“Perhaps it would be better for me to come to you some other time, when you are alone.”

In the meantime Wetherell had shut the door, and they had gradually walked to the rear of the store.  Jethro parted his coat tails, and sat down again in the armchair.  Wetherell, not wishing to be intrusive, went to his desk again, leaving the first citizen standing among the barrels.

“W-what other time?” Jethro asked.

“Any other time,” said Mr. Worthington.

“What other time?”

“To-morrow night?” suggested Mr. Worthington, striving to hide his annoyance.

“B-busy to-morrow night,” said Jethro.

“You know that what I have to talk to you about is of the utmost importance,” said Worthington.  “Let us say Saturday night.”

“B-busy Saturday night,” said Jethro.  “Meet you to-morrow.”

“What time?”

“Noon,” said Jethro, “noon.”

“Where?” asked Mr. Worthington, dubiously.

“Band stand in Brampton Street,” said Jethro, and the storekeeper was fain to bend over his desk to conceal his laughter, busying himself with his books.  Mr. Worthington sat down with as much dignity as he could muster on one of Jonah’s old chairs, and Jonah Winch’s clock ticked and ticked, and Wetherell’s pen scratched and scratched on his weekly letter to Mr. Willard, although he knew that he was writing the sheerest nonsense.  As a matter of fact, he tore up the sheets the next morning without reading them.  Mr. Worthington unbuttoned his coat, fumbled in his pocket, and pulled out two cigars, one of which he pushed toward Jethro, who shook his head.  Mr. Worthington lighted his cigar and cleared his throat.

“Perhaps you have observed, Mr. Bass,” he said, “that this is a rapidly growing section of the state—­that the people hereabouts are every day demanding modern and efficient means of communication with the outside world.”

“Struck you as a mill owner, has it?” said Jethro.

“I do not care to emphasize my private interests,” answered Mr. Worthington, at last appearing to get into his stride again.  “I wish to put the matter on broader grounds.  Men like you and me ought not to be so much concerned with our own affairs as with those of the population amongst whom we live.  And I think I am justified in putting it to you on these grounds.”

“H-have to be justified, do you—­have to be justified?” Jethro inquired.  “Er—­why?”

This was a poser, and for a moment he stared at Jethro, blankly, until he decided how to take it.  Then he crossed his legs and blew smoke toward the ceiling.

“It is certainly fairer to everybody to take the broadest view of a situation,” he remarked; “I am trying to regard this from the aspect of a citizen, and I am quite sure that it will appeal to you in the same light.  If the spirit which imbued the founders of this nation means anything, Mr. Bass, it means that the able men who are given a chance to rise by their own efforts must still retain the duties and responsibilities of the humblest citizens.  That, I take it, is our position, Mr. Bass,—­yours and mine.”