"B-better come in and see me," said Jethro.

"Very well," answered Mr. Worthington; "I'll be in at two o'clock on
Thursday." And then, without another word to either of them, he swung on
his heel and strode quickly out of the store. Jethro did not move.

William Wetherell's hand was trembling so that he could not write, and he
could not trust his voice to speak. Although Jethro had never mentioned
Isaac Worthington's name to him, Wetherell knew that Jethro hated the
first citizen of Brampton.

At length, when the sound of the wheels had died away, Jethro broke the
silence.

"Er--didn't laugh--did he, Will? Didn't laugh once--did he?"

"Laugh!" echoed the storekeeper, who himself had never been further from
laughter in his life.

"M-might have let him off easier if he'd laughed," said Jethro, "if he'd
laughed just once, m-might have let him off easier."

And with this remark he went out of the store and left Wetherell alone.




CHAPTER XIII

The weekly letter to the Newcastle Guardian was not finished that night,