Give me a five-cent
plug, Mr. Hill, if some gentleman hasn't bought out your whole stock. I
fancy my pipe will have to do me till I get a chance to go over to
Eastborough Centre."
During this conversation Hiram Maxwell had come in to do an errand for
Mrs. Mason, and several more platform idlers, having heard the
Professor's loud words, also entered.
Strout was angry. When in that condition he usually lost his head, which
he did on this occasion. Turning to Quincy he said with a voice full of
passion:
"What's yer name, anyway? You've got so many of them I don't know which
comes fust and which last. Is it Quincy or Adams or Sawyer? How in
thunder did you get 'em all, anyway? I s'pose they tucked 'em on to you
when you was a baby and you was too weak to kick at being so abused."
At this sally a loud laugh arose from the crowd gathered in the store,
and Abner Stiles, who was the Professor's henchman and man-of-all-work,
cried out, "Fust blood for the Professor."
Quincy faced the Professor with a pale face and spoke in clear, ringing
tones, still holding his lighted cigar between the fingers of his right
hand.
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