Such congregations of villagers are often said to be composed of
loafers and loungers, but it was not so at Fernborough. The men who
represented the brains and marrow of the town met there. It was the
home of the town debating society and supplied a free forum for the
discussion of public questions. If the advanced ideas in
statesmanship and social economy incubated there could have become
the property of the nation, our country would have grown wiser and
better.
But for the intense cold the company gathered there on the evening in
question would have been much larger. Benoni Hill, the former
proprietor of the store and the richest man in town, did not think
his wealth was any reason why he should hold aloof or consider
himself above his neighbours, whose patronage had been the foundation
of his fortune. He was given an old arm-chair while the others sat
upon soap-boxes and nail-kegs. Cobb's Twins, William and James, were
there, Emmanuel Howe, the minister's son, and Bob Wood who still sang
bass in the village church choir.
The store door was opened letting in a gust of cold air which made
all draw nearer to the red-hot stove. The newcomer was Samuel Hill,
Benoni's son.
A chorus of voices cried: "Hello, Sam!" and a place was made for him
so he could thaw out his almost frozen fingers.
"It's mighty cold, ain't it?" said his father.
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