“Yes,” said Quincy, “and she was a fine player, too.”

“Well,” said Hiram, “she’s engaged to Sam Hill, you know, down to the grocery store.  That ain’t all, old Ben James, her father, he’s a paralytic, you know, and pretty well fixed for this world’s goods, and he wants Benoni to sell out his grocery when Tilly gets married and come over and run the farm, which is the biggest one in the town, and I heerd Abner Stiles say to ’Manuel Howe, that he reckoned he—­you know who I mean—­would get some fellers to back him up and he’d buy out the grocery and get ’p’inted postmaster.  I guess that’s all;” and Hiram started off towards Deacon Mason’s.

Quincy went to his room and prepared for the noonday meal.  While doing so he mentally resolved that the singing-master would not be the next tax collector if he could prevent it; he also resolved that the same party would not get the grocery store, if he had money enough to outbid him; and lastly he felt sure that he had influence enough to prevent his being appointed postmaster.

Quincy met Ezekiel at lunch.  He told Quincy that everything was working smoothly; that the singing-master evidently thought he had the field all to himself.  He said Huldy and Alice were old friends, and Huldy was coming over twice a week to see Alice, and so he shouldn’t go up to Deacon Mason’s very often.

“Where is Miss Pettengill?” said Quincy.

“Well,” replied Ezekiel, “she isn’t used to heavy dinners at noon, so she had a lunch up in her room.  I am going over to West Eastborough this afternoon with the boys to see some cows that ’Bias Smith has got to sell.  The sun is coming out and I guess it will be pleasant the rest of the day.”

“’Bias Smith?” asked Quincy.

“His name is Tobias,” said Ezekiel, “but everybody calls him ’Bias.”

“I have heard of him,” said Quincy.  “You just mention my name to him, Mr. Pettengill, and say I am coming over some day with Mr. Stackpole to see him.”

’Zekiel smiled.  “Going to take a hand yourself?” asked he.

“Yes,” said Quincy, “the other fellow has been playing tricks with the pack so long that I think I shall throw down a card or two myself, and I may trump his next lead.”

“By the way,” said ’Zekiel, “while you were away Uncle Ike had our piano tuned and fixed up.  It hasn’t been played since Alice went to Boston five years ago.  But the tuner who came from Boston said it was just as good as ever.  So if you hear any noise underneath you this afternoon you will know what it means.”

“Music never troubles me,” said Quincy, “I play and sing myself.”

“Well, I hope you and Alice will have a good time with the piano,” remarked ’Zekiel as he left the room.

Quincy went back to his room and wrote a letter to a friend in Boston, asking him to get a certified copy of the war record of Obadiah Strout, Corporal —­th Mass.  Volunteers, and send it to him at Eastborough Centre as soon as possible.  It was many days before that letter reached its destination.