Hiram knew that his partner was anxious to get him out of the Fernborough store, and so he filed his objections at once.

"Oh," said Strout, "of course I didn't have no sech idee as askin' you to go, even if you did know who was the best man for the job. The snail thinks he's travelled a long ways when he goes a foot, an' some men are jus' like him."

Hiram ignored the personal application.

"Well, bein's you didn't want me to go, I s'pose you've somebody in mind. Suit yourself, as us'al."

"Well, I've thought it all over, an' I think Billy Ricker's our man.

He'll be over from Montrose to-morrow an' I'll talk it over with him.

We've got that Montrose trade so solid he can be spared from there now.

Guess there ain't any trade tonight or Bob would have called us in afore this."

"Ef we sold cord wood we might be doin' somethin'," and, laughing in his old way at his own joke, Hiram started to follow his partner into the store.

"Say, Hiram," called out Strout in a loud voice, "bring in them two chairs--everything's occupied out here 'cept the counter."

As the proprietors took their seats, the store door was opened again, this time admitting Mr. Abner Stiles. His teeth were chattering, and he stamped his feet upon the floor, and beat his hands against his shoulders in old-fashioned country style.

"Moses Williams!" he cried. "I kinder think the North Pole must have slid down an' come to stop in this 'ere town. I say, Strout, if that organ of yourn was pumped to-night you'd have to play 'From Greenland's Icy Mountains,' or some sech tune."

"Where have you been?" asked Mr. Strout.

"Hain't been nowhere. Jes' came from the Pettingill house. Young Master Sawyer wants some brown sugar to make some candy. Give me five pounds."

"So it's Master Sawyer, is it?" said Strout as he weighed the saccharine substance. "I thought it was Mister before a man was a Master."

"I ain't a talkin' about men--he's only a boy, and a mighty smart boy too."

"I'm tired hearing about him," said Strout. "Can't you give us something new?"

"Yes, I kin," said Abner. "Boys, I've got something funny to tell you. I went to Cottonton this afternoon and I'd jest got back when they sent me for the sugar."

"What ye doin' over there?" asked Benoni.

Abner scratched his head then winked at Benoni.

"I went to buy somethin' for an individual who shall be nameless out of respect--"

"Go on with your story," shouted Strout. "You'd better hurry home with that sugar or the 'Master' may make it hot for you."

This remark caused a laugh at Abner's expense.

"Jes' go ahead, Abner," said Benoni, "we're all a-waitin'."

"Well, I met a feller on the train and he buzzed me all the way here.

He wanted to know where I lived, an' when I told him I lived in Fernborough, that used to be a part of Eastborough, he jest piled me full of questions. I told him all I knew--"

"An' added a little something" broke in Strout.

"No, I jest stuck close to the truth. He wanted to know about Mr. Quincy Adams Sawyer. I told him he was dead, but he said he wanted to know about him when he lived here. Then I told him there was a man in town who could tell him more'n I could about that, an' I jest giv' him your name, Obadiah."

This sally turned the laugh on Strout who was about to make a sharp rejoinder, when the store door opened and a strong current of cold air caused all to turn.

"Shut the door!" cried Bob Wood in his gruff voice.

"I beg your pardon," said the man, as he complied.

He was very tall,--more than six feet in height. He was dressed in a suit of shiny black; his coat was b.u.t.toned tightly and the collar was turned up. The most noticeable part of his costume was a broad-brimmed straw hat. He wore no overcoat and his hands were ungloved.

"Gentlemen, I must beg pardon for this intrusion, but I used to live in these parts many years ago, and I am here to inquire whether any of my family are awaiting the return of a long-lost relative."

Abner nudged Mr. Strout and said in a whisper: "That's the feller."

"What might your name be?" asked Mr. Benoni Hill in his genial manner.

"I have occupied many stations in life, and whether high or low have always a.s.sumed a cognomen to match my position."

"A cog what?" asked Bill Cobb in a voice so low that he thought only his brother Jim could hear; but his question reached the stranger's ear.

"By cognomen I mean a desirable _alias_ or a characteristic appellation."

This explanation gave rise to a chorus of "Oh's."

"Kerzactly," remarked Benoni, and then all laughed.

"When I left this town thirty years ago, my name was Richard Ricker. On returning to those paths which my childish feet so often trod--I have just come from the West Indies where the climate is hotter than that stove--it seems appropriate that I should a.s.sume my family name. It is done. I am now Richard Ricker."

Abner nudged Strout again, who resented it, but Mr. Stiles remarked in a whisper: "He's crazy--mad as a March hare."

Mr. Ricker did not hear his opinion of his sanity.

"My father's name was Benjamin, Martha was my mother, and I had a brother William--that is, I had them all when I ran away to sea at the age of seventeen years, ten months, and fifteen days. I always remember my exact age for I wished to know just how long I had been gone when I got back."

The villagers looked at the stranger with marked variations in expression, but no one spoke until Abner remarked:

"I guess you've struck the right place. There's a young feller named Billy Ricker that works for Mr. Strout here," and he pointed to that gentleman. "Billy's father was named Bill, but he's dead; so's Ben and Marthy. I know'd 'em all."

"I am glad to learn that I have a nephew in the land of the living.

Where is he?"

"He lives in Montrose, the next town north of us," said Mr. Strout. "We have a branch store there an' Billy has charge of it."

"If he had some capital, I suppose he could become a partner," remarked Mr. Ricker.

"Not much," said Strout. "We have all the money we need, and know where to get more. What we want is men, an' we have a good one in Billy."

Mr. Ricker removed his unseasonable headgear and moved nearer to the stove.