FullReads

“We all think so,” said Tom Aldis with fine candor. “It seems odd to see you here.”

“Uncle Ezra, this is Mr. Aldis that I have been telling you about, who was down at our place so long in the fall,” explained Nancy, turning to look appealingly at her stern companion. “Mr. Aldis had to remain with a friend who had sprained his ankle. Is Mr. Carew quite well now?” she turned again to ask.

“Oh yes,” answered Tom. “I saw him last week; he’s in New York this winter. But where are you staying, Nancy?” he asked eagerly, with a hopeful glance at uncle Ezra. “I should like to take you somewhere this afternoon. This is your first visit, isn’t it? Couldn’t you go to see Rip Van Winkle to-morrow? It’s the very best thing there is just now. Jefferson’s playing this week.”

“Our folks ain’t in the habit of attending theatres, sir,” said uncle Ezra, checking this innocent plan as effectually as an untracked horse-car was stopping traffic in the narrow street. He looked over his shoulder to see if there were any room to turn, but was disappointed.

Tom Aldis gave a glance, also, and was happily reassured; the street was getting fuller behind them every moment. “I beg you to excuse me, sir,” he said gallantly to the old man. “Do you think of anything else that Miss Gale ought to see? There is the Art Museum, if she hasn’t been there already; all the pictures and statues and Egyptian things, you know.”

There was much deference and courtesy in the young man’s behavior to his senior. Uncle Ezra responded by a less suspicious look at him, but seemed to be considering this new proposition before he spoke. Uncle Ezra was evidently of the opinion that while it might be a misfortune to be an old man, it was a fault to be a young one and good looking where girls were concerned. “Miss Gale’s father and mother showed me so much kindness,” Tom explained, seizing his moment of advantage, “I should like to be of some use: it may not be convenient for you to come into town again in this cold weather.”

“Our folks have plenty to do all the time, that’s a fact,” acknowledged uncle Ezra less grimly, while Nancy managed to show the light of a very knowing little smile. “I don’t know but she’d like to have a city man show her about, anyways. ‘T ain’t but four miles an’ a half out to our place, the way we come, but while this weather holds I don’t calculate to get into Boston more ‘n once a week. I fetch all my stuff in to the Quincy Market myself, an’ I’ve got to come in day after to-morrow mornin’, but not till late, with a barrel o’ nice winter pears I’ve been a-savin’. I can set the barrel right for’ard in the sleigh here, and I do’ know but I can fetch Nancy as well as not. But how’d ye get home, Nancy? Could ye walk over to our place from the Milton depot, or couldn’t ye?”

“Why, of course I could!” answered his niece, with a joy calmed by discretion.

“‘T ain’t but a mile an’ three quarters; ‘t won’t hurt a State ‘o Maine girl,” said the old man, smiling under his great cap, so that his cold, shrewd eyes suddenly grew blue and boyish. “I know all about ye now, Mr. Aldis; I used to be well acquainted with your grandfather. Much obliged to you. Yes, I’ll fetch Nancy. I’ll leave her right up there to the Missionary Building, corner o’ Somerset Street. She can wait in the bookstore; it’s liable to be open early. After I get through business to-day, I’m goin’ to leave the hoss, an’ let her see Faneuil Hall, an’ the market o’ course, and I don’t know but we shall stop in to the Old South Church; or you can show her that, an’ tell her about any other curiosities, if we don’t have time.”