As Quincy advanced he exchanged the compliments of the
season with the guests. Finally the Hon. Nathaniel and his son Quincy
stood facing Aunt Ella and Alice.
"Quincy," said his father, in slow, measured tones, "it gives me great
pleasure to present you to the, celebrated young author, Bruce Douglas."
Quincy bent low, and Alice inclined her head in acknowledgment. He
reached forward, clasped her hand in his and took his place by her
side. "Father, mother, and sisters," he cried, and there was a proud
tone in his clear, ringing voice, "there is still another presentation
to be made--that Christmas gift of which I spoke this morning at
breakfast. You see I hold this lady by the hand, which proves that we
are friends and not strangers. To her friends in the town of
Eastborough, where she was born, the daughter of an honest farmer, who
made a frugal living and no more, she was known by the name of Mary
Alice Pettengill. To the story and book-reading public of the United
States, she is known as Bruce Douglas, but to me she is known by the
sacred name of wife. I present to you as a Christmas gift, a daughter
and a sister.
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