Anne O'Hagan

“ Tom when the colloquy was over and Mercy Rankin had gone glimmering along her way through the village streets.
"She didn't offer money," replied the old man with deep content. "She's a nice young girl."
"It's easy seen you're livin' on other folks," retorted Mrs. Tom; but the gibe had lost some of its power to wound.
By the end of the month, Mercy's "affair" with Old Man Conlon was a favorite jest in her own circle, so frequent, long, and confidential were the talks over the wicket fence. The Hon. Ezra Kankin and his wife laughed indulgently at Mercy's enthusiasm. ”

“ Old Man Conlon had raised the money to start the boy in business. A "back pension" was the foundation of their fortunes. Old Man Conlon had been one of Heronside's volunteers during the Civil War; but it had taken a quarter of a century to convince him that there was enough connection between a bullet wound at Antietam and his lameness to justify him in applying for a pension. His son had finally made him see reason in the matter, and it was the two or three thousand dollars resulting that had set Tom up as a grocer. ”

“ Cotton Mather Putnam of the Old South Church of Heronside, on an errand in the neighborhood—would pause to admire the show and to comment upon his activity.
Tom Conlon heartily concurred in his father's sentiment.
"He'd be a nice one, he would," Tom was accustomed to remark, "to sit an' eat an' drink an' keep warm by the fire, an' never do a hand's turn for the whole of it! One more mouth to fill counts, I can tell you, an' I ain't no Rothschild nor no Astor."
"I hear the old man set you up in business, Tom," an adventurous listener would sometimes say. ”