Quincy Adams Sawyer and Masons Corner Folks | Page 4

of the platform to the other, crying out, "Bravo!
Fust rate! Do it again! That'll fetch 'em!"
After several repetitions of the chorus, each one given with increasing
spirit and volume, the Professor threw down his baton and said: "That'll
do. You're excused until to-morrow night, seven o'clock sharp at
Eastborough Town Hall. I guess the barge has just drove up and we'd
better be gittin' ready for our sleigh ride."
Miss Tilly James, who had acted as accompanist on the tin-panny old
piano, was putting up her music. The Professor, with his face wreathed
in smiles, walked up to her and said, "I tell you what, Miss James, that
last composition of mine is bang up. One of these days, 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