William Wetherell dropped his pen with a start of surprise, as it was late for a visitor in Coniston.  He glanced at Jethro, who did not move, and then he went to the door and shot back the great forged bolt of it, and stared out.  On the edge of the porch stood a tallish man in a double-breasted frock coat.

“Mr. Worthington!” exclaimed the storekeeper.

Mr. Worthington coughed and pulled at one of his mutton-chop whiskers, and seemed about to step off the porch again.  It was, indeed, the first citizen and reformer of Brampton.  No wonder William Wetherell was mystified.

“Can I do anything for you?” he asked.  “Have you missed your way?”

Wetherell thought he heard him muttering, “No, no,” and then he was startled by another voice in his ear.  It was Jethro who was standing beside him.

“G-guess he hain’t missed his way a great deal.  Er—­come in—­come in.”

Mr. Worthington took a couple of steps forward.

“I understood that you were to be alone,” he remarked, addressing Jethro with an attempted severity of manner.

“Didn’t say so—­d-didn’t say so, did I?” answered Jethro.

“Very well,” said Mr. Worthington, “any other time will do for this little matter.”

“Er—­good night,” said Jethro, shortly, and there was the suspicion of a gleam in his eye as Mr. Worthington turned away.  The mill-owner, in fact, did not get any farther than the edge of the porch before he wheeled again.

“The affair which I have to discuss with you is of a private nature, Mr. Bass,” he said.

“So I callated,” said Jethro.

“You may have the place to yourselves, gentlemen,” Wetherell put in uneasily, and then Mr. Worthington came as far as the door, where he stood looking at the storekeeper with scant friendliness.  Jethro turned to Wetherell.

“You a politician, Will?” he demanded.

“No,” said Wetherell.

“You a business man?”

“No,” he said again.

“You ever tell folks what you hear other people say?”

“Certainly not,” the storekeeper answered; “I’m not interested in other people’s business.”

“Exactly,” said Jethro.  “Guess you’d better stay.”

“But I don’t care to stay,” Wetherell objected.

“Stay to oblige me—­stay to oblige me?” he asked.

“Well, yes, if you put it that way,” Wetherell said, beginning to get some amusement out of the situation.

He did not know what Jethro’s object was in this matter; perhaps others may guess.

Mr. Worthington, who had stood by with ill-disguised impatience during this colloquy, note broke in.

“It is most unusual, Mr. Bass, to have a third person present at a conference in which he has no manner of concern.  I think on the whole, since you have insisted upon my coming to you—­”

“H-hain’t insisted that I know of,” said Jethro.

“Well,” said Mr. Worthington, “never mind that.