Presently he walked over toward the window and looked wistfully out over the sage brush landscape. “The grass is beginin’ to grow,” said he, “and I see it is startin’ in the streets as well as on the beautiful lots you have for sale. Remember, gentlemen,” said Ballard, as he turned and expectorated a vigorous “pit-tew” of tobacco juice toward the stove, “what I have said to you never has, nor never will, escape the lips of Dick Ballard; no, sir, I’m your friend, but don’t try to work me with any town lots in payin’ board bills.” Winthrop was noticeably’ non-plussed. Donald was laughing contentedly and quietly’ to himself at Winthrop’s discomfiture. Ballard looked on and chuckled, as much as to say, “I am a heap sight smarter than you fellows give me credit for.” Finally he broke the silence by suddenly asking: “Mr. Winthrop, what is your lot worth next to my hotel?” “Five hundred dollars,” replied Winthrop, looking up. “I hope you’ll get it,” said Ballard; “yes, I hope you’ll sell it for a thousand—but I’ll tell you somethin’,” said he, shutting one eye and looking hard at Winthrop with the other, “I wouldn’t trade you our militia company’s new snare drum for both those condemned lots; no, sir,” and he turned laughingly toward the door. Just here he came face to face with Miss Virginia Bonifield. Ballard lifted his hat and bowed low, for she was one of his boarders who paid promptly. After speaking pleasantly to Marcus Donald and Homer Winthrop, she said: “I am very [195] glad you are here, Mr. Ballard, I want to ask your advice.” Dick Ballard was all attention, for if there was any one thing he liked to do better than another—barring a drill exercise with his state militia company—it was to give advice. Homer Winthrop, noticeably confused, pushed the best chair forward and invited Miss Bonifield to be seated. “Thank you,” said she, looking kindly at Homer, who, in turn, hushed scarlet. “What I wish to ask is in regard to an investment in Waterville.’ “Why, in what way?” asked Dick Ballard. “In regard to making a purchase of town lots as an investment.” Ballard coughed immoderately, cleared his throat several times, “a-hemmed,” got red in the face, looked helplessly toward Marcus Donald, and finally said: “Nothin’ like it in the world, Miss Bonifield; best investment on earth. There’s not another place in the [196] United States will come out of the kinks like Waterville. No, sir; if I had a million I’d plant every dollar of it in Waterville, every dollar. My land!” said he, glancing at his watch, “it is three o’clock! Well, I must be goin’.” With this he took up his hat and hastily left the room. “Is this a map of the town?” asked Miss Virgie Bonifield, rising and approaching a map that hung on the wall near where Marcus Donald was seated. “Yes, that is one of the best maps that has ever been gotten out,” said Marcus Donald, adjusting his gold-rimmed spectacles. “And where is Eagle’s Addition?” Marcus Donald pointed it out.