r shook his fist in Quincy's face,
to which a red flush mounted, dyeing cheek and brow.

"That's the Lord's truth," said Abner Stiles. Then he called out in a
loud voice, "Second round for the Professor. Now for the finish."

But the finish did not come then. The settlement between these two
lingual disputants did not come for many days. The reason for a sudden
cessation of the wordy conflict was a shrill, feminine voice, which
cried out from the store platform:

"Hiram Maxwell, where are you? Mother's most out of patience waiting for
you."

"Good Lord!" cried Hiram, breaking through the crowd and rushing to the
counter to make the long-deferred purchase. "I'm coming in a minute."

"I think I had better see you home," remarked Huldy Mason, entering the
store.

As she advanced the crowd separated and moved backward, leaving her a
dear path.

"Why, how do you do, Mr. Sawyer?" said she in a pleasant voice and with
a sweet smile, as she reached Quincy. "Won't you help me take Hiram
home?"

"I should be happy to be of service to you," replied Quincy.

The professor turned his back toward Miss Mason and began talking in an
animated manner to Abner Stiles, Bob Wood, and a few other ardent
sympathizers who gathered about him.

The rest of the crowd were evidently more interested in watching the
pretty Miss Mason and the genteel Mr. Sawyer. When Hiram left the store
with his purchases under one arm and Quincy's box of cigars under the
other, he was closely followed by Quincy and Huldy, who were talking and
laughing together. The crowd of loungers streamed out on the platform
again to watch their departure. As Quincy and Huldy turned from the
square into the road that led to the Deacon's house they met Ezekiel
Pettengill. Huldy nodded gayly and Quincy raised his hat, but Ezekiel
was not acquainted with city customs and did not return the salutation.
A few moments later the Professor and Abner Stiles were relating to him
the exciting occurrences of the last half hour.

CHAPTER V.

MR. SAWYER MEETS UNCLE IKE.

Quincy Adams Sawyer had not come down to Mason's Corner with any idea of
becoming a hermit. His father was a great lawyer and a very wealthy man.
He had made Quincy a large allowance during his college days, and had
doubled it when his only son entered his law office to complete his
studies.

Quincy had worked hard in two ways; first, to read law, so as to realize
the great anticipations that his fa