Hiram said, "'Zekiel must think a powerful lot of that sister of his'n. Went right off to Boston without his breakfast."
"I guess it would have to be something nearer than a sister to make you do that," said Mandy. "I don't know but one thing, Hiram, that would make you go without your feed."
"What's that, Mandy?" said he. "You?"
"No," replied Mandy, "a famine."
"You ain't no sort of an idea as to what's the matter with her, have you?" he asked.
"No, I haven't," said Mandy, "and if I had I don't imagine I would tell you. Now you better run right home, little boy, for I have to go upstairs and do the chamber work."
She whisked out of the room, and Hiram, helping himself to a couple of apples, left the house and walked slowly along the road towards Eastborough Centre.
Suddenly he espied a man coming up the road and soon saw it was Quincy Adams Sawyer.
"Just the feller I wanted to see," soliliquized Hiram.
As Quincy reached him he said, "Mr. Sawyer, I want to speak to you a minute or two. Come into Pettengill's barn, there's nobody to hum but Mandy and she's upstairs makin' the beds."