"How much is it?"

"Comes pretty high, sir. Three dollars. But it's--"

"Here. Take your money and get out. You're interrupting me."

"Very sorry, sir. Much obleeged, sir. Where'll I leave the book?"

"Throw it in the manger."

McNutt selected a volume that had a broken corner and laid it carefully
on the edge of the oat-bin. Then he put his money in his pocket and
turned away.

"Morn'n' to ye, Mr. Merrick."

"Stop a bit," said Uncle John, suddenly.

The agent stopped.

"I believe I paid you ten dollars for Miss Ethel Thompson's services. Is
that correct?"

"Ye--yes, Mr. Merrick."

McNutt's heart was in his shoes and he looked guiltily at his accuser,
the pale blue eyes bulging fearfully.

"Very well; see that she gets it."