Strout started off, and the party followed Abner to the appointed waiting place.

Strout knocked lightly at the kitchen door, and it was opened by Mrs. Mason.

“Is the Deacon at home?” inquired he, endeavoring to disguise his voice.

“No,” said Mrs. Mason, “he has gone to Eastborough Centre on some business, but told me he would be back about half past nine.”

“Is Hiram here?” asked Strout.

“He’s out in the kitchen polishing up his bugle,” said Mrs. Mason.  “But come in a minute, Mr. Strout, I have got something to fell you.”

Strout stepped in and quietly closed the door.

“What’s the matter, Mrs. Mason?  I hope Huldy isn’t sick.”

“No,” said she, “it’s unfortunate it has happened as it has, but it couldn’t be avoided.  You see she invited some company to tea, and I supposed that they would have gone home long ’fore this.  You see, Huldy don’t suspect nothing, and she has asked them to spend the evening, and I don’t see how in the world I am going to get rid of them.”

“Don’t do it,” said Strout.  “Extend to them an invitation in my name to remain and enjoy the evening’s festivities with us.  No doubt Miss Huldy will be pleased to have them stay.”

“I know she will,” said Mrs. Mason, “and I’ll give them your invite as soon as you’re ready.”

“Well, Mrs. Mason,” said Strout, “just tell Hiram I am ready to have him blow that bugle, and when you hear it you can just tell your daughter and her friends what’s up.”

Hiram soon joined Strout outside the kitchen door.  The latter went out in the road and looked up the hill to see if his party was all ready.  Abner waved his hand, and Strout rushed back to Hiram and cried, “Give it to ’em now, Hiram, and do your darnedest!”

Huldy and her friends were engaged in earnest conversation, when a loud blast burst upon the air, followed by a succession of piercing notes from Hiram’s old cracked bugle.

Huldy jumped to her feet and exclaimed, “What does Hiram want to blow that horrid old bugle at this time of night for?  I will tell ma to stop him.”

She started towards the parlor door, when the whole party heard shouts of laughter, screams from female voices, and yells from male ones that would have done credit to a band of wild Comanches.

All stood still and listened.  Again the laughter, screams, and yells were heard.  This time they seemed right under the parlor window.

A look of surprise and almost terror passed over Alice’s face, and turning to Quincy unthinkingly she said in a low whisper, “What was that, Quincy?  What does it mean?”

Quincy’s heart jumped as his Christian name fell from the girl’s lips.  He put his left hand over his heart (her picture was in the pocket just beneath it) and said as naturally as he could, although with a little tremor in his voice, “It’s all right, Alice, that’s Mr. Strout’s idea of a surprise party.”