“Lost the money?” he ejaculated.  “Do you expect me to believe you, sir?”

“It’s true.”

“Nonsense, sir.  Jack Fer—­”

“Sh!”

“John Stumpy isn’t the one to lose over two hundred dollars!”

“Just what I always said myself, partner, and—­”

“Don’t ’partner ’ me, sir!”

“Well, wasn’t we all partners in the good times gone by?”

“No, sir!”

“I reckon we were.  Howsomever, let it pass.  Well, as I was saying, I reckoned I’d never lose any money, leasewise a small pile, but that’s what I have done, and that’s why I want you to come down.”

And John Stumpy leaned back in the rocker in a defiant fashion.

The merchant eyed him sharply in silence for a moment.

“Where did you lose the money?” he asked at length.

“How do I know?  If I did, don’t you suppose I’d go back and pick it up?”

“I thought perhaps you were afraid of discovery.”

“Humph!  I’m not skeered of any such constables as they have in Darbyville.”

“But you must have some idea where you dropped it,” went on Mr. Woodward, and I was astonished to see how coolly this man, who always pretended to be so straightforward, could inquire about stolen money.

“Not the least,” responded John Stumpy.  “There was two hundred and sixty dollars in all.  I took out ten and left the rest in the pocketbook it was in.  I’ve got the ten dollars, and that’s all.  And that’s why you’ve got to come down,” he went on deliberately.  “I’m off for Chicago to-night, and I’m not going back empty handed.”

“You think I ought to pay you for your own carelessness,” returned Mr. Woodward, coolly.

“Not a bit of it.  You owe me every cent I ask.”

“I don’t owe you a penny.”

“You owe me a thousand dollars, and for the last time let me tell you, you’ve got to pay or take the consequences.”  And John Stumpy brought his fist down on the table with a bang.

“Hold on; don’t make so much noise,” cried Mr. Aaron Woodward in alarm.  “There is no use of rousing the household.”

“I don’t care.  Either you’ll come down or I’ll rouse the whole of Darbyville,” cried the tramp, vehemently.

“I haven’t any money.”

“You can’t tell me that.”

“It’s true.  Times are getting worse every day.”

“Didn’t the woman who lives here just pay you?”

“Yes; thirty dollars—­”

“And didn’t you put the bills in with a big roll in your vest pocket?” went on Stumpy, triumphantly.

The merchant bit his lip.

“That money is to pay a bill that falls due to-morrow,” he replied.

“Well, my ‘bill’ falls due to-day, and it’s got to be met.  So come; no more beating about the bush.  We’ve talked long enough.  Now to business.  Do you intend to pay or not?”

The merchant hesitated.  Evidently he was afraid to oppose the other too strongly.