This roused the storekeeper to a burst of protest, but he stemmed it.
“Hain't got the money, have you?”
“No—but—”
“If I needed money, d'ye suppose I'd bought the mortgage?”
“No,” answered the still bewildered Wetherell, “of course not.” There he stuck, that other suspicion of political coercion suddenly rising uppermost. Could this be what the man meant? Wetherell put his hand to his head, but he did not dare to ask the question. Then Jethro Bass fixed his eyes upon him.
“Hain't never mixed any in politics—hev you n-never mixed any?”
Wetherell's heart sank.
“No,” he answered.
“D-don't—take my advice—d-don't.”
“What!” cried the storekeeper, so loudly that he frightened himself.