“Don’t you think it looks sort of suspicious?”

“It’s none of my business.  I confess I don’t see why it’s suspicious, unless somebody wants to make her out a fool.  I don’t understand what any sane person wants with all that truck; but I don’t pretend to understand women.”

Whittle shook his head slowly.  “I dunno,” he said.

“Well, I don’t know who does, or cares either.  They’ve got the money.  I suppose that was what they were after.”  Jim again tried to pass.

“Wait just a minute.  Say, Jim, I’m going to tell you something.  Don’t you speak of it till it gets out.”

“Fire away.  I’m in a hurry.”

“She wants to buy this old Bolton place here.”

Jim whistled.

“You know the assignees of the Bolton estate had to take the house, and it’s been running down all these years, and a lot of money has got to be spent on it or it’ll tumble down.  Now, this young woman has offered to pay a good round sum for it, and take it just as it is.  S’pose it’s all right?”

“How in creation should I know?  If I held it, and wanted to sell it, I’d know darn well whether it was all right or not.  I wouldn’t go around asking other folks.”

“But you see it don’t seem natural.  Folks don’t do things like that.  She’s offering to pay more than the place is worth.  She’ll have to spend thousands on it to make it fit to live in.  She says she’ll pay cash, too.”

“Well, I suppose you’ll know cash when you see it.  I’ve got to go.”

“But cash!  Lord A’mighty!  We dunno what to do.”

“I suppose you know whether you want to sell or not.”

“Want to sell!  If we didn’t want to sell this old shebang we’d be dumb idiots.”

“Then, why in the name of common sense don’t you sell?”

“Because, somehow it don’t look natural to me.”

“Well, I must confess that to throw away much money on an old shell like that doesn’t look any too natural to me.”

“Come now, Jim, that was a real nice house when it was built.”

Jim laughed sarcastically.  “Running up your wares now, are you?”

“That house cost Andrew Bolton a pile of money.  And now, if it’s fixed up, it’ll be the best house in Brookville.”

“That isn’t saying much.  See here, you’ve got to let me pass.  If you want to sell—­I should think you would—­I don’t see what you are worrying about.  I don’t suppose you are worrying for fear you may cheat the girl.”

“We ain’t goin’ to cheat the girl, but—­I dunno.”  Whittle stood aside, shaking his head, and Jim passed on.  He loitered along the shaggy hedge which bordered the old Bolton estate, and a little farther, then turned back.  He had reached the house again when he started.  In front of the gate stood a shadowy figure, a woman, by the outlines of the dress.  Jim continued hesitatingly.  He feared to startle her.  But he did not.  When he came abreast of her, she turned and looked full in his face, and he recognized Miss Orr.  He took off his hat, but was so astonished he could scarcely utter a greeting.  The girl was so shy that she stammered a little, but she laughed too, like a child caught in some mischief.