“William,” said Mr. Judson, in a dangerously quiet voice, “perhaps you can explain this extraordinary state of affairs.”

“I can, sir,” William cried.  “This gentleman” (the word stuck in his throat), “this gentleman came in here to examine lockets which I had no reason to believe he would buy.  I admit my fault, sir.  He asked the price of the most expensive, and I told him twenty dollars, merely for a jest, sir.”  William hesitated.

“Well?” said Mr. Judson.

“After pricing every locket in the case, he seized the first one, handed me twenty dollars, and now refuses to give it up, although he knows the price is twenty-seven.”

“Then?”

“Then I locked the door, sir.  He sat down there, and hasn’t moved since.”

Mr. Judson looked again at Mr. Bass; this time with unmistakable interest.  The other customer began to laugh, and the crowd was pressing in, and Mr. Judson turned and shut the door in their faces.  All this time Mr. Bass had not moved, not so much as to lift his head or shift one of his great cowhide boots.

“Well, sir,” demanded Mr. Judson, “what have you to say?”

“N-nothin’.  G-guess I’ll keep the locket.  I’ve, paid for it—­I’ve paid for it.”

“And you are aware, my friend,” said Mr. Judson, “that my clerk has given you the wrong price?”

“Guess that’s his lookout.”  He still sat there, doggedly unconcerned.

A bull would have seemed more at home in a china shop than Jethro Bass in a jewellery store.  But Mr. Judson himself was a man out of the ordinary, and instead of getting angry he began to be more interested.

“Took you for a greenhorn, did he?” he remarked.

“F-folks told me to be careful—­to be careful,” said Mr. Bass.

Then Mr. Judson laughed.  It was all the more disconcerting to William Wetherell, because his employer laughed rarely.  He laid his hand on Jethro’s shoulder.

“He might have spared himself the trouble, my young friend,” he said.  “You didn’t expect to find a greenhorn behind a jewellery counter, did you?”

“S-surprised me some,” said Jethro.

Mr. Judson laughed again, all the while looking at him.

“I am going to let you keep the locket,” he said, “because it will teach my greenhorn a lesson.  William, do you hear that?”

“Yes, sir,” William said, and his face was very red.

Mr. Bass rose solemnly, apparently unmoved by his triumph in a somewhat remarkable transaction, and William long remembered how he towered over all of them.  He held the locket out to Mr. Judson, who stared at it, astonished.

“What’s this?” said that gentleman; “you don’t want it?”

“Guess I’ll have it marked,” said Jethro, “ef it don’t cost extry.”

“Marked!” gasped Mr. Judson, “marked!”

“Ef it don’t cost extry,” Jethro repeated.

“Well, I’ll—­” exclaimed Mr. Judson, and suddenly recalled the fact that he was a church member.  “What inscription do you wish put into it?” he asked, recovering himself with an effort.