ou
understand?"

"Yes sir," replied Tim Reardon, wringing his own wet clothes; and then
added, with a twinkle in his eyes, "but ain't you going to show us those
medals, Colonel Witham?"

It was lucky for Tim Reardon that he was fleet of foot. The colonel made
a rush at him, but Tim was off down the road, leaping into the saddle
of his mended wheel, followed by the others.

"Don't you want us to raise the velocipede, so you can ride some more?"
called young Joe Warren, as he mounted his own wheel.

The colonel's only answer was a wrathful shake of his fist.

"Colonel Witham," said Grannie Thornton, as her employer entered the
hotel, a few minutes later, "here's a note for you, from Mr. Ellison.
Guess he wants to see you about something."

"Hm!" exclaimed the colonel, opening the note, and dampening it much in
doing so, "Jim Ellison, eh? More of his queer business doings, I reckon.
He's a smart one, he is," he added musingly, as he waddled away to his
bed-room to change his dripping garments; then, spying his own face in
the mirror: 'What's the matter with you, Daniel Witham? Aren't you
smart, too? In all these dealings, isn't there something to be made?'

Colonel Witham, rearraying his figure in a dry suit of clothing, was to
be seen, a little later, on the road to the mill, walking slowly, and
thinking deeply as he went along. He was so engrossed in his reflections
that he failed to notice the approach of a carriage until it was close
upon him. He looked up in surprise as a pleasant, gentle voice accosted
him.

"Good afternoon, Colonel Witham," it said.

The speaker was a middle-aged, sweet faced woman--the same that had
appeased the wrath of her husband against Bess Thornton. She leaned out
of the carriage now and greeted Colonel Witham with cordiality.

"Oh, how-dye-do," replied Colonel Witham abruptly, and returning her
smile with a frown. He passed along without further notice of her
greeting, and she started up the horse she had reined in, and drove
away.

Only once did Colonel Witham turn his head and gaze back at the
disappearing carriage. Then he glowered angrily.

"I don't want your smiles and fine words," he muttered. "You were too
good for me once. Just keep your fine words to yourself. I don't want
'em now."

Colonel Witham, in no agreeable mood, went on and entered at the office
door of the mill. A tall, sharp-faced man, seated on a stool at a high
desk, looked up at his entrance. One might