“No, and I ain’t goin’ to—­not now.”

“All right—­all right. I never asked you.  All I said was—­”

“I know what you said.”

“Why, no, you don’t neither.  You’re all mixed up.  Nobody’s said anything about cigars, or makin’—­er—­er—­ What was it you said they made?”

“Oh, nothin’, nothin’.  A molehill is what I said.”

“What kind of a hill?”

“A molehill.  Didn’t you ever hear of a ground mole, for heaven sakes?”

“Course I’ve heard of a ground mole!  But what’s a ground mole got to do with a cigar, I want to know?  And you said a moleHILL.  What’s a ground mole doin’ up on a hill?”

“Not up on one—­in one.  A molehill is what a ground mole lives in, ain’t it?  It’s just a sayin’. . . .  Oh, never mind!  Go on!  Take a walk.”

“I don’t want to walk.  And a ground mole lives in a hole, not a hill, like a—­like a ant.  You know that as well as I do.  And, anyhow, nobody said anything about ground moles, or—­or mud turtles neither, far’s that goes.  No, nor five cent cigars.  Now, Raish, I’ll tell you what they’re sayin’; they say—­”

“And I’ll tell you!  Listen!  Listen, now, because this is the last time I’ll tell anybody anything except to go—­”

“Sshh, shh, Raish!  Alvira’s right in the kitchen and the window’s open. . . .  No, ’tain’t, it’s shut.  Where will they go?”

“Listen, you!  I’ve bought those few extra shares of Development because I had some myself and thought I might as well have a few more.  I bought ’em and I paid for ’em.  Nobody says I ain’t paid for ’em, do they?”

“No, no.  Don’t anybody say that.  All they say is—­”

“Be still!  Now I bought those shares.  What of it?  It’s my business, ain’t it?  Yes.  And I haven’t bought any more.  You can tell ’em that:  I haven’t bought any more.”

“Oh, all right, Raish, all right.  I’ll tell ’em you ain’t.  But—­”

“That’s all.  Now forget it!  For-get it!”

Which should, perhaps, have been sufficient and convincing.  But there were still some unconvinced.  For example, Martha happened to meet one morning, while on an errand in the village, the president of the Denboro Trust Company.  He explained that he had motored over, having a little matter of personal business to attend to.

“I haven’t seen you for some time, Miss Phipps,” he observed.  “Not since our—­er—­little talk about the Wellmouth Development stock.  That was the last time, wasn’t it?”

Martha said that it was.  He lowered his voice a very little and asked, casually:  “Still holding on to your two hundred and fifty shares, are you?”

“Why, that was what you told me to do, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, yes.  I believe it was.  Humph!  Just so, yes.  So you’ve still got those shares?”