_Rowell_ (_throws down money, and rises_). There's your money. _Hosea._ That's good. (_Snatches the money._) The best investment you ever made. (_Sits and writes._) There's your receipt. Thank you. (_Rises and shouts._) Hi, sonny, take down the flag: bargain's closed. That's my son out there; a mere boy, but awful smart if he's kept in his place. Hiram Jenks is his baptismal name. I call him Hi, for short: see the pun? ha, ha, ha! Hi Jenks, when I'm in a highly humorous vein,—that's another; and when he's in a teasing humor, I call him Hi, son. There's another! Ha, ha, ha! Can't help it: I'm always doing it. I must be funny; in my office, at my table— _Rowell._ You seem to be a very busy man, Mr. Jenks. _Hosea._ I am. I'm a auctioneer, funeral undertaker, coroner, lawyer, expressman, carpenter, shoemaker, any thing by which I can gain an honest penny. There's only one office that seems necessary to my happiness. I would be a postmaster; and Stamps is on his last legs. Poor fellow! he's nearly stamped out of existence. You see: ha, ha, ha! I can't help it; it will pop out. Perhaps it's better, for humor is dangerous when it strikes in. See? Ha, ha, ha! _Rowell._ Your humor is not of the strikin' kind, Mr. Jenks. _Hosea._ Ha, ha, ha! very good; it's catching. Strike in: that's (_looks grave_) rather good. _Rowell._ There's a son at the head of this Trueworth family, I believe? _Hosea._ Yes; a splendid fellow, who enlisted a week before his father died. Poor chap! he's awfully cut up. Thought the old folks nicely settled, and was chock full of patriotism. Was disappointed in that, but could not get out of Uncle Sam's clutches. I couldn't afford to lose my money, so foreclosed and sold out. (_Enter door in flat_ HIRAM JENKS _with a long pole, on which a red auction-flag is rolled, on his shoulder_.) _Rowell._ 'Twas a hard blow for the family. (HIRAM _turns to shut the door: pole swings round, and hits_ HOSEA _in the head_.) _Hosea._ Oh, murder! you clumsy chap, you've broke my head. _Hiram._ 'Twas a hard blow for you, dad,—an auctioneer knocked down under his own flag. "When pole meets poll, then comes the crack of skull." _Hosea._ Shut up, sonny! Where's your manners? Hold up your head. (HIRAM _obeys the directions as spoken_.) Boys should be seen, not heard. Turn out your toes. That was good, though, "when pole meets poll:" ha, ha, ha! He can't help it: takes it from me. I can't help it; in my office, at the table— _Rowell._ I'm anxious to settle this business at once, and get possession of the farm. If you will arrange the papers, my check is ready to-day for the whole amount of purchase.