y, "What line are you in, may I ask?"

"Certainly you may ask, but I can't tell you. I would be glad to do so
if I knew myself."

"Ever think of going west?"

"I've just come from there--or almost there--whereever it is."

"Stiles is my name--G. B. Stiles. Good name for a dry-goods salesman,
don't you think so? I know the styles all right, for men, and women
too. Like it out west?"

"Yes. Very well."

"Been there long?"

"Oh, two or three years."

"Had enough of it, likely?"

"Well, I can scarcely say that."

"Mean to stay east now?"

"I may. I'm not settled yet."

"Better take up my line. If I drop out, there'll be an opening with my
firm--good firm, too. Ward, Williams & Co., New York. Been in New
York, I suppose?"

"No, never."

"Well, better try it. I mean to 'go west, young man.' Know anybody
here? Ever live here?"

"Yes, when I was a boy."

"Come back to the boyhood home. We all do that, you know. There's
poetry in it--all do it. 'Old oaken bucket' and all that sort of
thing. I mean to do it myself yet,--back to old York state." G. B.
Stiles wiped his mouth vigorously and shoved back his chair. "Well,
see you again, I hope," he said, and walked off, picking his teeth
with a quill pick which he took from his vest pocket.

He walked slowly and meditatively through the office and out on the
sidewalk. Here he paused and glanced about, and seeing his companion
of the breakfast table was not in sight, he took his way around to the
stables. Nels Nelson was stooping in the stable yard, washing a
horse's legs. G. B. Stiles came and stood near, looking down on him,
and Nels straightened up and stood waiting, with the dripping rags in
his hand.

"Vell, I tol' you he coomin' back sometime. I vaiting long time all
ready, but yust lak I tol' you, he coom."

"I thought I told you not to sign that telegram. But it's no
matter,--didn't do any harm, I guess."

"Dot vas a fool, dot boy dere. He ask all tam, 'Vot for? Who write
dis? You not? Eh? Who sen' dis?' He make me put my name dere; den I
get out putty quvick or he ask yet vat iss it for a yob you got
somebody, eh?"

"Oh, well, we've got him now, and he don't seem to care to keep under
cover, either." G. B. Stiles seemed to address himself. "Too smart to
show a sign. See here, Nelson, are you ready to swear that he's the
man? Are you ready to swear to all you told me?"

"It is better you gif me a paper once, vit your name, dot you gif me
half do