self, repeating that he might have had the courage if Jethro Bass
had not bought the mortgage. The fear of the man had entered the
storekeeper's soul.

"Does it belong to that man over there?" asked Cynthia.

"Yes."

"I'll take it to him, Daddy," and she held out her hand.

"Not now," Wetherell answered nervously, glancing at the group. He went
into the store, addressed an envelope to "Mr. Bijah Bixby of Clovelly,"
and gave it to Cynthia. "When he comes back for his wagon, hand it to
him," he said, feeling that he would rather, at that moment, face the
devil himself than Mr. Bixby.

Half an hour later, Cynthia gave Mr. Bixby the envelope as he unhitched
his horse; and so deftly did Bijah slip it into his pocket, that he must
certainly have misjudged its contents. None of the loungers at Ephraim's
remarked the transaction.

If Jethro had indeed instructed Bijah to look after his flock at
Coniston, it was an ill-conditioned move, and some of the flock resented
it when they were quite sure that Bijah was climbing the notch road
toward Clovelly. The discussion (from which the storekeeper was
providentially omitted) was in full swing when the stage arrived, and
Lem Hallowell's voice silenced the uproar. It was Lem's boast that he
never had been and never would be a politician.

"Why don't you folks quit railin' against Jethro and do somethin'?" he
said. "Bije turns up here, and you all scatter like a flock of crows.
I'm tired of makin' complaints about that Brampton road, and to-day the
hull side of it give way, and put me in the ditch. Sure as the sun rises
to-morrow, I'm goin' to make trouble for Jethro."

"What be you a-goin' to do, Lem?"

"Indict the town," replied Lem, vigorously. "Who is the town? Jethro,
hain't he? Who has charge of the highways? Jethro Bass, Chairman of the
Selectmen. I've spoke to him, time and agin, about that piece, and
he hain't done nothin'. To-night I go to Harwich and git the court to
app'int an agent to repair that road, and the town'll hev to pay the
bill."

The boldness of Lem's intention for the moment took away their breaths,
and then the awe-stricken hush which followed his declaration was broken
by the sound of Chester's fist hammering on the counter.

"That's the sperrit," he cried; "I'll go along with you, Lem."

"No, you won't," said Lem, "you'll stay right whar you be."

"Chester wants to git credit for the move," suggested Sam Price, slyly.

"It's a lie, Sam Price,