The morning following Scattergood's second anniversary in the region, he boarded the stage, occupying so much space therein that a single fare failed utterly to show a profit to the stage line, and alighted at Bailey. He went directly to the store, where no one was to be found save sharp-featured Mrs. Bailey, wife of the proprietor.
"Mornin', ma'am," said Scattergood, politely. "Husband hain't in?"
"Up the brook, catchin' a mess of trout," she responded, shortly. "He's always catchin' a mess of trout, or huntin' a deer or a partridge or somethin'. If you're ever aimin' to see Jim Bailey here, you want to git around afore daylight or after dark."
"Hain't it lucky," said Scattergood, "that some men manages to marry wimmin that kin look after their business?"
"Not for the wimmin," said Mrs. Bailey, shortly.
"My name's Baines," said Scattergood.
"I calculate to know that."
"Like livin' here, ma'am?"
"Not so but what I could bear a change."
"Um!... Mis' Bailey, I calc'late you'd hate to see Jim make a little money so's to be able to git away from here if he wanted to."