"Speaking of bearers," said Abram Cutter, "hadn't we ought to pass a vote of thanks to Isr'el, or something?" "What for? turnin' up his toes?" inquired the irrepressible Seth. "I dono as he did it to obleege us, did he?" "I didn't mean that," said Abram, patiently. "But he was postmaster here twenty-five years, and seems's though we'd ought to take some notice of it." "That's so!" said Salem Rock. "You're right, Abram. What we want is some resolutions of sympathy for the widder. That's what's usual in such cases." "Humph!" said Seth Weaver. The others looked thoughtful. "How would you propose to word them resolutions, Brother Rock?" asked Enoch Peterson, cautiously. "I understand Mis' Nudd accepts her lot. Isr'el warn't an easy man to live with, I'm told by them as was neighbor to him." He glanced at Seth Weaver, who cleared his throat and gazed seaward. The others waited. Presently-- "If I was drawin' up them resolutions," Weaver said, slowly, "'pears to me I should say something like this: "'Resolved, that Isr'el Nudd was a good postmaster, and done his work faithful; and resolved, that we tender his widder all the respeckful sympathy she requires.' And a peanut-shell to put it in!" he added, in a lower tone. Salem Rock pulled out a massive silver watch and looked at it. "I got to go!" he said. "Let's boil this down! All present who want Homer Hollopeter for postmaster, say so; contrary-minded? It's a vote! We'll send the petition to Washin'ton. Next question is, who'll he have for an assistant?" There was a movement of chairs, as with fresh interest in the new topic. "I was intendin' to speak on that p'int!" piped up a little man at the end of the row, who had not spoken before. "What do we need of an assistant? Homer Hollopeter could do the work with one hand, except Christmas and New Years. There ain't room enough in there to set a hen, anyway." "Who wants to set hens in the post-office?" demanded Seth Weaver. "There's cacklin' enough goes on there without that. I expect about the size of it is, you'd like more room to set by the stove, without no eggs to set on." "I was only thinkin' of savin' the gov'ment!" said the little man, uneasily. "I reckon gov'ment's big enough to take care of itself!" said Seth Weaver. "There's allers been an assistant," said Salem Rock, briefly. "Question is, who to have?" At this moment a window-blind was drawn up, and the meek head of Mr. Homer Hollopeter appeared at the open window. "Good afternoon, gentlemen!" he said, nervously. A great content shone in his mild brown eyes,--indeed, he must have heard every word that had been spoken,--but he shuffled his feet and twitched the blind uneasily after he had spoken. "Good afternoon, Mr. Postmaster!" said Salem Rock, heartily. "Congratulations, Home!" said Seth Weaver. The others nodded and grunted approvingly.