"The poor ye have always with ye," said the minister, with pious and weighty dissent.

Doctor Prescott nodded.
Ozias Lamb squinted slowly around with ineffable sarcasm of expression.

He took in deliberately every detail of the two men--Doctor Seth Prescott, the smallest in physical stature of anybody there, yet as marked among them all as some local Napoleon, and the one whom a stranger would first have noted, and the old clergyman leaning towards him with a subtle inclination of mind as well as body; then he spoke as Jerome entered.
Jerome laid the empty sack, which he had brought for meal, on the counter, and stood about to listen with the rest.

Squire Eben Merritt, having given his chair to the minister and squared up his great shoulders against a pile of boxes on the counter, was near him, and saluted him with a friendly nod, which Jerome returned with a more ardent flash of his black eyes than ever a girl had called forth yet.

Jerome adored this kindly Squire, against whom he was always fiercely on his guard lest he tender him gratuitous favors, and his indebtedness to whom was his great burden of life.
His Uncle Ozias did not notice him or pause in his harangue.