ter. "Mr. Simlins knows better than
to believe you."

"Did you ever get flogged, Joe, for bad writin'?" said the farmer.

"Worse'n that!" said Joe, shaking his head,--"I've had to do it over!"

"Now you've got to do it over for me," said Mr. Simlins. "You write
your name for me there--the best you kin--and 'Pattaquasset,
Connecticut'--I want to see what the new school's up to."

"No"--said Joe--"I aint agoin' to do it. You ask one of the other boys.
It wouldn't tell you nothin' if I did, 'cause I learned writin'
afore,--and I didn't go to him but four weeks, besides." And Joe at
once absented himself.

"Is it workin' as straight with all the rest of 'em as it is with him?"
said Mr. Simlins. "You and me's got to see to it, you know,
Squire--seein' we're honorary individuals."

"Yes," said Squire Deacon, rousing up now Joe was gone--he had a
wholesome fear of Joe's tongue--"Yes, Mr. Simlins,--and it's my belief
it _wants_ seein' to--and he too."

"Joe,"--said Mr. Simlins. "Ne-ver fear--he'll see to himself."

"Here's some of _his_ writin'," said Joe, returning with a spelling
book. "All the boys gets him to write in their books." And laying it
down by Mr. Simlins, Joe took his final departure.

"What do the boys want him to write in their books for?" growled Mr.
Simlins, surveying the signature.

"I believe," said Miss Cecilia, "he is very popular in the school."

"Well, Squire," pursued Mr. Simlins, "can Joe clinch this?"

"He aint with me--if that's what you mean," said Squire Deacon. "A
man's writing don't prove much."

"Don't go no furder," said Mr. Simlins assentingly. "Well Squire--if
_you_'ll go furder I shall be wiser."

And freed from the fear of contradiction, the Squire had not the least
objection to going further.

"He's not the man to have here," said Squire Deacon,--"I saw that the
first day I saw him. I tried him,--and he didn't toe the mark."

"How did you try him?" growled Mr. Simlins. "I'd like to know how much
he's up to. _I_ haint found it out yet."

"I tried him, sir," said the Squire, "I tried him with a classical
story. Now Miss Faith gave in at once, and said _she_ didn't know what
it was; but t'other one made believe as though he knew all about it.
And if a man aint classical, Mr. Simlins, what is he?"

"I aint classical," growled Mr. Simlins again, "but then I don't set up
for to be. I s'pose that makes a difference, Squire; don't it?"

"Some people's more than they set out