This time Jethro did not look at him.

“P-pay me now,” he said.

“I will pay you the day the bill becomes a law.  Then I shall know where I stand.”

Jethro did not answer this ultimatum in any manner, but remained perfectly still looking out of the window.  Mr. Worthington glanced at him, twice, and got his fingers on the brim of his hat, but he did not pick it up.  He stood so for a while, knowing full well that if he went out of that room his chance was gone.  Consolidation might come in other years, but he, Isaac Worthington, would not be a factor in it.

“You don’t want a check, do you?” he said at last.

“No—­d-don’t want a check.”

“What in God’s name do you want?  I haven’t got twenty thousand dollars in currency in my pocket.”

“Sit down, Isaac Worthington,” said Jethro.

Mr. Worthington sat down—­out of sheer astonishment, perhaps.

“W-want the consolidation—­don’t you?  Want it bad—­don’t you?”

Mr. Worthington did, not answer.  Jethro stood over him now, looking down at him from the other side of the narrow table.

“Know Cynthy Wetherell?” he said.

Then Isaac Worthington understood that his premonitions had been real.  The pound of flesh was to be demanded, but strangely enough, he did not yet comprehend the nature of it.

“I know that there is such a person,” he answered, for his pride would not permit him to say more.

“W-what do you know about her?”

Isaac Worthington was bitterly angry—­the more so because he was helpless, and could not question Jethro’s right to ask.  What did he know about her?  Nothing, except that she had intrigued to marry his son.  Bob’s letter had described her, to be sure, but he could not be expected to believe that:  and he had not heard Miss Lucretia Penniman’s speech.  And yet he could not tell Jethro that he knew nothing about her, for he was shrewd enough to perceive the drift of the next question.

“Kn-know anything against her?” said Jethro.

Mr. Worthington leaned back in his chair.

“I can’t see what Miss Wetherell has to do with the present occasion,” he replied.

“H-had her dismissed by the prudential committee had her dismissed—­didn’t you?”

“They chose to act as they saw fit.”

“T-told Levi Dodd to dismiss her—­didn’t you?”

That was a matter of common knowledge in Brampton, having leaked out through Jonathan Hill.

“I must decline to discuss this,” said Mr. Worthington.

“W-wouldn’t if I was you.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I say.  T-told Levi Dodd to dismiss her, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did.”  Isaac Worthington had lost in self-esteem by not saying so before.

“Why?  Wahn’t she honest?  Wahn’t she capable?  Wahn’t she a lady?”

“I can’t say that I know anything against Miss Wetherell’s character, if that’s what you mean.”