“Well, I guess that’s about the size of it,” said Quincy.  “Now, for instance, Hiram, you and Mandy are good friends, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” said Hiram, “after we get over our little difficulties we are.”

“Well,” said Quincy, “I happen to know that ’Zekiel and Huldy have got over their little difficulties and they are now good friends.”

“Been’t they going to get married?” asked Hiram.

“Are you and Mandy going to get married?” asked Quincy.

“Well, we haven’t got so far along as to set the day exactly,” said Hiram.

“And I don’t believe ’Zekiel and Huldy will get married any sooner than you and Mandy will,” remarked Quincy.  “But don’t say a word about this, Hiram.”

“Mum’s the word,” replied Hiram.  “I am no speaker, but I hear a thing or two.”

“Now, Hiram,” said Quincy, “run in and tell Mandy I’ll be in to lunch as usual, and then come back, for I have something more to say to you.”

Hiram did as directed, and Quincy sat and thought the situation over.  So far he had been patient and he had borne the slings and arrows hurled at him without making any return.  The time had come to change all that, and from now on he would take up arms in his own defence, and even attack his opponents.

When he had reached this conclusion, Hiram reappeared and resumed his seat on the chopping block.

Quincy asked, “In what regiment did the singing-master go to war?”

“The same one as I did,—­th Mass.,” replied Hiram.

“Did you go to war?” inquired Quincy.

“Well, I rather guess,” said Hiram.  “I went out as a bugler; he was a corporal, but he got detailed for hospital duty, and we left him behind before we got where there was any fightin’.”

“Was he ever wounded in battle?” asked Quincy.

“One of the sick fellers in the hospital gave him a lickin’ one day, but I don’t suppose you’d call that a battle,” remarked Hiram.

“Well, how about that rigmarole he got off down to the grocery store that morning?” Quincy interrogated.

“Oh, that was all poppycock,” said Hiram.  “He said that just to get even with you, when you were telling about your grandfathers and grandmothers.”

Quincy laughed.

“Oh, I see,” said he.  “Were you ever wounded in battle, Hiram?”

“Well, I was shot onct, but not with a bullet.”

“What was it,” said Quincy, “a cannon ball?”

“No,” said Hiram.  “I never was so thunderin’ mad in my life.  When I go to regimental reunions the boys just joke the life out of me.  You see I was blowin’ my bugle for a charge, and the boys were goin’ ahead in great style, when a shell struck a fence about twenty feet off.  The shell didn’t hit me, but a piece of that darned fence came whizzin’ along and struck me where I eat, and I had a dozen stummick aches inside o’ half a minute.  I just dropped my bugle and clapped my hands on my stummick and yelled so loud that the boys told me afterwards that they were afraid I had busted my bugle.”