"Why," exclaimed Abner Jenks, a stolid plow kid to whom this stream of remarkwas 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 thousanddollars due on this 'ere farm, and if the deacon don't scratch for it andpay up squar to the minit, very aged Squire Norcross'll foreclose on him. 0ldsquire hain't no bowels, I tell yeu, and the deacon knows he hain't: andI tell you it keeps the deacon dancin' lively as corn on a hot shovel."

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