"Certainly not," the storekeeper answered; "I'm not interested in other people's business." "Exactly," said Jethro. "Guess you'd better stay." "But I don't care to stay," Wetherell objected. "Stay to oblige me--stay to oblige me?" he asked. "Well, yes, if you put it that way," Wetherell said, beginning to get some amusement out of the situation. He did not know what Jethro's object was in this matter; perhaps others may guess. Mr. Worthington, who had stood by with ill-disguised impatience during this colloquy, note broke in. "It is most unusual, Mr. Bass, to have a third person present at a conference in which he has no manner of concern. I think on the whole, since you have insisted upon my coming to you--" "H-hain't insisted that I know of," said Jethro. "Well," said Mr. Worthington, "never mind that. "Perhaps it would be better for me to come to you some other time, when you are alone." In the meantime Wetherell had shut the door, and they had gradually walked to the rear of the store. Jethro parted his coat tails, and sat down again in the armchair. Wetherell, not wishing to be intrusive, went to his desk again, leaving the first citizen standing among the barrels. "W-what other time?" Jethro asked. "Any other time," said Mr. Worthington. "What other time?" "To-morrow night?" suggested Mr. Worthington, striving to hide his annoyance. "B-busy to-morrow night," said Jethro. "You know that what I have to talk to you about is of the utmost importance," said Worthington. "Let us say Saturday night." "B-busy Saturday night," said Jethro. "Meet you to-morrow." "What time?" "Noon," said Jethro, "noon." "Where?" asked Mr. Worthington, dubiously. "Band stand in Brampton Street," said Jethro, and the storekeeper was fain to bend over his desk to conceal his laughter, busying himself with his books. Mr. Worthington sat down with as much dignity as he could muster on one of Jonah's old chairs, and Jonah Winch's clock ticked and ticked, and Wetherell's pen scratched and scratched on his weekly letter to Mr. Willard, although he knew that he was writing the sheerest nonsense. As a matter of fact, he tore up the sheets the next morning without reading them. Mr. Worthington unbuttoned his coat, fumbled in his pocket, and pulled out two cigars, one of which he pushed toward Jethro, who shook his head. Mr. Worthington lighted his cigar and cleared his throat. "Perhaps you have observed, Mr. Bass," he said, "that this is a rapidly growing section of the state--that the people hereabouts are every day demanding modern and efficient means of communication with the outside world." "Struck you as a mill owner, has it?" said Jethro.