h to the
astonishment of his friends.

"Whose little gal be you?" he asked.

"Dad's."

"She's Will Wetherell's daughter," said Lem Hallowell. "He's took on
the store. Will," he added, turning to Wetherell, "let me make you
acquainted with Jethro Bass."

Jethro rose slowly, and towered above Wetherell on the stoop. There was
an inscrutable look in his black eyes, as of one who sees without being
seen. Did he know who William Wetherell was? If so, he gave no sign, and
took Wetherell's hand limply.

"Will's kinder hipped on book-l'arnin'," Lemuel continued kindly. "Come
here to keep store for his health. Guess you may have heerd, Jethro,
that Will married Cynthy Ware. You call Cynthy to mind, don't ye?"

Jethro Bass dropped Wetherell's hand, but answered nothing.

CHAPTER VIII

A week passed, and Jethro did not appear in the village, report having
it that he was cutting his farms on Thousand Acre Hill. When Jethro was
farming,--so it was said,--he would not stop to talk politics even with
the President of the United States were that dignitary to lean over
his pasture fence and beckon to him. On a sultry Friday morning, when
William Wetherell was seated at Jonah Winch's desk in the cool recesses
of the store slowly and painfully going over certain troublesome
accounts which seemed hopeless, he was thrown into a panic by the sight
of one staring at him from the far side of a counter. History sometimes
reverses itself.

"What can I do for you--Mr. Bass?" asked the storekeeper, rather weakly.

"Just stepped in--stepped in," he answered. "W-where's Cynthy?"

"She was in the garden--shall I get her?"

"No," he said, parting his coat tails and seating himself on the
counter. "Go on figurin', don't mind me."

The thing was manifestly impossible. Perhaps Wetherell indicated as much
by his answer.

"Like storekeepin'?" Jethro asked presently, perceiving that he did not
continue his work.

"A man must live, Mr. Bass," said Wetherell; "I had to leave the city
for my health. I began life keeping store," he added, "but I little
thought I should end it so."

"Given to book-l'arnin' then, wahn't you?" Jethro remarked. He did not
smile, but stared at the square of light that was the doorway, "Judson's
jewellery store, wahn't it? Judson's?"

"Yes, Judson's," Wetherell answered, as soon as he recovered from his
amazement. There was no telling from Jethro's manner whether he were
enemy or friend; whether he bore t