“‘Wa’al,’ I says, ‘did he come in?’

“‘No,’ says Purse, ‘he didn’t.  I never set eyes on him agin, an’ more’n that,’ he says, ‘he took the first train in the mornin’, an’ now,’ he says, ‘I expect I’ll have ev’ry last man I owe anythin’ to buzzin’ ‘round my ears.’

“‘Wa’al,’ I says, ‘I guess I see about how the land lays, an’ I reckon you ain’t fur out about the morgidge bein’ at the bottom on’t, an’ the’ ain’t no way it c’d ‘a’ leaked out ‘ceptin’ through that dum’d chuckle-head of a Timson.  But this is the way it looks to me—­you hain’t heard nothin’ in the village, have ye?’ I says.

“‘No,’ he says.  ‘Not yit,’ he says.

“‘Wa’al, ye won’t, I don’t believe,’ I says, ‘an’ as fur as that drummer is concerned, you c’n bet,’ I says, ’that he didn’t nor won’t let on to nobody but his own folks—­not till his bus’nis is squared up, an’ more ‘n that,’ I says, ‘seein’ that your trouble ’s ben made ye by one o’ my help, I don’t see but what I’ll have to see ye through,’ I says.  ‘You jest give me the address of the New York parties, an’ tell me what you want done, an’ I reckon I c’n fix the thing so ’t they won’t bother ye.  I don’t believe,’ I says, ‘that anybody else knows anythin’ yet, an’ I’ll shut up Timson’s yawp so ‘s it’ll stay shut.’”

“How did the matter come out?” asked John, “and what did Purse say?”

“Oh,” replied David, “Purse went off head up an’ tail up.  He said he was everlastin’ly obliged to me, an’—­he, he, he!—­he said ’t was more ’n he expected.  You see I charged him what I thought was right on the ’rig’nal deal, an’ he squimmidged some, an’ I reckon he allowed to be putty well bled if I took holt agin; but I done as I agreed on the extension bus’nis, an’ I’m on his paper for twelve hunderd fer nothin’, jest because that nikum-noddy of a Timson let that drummer bamboozle him into talkin’.  I found out the hull thing, an’ the very day I wrote to the New York fellers fer Purse, I wrote to Gen’ral Wolsey to find me somebody to take Timson’s place.  I allowed I’d ruther have somebody that didn’t know nobody, than such a clackin’ ole he-hen as Chet.”

“I should have said that it was rather a hazardous thing to do,” said John, “to put a total stranger like me into what is rather a confidential position, as well as a responsible one.”

“Wa’al,” said David, “in the fust place I knew that the Gen’ral wouldn’t recommend no dead-beat nor no skin, an’ I allowed that if the raw material was O.K., I could break it in; an’ if it wa’n’t I should find it out putty quick.  Like a young hoss,” he remarked, “if he’s sound an’ kind, an’ got gumption, I’d sooner break him in myself ’n not—­fur’s my use goes—­an’ if I can’t, nobody can, an’ I get rid on him.  You understand?”

“Yes,” said John with a smile.