The Further Adventures of Quincy Adams Sawyer and Masons Corner Folks | Page 3

dollars to get my watch fixed," said Robert, irrelevantly.
"I was on time in that affair," said Quincy, conscious, when too late, that he had wasted a pun on an obtuse individual. "Are you still carpentering?"
"Yes. Lots of new houses going up, and Ben Bates and me have all we can handle. Here, Ben, come here. The Governor's askin' 'bout you."
Benjamin Bates was rather diffident, and had been holding back, but at Bob's invitation came forward.
"How d'ye do, Governor?" was his salutation. Diffidence when forced to action often verges on forwardness.
"Glad to meet you again," said Quincy. "Robert says they keep you busy."
"Yes, we don't have so many resting spells now they use donkey engines as we did when Pat or Mike had to climb the ladder."
"The march of improvement forces us all into line," said Quincy as he greeted Miss Seraphina Cotton.
"Teaching school, now, Miss Cotton?"
"No, your Excellency, I am fortunately relieved from what became, near the end of my long years of service, an intolerable drudgery. Teaching American children to talk English is one thing, but teaching French Canadians, Poles, Germans, Russians, Italians, and Greeks was quite a different proposition."
"And yet it is a most important work," said Quincy--"making good citizens from these various nationalities. America, to-day, is like a large garden, with a great variety of flowers from foreign stalks."
Miss Cotton smiled somewhat satirically. "I'm afraid, your Excellency, if you'd ever been a school teacher, you'd have found many weeds in the garden."
"But how did you gain your freedom?" asked Quincy. "Did they pension you?"
"Oh, no. An uncle died out West and left me enough with which to buy an annuity. I board with the Reverend Mr. Howe. You remember him?"
"Why, certainly, I do. And here's his son, Emmanuel--have I got the name right?"
"Yes, Governor, just right as to sound. I spell it with an 'E' and two M's," said young Mr. Howe, as Miss Cotton moved on to tell of her good fortune to Alice and Linda.
"How's your father, now? Does he preach every Sunday?"
"Reg'lar as clock work. Of course I couldn't tell everybody, but I reckon he's using some old sermons that he wrote forty years ago, but the young ones never heard them, and the old ones have forgotten." Quincy laughed. Ministers' sons are seldom appalled by worldly ways and, quite often, adopt them.
"This is Arthur Scates," said Mr. Strout, as he presented a young man with sunken cheeks, hollow eyes, and an emaciated body. "He ain't enjoyin' the best of health."
"Ah, I remember," said Quincy. "You are the young man who was to sing at the concert when I first came here. I took your place, and that act turned out to be the most important one in my life. I owe much of my present happiness to you. What is your trouble?"
"My lungs are affected. I have lost my voice and cannot sing. I had counted on becoming an opera singer."
"Why do you not go to one of the out-door hospitals for treatment?"
The young man's face flushed, and he remained silent.
"Pardon me," said Quincy. "I understand. Come to Boston next week, to the State House, and I will see that you have the best of treatment."
"Wall, Mr. Sawyer, it does one's eyes good to set 'em on you again. This is Olive Green,--you remember her sister Betsey worked for me when you was one of my boarders." The woman's voice was loud and strident, and filled the room.
"Mrs. Hawkins, I shall never forget you and Miss Betsey Green, and how you both tried to make my stay with you a pleasant one."
"You've put on consid'rable flesh since I saw yer last. Guess you've been taking your meals reg'lar, which you never did when you lived with me. But your market's made now, and that makes the difference. They say folks in love have poor appetites." She laughed loudly, and stopped only when Olive put a restraining hand on her arm. "I hope Alice is a good cook, but she never had much chance to learn."
Quincy thought it was time to change the subject. "How's Mr. Hawkins?"
"I tell him he's just as lazy as ever. He's kalkerlatin' on getting three good broods of chickens. He's gone on chickens. He wanted to come tonight, but we've lots of boarders, and they're allus wantin' ice water or somethin' else, and so I told him he'd got to stay to home. You'll have plenty of time to see him to-morrer."
Many others greeted the Governor and his right hand felt the effect of so many hearty grips, some of them of the horny-handed variety.
The Cottonton Brass Band was now stationed in the hall, and a short concert closed the evening's entertainment, which was allowed, by all, to be the most high-toned affair ever given in the town.
As Quincy