“No; he’s deathly afraid of them, and that’s a fact,” said Joe.

They sat in silence a while.

“Your report of Skeelty’s threat to cut off your electric power,” said young Wegg, “reminds me of a plan I’ve had in mind for some time.  I find I’ve too much time on my hands, Mr. Merrick, and I cannot be thoroughly happy unless I’m occupied.  Ethel’s farms are let on shares and I’m a drone in the world’s busy hive.  But we’re anchored here at Millville, so I’ve been wondering what I could do to improve the place and keep myself busy.  It has seemed to me that the same rush of water in Little Bill Creek that runs the dynamos at Royal is in evidence—­to a lesser extent—­at the old milldam.  What would you think of my putting in an electric plant at the mill, and lighting both Millville and Huntingdon, as well as all the farmhouses?”

“Not a bad idea, Joe,” said Uncle John approvingly.

“Electric lights have a civilizing influence,” continued the young man.  “I’m quite sure all the farmers between here and Huntingdon would use them, at a reasonable price.  I can also run a line to Hooker’s Falls, and one to Chazy Junction.  Plenty of poles can be cut from our pine forests and the wires will be the chief expense.  I may not make money, at first, but I’ll play pretty nearly even and have something to do.”

“Do you think you could furnish enough power for our printing office?” asked Mr. Merrick.

“Yes; and a dozen factories, besides.  I’ve an idea the thing may bring factories to Millville.”

“Then get at it, Joe, and build it quick.  I’ve a notion we shall have an open rupture with Skeelty before long.”

Joe Wegg smiled.

“You’re going to accuse me, sir, of asking advice after I’ve made up my mind,” said he; “but the fact is, I have bought the mill of Silas Caldwell already.  He’s been wanting to dispose of the property for some time.”

“Good!” exclaimed Uncle John.

“Also I—­I’ve ordered a dynamo and machinery.  It all ought to be here in a few days.”

“Better yet!” cried Mr. Merrick.  “You’ve relieved my mind of a great weight, Joe.”

“Now about Thursday Smith,” said the young man.  “Don’t you think it would be policy for you to let him go, Mr. Merrick?”

“No.”

“He’s a clever fellow.  I can use him at my lighting plant.”

“Thank you, Joe; but that wouldn’t help any.  As long as he’s in Millville he will be an object of vengeance to those anarchistic mill hands.  The only way to satisfy them in to drive Smith out of town, and—­I’ll be hanged if I’ll do it!  He hasn’t done anything wrong, and I’m interested in the fellow’s curious history.  I’ve put his case in the hands of a famous New York detective—­Fogerty—­with instructions to discover who he is, and I can’t let a lot of rowdies force me to abandon the man for no reasonable cause.”

“Don’t blame you, sir,” said Joe.  “If it wasn’t this Thursday Smith, some other would incur the hatred of the Royal workmen, and as they’re disposed to terrorize us we may as well fight it out on this line as any other.  The whole county will stand by you, sir.”