The individual was Mr. Spriggins of Mill Crossing. Any one keeping close behind the said gentleman might have heard the following soliloquy.
"Well, sir, I'm deuced glad I didn't let on to Melindy, for like all wimen she'd be a peekin' to see what it was. It's terrible queer that not one of 'em is better than another. Still we can't get along without 'em, nohow."
Here Mr. Spriggins emphasized the remark by a shrug of his herculean shoulders, and allowed himself to think what a blank this world would be without Melindy.
"Wal, I reckon them bisness fellars have so many papers, round that its 'tarnal queer they don't loose money, but ten to one this 'ere thing don't amount to a goose egg."
Mr. Spriggins had now gained the office, and with smiling countenance inquired for Mr. Verne.
A genial "come in" from the inner office inspired our friend with additional confidence.
Mr. Verne bowed in a respectful manner, and taking off his gold-rimmed spectacles motioned the young man to a seat.
"Good morning, sir," said the latter, feeling somewhat embarrassed as how to begin.
"It is fine weather, indeed," returned Mr. Verne, pleasantly.
"Its no use delayin'," thought Moses, "I'll make a bold dash," and jumping up from his seat, exclaimed, "You're Mister Verne that lives in the big house on that high bank up there by the square?"