After much rummaging through till and pocketbook, Mr. Hill and his son
found ten dollars in change, which was passed to Quincy. He stuffed the
large wad of small bills and fractional currency into his overcoat
pocket and sitting down on a pile of soap boxes drummed on the lower one
with his boot heels and puffed his cigar with evident pleasure.

While Quincy was thus pleasantly engaged, Professor Strout entered the
store and walked briskly up to the counter. He did not see, or if he
did, he did not notice, Quincy who kept his place upon the pile of soap
boxes. Strout was followed by Abner Stiles, Robert Wood, and several
other idlers, who had been standing on the store platform when the
Professor arrived.

"Did those cigars come down, Hill?" asked Strout in his usual pompous
way.

"Yes!" replied Mr. Hill, "but I guess you'll have to wait till I gut
another box down."

"What for?" asked Strout sharply. "Wa'n't it understood between us that
them cigars was to be kept for me?"

"That's so," acknowledged Mr. Hill, "but you see, when I told that
gentleman on the soap box over yonder that you smoked them, he bought
the whole box, paid me a cent more apiece than you do. A dollar's worth
saving nowadays. He says they sell for fifteen cents, two for a quarter,
up in Boston."

"If he's so well posted on Boston prices," growled Strout, "why didn't
he pay them instead of cheatin' you out of two dollars and a half? I