Squire Deacon lowered, but for the present his feelings were restrained.
"Mr. Simlins," said Endecott, when he had resumed his seat, "I ask you—as one who knows the country—whereabouts does the concatenation you spoke of reach a climax?"
"The star you look at is always the brightest," said the farmer. "However, I think the clams is the best thing at table—or near the best," with a slight glance towards Squire Deacon and the dish at the 'well end.'"I've a legendary attachment to beauty, sir; my father married the three prettiest wives in the country."
"I say, Squire," said Jem Williams, "Mr. Simlins says you'r' hot."
"Hot?" said Squire Deacon, flushing up very much, and setting down the clams,—"that dish is. I'm as cool as all these cucumbers accumulated into a heap."
"Hope you'll stay where you are, then," said Mr. Simlins. "I'm cool too. Don't come near me, or we shall be in a state of concentration."
Mr. Linden remarked that that was an excellent point when reached.
"What point?" said Squire Deacon, who had returned to his seat with the strong impression that everybody was laughing at him, under the special guidance of the new teacher. "You know mighty little of the points round here, I tell you."
"The point of concentration is found in various places, sir," said Mr.
Linden: "though I grant you it is rare."
"What do you know about Pattaquasset points?" repeated the Squire,—"or
Pattaquasset people—or Pattaquasset water either, for that matter?
Just you go down here when the tide's in—and afore you know where you
are you'll find yourself wading round over your head."