“By George, Strout, there's going to be another grocery.” Mr. Strout did not speak, but walked back behind the counter. Abner went to see the sign raising. Mr. Strout soliloquized: “So, he's going to fight me, is he? Well, I'll spend every dollar I have, and borrow some more, before I'll give in. He'll cut prices--so will I.” Then a troubled look came into his face. “Confound it. My commission as postmaster runs out in a month, but our Congressman is a good friend of mine.” Opening night came at the new store, Saturday being selected. Over the doorway was an electric sign-- WELCOME TO ALL Mr. Strout's store was nearly deserted. About ten o'clock Abner came in. “I say, Strout, it's just scrumptious. They got three times as many goods as you have. An' there's a smoking room back of the store with a sign over the door _'Exclusively for Loafers. Loaf and Enjoy Your Soul.'_ They say a poet feller named Whitman writ that last part. Saturday morning is to be bargain day and everything is to be sold at half price. And, say, isn't the hotel fine? Everybody was invited upstairs, an' there was a free lunch spread out.” “Abner, you've talked enough. You'd better go home.” The warfare continued for three months. At the end of the first, Hiram Maxwell, an old soldier, was appointed postmaster, _vice_ Obadiah Strout. At the end of the second month Mr. Strout resigned his position as organist and the gentleman who led the orchestra that played during the evening at the hotel was chosen in his stead. At the end of the third month a red flag was seen hanging at the door of Mr. Strout's store and Mr. Beers the auctioneer whose once rotund voice had now become thin and quavering, sold off the remaining stock and the fixtures. Then the curtains were pulled down and the door locked. The next day Mr. and Mrs. Strout and family left town. “What's become of Strout?” Quincy asked his son, who had just returned from Fernborough. Another month had passed since the auction sale. “I heard he was seen on State Street a few days ago, and he said the best move he ever made was leaving that one-horse country town; that he could make more money in a day in State Street than he could in a month in the grocery business. It seems he has become what they call a curb broker or speculator.” “I am glad,” said Quincy, “that Mr. Strout has found a more profitable and congenial field. It must have been very dull for him the last three months of his stay in that one-horse town.” CHAPTER XXX TOM, JACK AND NED Quincy decided to have his company incorporated. This necessitated visits to the Secretary of the Commonwealth and the Tax Commissioner. The amount paid in cash capital was $200,000. Besides the four stores doing business, sixteen more were contemplated in Boston, Cambridge, Lowell, Lawrence, Fall River, New Bedford, and other small cities and large towns.