But Hiram’s curiosity did not extend to the professor’s science.

“The idee is,” he broke in, eagerly, “did Ferd Parrott say anything about a morgidge and bill of sale bein’ on this property, and be you prepared to clear off encumbrances?”

“I am,” declared the professor promptly.

“Then you take it,” snapped Hiram, with comprehensive sweep of his big hand.  He kicked the alligator into the fireplace, took down his overcoat and shrugged his shoulders into it.  “Get your money counted and come ’round to town office for your papers.”

While he was buttoning it the Reverend Thayer returned, leading the ladies of the Women’s Temperance Workers, Miss Philamese Nile at his side.  But Hiram checked her first words.

“You talk to him after this,” he said, with a chuck of his thumb over his shoulder toward the professor.  “Speakin’ for Cap’n Aaron Sproul and myself, I take the liberty to here state that we are now biddin’ farewell to the tavern business in one grand tableau to slow music, lights turned low and the audience risin’ and singin’ ’Home, Sweet Home’.”  He strode out by the front way, followed by Mrs. Look.

“Had you just as soon come through the kitchen with me?” asked the Cap’n in a whisper as he approached his wife.  “I’m goin’ to do up what’s left of that plum-duff and take it home.  It kind o’ hits my tooth!”

XXIX

Mr. Aholiah Luce, of the Purgatory Hollow section of Smyrna, stood at bay on the dirt-banking of his “castle,” that is, a sagged-in old hulk of a house of which only the L was habitable.

He was facing a delegation of his fellow-citizens, to wit:  Cap’n Aaron Sproul, first selectman of the town; Hiram Look, Zeburee Nute, constable; and a nervous little man with a smudge of smut on the side of his nose—­identity and occupation revealed by the lettering on the side of his wagon: 

    T. TAYLOR
    STOVES AND TINWARE
    VIENNA

Mr. Luce had his rubber boots set wide apart, and his tucked-in trousers emphasized the bow in his legs.  With those legs and his elongated neck and round, knobby head, Mr. Luce closely resembled one of a set of antique andirons.

“You want to look out you don’t squdge me too fur in this,” said Mr. Luce, warningly.  “I’ve been squdged all my life, and I’ve ’bout come to the limick.  Now look out you don’t squdge me too fur!”

He side-stepped and stood athwart his door, the frame of which had been recently narrowed by half, the new boarding showing glaringly against the old.  When one understood the situation, this new boarding had a very significant appearance.

Mr. Luce had gone over into Vienna, where his reputation for shiftiness was not as well known, and had secured from Mr. T. Taylor, recently set up in the stove business, a new range with all modern attachments, promising to pay on the instalment plan.  Stove once installed, Mr. Luce had immediately begun to “improve” his mansion by building a new door-frame too narrow to permit the exit of the stove.  Then Mr. Luce had neglected to pay, and, approached by replevin papers, invoked the statute that provides that a man’s house cannot be ripped in pieces to secure goods purchased on credit.