this supposed proof amounted
to little or nothing.

"But that grease spot----" he began.

"A story invented by yourself," interrupted Squire Paget. "It is more than
likely that the grease spot was on the bill when my son received it."

"Did your son receive the bill at the bank?" questioned Horace Kelsey.

"I don't know--I suppose he did," stammered the squire.

There was an awkward pause. Uriah Dicks drummed uneasily upon the counter,
where lay the bill in dispute.

"One thing is certain," said Uriah. "I took the bill in good faith, and I
ain't a-goin' to lose on it, mind that."

"You shan't lose on it, Uriah," replied the squire. "My son gave it to you,
and it was his bill. You keep it, and I'll take young Nelson in hand. He
has concocted this story for a purpose."

"A purpose, eh?" queried the storekeeper.

"Exactly. He knows that he is in danger of losing his situation, and it is
his endeavor to get me and my son in his power, so we will influence
others to help him keep him in his place."

"I don't see what I have done to lose the job on the bridge," said Ralph,
his cheeks growing red.

"I thought he was doin' well enough," put in Uriah.

"He is a regular rough!" burst out the squire, with a fine appearance of
wrath. "He insulted my son on the bridge and knocked him down. And he
insults every one he dares!"

"That is a gross untruth, Squire Paget!" burst out Ralph. "I insult
nobody----"

"He's a very impulsive youth," put in Postmaster Hooker, thinking it time
to bolster up the squire's remarks. "He is, I am afraid, too hot-headed to
have on the bridge, not to say anything about this attempt to--ahem!--cast
an unworthy reflection on the fair name of our squire's son."

And the postmaster looked as important as possible as he spoke.

Uriah Dicks caught the drift of the talk and looked perplexed, not knowing
exactly upon which side to cast his opinion.

But he soon made up his mind. Ralph was a poor boy, with little or no
influence, while the squire was rich and powerful.

"I don't know but what you are right, gentlemen," he said. "He certainly
talked putty sharp-like about Percy last night."

"I shall make him suffer for that, never fear," said the squire,
pointedly. "He shall not insult my son with impunity!"

Ralph was about to speak, but Horace Kelsey checked him.

"It will do you no good to talk," he said, in a low tone. "They are against
you, and we can prove nothing. Better drop the ma