Quincy was no dude; he had been prominent in all college athletic games;
he had been a member of the 'varsity eight in one of its contests with
Yale, and had won a game for Harvard with Yale at base ball by making a
home run in the tenth inning on a tied score. He was a good musician and
fine singer. In addition he was a graceful dancer, and had taken lessons
in boxing, until his feather-weight teacher suggested that he had better
find a heavy-weight instructor to practise on.
Quincy was in his twenty-third year. He had been in love a dozen times,
but, as he expressed it, had been saved from matrimony by getting
acquainted with a prettier girl just as he was on the point of popping
the question.
But we left him walking along on his way to Eastborough Centre. Deacon
Mason had told him Uncle Ike's house was away from the road, some
hundred feet back, and that he could not mistake it, as he could see the
chicken coop from the road. He finally reached it after traversing about
a mile and a half, it being another mile and a half to Eastborough
Centre.
He found the path that led to the house.
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