Scattergood was sitting on the piazza of his hardware store, basking in the sunshine, and gazing up the dusty road which passed between Coldriver's business structures, and disappeared over the hill. His eyes were half closed, and his bulk, which later became phenomenal, filled comfortably the specially reinforced chair which came to be called his throne. Pliny Pickett slouched around the corner, and, as he approached, the unmistakable odor of horses became noticeable. Inhabitants of Coldriver knew when Pliny came into a room even if their backs were turned. "Mornin', Pliny," said Scattergood. "Mornin', Scattergood." "Fetch any passengers?" "Drummer 'n' a fat woman to visit the Bogles. Say, Scattergood, looks like you're goin' to have competition." "Um!... Don't say." "Hardware," said Pliny, nasally. "Station's heaped with it. Every merchant in town's layin' in a stock." "Do tell," said Scattergood, without emotion. "Kettleman and Locker?" They were the grocers. Pliny nodded. "An' Lumley and Penny mixin' it in with dry goods, and Atwell minglin' it with clothin'." Scattergood reached down and unlaced his shoes. His mind worked more freely when his toes were unconfined, so that he might wriggle them as he reasoned. Pliny knew the sign and grinned. "Much 'bleeged," said Scattergood, and Pliny moved off. "Pliny," said Scattergood. "Eh?" "Was you thinkin' of buyin' a stove?" "No." "Could think about it, couldn't you?" "Might manage it." "Folks thinkin' of buyin' stoves gits prices, don't they? Kind of inquires around to see where they kin buy cheapest?" "Most does." "G'-by, Pliny." "G'-by, Scattergood." Something of the sort was not unanticipated by Scattergood. He knew the merchants of the town had not forgiven him for once getting decidedly the better of them in a certain transaction, and he knew now that they had combined against him. Their idea was transparent to him. It was their hope to put him out of business by adding hardware to their stocks and to sell it at cost, until he gave up the ship. They could afford it. It would not interfere with their normal profits. Scattergood wriggled his toes furiously and squinted his eyes. They alighted on a young man in clerical black, who crossed the square from the post office. It was no other than Jason Hooper, son of Elder Hooper, who had been educated to the ministry and had recently come to occupy the pulpit of his father's church--a pleasant and worthy young man. Almost simultaneously Scattergood's eyes perceived Selina Pettybone, daughter of Deacon Pettybone, just entering the post office. "Purty as a picture," said Scattergood to himself, and then he chuckled. The young minister nodded to Scattergood, and Scattergood spoke in return. "Mornin', Parson," he said. "How d'you find business?" "Business?" The young man looked a bit startled. "Oh, how's the marryin' industry, f'r instance? Brisk?" Jason smiled. "It might be brisker."