“And it to you, Mr. Jennings,” put in the driver.

“That is pleasant to hear,” said Jennings, with a smile.

“It is true.  There are few people here whom you have not befriended.”

“That is what we are here for, is it not?”

“I wish all were of your opinion.  Why, Mr. Jennings, when we get a city charter I think I know who will be the first mayor.”

“Not I, Mr. Leach.  My own business is all I can well attend to.  Thank you for your compliment, though.  Carl, do you see yonder building?”

He pointed to a three-story structure, a frame building, occupying a prominent position.

“Yes, sir.”

“That is my manufactory.  What do you think of it?”

“I shouldn’t think a town of this size would require so large an establishment,” answered Carl.

Mr. Jennings laughed.

“You are right,” he said.  “If I depended on Milford trade, a very small building would be sufficient.  My trade is outside.  I supply many dealers in New York City and at the West.  My retail trade is small.  If any of my neighbors want furniture they naturally come to me, and I favor them as to price out of friendly feeling, but I am a manufacturer and wholesale dealer.”

“I see, sir.”

“Shall I take you to your house, Mr. Jennings?” asked Leach.

“Yes, if you please.”

Leach drove on till he reached a two-story building of Quaker-like simplicity but with a large, pleasant yard in front, with here and there a bed of flowers.  Here he stopped his horse.

“We have reached our destination, Carl,” said Mr. Jennings.  “You are active.  Jump out and I will follow.”

Carl needed no second invitation.  He sprang from the carriage and went forward to help Mr. Jennings out.

“No, thank you, Carl,” said the little man.  “I am more active than you think.  Here we are!”

He descended nimbly to the ground, and, drawing a one-dollar bill from his pocket, handed it to the driver.

“I don’t like to take it, Mr. Jennings,” said Mr. Leach.

“Why not?  The laborer is worthy of his hire.  Now, Carl, let us go into the house.”

CHAPTER XV.

Mr. Jennings at home.

Mr. Jennings did not need to open the door.  He had scarcely set foot on the front step when it was opened from inside, and Carl found a fresh surprise in store for him.  A woman, apparently six feet in height, stood on the threshold.  Her figure was spare and ungainly, and her face singularly homely, but the absence of beauty was partially made up by a kindly expression.  She looked with some surprise at Carl.

“This is a young friend of mine, Hannah,” said her master.  “Welcome him for my sake.”

“I am glad to see you,” said Hannah, in a voice that was another amazement.  It was deeper than that of most men.