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Updated: June 19, 2025
The long, elegant curves, and all the delicate peculiarities of her chirography, taught by Miss Pillbody, had been copied from the sample furnished by her note to Mrs. Crull. It ran as follows: MR. VAN QUINTEM: DEAR SIR: Come to me at once, for I am in trouble. Van Quintem, jr., was most likely to be, and, when he was found, to send this note in to him by a servant.
Van Quintem and that fine old gentleman had patted him on the back, and told him that there was genuine Dutch blood in him. Bogert & Co. now employed a hundred lads; and Bog's department of labor was the general planning of operations, and the receiving and disbursement of the money and a very nice and agreeable department it was.
I never had the pleasure of meeting you often, though I had frequently heard of you. With regard to those unpleasant family difficulties in which you became involved, they are now at an end; for Gusty's parents are both dead, and the old house and farm are sold. Let bygones be bygones." "So say I, Mr. Van Quintem," said Mr. Frump, grasping the extended hand.
Van Quintem was a well-known patron of the establishment, but had not been there for a week: which was rather strange, the man politely added. Bog continued his search, walking as fast as he could.
This was followed by the retiring of the young lady through a door in the rear of the shop, and the locking of the door by her female friend, who put the key in her pocket. Young Van Quintem came in, and was surprised not to see Patty.
It was not known that young Van Quintem had ever seen Miss Minford's handwriting; but, to make the game sure, the note had been written with a skill worthy of a counterfeiter, or that most dexterous of penmen, young Van Quintem himself.
Looking at the shaggy face by a variety of lights, he soon came to recognize it as that of his niece's husband, whom he had seen a few times on his yearly visits to the country, before his farming brother, Nicholas Van Quintem, father of Mrs. Frump, had died. "From the way Gusty hangs to you, I judge you are no ghost," said old Van Quintem, when he had partly recovered his senses.
He sprang from his chair, and strode toward the lad. He was met halfway by Bog, whom the insulting epithet had stung to the quick. A foe met halfway is half vanquished. A single glance at Bog's clear, courageous eye, and his sinewy proportions, assured young Van Quintem that he had more than his match. "This this is no place for a row," he faltered. "I'll attend to you, some time, in the street."
"I'll get you a wife in less than a week," said Mrs. F., who was rejoiced that the interview between her recovered husband and late suitor had ended peacefully. "But one thing you haven't yet explained, Amos," said old Van Quintem. "How did you get into Crumley's employment?" "Bless your innocent heart, I am not!
"No more than I am a carpenter," was the dry response. "But how does it happen that you are no ghost?" asked old Van Quintem, with fearful interest. This was what everybody wanted to know; and so Mr. Frump, supporting his wife by the waist, while she, apparently half stupefied, reposed her head on his shoulder, explained the mystery of his appearance.
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