presently from his shop-door, which is divided
horizontally, the upper half being open in all ordinary weathers; and
the lower half, as he closes it after him, gives a warning jingle to a
little bell within. A spare, short, hatchet-faced man is Abner Tew, who
walks over with a prompt business-step to receive a leathern pouch from
the stage-driver. He returns with it,--a few eager townspeople following
upon his steps,--reenters his shop, and delivers the pouch within a
glazed door in the corner, where the postmistress _ex officio_ Mrs.
Abner Tew, a tall, gaunt woman in black bombazine and spectacles,
proceeds to assort the Ashfield mail. By reason of this division of
duties, the shop is known familiarly as the shop of "the Tew partners."

Among the waiting expectant, who loiter about among the sugar-barrels of
the grocery department, there presently appears--with a new tinkle of
the little bell--a stout, ruddy man, just past middle age, in
broad-brimmed white beaver and sober homespun suit, who is met with a
deferential "Good day, Squire," from one and another, as he falls
successively into short parley with them. A self-possessed, cheery man,
who has strong opinions, and does not fear to express them; Selectman
for the last eight years; who has presided in town-meeting time out of
mind; member of the Legislature, and once a Senator for the district.
This was Giles Elderkin, Esq., the gentleman who, on behalf of the
Ecclesiastical Society, had conducted the correspondence with the
Reverend Mr. Johns; and he was now waiting his reply. Thus is presently
brought to him by the postmistress, who, catching a glimpse of the
Squire through the glazed door, has taken the precaution to adjust her
cap-strings and dexterously to flirt one or two of the more apparent
creases out of her dingy bombazine. The letter brings acceptance, which
the Squire, having made out by private study near to the dusky window,
announces to Mrs. Tew,--begging her to inform the people who should
happen in from "up the road."

"I hope he'll suit, Squire," says Mrs. Tew.

"I hope he may,--hope he may, Mrs. Tew; I hear well of him; there's good
blood in him. I knew his father, the Major,--likely man. I hope he may,
Mrs. Tew."

And the Squire, having penned a little notice, by favor of one of the
Tew partners, proceeds to affix it to the meeting-house door; after
which he walks to his own house, with the assured step of a man who is
conscious of having ac