said; "I'll come to see you
some day in Coniston."

CHAPTER XII

That evening, after Cynthia had gone to bed, William Wetherell sat down
at Jonah Winch's desk in the rear of the store to gaze at a blank sheet
of paper until the Muses chose to send him subject matter for his weekly
letter to the Guardian. The window was open, and the cool airs from the
mountain spruces mingled with the odors of corn meal and kerosene and
calico print. Jethro Bass, who had supped with the storekeeper, sat in
the wooden armchair silent, with his head bent. Sometimes he would sit
there by the hour while Wetherell wrote or read, and take his departure
when he was so moved without saying good night. Presently Jethro lifted
his chin, and dropped it again; there was a sound of wheels without,
and, after an interval, a knock at the door.

William Wetherell dropped his pen with a start of surprise, as it was
late for a visitor in Coniston. He glanced at Jethro, who did not move,
and then he went to the door and shot back the great forged bolt of
it, and stared out. On the edge of the porch stood a tallish man in a
double-breasted frock coat.

"Mr. Worthington!" exclaimed the storekeeper.

Mr. Worthington coughed and pulled at one of his mutton-chop whiskers,
and seemed about to step off the porch again. It was, indeed, the
first citizen and reformer of Brampton. No wonder William Wetherell was
mystified.

"Can I do anything for you?" he asked. "Have you missed your way?"

Wetherell thought he heard him muttering, "No, no," and then he was
startled by another voice in his ear. It was Jethro who was standing
beside him.

"G-guess he hain't missed his way a great deal. Er--come in--come in."

Mr. Worthington took a couple of steps forward.

"I understood that you were to be alone," he remarked, addressing Jethro
with an attempted severity of manner.

"Didn't say so--d-didn't say so, did I?" answered Jethro.

"Very well," said Mr. Worthington, "any other time will do for this
little matter."

"Er--good night," said Jethro, shortly, and there was the suspicion of
a gleam in his eye as Mr. Worthington turned away. The mill-owner,
in fact, did not get any farther than the edge of the porch before he
wheeled again.

"The affair which I have to discuss with you is of a private nature, Mr.
Bass," he said.

"So I callated," said Jethro.

"You may have the place to yourselves, gentlemen," Wetherell put in
uneasily, and then Mr. W