boarder did.

News had reached the assemblage that Arthur Scates, the best tenor
singer in the society, was sick. Lindy Putnam was to sing a duet with
him at the concert, and so she asked if anybody had been to see him.

"I was up there this arternoon," said Ben Bates, "and he seemed powerful
bad in the throat. Grandmother Scates tied an old stocking 'round his
throat and gin him a bowl of catnip tea and he kinder thought he'd be
all right to-morrer. I told him you'd have a conniption fit if he didn't
show up, but Grandmother Scates shook her head kind o' doubtful and
said, 'The Lord's will be done. What can't be cured must be endured;'
and I guess that's about the way it will be."

The outer door opened and 'Zekiel Pettengill entered. The creaking of
the opening door attracted the attention of all. When the girls saw who
it was, they ran and gathered about him, a dozen voices crying out,
"Where is Huldy? We all thought she'd come with you."

'Zekiel shook his head.

"You don't know?" asked Tilly James, incredulously. 'Zekiel shook his
head again. "Of course you do," said Tilly contemptuously.

She turned away, followed by a number of the girls. "He knows well
enough," she observed in an undertone, "but he won't tell. He's gone on
Huldy, and when a feller's gone on a girl he's pretty sure to keep the
run of her."

In the meantime Lindy Putnam had been using her most persuasive powers