Cap’n Sproul was in his garden, surveying the growing “sass” with much content of spirit.  He cheerfully accepted Hiram’s invitation to take a ride, destination not mentioned, and they jogged away toward “Bickburn Towers,” as the Honorable J. Percival had named the remodelled farm-house of his ancestors.

Hiram, whose gift was language, impetuous in flow and convincing in argument, whether as barker or friend, conveyed the message of the trustees to Cap’n Sproul.  But the first selectman of Smyrna did not display enthusiasm.  He scowled at the buggy dasher and was silent.

“Men that have been out and about, like you and I have been, need something once in a while to break the monotony of country life,” concluded Hiram, slashing his whip at the wayside alders.

“You and me and him,” observed the Cap’n, with sullen prod of his thumb in direction of the “gingerbready” tower of the Bickford place rising over the ridge, “marooned in that judges’ stand like penguins on a ledge—­we’ll be li’ble to break the monotony.  Oh yes!  There ain’t no doubt about that.”

“Why, there’ll be northin’ to it!” blustered Hiram, encouragingly.  “I’ll swear ’em into line, you holler ‘Go!’ and the Honer’ble Bickford will finger that new gold stop-watch of his and see how fast they do it.  Northin’ to it, I say!”

“This is the blastedest town a man ever settled down in to spend his last days in peace and quietness,” growled the Cap’n.  “There’s a set of men here that seem to be perfickly happy so long as they’re rollin’ up a gob of trouble, sloppin’ a little sweet-oil and molasses on the outside and foolin’ some one into swallerin’ it.  I tell ye, Look, I’ve lived here a little longer than you have, and when you see a man comin’ to offer you what they call an honor, kick him on general principles, and kick him hard.”

“Doctors ought to be willin’ to take their own medicine,” retorted Hiram, grimly.  “Here you be, first selec’man and—­”

“They caught me when I wa’n’t lookin’—­not bein’ used to the ways of land-piruts,” replied the Cap’n, gloomily.  “I was tryin’ to warn you as one that’s been ahead and knows.”

“Why, that’s just what I like about this town,” blurted Hiram, undismayed.  “When I came home to Palermo a year ago or so, after all my wanderin’s, they wouldn’t elect me so much as hog-reeve—­seemed to be down on me all ’round.  But here—­heard what they did last night?” There was pride in his tones.  “They elected me foreman of the Smyrna Ancient and Honer’ble Firemen’s Association.”

“And you let ’em hornswoggle you into takin’ it?” demanded the Cap’n.

“Leather buckets, piazzy hat, speakin’-trumpet, bed-wrench, and puckerin’-string bag are in my front hall this minit,” said Hiram, cheerily, “and the wife is gittin’ the stuff together for the feed and blow-out next week.  I’m goin’ to do it up brown!”

The Cap’n opened his mouth as though to enter upon revelations.  But he shut it without a word.