street, and, being rather disappointed at the result of his
negotiations with Philip, thought it might be a good idea to broach
the subject to the squire, who, as he knew, had taken it upon
himself to superintend the sale of Mr. Gray's goods.

"I say, squire, I've just been over to see Phil Gray."

"Ahem! Well, how does he seem to feel?"

"Kinder stuck up, I reckon. He said he wouldn't go to the poorhouse,
and I might tell you so."

"I apprehend," said the squire, in his stately way, "he will be
under the necessity of going, whether he likes it or not."

"Just so; that's what I told him!" interjected Nick.

"And he should be grateful for so comfortable a home," continued the
public man.

"Well, I dunno," said Nick. "They do say that old Tucker most
starves the paupers. Why his bills with dad are awful small."

"The town cannot afford to pamper the appetites of its
beneficiaries," said the squire. "Where is Philip now?"

"I guess he's at home. I offered to buy his fiddle, but he said he
was going to keep it. I offered him a dollar and sixty-four
cents--the same as dad's bill against his father, but he wouldn't
take it."