Squire, "I can't
maintain the constant supervision of your plate which my feelings
prompt. I am too far off"--he concluded in a melancholy tone.

"I say, Squire!" said Jem Williams, "you bain't _mor_'n as far agin as
_he_"--with a nod towards the upper end of the table.

Squire Deacon lowered, but for the present his feelings were restrained.

"Mr. Simlins," said Endecott, when he had resumed his seat, "I ask
you--as one who knows the country--whereabouts does the concatenation
you spoke of reach a climax?"

"The star you look at is always the brightest," said the farmer.
"However, I think the clams is the best thing at table--or _near_ the
best," with a slight glance towards Squire Deacon and the dish at the
'well end.'"I've a legendary attachment to beauty, sir; my father
married the three prettiest wives in the country."

"I say, Squire," said Jem Williams, "Mr. Simlins says you'r' hot."

"Hot?" said Squire Deacon, flushing up very much, and setting down the
clams,--"that dish is. _I_'m as cool as all these cucumbers accumulated
into a heap."

"Hope you'll stay where you are, then," said Mr. Simlins. "I'm cool
too. Don't come near me, or we shall be in a state of concentration."

Mr. Linden remarked that that was an excellent point when reached.

"What point?" said Squire Deacon, who had returned to his seat with the
strong impression that everybody was laughing at him, under the special
guidance of the new teacher. "You know mighty little of the points
round here, I tell _you_."

"The point of concentration is found in various places, sir," said Mr.
Linden: "though I grant you it is rare."

"What do you know about Pattaquasset points?" repeated the Squire,--"or
Pattaquasset people--or Pattaquasset water either, for that matter?
Just you go down here when the tide's in--and afore you know where you
are you'll find yourself wading round over your head."

"No sir--never," said Mr. Linden with great assurance.

"Why not? how're you goin' to help it?" said Squire Deacon.

"When I reach _that_ point," said Mr. Linden, "I shall swim."

And Faith heard Reuben Taylor's smothered laugh of great gratification.

"Hope you haven't spoiled your own supper, Squire," said Mr. Simlins,
"by your complacency in carrying about them hot clams. Have somethin'
this way?"

While this question was getting its answer, Faith sat back in her chair
and looked up and down the length of the table. It presented a
distinguished