His face
was brown, but his beard was neatly trimmed, and his eyes bright. He
was a picture of robust, healthy manhood, and showed what he was,--a
hard-working, independent New England farmer. Alice sprang into his
arms and received a resounding smack. One hand grasped Quincy's while
the other encircled his dainty wife's waist, and he drew her towards
him.
"You have a fine farm," said Quincy.
"About as good as they make them," 'Zeke replied. "I've a good market
for all I can raise. Strout and Maxwell buy a great deal of garden
truck, and I sell considerable to Mrs. Hawkins direct. What I have
left we eat or give away."
Alice had taken young Quincy on her lap. He became communicative.
"I've got a grandpa and grandma and Uncle Abner."
"Abner isn't your uncle," said Alice. "I'm your Aunt Alice, and that
is your Uncle Quincy."
Ezekiel laughed. "You can't convince him but that Abner's his uncle.
Abner comes after him every afternoon and takes him down to the
Deacon's house and that gives Huldy a good chance to do my mending."
The sound of carriage wheels indicated new arrivals, and Huldah went
to the door to meet her father and mother.
"Have you got callers?" asked Mrs. Mason. "I don't think I'll go in.
I didn't dress up, but came just as I was."
"And I never saw you looking better," said Quincy, stepping into the
entry to meet them.
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