When Strout reached Ezekiel he shook hands with him and said, "Come up to the barn, Pettengill, I've got a little somethin' I want to tell you and it's kinder private. It's about that city feller that's swellin' round here puttin' on airs and tryin' to make us think that his father is a bigger man than George Washington. He about the same as told me down to the grocery store that the blood of all the Quincys flowed in one arm and the blood of all the Adams in the other, but I kinder guess that the rest of his carcass is full of calf's blood and there's more fuss and feathers than fight to him."
By this time they had reached the barn and they sat down upon a pile of hay at the foot of the mow.
"Now my plan's this," said Strout. "You know Bob Wood; well, he's the biggest feller and the best fighter in town. I'm goin' to post Bob up as to how to pick a quarrel with that city feller. When he gets the lickin' that he deserves, I rayther think that Deacon Mason will lose a boarder."
"But s'posin' Mr. Sawyer licks Bob Wood?" queried Ezekiel.
"Oh! I don't count much on that," said Strout; "but if it should turn out that way we're goin' to turn in and get up a surprise party for Miss Mason and jist leave him out."
"I hope you ain't goin' to do any fightin' down to Deacon Mason's?" remarked Ezekiel.
"Oh, no!" protested Strout, "it'll be kind o' quiet, underminin' work, as it were. Remarks and sayin's and side whispers and odd looks, the cold shoulder business, you know, that soon tells a feller that his company ain't appreciated."
"Well, I don't think that's quite fair," said Ezekiel. "You don't like him, Mr. Strout, but I don't think the whole town will take it up."
The Professor said sternly, "He has insulted me and in doing that he has insulted the whole town of Eastborough."
A smothered laugh was heard.