"How was that?" asked Quincy.
"Well, you see," said Hiram, "two or three days before town meetin' Wallace went up to Boston. He got an oyster stew for dinner, and it made him kinder sick, and some one gave him a drink of brandy, and I guess they gave him a pretty good dose, for when he got to Eastborough Centre they had to help him off the train, 'cause his legs were kinder weak. Well, 'Bias Smith, who lives over to West Eastborough, he is the best talker we've got in town meetin'. He took up the cudgels for Wallace, and he just lammed into those mean cusses who'd go back on a man 'cause he was sick and took a little too much medicine. But Abner Stiles,—you know Abner,—well, he's the next best talker to 'Bias Smith,—he stood up and said he didn't think it was safe to trust the town's money to a man who couldn't go to Boston and come home sober, and that pulled over some of the fellers who'd agreed to vote for Wallace."
"Has the tax collector performed his duties satisfactorily?" asked Quincy.
"Well," said Hiram, "Wallace Stackpole told me the other day that he hadn't got in more than two-thirds of last year's taxes. He said the selectmen had to borrow money and there'd be a row at the next town meetin'."
"Well," said Quincy, rising, "I think I will go in and get ready for lunch. I had a very early breakfast in Boston."
"Did you have oyster stew?" asked Hiram.
"No," replied Quincy, "people who live in Boston never eat oyster stews at a restaurant. If they did there wouldn't be enough left for those gentlemen who come from the country."
He opened the door and Hiram grasped his arm.
"By Gosh! I forgot one thing," he cried. "You remember Tilly James, that played the pianner at the concert?"
"Yes," said Quincy, "and she was a fine player, too."