time comes," said Bijah. "D-don't
want to see such an intelligent man go wrong an' be sorry for it--you
understand. Chester Perkins is hare-brained. Jethro Bass runs things in
this state."

"Mr. Bixby--"

"You understand," said Bijah, screwing up his face. "Guess your watch
is a-comin' out." He tucked it back caressingly, and started for the
door--the back door. Involuntarily Wetherell put his hand to his pocket,
felt something crackle under it, and drew the something out. To his
amazement it was a ten-dollar bill.

"Here!" he cried so sharply in his fright that Mr. Bixby, turned around.
Wetherell ran after him. "Take this back!"

"Guess you got me," said Bijah. "W-what is it?"

"This money is yours," cried Wetherell, so loudly that Bijah started and
glanced at the front of the store.

"Guess you made some mistake," he said, staring at the storekeeper with
such amazing innocence that he began to doubt his senses, and clutched
the bill to see if it was real.

"But I had no money in my pocket," said Wetherell, perplexedly. And
then, gaining, indignation, "Take this to the man who sent you, and give
it back to him."

But Bijah merely whispered caressingly in his ear, "Nobody sent me,--you
understand,--nobody sent me," and was gone. Wetherell stood for a
moment, dazed by the man's audacity, and then, hurrying to the front
stoop, the money still in his hand, he perceived Mr. Bixby in the sunlit
road walking, Jethro-fashion, toward Ephraim Prescott's harness shop.

"Why, Daddy," said Cynthia, coming in from the garden, "where did you
get all that money? Your troubles must feel better."

"It is not mine," said Wetherell, starting. And then, quivering with
anger and mortification, he sank down on the stoop to debate what he
should do.

"Is it somebody else's?" asked the child, presently.

"Yes."

"Then why don't you give it back to them, Daddy?"

How was Wetherell to know, in his fright, that Mr. Bixby had for once
indulged in an overabundance of zeal in Jethro's behalf? He went to the
door, laughter came to him across the green from the harness shop, and
his eye following the sound, fastened on Bijah seated comfortably in the
midst of the group there. Bitterly the storekeeper comprehended that,
had he possessed courage, he would have marched straight after Mr. Bixby
and confronted him before them all with the charge of bribery. The blood
throbbed in his temples, and yet he sat there, trembling, despising
him