TOWN POLITICS.
At the table next morning the conversation was all about the surprise party. The Cobb twins declared that without exception it was the best party that had ever been given at Mason's Corner, to their knowledge.
After breakfast Quincy told Ezekiel that he was going over to Eastborough Centre that morning; in fact, he should like the single horse and team for the next three days, as he had considerable business to attend to.
He drove first to the office of the express company; but to his great disappointment he was informed that no package had arrived for him on the morning train. Thinking that possibly some explanation of the failure of the bank to comply with his wishes might have been sent by mail, he went to the post office; there he found a letter from the cashier of his bank, informing him that he had taken the liberty to send him enclosed, instead of the five hundred dollars in bills, his own check certified for that amount, and stated that the local bank would undoubtedly cash the same for him.
As he turned to leave the post office he met Sylvester Chisholm. Quincy greeted the young man pleasantly, and asked him if he were in business at the Centre. Sylvester replied that he was the compositor and local newsman on the "Eastborough Express," a weekly newspaper issued every Friday. The bank being located in the same building, Quincy drove him over. Sylvester asked Quincy if he would not step in and look at their office. Quincy did so. A man about thirty years of age arose from a chair and stepped forward as they entered, saying, "Hello, Chisholm, I have been waiting nearly half an hour for you."
"Mr. Appleby, Mr. Sawyer," said Sylvester, introducing the two men.
"Mr. Appleby occupies a similar position on the 'Montrose Messenger' to the one that I hold on the 'Eastborough Express,'" said Sylvester, by way of explanation to Quincy. "We exchange items; that is, he supplies me with items relating to Montrose that are supposed to be interesting to the inhabitants of Eastborough, and I return the compliment. Here are your items," said Sylvester, passing an envelope to Mr. Appleby.
Mr. Appleby seemed to be in great haste, and with a short "Good morning" left the office.
"He is a great friend of Professor Strout's," remarked Sylvester.
"You speak as though you were not," said Quincy.
"Well," replied Sylvester, "I used to think a good deal more of him at one time than I do now, not on account of anything that he has done to me, but I do not think he has treated one of my dearest friends just right. Did you hear anything, Mr. Sawyer, about his being engaged or likely to be engaged to Deacon Mason's daughter, Huldy?"
Quincy looked at Sylvester and then laughed outright.
"No, I haven't heard of any such thing," he replied, "and considering certain information that I have in my mind and which I know to be correct, I do not think I ever shall."
"Will you tell me what that information is?" asked Sylvester.
"Well, perhaps I will," said Quincy, "if you will inform me why you wish to know."
"Well, the fact is," remarked Sylvester, "that for quite a while Professor Strout and my sister Bessie, whom you saw last night at the party and with whom you danced, kept company together, and everybody over here to the Centre thought that they would be engaged and get married one of these days; but since that concert at the Town Hall, where you sang, a change of mind seems to have come over the Professor, and he has not seen my sister except when they met by accident. She thinks a good deal of him still, and although the man has done me no harm personally, of course I do not feel very good toward the fellow who makes my sister feel unhappy."
"Now," said Quincy, "what I am going to say I am going to tell you for your personal benefit and not for publication. I happen to know that Miss Huldy Mason is engaged definitely to Mr. Ezekiel Pettengill, and has been for some time. Now, promise me not to put that in your paper."
"I promise," said Sylvester, "unless I obtain the same information from some other source."
"All right," rejoined Quincy, and shaking hands with the young man he crossed the passageway and went into the bank.
He presented his certified check, and the five hundred dollars in bills were passed to him, and he placed them in his inside coat pocket. He was turning to leave the bank when he met Deacon Mason just entering.
"Ah, Deacon," said he, "have you come to draw some money? I think I have just taken all the bank bills they have on hand."
"I hope not," said the Deacon, "I kinder promised some one that I'd be on hand about noon to-day with five hundred dollars that he wants to use on a business matter this afternoon."
Quincy took the Deacon by the arm and pulled him one side, out of hearing of any other person in the room.
"Say, Deacon Mason, I am going to ask you a question, which, of course, you can answer or not, as you see fit; but if this business matter turns out to be what I think it is, I may be able to save you considerable trouble."
"I don't think you would ask me any question that I ought not to answer," replied the Deacon, glancing up at Quincy with a sly look in his eye and a slight smile on his face.
"Well," continued Quincy, "are you going to let Strout have that money to pay down on account of the grocery store?"
"Why, yes," said the Deacon, "I guess you have hit it about right. Strout seemed to think that there warn't any doubt but what he could get the store, but as he said the town clerk was willing to endorse his note, I came over here last night just on purpose to find that out. I kinder thought I was perfectly safe in letting him have the money."
"Oh, you would be all right, Deacon, financially, if the town clerk or any other good man endorsed his note; but you see Strout won't need the money. I happen to know of another man that is going to bid on that grocery store. How much money do you think Strout can command; how high will he bid?"
"Well, he told me," the Deacon answered, "that he had parties that would back him up to the extent of two thousand dollars, and this five hundred dollars that I was goin' to lend him would make twenty-five hundred, and he had sort o' figured that the whole place, including the land and buildings and stock, warn't wuth any more than that, and that Benoni Hill would be mighty glad to get such a good offer."
"That's all right," said Quincy, "but I happen to know a man that's going to bid on that grocery store and he will have it if he has to bid as high as five thousand dollars, and he is ready to put down the solid cash for it without any notes."
The Deacon glanced up at Quincy, and the sly look in his eye was more pronounced than ever, while the smile on his face very much resembled a grin.
"I guess it must be some outside feller that is a-going to buy it then," said the Deacon, "for I don't believe there is a man in Eastborough that would put up five thousand dollars in cold cash for that grocery store, unless he considered that he was paying for something besides groceries when he bought it."
"Well, I don't think, Deacon," continued Quincy, "that we need go further into particulars; I think we understand each other; all is, you come up to the auction this afternoon, and if the place is knocked down to Strout I will let you have the five hundred dollars that I have here in my pocket; besides, it would have been poor business policy for you to let him have the money on that note before the sale; for if the store was not sold to him you could not get back your money until the note became due."
"That's so," assented the Deacon. "Well, I've got to get home, cuz I promised to meet him by twelve o'clock."
"So have I," said Quincy, "for I have got to see the man who is going to buy the grocery store and fix up a few business matters with him."
Both men left the bank and got into their respective teams, which were standing in front of the building.
"Which road are you going, Deacon?" asked Quincy.
"Waal, I guess, for appearance's sake, Mr. Sawyer, you better go on the straight road, while I'll take the curved one. Yer know the curved one leads right up to my barn door."
"Yes, I know," said Quincy, "I found that out last night;" and the two men parted.
Quincy made quick time on his homeward trip. As he neared the Pettengill house he saw Cobb's twins and Hiram standing in front of the barn. He drove up and threw the reins to Bill Cobb, saying, "I shall want the team again right after dinner;" and turning to Hiram, be said, "Come down to Jacob's Parlor, I want to have a little talk with you."
They entered the large wood shed that Ezekiel's father had called by the quaint name just referred to, and took their old seats, Quincy in the armchair and Hiram on the chopping block facing him. Hiram looked towards the stove and Quincy said, "It is not very cold this morning, I don't think we shall need a fire; besides, what I have got to say will take but a short time. Now, young man," continued he, "how old did you say you were?"
"I am about thirty," replied Hiram.
"You are about thirty?" repeated Quincy, "and yet you are satisfied to stay with Deacon Mason and do his odd jobs for about ten dollars a month and your board, I suppose."
"Well, he isn't a mean man," said Hiram, "he gives me ten dollars a month and my board, and two suits of clothes a year, including shoes and hats."
"Have you no ambition to do any better?" asked Quincy.
"Ambition?" cried Hiram, "why I'm full of it. I've thought of more than a dozen different kinds of business that I would like to go into and work day and night to make my fortune, but what can a feller do if he hasn't any capital and hasn't got any backer?"
"Well, the best thing that you can do, Hiram, is to find a partner; that's what people do when they have no money; they look around and find somebody who has."
"You mean," said Hiram, "that I've got to look 'round and find some one who has got some money, who's willin' to let me have part of it. There's lots of fellers in Eastborough that have got money, but they hang to it tighter'n the bark to a tree."
"And yet," said Quincy, "a man like Obadiah Strout can go around this town and get parties to back him up to the extent of twenty-five hundred dollars."
"Yes, I know," answered Hiram, "but he couldn't do that if the parties didn't have a mortgage on the place, and o' course if Strout can't keep up his payments they'll grab the store and get the hull business. I happen to know that one of the parties that's goin' to put his name on one of Strout's notes said quietly to another party that told a feller that I heerd it from that it wouldn't be more'n a year afore he'd be runnin' that grocery store himself."
"Well, Hiram Maxwell, I've got some money that I am not using just now. You know that I've got quite a large account to settle with that Professor Strout, and I can afford to pay pretty handsomely to get even with him. Now do you think if you had that grocery store that you could make a success of it?"
"Could I?" cried Hiram, "waal, I know I could. I know every man, woman, and child in this town, and there isn't one of them that's got anythin' agin me that I knows of."
"I'd back you up," said Quincy, "but I've got something against you, and I will not agree to put my money into that store until you explain to me something that you told me several weeks ago. I don't say but that you told me the truth as far as it went, but you didn't tell me the whole truth, and that's what I find fault with you for."
Hiram's eyes had dilated, and he looked at Quincy with a wild glance of astonishment. Could he believe his ears? Here was this young man, a millionaire's son, saying that he would have backed him up in business but for the fact that he had told him a wrong story. Hiram scratched his head and looked perplexed.
"True as I live, Mr. Sawyer, I don't remember ever tellin' you a lie since I've known yer. I may have added a little somethin' to some of my stories that I have brought inter yer, jest to make them a little more interesting and p'r'aps ter satisfy a little pussonal spite that I might have agin some o' the parties that I was tellin' yer about, but I know as well's I'm standin' here that I never told yer nothin' in the way of a lie to work yer any injury. You've alwus treated me white, and if there's one thing that Mandy Skinner says she can't abear, it's a man that tells lies."
"Then," remarked Quincy with a smile, "you think a good deal of Miss Mandy Skinner's opinion?"
"I ain't never seen any girl whose opinion I think more of," answered Hiram.
"Did you ever see any girl that you thought more of?" continued Quincy.
"Waal, I guess it's an open secret 'round town," said Hiram, "that I'd marry her quicker'n lightnin', if she'd have me."
"Well, why won't she have you?" persisted Quincy.
"That's easy to answer," said Hiram. "You stated the situation purty plainly yourself when you counted up my income, ten dollars a month and my food and two suits of clothes. How could I pervide for Mandy out o' that?"
"Well," asked Quincy, "supposing I bought that grocery store for you and you got along well and made money. Do you think Mandy would consent to become Mrs. Maxwell?"
"I can't say for sure, Mr. Sawyer, but I think Miss Mandy Skinner would be at a loss for any good reason for refusin' me, in case what you jest talked about come to pass," said Hiram.
"Now," proceeded Quincy, "we will settle that little matter that I referred to a short time ago. You remember you were telling me your war experiences. You said you were never shot, but that you were hit with a fence rail at the battle of Cedar Mountain."
"Waal, I guess if you git my war record you will find I didn't tell yer any lie about that."
"Well, no," said Quincy, "that's all right; but why didn't you tell me that on one occasion, when the captain of your company was shot down, together with half the attacking force, that you took his body on your back and bore him off the field, at the same time sounding the retreat with your bugle? Why didn't you tell me that on two separate occasions, when the color sergeants of your company were shot and the flag fell from their grasp, that you took the flag and bore it forward, sounding the charge, until you were relieved of your double duty? In other words, when there were so many good things that you could say for yourself, why didn't you say them?"
Hiram thought for a moment and then he said, "Waal, I didn't think that I had any right to interduce outside matters not connected with what we were talkin' about. You asked me if I'd ever been shot, and I told yer how I got hit; but I didn't consider the luggin' the cap'n off the field or h'istin' Old Glory, when there wasn't anybody else to attend to it jest that minute, come under the head of bein' shot."
Quincy laughed outright and extended his hand, which Hiram took. Quincy gave it a hearty shake and said, "Hiram, I think you're all right. I've decided to buy that grocery store for you for two reasons. The first is that you have served me well; Mandy has been very kind and attentive to me, and I want to see you both prosper and be happy. My second reason relates to the Professor, and, of course, does not need any explanation, so far as you're concerned. Now, you go up to the house, put on your best suit of clothes, tell the Deacon that I want your company this afternoon; I will drive up your way about two o'clock, and we will go to the auction."
While these events were taking place, others, perhaps equally interesting, were transpiring in another part of Mason's Corner. The Professor had not arisen until late, but ten o'clock found him dressed in his best and surveying his personal appearance with a pleased expression. He felt that this was a day big with the fate of Professor Strout and Mason's Corner!
When he left Mrs. Hawkins's boarding house he went straight to Deacon Mason's.
"Is the Deacon in?" he asked, as pleasant-faced Mrs. Mason opened the door.
"No, he has gone over to the Centre. He said he'd got to go to the bank to get some money for somebody, but that he'd be back 'tween 'leven and twelve."
"Oh, that's all right," said Strout, stepping inside the door; "is Miss Huldy in?"
"Yes, she's in the parlor; she went in to practise on her music lesson, but I guess she's reading a book instead, for I haven't heard the piano since she went in half an hour ago."
"Waal, I'll step in and have a little chat with her whilst I'm waiting for the Deacon," said the Professor; "but you just let me know as soon as the Deacon comes, won't you, Mrs. Mason?"
Mrs. Mason replied that she would, and the Professor opened the parlor door and stepped in.
"Oh, good morning, Miss Mason," said the Professor; "I hope I see you enjoying your usual good health after last evening's excitement."
Huldy arose and shook hands with the Professor.
"Oh, yes," said she, "I got up a little late this morning, but I never felt better in my life. It was very kind of you, Mr. Strout, and of my other friends, to show your appreciation in such a pleasant manner, and I shall never forget your kindness."
"Waal, you know, I've always taken a great interest in you, Miss Mason."
"I know you have in my singing," answered Huldy, "and I know that I have improved a great deal since you have been giving me lessons."
"But I don't refer wholly to your singin'," said the Professor.
"Oh, you mean my playing," remarked Huldy. "Well, I don't know that I shall ever be a brilliant performer on the piano, but I must acknowledge that you have been the cause of my improving in that respect also."
"Waal, I don't mean," continued the Professor, "jest your singin' and your playin'. I've been interested in you as a whole."
"I don't exactly see what you mean by that, Mr. Strout, unless you mean my ability as a housekeeper. I am afraid if you ask my mother, she will not give me a very flattering recommendation."
"Oh, you know enough about housekeepin' to satisfy me," said the Professor.
Huldy by this time divined what was on the Professor's mind; in fact, she had known it for some time, but had assured herself that he would never have the courage to put his hints, and suggestions, and allusions, into an actual declaration. So she replied with some asperity, "What made you think I was looking for a situation as housekeeper?"
"Oh, nothin'," said he, "I wasn't thinkin' anythin' about what I thought you thought, but I was a-thinkin' about somethin' that I thought myself."
Huldy looked up inquiringly.
"What would you say," asked the Professor, "if I told you that I thought of gettin' married?"
"Well," replied Huldy, "I think my first question would be, 'have you asked her?'"
"No, I haven't yet," said the Professor.
"Well, then, my advice to you," continued Huldy, "is don't delay; if you do perhaps some other fellow may ask her first, and she may consent, not knowing that you think so much of her."
"Well, I've thought of that," said the Professor. "I guess you're right. What would you say," continued he, "if I told you that I had asked her?"
"Well, I should say," answered Huldy, "that you told me only a minute or two ago that you hadn't."
"Well, I hadn't then," said the Professor.
"I don't really see how you have had any chance to ask her, as you say you have," remarked Huldy, "in the short time that has passed since you said you hadn't. I am not very quick at seeing a joke, Professor, but p'raps I can understand what you mean, if you will tell me when you asked her, and where you asked her to marry you."
"Just now! Right here!" cried the Professor; and before Huldy could interpose he had arisen from his chair and had fallen on his knees before her.
Huldy looked at him with a startled expression, then as the whole matter dawned upon her she burst into a loud laugh. The Professor looked up with a grieved expression on his face. Huldy became grave instantly.
"I wasn't laughing at you, Professor. I'm sure I'm grateful for your esteem and friendship, but it never entered my head till this moment that you had any idea of asking me to be your wife. What made you think such a thing possible?"
The Professor was quite portly, and it was with some little difficulty that he regained his feet, and his face was rather red with the exertion when he had succeeded.
"Well, you see," said he, "I never thought much about it till that city feller came down here to board; then the whole town knew that you and 'Zeke Pettengill had had a fallin' out, and then by and by that city feller who was boardin' with your folks went away, and I kinder thought that as you didn't have any steady feller—"
Huldy broke in,—"You thought I was in the market again and that your chances were as good as those of any one else?"
"Yes, that's jest it," said the Professor. "You put it jest as I would have said it, if you hadn't said it fust."
"Well, really, Professor, I can't understand what gave you and the whole town the idea that there was any falling out between Mr. Pettengill and myself. We have grown up together, we have always loved each other very much, and we have been engaged to be married—"
"Since when?" broke in the Professor, excitedly.
"Since the day before I last engaged you to give me music lessons," replied Huldy.
What the Professor would have said in reply to this will never be known; for at that moment Mrs. Mason opened the door, and looking in, said, "The Deacon's come."
Strout grasped his hat, and with a hurried bow and "Good morning" to Huldy, left the room, closing the door behind him. It must be said for the Professor that he bore defeat with great equanimity, and when he reached the great kitchen and shook hands with Deacon Mason, who had just come in from the barn, the casual observer would have noticed nothing peculiar in his expression.
"Waal, Deacon," said he in a low tone, "did you git the money?"
"Oh, I've 'ranged 'bout the money," said the Deacon; "but I had a talk with my lawyer, and he said it wasn't good bizness for me to pay over the five hundred dollars till the store was actually knocked down to you. Here's that note of yourn that the town clerk endorsed las' night. Neow, when the auctioneer says the store is yourn I'll give yer the five hundred dollars and take the note. I'll be up to the auction by half-past two, so you needn't worry, it'll be jest the same as though yer had the money in yer hand."
Strout looked a little disturbed; but thinking the matter over quickly, he decided that he had nothing to gain by arguing the question with the Deacon; so saying, "Be sure and be on hand, Deacon, for it's a sure thing my gettin' that store, if I have the cash to pay down," he left the house.
He went up the hill and turned the corner on the way back to his boarding house. When he got out of sight of the Deacon's house he stopped, clenched his hands, shut his teeth firmly together and stamped his foot on the ground; then he ejaculated in a savage whisper, "Women are wussern catamounts; you know which way a catamount's goin' to jump. I wonder whether she was honest about that, or whether she's been foolin' me all this time; she'll be a sorry girl when I git that store and 'lected tax collector, and git app'inted postmaster. I've got three tricks left, ef I have lost two. I wonder who it was put that idea into the Deacon's head not ter let me have thet money till the sale was over. I bet a dollar it wuz thet city feller. Abner says thet he met Appleby on his way back to Montrose, and he told him thet he saw thet city feller and the Deacon drive off tergether from front o' the bank. Oh! nonsense, what would the son of a millionaire want of a grocery store in a little country town like this?" and he went into his boarding house to dinner.
A few moments after two o'clock Strout could restrain his impatience no longer, and leaving his boarding house he walked over to the grocery store. Quite a number of the Mason's Corner people were gathered in the Square, for to them an auction sale was as good as a show. Quincy had not arrived, and the Professor tried to quiet his nerves by walking up and down the platform and smoking a cigar. The crowd gradually increased, quite a number coming in teams from Montrose and from Eastborough Centre. One of the teams from Montrose brought the auctioneer, Mr. Beers, with whom Strout was acquainted. He gave the auctioneer a cigar, and they walked up and down the platform smoking and talking about everything else but the auction sale. It was a matter of professional dignity with Mr. Barnabas Beers, auctioneer, not to be on too friendly terms with bidders before an auction. He had found that it had detracted from his importance and had lowered bids, if he allowed would be purchasers to converse with him concerning the articles to be sold. It was their business, he maintained in a heated argument one evening in the hotel at Montrose, to find out by personal inspection the condition and value of what was to be sold, and it was his business, he said, to know as little about it as possible, for the less he knew the less it would interfere with his descriptive powers when, hammer in hand, he took his position on the bench. Having established a professional standing, Barnabas Beers was not a man to step down, and though the Professor, after a while, endeavored to extract some information from the auctioneer as to whether there was likely to be many bidders, he finally gave it up in despair, for he found Mr. Beers as uncommunicative as a hitching post, as he afterwards told Abner Stiles.
About half-past two Deacon Mason drove into the Square, and the Professor went to meet him, and shook hands with him. In a short time his other backers, who had agreed to endorse his notes to the amount of two thousand dollars, arrived upon the scene, and he took occasion to welcome them in a manner that could not escape the attention of the crowd. It was now ten minutes of three, and the auctioneer stepped upon the temporary platform that had been erected for him, and bringing his hammer down upon the head of a barrel that had been placed in front of him, he read, in a loud voice, which reached every portion of the Square, the printed notice that for several weeks had hung upon the fences, sheds, and trees of Mason's Corner, Eastborough Centre, West Eastborough, and Montrose.
It was now three o'clock, for that hour was rung out by the bell on the Rev. Caleb Howe's church. The auctioneer prefaced his inquiry for bids by the usual grandiloquence in use by members of that fraternity, closing his oration with that often-heard remark, "How much am I offered?"
The Professor, who was standing by the side of Deacon Mason's team, called out in a loud voice, "Fifteen hundred!"
"Well, I'll take that just for a starter," said the auctioneer, "but of course no sane man not fitted to be the inmate of an idiotic asylum thinks that this fine piece of ground, this long-built and long-established grocery store, filled to overflowing with all the necessities and delicacies of the season, a store which has been in successful operation for nearly forty years, and of which the good will is worth a good deal more than the sum just bid, will be sold for any such preposterous figure! Gentlemen, I am listening."
Suddenly a voice from the rear of the crowd called out, "T-o-o-t-o to to-oo-two thousand!"
As if by magic, every head was turned, for the majority of those in the crowd recognized the voice at once. There was but one man in Mason's Corner who stammered, and that man was Hiram Maxwell.
They turned, and all saw seated in the Pettengill team Hiram Maxwell, and beside him sat Mr. Sawyer from Boston.
"Oh, that's more like it," said the auctioneer. "Competition is the life of trade, and is particularly pleasing to an auctioneer. The first gentleman who bid now sees that there is another gentleman who has a better knowledge of the value of this fine property than he has evinced up to the present moment. There is still an opportunity for him to see the error of his ways, and put himself on record as being an observing and intelligent person."
All eyes were turned upon Strout at these words from the auctioneer; his face reddened, and he called out, "Twenty-five hundred!"
"Still better," cried the auctioneer; "the gentleman, as I supposed, has shown that he is a person of discernment; he did not imagine that I was engaged simply to make a present of this fine establishment to any one who would offer any sum that suited his convenience for it. He knew as well as I did that there would be a sharp contest to secure this fine property. Now, gentlemen, I am offered twenty-five hundred, twenty-five hundred I am offered, twenty-five hundred—"
Again a voice was heard from the team on the outer limits of the crowd, "Twenty-five fifty!"
The crowd again turned their gaze upon Strout; the Professor was not an extravagant man, and he had saved a little money. He had in his pocket at the time a little over a hundred dollars; he would not put it in the bank, for, he argued, if he did everybody in town would know how much money he had; so he called out, "Twenty-six hundred!"
"Ah, gentlemen," continued the auctioneer, "let me thank you for the keen appreciation that you show of a good thing. When I looked this property over I said to myself, the bidders will tumble over themselves to secure this fine property'; and I have not been disappointed."
Again the faces of the crowd were turned towards the team in which sat Quincy and Hiram. Hiram stood up in the team, and masking a horn with his hands, shouted at the top of his voice, for the time overcoming his propensity to stammer, "Twenty-seven hundred!"
"Better! still better!" cried the auctioneer; "we are now approaching the figure that I had placed on this property, and my judgment is usually correct. I am offered twenty-seven hundred, twenty-seven hundred; who will go one hundred better?"
At this moment Abner Stiles, who had been watching the proceedings with eyes distended and mouth wide open, went up to Strout and whispered something in his ear. Strout's face brightened, he grasped Abner's hand and shook it warmly, then turning towards the auctioneer cried out, "Twenty-eight hundred!"
By this time the crowd was getting excited. To them it was a battle royal; nothing of the kind had ever been seen at Mason's Corner before. A great many in the crowd were friends of Strout's, and admired his pluck in standing out so well. They had seen at a glance that Abner Stiles had offered to help Strout.
Again the auctioneer called out in his parrot-like tone, "Twenty-eight hundred! I am offered twenty-eight hundred!"
And again Hiram put his hands to his mouth, and his voice was heard over the Square as he said, "Three thousand!"
"Now, gentlemen," continued the auctioneer, "I am proud to be with you. When it is my misfortune to stand up before a company, the members of which have no appreciation of the value of the property to be sold, I often wish myself at home; but, as I said before, on this occasion I am proud to be with you, for a sum approximating to the true value of the property offered for sale has been bidden. I am offered three thousand—three thousand—three thousand—going at three thousand! Did I hear a bid? No, it must have been the wind whistling through the trees." At this sally a laugh came up from the crowd. "Going at three thousand—going—going—going—gone at three thousand to—"
"Mr. Hiram Maxwell!" came from the score of voices.
"Gone at three thousand to Mr. Hiram Maxwell!" said the auctioneer, as he brought down his hammer heavily upon the barrel head with such force that it fell in, and, losing his hold upon the hammer, that dropped in also. This slight accident caused a great laugh among the crowd.
The auctioneer continued, "According to the terms of the sale, five hundred dollars in cash must be paid down to bind the bargain, and the balance must be paid within three days in endorsed notes satisfactory to the present owner."
Quincy and Hiram alighted from the Pettengill team and advanced towards the auctioneer. Reaching the platform, Quincy took from his pocket a large wallet and passed a pile of bills to the auctioneer.
"Make out a receipt, please," he said to Mr. Beers, "in the name of Mr. Hiram Maxwell; the notes will be made out by him and endorsed by me. If you will give a discount of six per cent, Mr. Maxwell will pay the entire sum in cash within ten days; whichever proposition is accepted by Mr. Hill will be satisfactory to Mr. Maxwell."
The show was over and the company began to disperse. Deacon Mason nodded to Strout and turned his horse's head homeward. While Quincy and Hiram were settling their business matters with the auctioneer, everybody had left the Square with the exception of a few loungers about the platform of the grocery store, and Strout and Abner, who stood near the big tree in the centre of the Square, talking earnestly to each other.
The auctioneer, together with Quincy and Hiram, entered the store to talk over business matters with Mr. Hill and his son. Mr. Hill argued that Mr. Sawyer was good for any sum, and he would just as soon have the notes; in fact, he would prefer to have them, rather than make any discount.
This matter being adjusted, Mr. Hill treated the party to some of his best cigars, which he kept under the counter in a private box, and when Quincy and Hiram came out and took their seats in the team, they looked about the Square and found that the Professor and his best friend were not in sight.
The next morning at about nine o'clock, Abbott Smith arrived at Pettengill's, having with him Mr. Wallace Stackpole. Quincy was ready for the trip, and they started immediately for Eastborough Centre. On the way Quincy had plenty of time for conversation with Mr. Stackpole. The latter gave a true account of the cause that had led to his losing his election as tax collector at the town meeting a year before. He had been taken sick on the train while coming from Boston, and a kind passenger had given him a drink of brandy. He acknowledged that he took too much, and that he really was unable to walk when he reached the station at Eastborough Centre; but he said that he was not a drinking man, and would not have taken the brandy if he had not been sick. They reached Eastborough Centre in due season, but made no stop, continuing on to West Eastborough to the home of Abbott Smith's father.
Here Quincy was introduced to 'Bias Smith, and found that what had been said about him was not overstated. He was a tall, heavily-built man, with a hard, rugged face, but with a pleasant and powerful countenance, and, in the course of conversation, ran the whole gamut of oratorical expression. He was what New England country towns have so often produced—a natural-born orator. In addition he was an up-to-date man. He was well read in history, and kept a close eye on current political events, including not only local matters, but State and National affairs as well.
Quincy gave him Strout's war record that he had obtained from the Adjutant-General's office, and it was read over and compared with that of Wallace Stackpole, which was also in 'Bias Smith's possession. Mr. Stackpole had obtained from the town clerk a statement of taxes due and collected for the past twenty years, and this was also delivered to Mr. Smith. Quincy confided to Mr. Smith several matters that he wished attended to in town meeting, and the latter agreed to present them, as requested.
It was finally settled that 'Bias Smith and Mr. Stackpole should come over to Mason's Corner the following Saturday and see if Deacon Mason would agree to act as moderator at the annual town meeting on the following Monday, the warrants for same having already been posted.
When Quincy reached home he found Hiram waiting for him. They went in to Jacob's Parlor and took their accustomed seats.
"Any news?" asked Quincy.
"Not a word," said Hiram, "neither Strout or Abner have been seen on the street sence the sale wuz over, but Strout has got hold of it in some way that Huldy's engaged to 'Zeke Pettengill, and it's all over town."
At that moment Ezekiel opened the door and stepped into the shed. There was a roguish twinkle in his eye and a smile about his lips as he advanced towards Quincy.
"Waal, the cat's out o' the bag," said he to Quincy.
"Yes, Hiram was just telling me that Strout got hold of it in some way."
"Yaas," said Ezekiel, "he got hold of it in the most direct way that he possibly could."
"How's that," asked Quincy, "did Miss Mason tell him?"
"Yaas," said Ezekiel, "he seemed to want a satisfactory reason why she couldn't marry him, and it sorter seemed to her that the best reason that she could give him was that she was engaged to marry me."
Hiram nearly lost his seat on the chopping block while expressing his delight, and on Quincy's face there was a look of quiet satisfaction that indicated that he was quite well satisfied with the present condition of affairs.
"By the way, Hiram," said Quincy, "I believe you told me once that Mrs. Hawkins, who keeps the house where the Professor boards, is Mandy Skinner's mother."
"Yaas," said Hiram, "Mandy's father died and her mother married Jonas Hawkins. He wasn't much account afore he was married, but I understand that he has turned out to be a rale handy man 'round the boardin' house. Mrs. Hawkins's a mighty smart woman, and she knew just what kind of a man she wanted."
"Well," said Quincy, "I want you to tell Mandy to see her mother as soon as she can, and engage the best room that she has left in the house for a gentleman that I expect down here from Boston next Monday night. Here's ten dollars, and have Mandy tell her that this is her week's pay in advance for room and board, counting from to-day."
"Waal, I don't believe she'll take it," said Hiram; "she's a mighty smart woman and mighty clus in money matters, but she's no skin, and I don't believe she'll take ten dollars for one week's board and room."
"Well, if she won't take it," remarked Quincy, "Mandy may have the balance of it for her trouble. The man wants the room, and he is able to pay for it."
Then Quincy and Ezekiel went into the house for supper.
The next morning Quincy found that Uncle Ike had not forgotten his promise, for he was on hand promptly, dressed for a trip to Eastborough Centre. This time they took the carryall and two horses, and Uncle Ike sat on the front seat with Quincy.
They reached Eastborough Centre and found Dr. Tillotson awaiting them. The return home was quickly made and Uncle Ike took the doctor to the parlor. Then he went to Alice's room, and Quincy heard them descend the stairs. The conversation lasted for a full hour, and Quincy sat in his room thinking and hoping for the best. Suddenly he was startled from his reveries by a rap upon the door, and Uncle Ike said the doctor was ready. Quincy drove him back to Eastborough Centre, and on the way the doctor gave him his diagnosis of the case and his proposed treatment. He said it would not be necessary for him to see her again for three weeks, or until the medicine that he had left for her was gone. He would come down again at a day's notice from Quincy.
On his return Mandy told him that Miss Alice was in the parlor and would like to see him. As he entered the room she recognized his footstep, and starting to her feet turned towards him. He advanced to meet her and took both her hands in his.
"How can I thank you, my good friend," said she, "for the interest that you have taken in me, and how can I repay you for the money that you have spent?"
Quincy was at first disposed to deny his connection with the matter, but thinking that Uncle Ike must have told of it, he said, "I don't think it was quite fair for Uncle Ike, after promising to keep silent!"
"It was not Uncle Ike's fault," broke in Alice; "it was nobody's fault. Nobody had told the doctor that there was any secret about it, and so he spoke freely of your visit to the city, and of what you had said, and of the arrangements that you had made to have the treatment continued as long as it produced satisfactory results. But," continued Alice, "how can I ever pay you this great sum of money that it will cost for my treatment?"
"Do not worry about that, Alice," said he, using her Christian name for the second time, "the money is nothing. I have more than I know what to do with, and it is a pleasure for me to use it in this way, if it will be of any benefit to you. You can repay me at any time. You will get money from your poems and your stories in due time, and I shall not have to suffer if I have to wait a long time for it. God knows, Alice," and her name fell from his lips as though he had always called her by that name, "that if half, or even the whole of my fortune would give you back your sight, I would give it to you willingly. Do you believe me?" And he took her hands again in his.
"I believe you," she said simply.
At that moment Mandy appeared at the door with the familiar cry, "Supper's ready," and Quincy led Alice to her old place at the table and took his seat at her side.
