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They won't enjoy tramping over to Cottonton for kerosene and molasses." The store was lighted by kerosene lamps resting on brackets. It was Mr. Strout's custom to take them down, blow them out, and replace them on the brackets. One was always left burning, as Mr. Strout said "so burglars could see their way round." Mr.
No matter of whom you would get money, you would have to pay the same interest you pay Strout now and no matter whom I might get money from for you, so that you could pay off Strout and get rid of him, there would be the additional expense of making the new mortgage, and all that." "But is he to be trusted?" "Not at all.
Why, you're wet as sops. Draw up to the stove. I made a fire, hot as it was, thinkin' I wanted somethin' warm for my supper, bein' kind o' lonesome without mother. She's settin' up with Seth Strout to-night. There, we'll hang your soppy hat on the nail, put your jacket over the chair rail, an' then you turn your back to the stove an' dry yourself good."
His hearers laughed, for his words were accentuated by the old-time grin that had pleased Obadiah Strout on some occasions, but on others had raised his ire to an explosive point. "Are father and mother at home?" asked Huldah. "Yes, both on 'em. Susie Barker's been helpin' her to-day, and the Dekin's wife thinks o' keepin' her reg'lar." "I'll have them come to supper," said Huldah.
It contained one desk and two chairs. Hiram brought in an empty nail keg and closed the door. "We've done twenty per cent. more business this month than same time last year." Mr. Strout opened a desk drawer. "Will you smoke, Guv'nor?"
Strout as he took a ten cent cigar from the case and lighted it. Perhaps the sight of the son recalled a scene in the same shop many years before on Quincy's first visit to Mason's Corner when a box of cigars had been the subject of an animated discussion between the boy's father and himself, followed by a passage-at-arms or, more correctly speaking fists.
"I mean to go some day. I've heard so many foreigners blow about what they've got over there, I'm kinder anxious to see for myself. If they've got a better grocery store than this, I'll introduce improvements as soon as I get back." Hiram having finished his work and dispatched the team, the three partners went into the private office, which was monopolized by Mr. Strout.
"Well, we haven't named him yet. We call him No. 3, I being No. 1, and my wife No. 2." After their guests had departed, Mrs. Strout asked, "Why didn't you tell Miss Sawyer that our boy's name was same as yours?" "Why didn't I?" snapped her husband. "Because she was so blamed anxious for me to tell her. Them Sawyers are 'ristocrats. They look down on us common people." Mrs. Strout remonstrated.
"Billy's father was named Bill, but he's dead; so's Ben and Marthy. I know'd 'em all." "I am glad to learn that I have a nephew in the land of the living. Where is he?" "He lives in Montrose, the next town north of us," said Mr. Strout. "We have a branch store there an' Billy has charge of it." "If he had some capital, I suppose he could become a partner," remarked Mr. Ricker.
It was still the home of Hiram Maxwell and his wife, formerly Mandy Skinner. The two boys, Abraham Mason Maxwell and Obadiah Strout Maxwell had been told often the story of Mr. Sawyer's visit to Eastborough, and how he boarded in that house, and little Mandy was glad to see "Kirwinzee."
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