"Well, I'll take that just for a starter," said the auctioneer, "but of course no sane man not fitted to be the inmate of an idiotic asylum thinks that this fine piece of ground, this long-built and long-established grocery store, filled to overflowing with all the necessities and delicacies of the season, a store which has been in successful operation for nearly forty years, and of which the good will is worth a good deal more than the sum just bid, will be sold for any such preposterous figure! Gentlemen, I am listening." Suddenly a voice from the rear of the crowd called out, "T-o-o-t-o to to-oo-two thousand!" As if by magic, every head was turned, for the majority of those in the crowd recognized the voice at once. There was but one man in Mason's Corner who stammered, and that man was Hiram Maxwell. They turned, and all saw seated in the Pettengill team Hiram Maxwell, and beside him sat Mr. Sawyer from Boston. "Oh, that's more like it," said the auctioneer. "Competition is the life of trade, and is particularly pleasing to an auctioneer. The first gentleman who bid now sees that there is another gentleman who has a better knowledge of the value of this fine property than he has evinced up to the present moment. There is still an opportunity for him to see the error of his ways, and put himself on record as being an observing and intelligent person." All eyes were turned upon Strout at these words from the auctioneer; his face reddened, and he called out, "Twenty-five hundred!" "Still better," cried the auctioneer; "the gentleman, as I supposed, has shown that he is a person of discernment; he did not imagine that I was engaged simply to make a present of this fine establishment to any one who would offer any sum that suited his convenience for it. He knew as well as I did that there would be a sharp contest to secure this fine property. Now, gentlemen, I am offered twenty-five hundred, twenty-five hundred I am offered, twenty-five hundred--" Again a voice was heard from the team on the outer limits of the crowd, "Twenty-five fifty!" The crowd again turned their gaze upon Strout; the Professor was not an extravagant man, and he had saved a little money. He had in his pocket at the time a little over a hundred dollars; he would not put it in the bank, for, he argued, if he did everybody in town would know how much money he had; so he called out, "Twenty-six hundred!" "Ah, gentlemen," continued the auctioneer, "let me thank you for the keen appreciation that you show of a good thing. When I looked this property over I said to myself, the bidders will tumble over themselves to secure this fine property'; and I have not been disappointed." Again the faces of the crowd were turned towards the team in which sat Quincy and Hiram. Hiram stood up in the team, and masking a horn with his hands, shouted at the top of his voice, for the time overcoming his propensity to stammer, "Twenty-seven hundred!"