awe.

The "real estate agent" was considered an enterprising man by his
neighbors and a "poor stick" by his wife. He had gone to school at
Thompson's Crossing in his younger days; had a call to preach, but
failed because he "couldn't get religion"; inherited a farm from his
uncle and married Sam Cotting's sister, whose tongue and temper were so
sharp that everyone marveled at the man's temerity in acquiring them.
Finally he had lost one foot in a mowing machine, and the accident
destroyed his further usefulness to the extent of inducing him to
abandon the farm and move into town. Here he endeavored to find
something to do to eke out his meagre income; so he raised "thoroughbred
Plymouth Rocks," selling eggs for hatching to the farmers; doctored sick
horses and pastured them in the lot back of his barn, the rear end of
which was devoted to "watermelons in season"; sold subscription books to
farmers who came to the mill or the village store; was elected "road
commissioner" and bossed the neighbors when they had to work out their
poll-tax, and turned his hand to any other affairs that offered a
penny's recompense. The "real estate business" was what Seth Davis
labeled "a blobbering bluff," for no property had changed hands in the
neighborhood in a score of years, except the lot back of the mill, which
was traded for a yoke of oxen, and the Wegg farm, which had been sold
without the agent's knowledge or consent.

The only surprising thing about the sale of the Wegg farm was that
anyone would buy it. Captain Wegg had died three years before, and his
son Joe wandered south to Albany, worked his way through a technical
school and then disappeared in the mazes of New York. So the homestead
seemed abandoned altogether, except for the Huckses.

When Captain Wegg died Old Hucks, his hired man, and Hucks' blind wife
Nora were the only dependents on the place, and the ancient couple had
naturally remained there when Joe scorned his inheritance and ran away.
After the sale they had no authority to remain but were under no
compulsion to move out, so they clung to their old quarters.

When McNutt was handed his letter by the postmaster and storekeeper he
stared at its contents in a bewildered way that roused the loungers to
amused laughter.

"What's up, Peggy?" called Nick Thorne from his seat on the counter.
"Somebody gone off'n me hooks an' left ye a fortun'?"

"Peggy" was one of McNutt's most popular nicknames, acquired becau