"'Twould mean quite a bit of thinkin' to get Zenas Henry out of his troubles," returned he evasively. "'Tain't so simple as it looks."
Moving abruptly to the work-bench he began to overturn at random the tools lying upon it.
Something in this unusual proceeding arrested Jan's attention, causing him to glance with suspicion from Robert Morton to the inventor, and from the inventor back to Robert Morton again. The elder man was whistling "Tenting To-night," an air that had never been a favorite of his; and the younger, with self-conscious zeal, was shredding into bits a long curl of shavings.
Jan eyed both of them with distrust
"I figger we're goin' to have a spell of fine weather now," remarked Willie with jaunty artificiality.
The offhand assertion was too casual to be real. Cloud and fog were not dealt with in this cursory fashion in Wilton. It clinched Jan's doubts into certainty. Something was being kept from him, something of which this stranger, who had only been in the town a few hours, was cognizant. For the first time in fifty years another had usurped his place as Willie's confidant. It was monstrous! A tremor of jealous rage thrilled through his frame, and he stiffened visibly.
"I reckon I'll be joggin' along home," said he, moving with dignity toward the door.
"But you've only just come, Jan," protested Willie.
"I didn't come fur nothin' but to leave this hammer," Jan answered, placing the implement on the long bench before which his friend was standing.
"Maybe there was something you wanted to see Mr. Spence about," ventured Bob. "If there was I will—"