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"I wish," said Savage, "he might go hungry for a week -- old c-----!"

" He is a hard case," said Tools.

"A town nuisance!" said Savage.

"Queer specimens, both of them, of humanity!" said the Squire.

"How does Siddleton accommodate them?" inquired Tools.

"Oh, he put them into his back room, with five or six others, on an old bedstead that hadn't seen the outside of the house in five years, and told them it was the best he could do for them till Hicks died," said Mr. Savage.

"How did they seem to relish it?" inquired the Squire.

"They said it was 'better than they deserved,' I believe -- old hypocrites! misers! confounded old money lovers !"

"Singular instance of vicissitude, Mr. Tools!" said Squire Ben.

"Remarkable, remarkable!" rejoined he.

"Shows the instability of fortune."

"Quite a plain case," said the lawyer.

"Well, what the devil is going to be done about it in the end?" inquired Mr. Savage.

"Oh! the town must watch closely for remuneration," said Tools; "and if any thing comes to light, just nab it-- that's all."

"He has undoubtedly taken a false oath," said Savage.

"Well, he won't need to vote any longer -- ha! ha! ha!" said Tools.

"No, he's safe there,'' said Squire Ben.

"And it is a queer state of things, too -- only a month ago reputed worth three hundred thousand dollars, and a voter; to-day, a pauper and disfranchised. Queer, isn't it?" (28) said Tools, bringing out his cigar case, passing it round, and lighting.

"Well, it is so, by George!" said Savage.

"The best and wisest laws sometimes seem to work unequally," said the Squire. "But it is right, gentlemen, that old Pepper should feel the law in the same places, as well as Sam White and Tucker."

"Yes, that's fair," said Savage.

"True," said Mr. Tools, "but I don't think much of the law any way."

"Don't?"

"No; what's it good for?"

"Why, who the d---1 wants Tom, Dick and Harry, town paupers, round voting against the town?"

"It ain't certain they would."

"'Ain't certain!' Then there's nothing certain, that's all," said Savage. "Wouldn't they vote themselves better accommodations if they could? ha! ha! ha! --

Now I've got you, Tools -- own up beat on that -- don't be hoggish now, eh?"

"'Vote themselves better!' So would you, perhaps, and Squire Ben and I, if in their places. Don't they need them?"

"Oh, ho! that's your dodge, hay? Well, suppose we should -- suppose we needed them. I don't know as the town ought to grant them."

"Well now, just for argument, why not?"

"Well, we can't afford it!"

"Squire Ben, what do you think?" inquired the smoking lawyer.

"Oh! the case don't -- it somehow -- or other -- don't exactly seem to -- it don't look just right, you see, as it is -- nor -- does it look very well in any different form."

"That's it. Squire, out with it one way or another," cried Savage.

"You see, Savage, the town pays a good deal now."

"I know that," said Savage, "but that ain't the question -- "

"True," said the Squire, "the question is if the town can afford to pay more to accommodate the paupers? I should rather -- be -- of the opinion, it can't."

"That's it, Squire. You've hit the nail hard, just as I knew you would in the end." (The fact is, that Savage had a tremendous influence over old Squire Ben Stout, and the town knew it. Nobody knew it better than Savage himself.)

"Well now, men," said Tools, knocking off the ashes from his cigar, "I'll just give you my opinion. I know the town can afford it; but I know also the town won't afford it till she's made to."

"Good! good! Tools! I go in for that," said Savage. "I don't know but Lawyer Tools has just about covered my idea of the thing," said the Squire.

"Oh! never mind, Squire Ben," said Savage, -- "you hit the thing off about right yourself."

"And do you say the town can't afford to do any better by the paupers?" said Tools. "Now, gentlemen, that's all humbug. The town of Crampton is as able to pay six, seven, and eight cents on the dollar as it is three. What is the tax on individual tax-payers, in reality? Why, what an insignificant affair is a few dollars a year, more or less, to secure a man all the liberty and protection he wants for himself, family, and property!"

"Well, for my part," said Savage, "nothing with me goes so against the grain as heavy taxes."

"You don't care how light they are!" said the Squire facetiously.

"Not I, Squire Ben; do you?"

"No, I can't say I do, exactly."

"I love money myself," said Tools, "but so far as taxes are concerned, I just make up my mind that they are always light enough, and pay over the tin as readily as I take my ale and cigars."

"But the town always grumbles," said Squire Stout, "if we go half a cent beyond the customary point."

"' Grumbles!' yes, and they've a right to," said Savage -- "don't the town have to support every sort of a thing that any body like Haddock or Phillips or Ketcham happens to take a fancy to throw on it, such as schools, high schools, crazy folks, deaf and dumb boys, beggars, and such like, and pay for old bridges, protecting bad places in the roads, pay for somebody's falling off his horse, and somebody being at large? Why shouldn't the town grumble?"