"What's your price? Name it, for God's sake."
"B-better wait till you get the bill—hadn't you? b-better wait till you get the bill."
"Will you put the franchise through?"
"Goin' down to the capital soon?" Jethro inquired.
"I'm going down on Thursday."
"B-better come in and see me," said Jethro.
"Very well," answered Mr. Worthington; "I'll be in at two o'clock on Thursday." And then, without another word to either of them, he swung on his heel and strode quickly out of the store. Jethro did not move.
William Wetherell's hand was trembling so that he could not write, and he could not trust his voice to speak. Although Jethro had never mentioned Isaac Worthington's name to him, Wetherell knew that Jethro hated the first citizen of Brampton.
At length, when the sound of the wheels had died away, Jethro broke the silence.
"Er—didn't laugh—did he, Will? Didn't laugh once—did he?"