respectfully as it came, for it was commonly conceded that what Biah
Carter didn't know about Mapleton was hardly worth knowing.

"Putty piece o' property, this 'ere farm," he said, surveying the scene
around him with the air of a connoisseur. "None o' yer stun pastur land
where the sheep can't get their noses down through the rocks without a
file to sharpen 'em! Deacon Pitkin did a putty fair stroke o' business
when he swapped off his old place for this 'ere. That are old place was
all swamp land and stun pastur; wa'n't good for raisin' nothin' but
juniper bushes and bull frogs. But I tell _yeu_" preceded Biah, with a
shrewd wink, "that are mortgage pinches the deacon; works him like a dose
of aloes and picry, it does. Deacon fairly gets lean on't."

"Why," said Abner Jenks, a stolid plow boy to whom this stream of remark
was addressed; "this 'ere place ain't mortgaged, is it? Du tell, naow!"

"Why, yis; don't ye know that are? Why there's risin' two thousand
dollars due on this 'ere farm, and if the deacon don't scratch for it and
pay up squar to the minit, old Squire Norcross'll foreclose on him. Old
squire hain't no bowels, I tell yeu, and the deacon knows he hain't: and
I tell you it keeps the deacon dancin' lively as corn on a hot shovel."

"The deacon's a master hand to work," said Abner; "so's the boys."

"Wai, yis, the deacon is," said Biah, turning contemplatively to the
farmhouse; "there ain't a crittur in that are house that there ain't the
most work got out of 'em that ken be, down to Jed and Sam, the little
uns. They work like tigers, every soul of 'em, from four o'clock in she
morning' as long as they can see, and Mis' Pitkin she works all the
evening--woman's work ain't never done, they say."