savagely, he retorted:

"If sass was butter, your folks wouldn't have to keep any cows."

Then he walked quickly across the room to where 'Zekiel Pettengill
stood aloof from the rest, wrapped in some apparently not very pleasant
thoughts.

At this juncture Hiram Maxwell dashed into the schoolroom, and judging
from appearances his thoughts were of the pleasantest possible
description.

"Say, fellers and girls," he cried, "I've got some news for yer, and
when you hear it you'll think the day of judgment has come, and you're
goin' to git your reward."

An astonished "Oh!" came up from the assemblage.

"Out with it," said Bob Wood, in his coarse, rough voice.

"Well, fust," said Hiram, his face glowing with animation, "you know we
got up a subscription to pay for the barge and made me treasurer, cuz I
worked in a deacon's family. Wall, when I asked Bill Stalker to-night
how much the bill would be, just to see if I'd got enough, he told me
that a Mr. Sawyer, who said he 'boarded down to Deacon Mason's, had paid
the hull bill and given him a dollar beside for hisself." Cheers and the
clapping of hands showed that the city fellow's liberality was
appreciated by a majority, at least, of the singing society. "When we
git on the barge I'll pay yer back yer money, and the ride won't cost
any one on us a durn cent. That ain't all. Mr. Sawyer jest told me