ency 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."

"F-fit to teach--wahn't she--fit to teach?"

"I believe she has since qualified before Mr. Errol."

"Fit to teach--wahn't fit to marry your son--was she?"

Isaac Worthington clutched the table and started from his chair. He
grew white to his lips with anger, and yet he knew that he must control
himself.

"Mr. Bass," he said, "you have something to sell, and I have something
to buy--if the price is not ruinous. Let us confine ourselv