“Can I do anything for you?” he asked. “Have you missed your way?”
Wetherell thought he heard him muttering, “No, no,” and then he was startled by another voice in his ear. It was Jethro who was standing beside him.
“G-guess he hain't missed his way a great deal. Er—come in—come in.”
Mr. Worthington took a couple of steps forward.
“I understood that you were to be alone,” he remarked, addressing Jethro with an attempted severity of manner.
“Didn't say so—d-didn't say so, did I?” answered Jethro.
“Very well,” said Mr. Worthington, “any other time will do for this little matter.”
“Er—good night,” said Jethro, shortly, and there was the suspicion of a gleam in his eye as Mr. Worthington turned away. The mill-owner, in fact, did not get any farther than the edge of the porch before he wheeled again.
“The affair which I have to discuss with you is of a private nature, Mr. Bass,” he said.
“So I callated,” said Jethro.