Huldah saw them coming and ran down
the path to meet them.
"Why, when did you come, and where are your things? You are surely
going to stay with us."
"Our headquarters are at the Hawkins House," said Quincy. "We have
been in town but a few hours and you have the first visit."
"I am so disappointed you aren't to be with us," and Huldah's face
showed the feeling she had expressed.
"You won't be when I give you our reasons," Quincy replied. "Mrs.
Putnam died in this house, and Alice has such a vivid recollection of
her last day on earth--"
"I understand," said Huldah, "but you must come and see us every
day."
"Where's Ezekiel?" asked Alice.
"Getting in his last load of hay--about sixty tons this year. We only
had thirty a year ago."
"Where's my namesake--Quincy Adams Pettingill?"
"He goes every day to see his grandpa and grandma. Abner will be here
with him soon."
When they reached the piazza, Quincy took a good view of the farm.
What a contrast to the condition it had been in, when occupied by the
Putnams! Then everything had been neglected--now garden, field, and
orchard showed a high state of cultivation, and the house and
outbuildings were in good repair and freshly painted. Inside, the
careful attention of a competent housekeeper was apparent. Huldah
Pettingill was a finer looking woman than Huldah Mason had been, but
Quincy had never forgotten how pretty she looked the day she lay in
bed with the plaster cast on her broken arm--the result of the
accident for which he had taken the blame belonging to another.
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