o, "didn't come in to complain.
Road is out of repair. W-what's the next move?"

"I'm sorry, Jethro--I swan I'm sorry." He cleared his throat. "Well," he
continued in his judicial manner, "the court has got to appoint an agent
to repair that road, the agent will present the bill, and the town will
have to pay the bill--whatever it is. It's too bad, Jethro, that you have
allowed this to be done."

"You say you've got to app'int an agent?"

"Yes--I'm sorry--"

"Have you app'inted one?"

"No."

"G-got any candidates?"

The judge scratched his head.

"Well, I don't know as I have."

"Well, have you?"

"No," said the judge.

"A-any legal objection to my bein' app'inted?" asked Jethro.

The judge looked at him and gasped. But the look was an involuntary
tribute of admiration.

"Well," he said hesitatingly, "I don't know as there is, Jethro. No,
there's no legal objection to it."

"A-any other kind of objection?" said Jethro.

The judge appeared to reflect.

"Well, no," he said at last, "I don't know as there is."

"Well, is there?" said Jethro, again.

"No," said the judge, with the finality of a decision. A smile seemed to
be pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Well, I'm a candidate," said Jethro.

"Do you tell me, Jethro, that you want me to appoint you agent to fix
that road?"

"I-I'm a candidate."

"Well," said the judge, rising, "I'll do it."

"When?" said Jethro, sitting still.

"I'll send the papers over to you within two or three days.

"O-ought to be done right away, Judge. Road's in bad shape."

"Well, I'll send the papers over to you to-morrow."

"How long--would it take to make out that app'intment--how long?"

"It wouldn't take but a little while."

"I'll wait," said Jethro.

"Do you want to take the appointment along with you to-night?" asked the
judge, in surprise.

"G-guess that's about it."

Without a word the judge went over to his table, and for a while the
silence was broken only by the scratching of his pen.

"Er--interested in roads,--Will,--interested in roads?"

The judge stopped writing to listen, since it was now the turn of the
other victim.

"Not particularly," answered Mr. Wetherell, whose throat was dry.

"C-come over for the drive--c-come over for the drive?"

"Yes," replied the storekeeper, rather faintly.

"H-how's Cynthy?" said Jethro.

The storekeeper was too astonished to answer. At that moment there was a
heavy step in the doorway, a