“When?” said Jethro, sitting still.

“I’ll send the papers over to you within two or three days.

“O-ought to be done right away, Judge.  Road’s in bad shape.”

“Well, I’ll send the papers over to you to-morrow.”

“How long—­would it take to make out that app’intment—­how long?”

“It wouldn’t take but a little while.”

“I’ll wait,” said Jethro.

“Do you want to take the appointment along with you to-night?” asked the judge, in surprise.

“G-guess that’s about it.”

Without a word the judge went over to his table, and for a while the silence was broken only by the scratching of his pen.

“Er—­interested in roads,—­Will,—­interested in roads?”

The judge stopped writing to listen, since it was now the turn of the other victim.

“Not particularly,” answered Mr. Wetherell, whose throat was dry.

“C-come over for the drive—­c-come over for the drive?”

“Yes,” replied the storekeeper, rather faintly.

“H-how’s Cynthy?” said Jethro.

The storekeeper was too astonished to answer.  At that moment there was a heavy step in the doorway, and Lem Hallowell entered the room.  He took one long look at Jethro and bent over and slapped his hand on his knee, and burst out laughing.

“So here you be!” he cried.  “By Godfrey! ef you don’t beat all outdoors, Jethro.  Wal, I got ahead of ye for once, but you can’t say I didn’t warn ye.  Come purty nigh bustin’ the stage on that road today, and now I’m a-goin’ to hev an agent app’inted.”

“W-who’s the agent?” said Jethro.

“We’ll git one.  Might app’int Will, there, only he don’t seem to want to get mixed up in it.”

“There’s the agent,” cried the judge, holding out the appointment to Jethro.

“Wh-what?” ejaculated Lem.

Jethro took the appointment, and put it in his cowhide wallet.

“Be you the agent?” demanded the amazed stage driver.

“C-callate to be,” said Jethro, and without a smile or another word to any one he walked out into the night, and after various exclamations of astonishment and admiration, the stage driver followed.

No one, indeed, could have enjoyed this unexpected coup of Jethro’s more than Lem himself, and many times on their drive homeward he burst into loud and unexpected fits of laughter at the sublime conception of the Chairman of the Selectmen being himself appointed road agent.

“Will,” said he, “don’t you tell this to a soul.  We’ll have some fun out of some of the boys to-morrow.”

The storekeeper promised, but he had an unpleasant presentiment that he himself might be one of the boys in question.

“How do you suppose Jethro Bass knew you were going to indict the town?” he asked of the stage driver.

Lem burst into fresh peals of laughter; but this was something which he did not attempt to answer.