"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.