When we tried to move him he
became sort of crazy like, and it took three on us to get him out of the
room and take him upstairs. He seems sot on getting back in that room.
The other day he crawled down stairs and we found him trying to get into
the room, but I had it locked and we had another fight to get him
upstairs again."
"Well," said Quincy, "I would like to see him; it may be he is a distant
relative of our family. My father wishes me to talk with him and make
the inquiry anyway."
"What mought your name be?" asked Mr. Waters.
"My name is Quincy Adams Sawyer."
"Oh, yes, I remember you," said Waters. "Wasn't you the singer that Mr.
Strout hired to come down from Boston to sing at his concert. Strout
told me he paid you $50 for singing that night, and by gosh it was worth
it."
Quincy was not a profane young man, but he had to smother an oath on
hearing that. He replied, "Yes, I sang that night."
"And," said Waters, "didn't you whistle that piece, Listen to the
Bobolink, fine?"
"Here, Sam," said he to a young fellow who appeared in sight, "show this
gentleman up to Jim Sawyer's room; I'm getting kind of pussy, and I
don't go upstairs much.
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