"That's all right, Abner," said Strout; "considerin' as how things has gone, to-morrow will do just as well, but I wish you'd drop in and tell the town treasurer that I'm goin' into business with Mr. Maxwell and Mr. Sawyer here,"—Abner's eyes dilated,—"under the firm name of Strout, Maxwell, & Co."
"No!" interrupted Quincy, "let the sign read, Strout & Maxwell."
"And," continued Mr. Strout, "Mr. Sawyer here is goin' to push through my app'intment as postmaster."
By this time Abner's mouth was wide open. Quincy saw it, and imagined the conflict going on in poor Abner's mind.
"What Mr. Strout says is correct," remarked Quincy, "but you have no time to lose now. Perhaps to-night Mr. Strout will explain the matter more fully to you."
Abner turned, without a word, and left the room.
"Mr. Stiles is a faithful friend of yours," said Quincy, turning to the Professor.
"Yes," assented Strout; "Abner's a very good shaft horse, but he wouldn't be of much vally as a lead."
Quincy again extended his cigar case. This time the Professor did not refuse, but took two. Holding up one of them between his fingers, he said, "This is the one I didn't take when I came in."
"I will have the partnership papers drawn up in a few days, Mr. Strout, ready for signature, and I will write at once to my friends in Washington, and urge them to see the Postmaster General, and have your appointment made as soon as possible."