“I gave the long poem to Francis Lippitt, the well-known composer, and he is delighted with it and wishes to set it to music.  He is great on grand choruses, Bach fugues, and such like.  If he sets it to music he will have it sung by the Handel and Haydn Society, for he is a great gun among them just now.  The eight stories have reached New York by this time, and Jameson is reading ‘Her Native Land.’

“With best regards to Mr. Bruce Douglas and yourself.

Leopold Ernst.

The third letter was from the Adjutant-General’s office, and Quincy smiled as he finished the first sheet, folded it up and replaced it in the envelope.  As he read the second the smile left his face.  “Who would have thought it?” he said to himself.  “Well, after all, heroes are made out of strange material.  He is the man for my money and I’ll back him up, and beat that braggart.”

On the following Sunday, after dinner, Quincy had a chat with Uncle Ike.  He took the opportunity of asking the old gentleman if he was fully satisfied with the progress towards recovery that his niece was making.

“I don’t see that she is making any progress,” said Uncle Ike frankly.  “I don’t think she can see a bit better than she could when she came home.  In fact, I don’t think she can see as well.  She had a pair of glasses made of black rubber, with a pinhole in the centre of them, that she could read a little with, but I notice now that she never puts them on.”

“Well,” remarked Quincy, “perhaps I have taken an unwarrantable liberty, Uncle Ike; but when I was last in Boston I heard of a new doctor who has made some wonderful cures, and I have engaged him to come down here next week and see your niece.  Of course, if you object I will write to him not to come, and no harm will be done.”

Quincy did not think it necessary to state that he had paid the doctor his fee of one hundred dollars in advance.

“Well,” said Uncle Ike, “I certainly sha’n’t object, if the doctor can do her any good.  But I should like to know something about the course of treatment, the nature of it, I mean, before she gives up her present doctor.”

“That’s just what I mean,” said Quincy.  “I want you to be so kind as to take this whole matter off my hands, just as though I had made the arrangement at your suggestion.  I am going down for the doctor next Thursday noon.  Won’t you ride down with me and meet Dr. Tillotson?  You can talk to him on the way home, and then you can manage the whole matter yourself, and do as you think best about changing doctors.”

“You have been very kind to my niece, Mr. Sawyer, since you have been here,” said Uncle Ike, “and very helpful to her.  I attribute your interest in her case to your kindness of heart and a generosity which is seldom found in the sons of millionaires.  But take my advice, Mr. Sawyer, and let your feelings stop there.”

“I do not quite understand you,” replied Quincy, though from a sudden sinking of his heart he felt that he did.