looked at the clock. It lacked half an hour of noon.

"G'-by," he said, and went to a distant corner, where he seated himself
and stared out of the window, trying to imagine what he would do if he
were Ovid Nixon, and what would make him appropriate three thousand
dollars.... At twelve o'clock he lumbered over to the cigar case. "C'm
on," he said. "Hain't got no time to waste."

The girl put on her hat and they walked out together.

"What's your name?" Scattergood asked.

"Pansy O'Toole.... You're Scattergood Baines--that's why I'm here.... I
don't eat with every man that oozes out of the woods."

Scattergood said nothing. It was a fixed principle of his to let other
folks do the talking if they would. If not he talked himself--deviously.
Seldom did he ask a direct question regarding any matter of importance,
and so strong was habit that it was rare for him to put any query
directly. If he wanted to know what time it was he would lead up to the
subject by mentioning sun dials, or calendars, or lunar eclipses, and so
approach circuitously and by degrees, until his victim was led to
exhibit his watch. Pansy did not talk.

"See lots of folks, standin' back of that counter like you do?" he
began.

"Lots."

"Um!... From lots of towns?... From Boston?"

"Yes."

"From Tupper Falls?"

"Some."

"From Coldriver?"

"If you want to know if I know Ovid Nixon, why don't you ask right out?"

Scattergood looked at her admiringly.

"I know him," she said.

"Like him?"

"He's a nice boy." Scattergood liked the way she said "nice." It
conveyed a fine shade of meaning, and he thought more of Ovid in
consequence. "But he's awful young--and green."

"Calc'late he is--calc'late he is."

"He needs somebody to look after him," she said, sharply.

"Thinkin' of undertakin' the work?... Favor undertakin' it?"

She looked at him a moment speculatively. "I might do worse. He'd be
decent and kind--and I've got brains. I could make something of him...."

"Um!... Ovid's up and made somethin' of himself."

"What?" She spoke quickly, sharply.

"A thief."

Scattergood glanced sidewise to study the effect of this curt
announcement, but her face was expressionless, rather too
expressionless.

"That's why you're looking for him?"

"Yes."

"To put him in jail?"

"What would _you_ calc'late on doin' if you was me?"

"Before I did anything," she said, slowly, "I'd make up my mind if he
was a thief, or if he just happen