Strout laughed scornfully. “In town? That's good. Why, man, he's been dead more'n twenty years--food for fishes, if they'd eat him, which I doubt. He's left a boy, same name, that used to go to school here, but, thank Heaven, he's got lots of money, and probably won't trouble us any more. Perhaps he's the one you want.” “Are you sure the boy's father is dead? I saw him in Boston yesterday.” “I don't take any stock in any such nonsense. This ain't the days of miracles.” “I saw him in this town this morning.” “Where?” gasped Strout. “Right here. That's my name, Quincy Adams Sawyer. Do you want me to identify myself?” He stepped back, puckered up his mouth, and began whistling “Listen to the Mocking Bird.” Strout was both startled and mad. “Just like you to come spyin' round. You allers was a meddler, an' underhanded. But now you know the truth, what are you going to do about it?” Quincy walked to the door. “Well, Mr. Strout, I'm going to put it about as you did when I first came to Mason's Corner, Either you or I have got to leave town. This is our last fight, and I'm going to win.” He left the store quickly and made his way to where Ezekiel was waiting for him with the carryall. “Now, 'Zeke, we'll go to the Hospital and see poor Hiram.” They found him hobbling about on crutches in the grounds of the Hospital. “How long have you been here, Hiram?” was Quincy's first question. “About twelve weeks. You see, besides breaking my leg I cracked my knee pan an' that's made it wuss.” “We'll fix you up very soon. I'll get you an artificial leg from New York. You'll be able to walk all right but you mustn't do any heavy lifting.” “Guess I shan't have no chance to lift anything now Strout's got the store.” “Don't worry about that, Hiram. There are towns that have two stores in them. How's Mandy?” [Illustration: “'JUST LIKE YOU TO COME SPYIN' ROUND. YOU ALLERS WAS A MEDDLER.'”] “Gettin' along all right. Mr. Pettingill, there, sends a man over to help her, and Mrs. Crowley is as good as two any day.” “Don't worry, Hiram. You'll come out on top yet” “If I do, 'twill be because you'll put me there, I reckon.” As they were driving back 'Zekiel asked Quincy if he knew Mrs. Hawkins was going to sell out. “No, why. Getting too old?” “No, she's as spry as a cat, and she's seventy odd. That ain't the reason. Jonas is dead.” “What was the matter?” “Chickens.” “What--overeating?” “No, somebody stole his chickens. So he arranged a gun with a spring and he must have forgotten it.” “He didn't 'kalkilate' on its hitting him?” “Guess not. Mrs. Hawkins says she's too old to marry agin, and she can't run the house without a man she can trust.” “Let's stop and see her.” When they entered, Mrs. Hawkins threw up her hands. “Lord a Massy! I heerd at the store all about you comin' back, but where on airth _did_ you come from? They said you was dead an' here you are as handsome as ever. How's your wife, an' that boy o' yourn?”