Jethro Bass paid no attention to this speech. Pulling a great cowhide
wallet from his pocket, still holding the locket in his hand, to the
amazement of the clerk he counted out twenty dollars and laid them down.

"G-guess I'll take that one, g-guess I'll take that one," he said.

Then he looked at Mr. Wetherell for the first time.

"Hold!" cried the clerk, more alarmed than he cared to show, "that's not
the price. Did you think I could sell it for that price?"

"W-wahn't that the price you fixed?"

"You simpleton!" retorted Wetherell, with a conviction now that he was
calling him the wrong name. "Give me back the locket, and you shall have
your money, again."

"W-wahn't that the price you fixed?"

"Yes, but--"

"G-guess I'll keep the locket--g-guess I'll keep the locket."

Wetherell looked at him aghast, and there was no doubt about his
determination. With a sinking heart the clerk realized that he should
have to make good to Mr. Judson the seven odd dollars of difference, and
then he lost his head. Slipping round the counter to the door of the
shop, he turned the key, thrust it in his pocket, and faced Mr. Bass
again--from behind the counter.