Quincy Adams Sawyer and Masons Corner Folks | Page 4

when the 'Star Spangled Banner,' 'Hail Columbia,' and 'Marching through Georgia' are laid upon the top shelf and all covered with dust, one hundred million American freemen will be singing Strout's great national anthem, 'Hark, and hear the Eagle Scream.' What do you think of that prophecy?"
"I think," said Miss James, turning her pretty face towards him, her black eyes snapping with fun, "that if conceit was consumption, there'd be another little green grave in the cemetery with O. Strout on the headstone."
The Professor never could take a joke. In his eye, jokes were always insults to be resented accordingly. Turning upon the young lady savagely, he retorted:
"If sass was butter, your folks wouldn't have to keep any cows."
Then he walked quickly across the room to where 'Zekiel Pettengill stood aloof from the rest, wrapped in some apparently not very pleasant thoughts.
At this juncture Hiram Maxwell dashed into the schoolroom, and judging from appearances his thoughts were of the pleasantest possible description.
"Say, fellers and girls," he cried, "I've got some news for yer, and when you hear it you'll think the day of judgment has come, and you're goin' to git your reward."
An astonished "Oh!" came up from the assemblage.
"Out with it," said Bob Wood, in his coarse, rough voice.
"Well, fust," said Hiram, his face glowing with animation, "you know we got up a subscription to pay for the barge and made me treasurer, cuz I worked in a deacon's family. Wall, when I asked Bill Stalker to-night how much the bill would be, just to see if I'd got enough, he told me that a Mr. Sawyer, who said he 'boarded down to Deacon Mason's, had paid the hull bill and given him a dollar beside for hisself." Cheers and the clapping of hands showed that the city fellow's liberality was appreciated by a majority, at least, of the singing society. "When we git on the barge I'll pay yer back yer money, and the ride won't cost any one on us a durn cent. That ain't all. Mr. Sawyer jest told me hisself that when he was over to Eastborough Centre yesterday he ordered a hot supper for the whole caboodle, and it'll be ready for us when we git over to the Eagle Hotel. So come along and git your seats in the barge." A wild rush was made for the door, but Hiram backed against it and screamed at the top of his voice: "No two girls must sit close together. Fust a girl, then a feller, next a girl, then a feller, next a girl, then a feller, that's the rule."
He opened the door and dashed out, followed by all the members of the society excepting the Professor and 'Zekiel, who were left alone in the room.
"See that flock of sheep," said the Professor to 'Zekiel, with a strong touch of sarcasm in his tone. "That's what makes me so cussed mad. Brains and glorious achievement count for nothin' in this community. If a city swell comes along with a pocketful of money and just cries, 'Baa,' over the fence they all go after him."
"Hasn't it always been so?" asked 'Zekiel.
"Not a bit of it," said Strout. "In the old days, kings and queens and princes used to search for modest merit, and when found they rewarded it. Nowadays modest merit has to holler and yell and screech to make folks look at it."
Hiram again appeared in the room, beckoning to the two occupants.
"Say, ain't you two comin' along?" he cried. "We've saved good places for yer."
"Where's Mr. Sawyer?" asked 'Zekiel.
"Oh, he's goin' along with the crowd," said Hiram; "he's got a seat in between Miss Putnam and Miss Mason, and looks as snug as a bug in a rug. There's a place for you, Mr. Pettengill, between Miss Mason and Mandy, and I comes in between Mandy and Mrs. Hawkins. Mandy wanted her mother to go cuz she works so confounded hard and gits out of doors so seldom, and there's a seat 'tween Mrs. Hawkins and Tilly James for the Professor, and Sam Hill's t'other side of Tilly and nex' to S'frina Cotton."
"I guess I can't go," said 'Zekiel. "The house is all alone, and I'm kind of 'fraid thet thet last hoss I bought may get into trouble again as he did last night. So I guess I'd better go home and look arter things." Leaning over he whispered in Hiram's ear, "I reckon you'd better take the seat between Huldy and Mandy, you don't want ter separate a mother from her daughter, you know."
"All right," said Hiram, with a knowing wink, "I'm satisfied to obleege."
Hiram then turned to the Professor: "Ain't yer goin', Mr. Strout?"
"When this sleigh ride was projected," said the Professor with dignity, "I s'posed it was to be