."
"And when you're governor, we'll put my bill through. Do you know the
Governor's father is one of our heaviest stockholders? We'll have our
way yet."
Within a week the legislature was prorogued. The House had a mock
session, during which partisanship, and private victories and defeats
were forgotten, for the time at least, and the fun was jolly and
hearty.
Ben Ropes, the funny man of the House, but a member of the minority,
convulsed all by announcing his candidacy for the governorship, with
the understanding that no money was to be spent, no speakers engaged,
the question to be settled by joint debates between the opposing
candidates. Every member of the House arose, and amid wild cheers,
pledged him their support.
The Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer's estate at Redford comprised some
eighty acres. Within five minutes' walk of the house was a sheet of
water covering fully fifty acres known as Simmons' Pond. On the
farther side of the pond were a few cottages and near them a tent
indicating the presence of a camping party.
"Next year," said the Hon. Nathaniel to Quincy as they stood on the
shore of the pond, "I am going to buy some twenty acres on the other
side of the pond. Then I shall own all the land surrounding it, and
my estate will be worthy of the name which I have given it--Wideview--
for nobody's else property will obstruct my view in any direction. I
shall name this," and he pointed to the pond, "Florence Lake after my
eldest daughter. What do you think of Captain Hornaby?"
Quincy hesitated--"He's a typical Englishman--healthy, hearty, but
with that English conceit that always grates on my nerves."
"Are we Americans free from it?" his father asked. "To my mind,
conceit is often but the indication of self-conscious power. Its
possessors never acknowledge defeat I have always had that feeling in
my law practice."
Quincy changed the subject, "What have you in the boat house?"
"Canoes--three canoes. I have ordered a large row-boat but it is not
ready yet. When I own the 'lake' and the land beyond, my residence
will stand in the centre of my estate. I shall retire from practice
in a few years, and spend my last days here. We all have to go back
to the soil and I am going to make my progress gradual."
"Won't you find it rather dull here after so long an active life in
the city?"
"Not dull, but quiet," was the dignified response. "I shall pass my
time surveying the beauties of Nature to which, to my discredit, I
have been so long oblivious; then, I shall commune with the great
minds in literature, and read the latest law reports."
Quincy wondered whether Nature, literature, or law would be his
father's most appreciated relaxation, but inclined to the latter.
The next morning Maude exclaimed: "Let's have some fun. What shall we
do?"
"There are three canoes in the boat house," said Quincy, "why not a
row on the pond?"
"Fine!" cried Maude. "Quincy, you are a man of ideas."
Captain Hornaby had asked Florence to go with him and she had
willingly consented. This emboldened Harry Merry, who had come down
from the State House with the Governor's correspondence, and he,
rather bashfully, requested Maude's company in the third canoe.
"Can you swim?" she asked.
"I learned when a boy," said Harry.
"All right. I don't believe the style has changed much since then. I
wouldn't go with you unless you could swim. It would be too great a
responsibility."
Harry thought to himself that he would be willing to swim ashore with
such a "responsibility" in his arms.
Maude turned to the Captain: "Can you swim, Captain Hornaby?"
"Of course, Miss Maude. We Englishmen are all sea dogs, don't you
know?"
"But Englishmen are drowned sometimes," said Maude. "How about
Admiral Kempenfelt and the Royal George? See Fourth Class Reader for
full particulars in verse."
The three couples were soon afloat--Quincy and Alice, Captain Hornaby
and Florence, Harry and Maude.
"Let's have a race," cried Maude. "To that big white rock down
there," and she pointed to the farther end of the pond. Harry took
the lead with short, swift strokes, but the long, steady paddling of
Captain Hornaby gained on him steadily, and to Maude's disgust the
Captain reached the rock first, Harry being a close second, and
Quincy a late third.
Maude was excited. "Let's race back to the boat house. A prize for
the first one who reaches it."
"What will be the prize?" asked the Captain.
Maude saw that Harry needed encouragement.
"I haven't anything with me but kisses and only one of them to
spare."
Harry shut his teeth with a snap. He was going to win that race.
As they were nearing the boat house Harry was in the lead, the
Captain close behind, with Quincy following leisurely. This was a
young people's race--married men barred. For some unexplainable
reason Captain Hornaby tried to cross Harry's bow. The project was
ill-timed and unsuccessful. Harry had just made a spurt and his canoe
went forward so fast that the Captain's boat, instead of clearing
his, struck it full in the side and Harry and Maude were thrown into
the water. Florence, who really loved her sister despite their many
quarrels, gave a loud scream and stood up in the boat. Her action was
fatal to its equilibrium, and the Captain and she were soon in the
water's embrace.
The accident occurred about two hundred feet from the shore where the
water was deep. Captain Hornaby grasped Florence and struck out for
the boat house float. She had fainted and did not impede him by
struggling.
Harry had essayed to bear Maude ashore, but she broke away from him
and swam vigorously towards land, Harry in pursuit.
"Don't worry, Alice," said Quincy. "They are not in danger."
"But, Quincy, suppose it had been our boat." "If it had been," said
he, "you would be as safe in my arms as Florence is in those of the
Captain, providing you did not struggle."
Harry exerted his full strength and skill to overtake Maude, but she,
flushed with the excitement, her thin costume clinging close to her
form, reached the bank some twenty feet ahead of him.
"I had to do it," she cried, "and I suppose I must deliver the prize
by kissing myself."
Then her exuberant nature gave way, and she sank helpless to the
ground. Harry did not envy the Captain who was carrying Florence in
his arms, for was not Maude in his?
In the evening as they sat upon the veranda watching the dying
glories of the sun, Quincy said to Maude, "Why didn't you let Harry
bring you ashore?"
"The idea of it," she exclaimed. "And be under obligations to him--
not on your life. Think of poor Florence. If that Captain asks her to
marry him she must accept because he saved her life."
Later, when the sun had set, and the moonbeams silvered the surface
of the pond, Harry mustered up courage to ask Maude what she meant
when she said it was too great a responsibility to go out canoeing
with a man who couldn't swim.
"Why, I meant if you couldn't swim it might be a great job for me to
get you ashore. I knew I could take care of myself all right."
At the other end of the veranda the Hon. Nathaniel and Captain
Hornaby were engaged in conversation. The Captain was not asking the
Hon. Nathaniel for the hand of his daughter Florence but, instead,
for a loan, giving as his reason that when he threw off his coat his
letters of credit to the value of five hundred pounds went to the
bottom of the pond.
"I shall have to write home to my brother, the Earl, for other
letters, and it will take some time for them to reach me."
[Illustration: "'IF YOU WILL GIVE ME YOUR NOTE AT THIRTY DAYS I WILL
LET YOU HAVE THE FIVE HUNDRED.'"]
"You are at liberty to remain here until you receive word," said the
cautious Hon. Nathaniel.
"I appreciate your great kindness," said the Captain, "but I must
visit New York and Chicago at an early day."
"How much will supply your present need?" asked the lawyer.
"I had expected my trip would cost me at least five hundred dollars."
"If you will give me your note at thirty days I will let you have the
five hundred. I will bring it down to-morrow night."
On the second day following, the Captain took an apparently very
reluctant departure.
A week later Quincy and Alice were in Boston making preparations for
their trip to Fernborough.
"I am going to buy the tickets this morning, Alice--we must have
seats in a parlour car. How shall we go--to Cottonton or Eastborough
Centre?"
"To Eastborough surely," said Alice. "We will drive over the old
road. Do you remember the day that you took me to see Aunt Heppy
Putnam after her husband died?"
"Alice, every day I passed at Mason's Corner near you was like Heaven
to me, and, now, for a week or more I mean to live in Paradise again.
What a joy it will be to see the old scenes and faces, hear the
familiar voices, and remember the happy days we have had there."
"I'm afraid, Quincy, some of the charm has departed. Things have
changed, and, in spite of our resolves, we change with them."
When they alighted at Eastborough Centre, Ellis Smith stood there
with his carriage.
"How do you do, Ellis, and how's your brother Abbott? Will you take
us to the Hawkins House?" said Quincy. Turning to his wife, he added,
"Mrs. Rawkins is a good cook--her rooms are large and clean. We can
go a visiting during the day and have quiet times by ourselves when
we wish." His wife nodded her acquiescence with the plan proposed.
"Ellis, can you handle those two big trunks alone?"
"Yes, Guv'nor. I'm a leetle bit heavier built than Abbott."
Quincy drew Alice's attention to the Eagle Hotel.
"There's where we hatched the plot that downed Mr. Obadiah Strout,
when he was an enemy of mine. Say, Ellis, drive up by the Poor House,
through the Willows, and then back down the Centre Road to Mason
Street. That will carry us by some of the old landmarks."
As they passed the Poor House they saw "pussy" Mr. Waters, sitting on
the piazza and Sam standing in the barn doorway.
"There's where my Uncle James died," said Quincy. "Did I ever tell
you, Alice, that he left some money and it went to found the Sawyer
Public Library? He made me promise not to tell that he left any, and
it has always troubled me to receive a credit that really was not my
due."
"But you could have kept the money, couldn't you?"
"Oh, yes. He gave it to me outright."
"Then I think you are entitled to full credit for the good use you
made of it."
"Looking at it that way, perhaps you are right, Alice. Here are the
Willows."
"What a lonely place."
"You didn't think so, Alice, when we used to drive through here."
"I was blind then and couldn't see except with your eyes. You didn't
say it was lonesome."
"How could I say so, when I was with you?"
Alice squeezed his hand lovingly.
As they turned into Mason Street, Quincy exclaimed: "There's where
Uncle Ike's chicken coop stood until he set it on fire."
"Did he set it on fire?" cried Alice.
"Now I've let out another promised secret. Can you see 'Zeke's house
ahead?"
"Yes, how inviting the old place looks. I'm glad Hiram Maxwell has
it, for we can sit in the old parlour and sing duets as we used to."
"Now we're going up Obed's Hill," said Quincy. "Deacon Mason's house
looks as neat as ever."
"Do you remember when Huldah Mason broke her arm, Quincy?"
"Do not remind me of that, Alice. I was never in love with her, but
no one could help liking her. There's the grocery store in which I am
a silent partner"--he paused a moment--"and here we are at the
Hawkins House."
As Ellis Smith reined up, the front door was opened and Mrs. Hawkins
came out to meet her guests. "I got your letter, an' I know'd it was
you. How be ye both? Seems like old times. Come right in the parlour.
I've got the curtains down so as to keep it cool," and the delighted
woman led the way into the house. In the hallway, she screamed,
"Jonas! Jonas! Hurry up and pick those chickens. Guv'nor Sawyer and
Alice are here."
CHAPTER IV
THE HAWKINS HOUSE
The converting of Mrs. Hawkins' boarding house into a hotel had been
due to two causes: First, the thrift and economy of the lady herself,
which had enabled her to put by a good sum in the bank. This she
expended in building an ell with extra sleeping rooms, painting the
structure cream colour with brown trimmings, and replacing old
furniture with that of modern make. This latter, she confessed within
a year, was a great mistake, for the new chairs became rickety, the
castors would not hold in the bed posts, the bureau drawers became
unmanageable, and the rooms, as she expressed it, had a "second-hand"
appearance. Then it was that the old mahogany furniture, that had
been relegated to the attic, was brought down, furbished up, and
restored to its original place. When Quincy entered the room which he
had formerly occupied, it did not seem possible that five years had
elapsed.
The second cause that had led Mrs. Hawkins to change the small and
modest sign--"Rooms and Board"--which had been in the front window
for years, for a large swinging sign over the front door--"Hawkins
House"--having large gold letters on a blue ground--was the rapid
growth of the town. Many new mills had been erected in the
neighbouring city of Cottonton. The operatives being unable to obtain
suitable accommodations in the city, had come to Fernborough to live,
where they could have gardens, fresh air, and playgrounds for their
children. Fernborough became to Cottonton what Methuen is to
Lawrence. Mrs. Hawkins was democratic, but shirt-sleeves and Prince
Albert coats did not look well together, so she had turned what had
been her sitting room into a private dining room, and it was here
that what she called her "star boarders" were served.
By the time Quincy and Alice had opened their trunks, and distributed
the contents in the capacious closet and deep, roomy bureau drawers,
the cheerful tones of the dinner bell were heard, and they descended
to the private room.
They were its only occupants.
"I thought as how you might be hungry after so long a ride an' so I
just hurried Jonas up so you could begin afore the crowd came in. I
don't introduce folks now I run a hotel. If they gets acquainted it's
their lookout not mine," and Mrs. Hawkins and Olive brought in the
fare from the adjoining kitchen.
Such a meal for hungry people! Lamb broth, roast chicken, yeast
biscuit, potatoes, string beans, cucumbers, lettuce, berry pie,
blackberries, currants, frosted cake, with tea, coffee, or cocoa.
"What does she charge?" asked Alice in a whisper when they were
alone.
"A dollar a day for room and board--three square meals for board."
After dinner they went into the parlour, where Mrs. Hawkins joined
them.
"I jest told Jonas he must help Olive wash the dishes to-day, for I
hain't seen ye for so long I'm just dyin' to have a talk with yer,
'cause I s'pose you'll eat and run while yer here, you know so many
folks."
"We haven't much to tell about ourselves," said Quincy. "What we want
to know is how Fernborough folks are getting along."
"Wall, I s'pos'd you'd like to hear what's goin' on 'round here, an'
p'raps I can tell yer some things that other folks mightn't mention,
'cause they'd forgot it, or p'raps wouldn't want to tell. Is that
cheer comfortable, Alice? I s'pose I ought to say Misses Guv'nor
Sawyer, but it don't come nat'ral, I've known yer so long."
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