His reinforced chair creaked under the shifting of his great weight as he bent mechanically to remove his shoes.  With his toes imprisoned in leather, Scattergood’s brain refused to function, a characteristic which greatly chagrined his wife, Mandy—­so much so that she had considered sewing him up in his footwear, as certain mothers in the community sewed their children in their underwear for the winter.

Scattergood had amassed a fortune that might be called handsome, but it had not made him effete.  His income had never warranted him in purchasing a pair of socks, so now, upon the removal of his shoepacs, his toes were fully at liberty to squirm and wriggle in the most soul-satisfying manner.  He sat thus, battling with his problem, until Pliny Pickett, driver of the stage, and Scattergood’s man, rattled up to the store in his dust-whitened conveyance.

“Afternoon, Scattergood,” he said, in a manner which he endeavored to make as like his employer’s as possible.

“Afternoon, Pliny.  Successful trip, Pliny?  Plenty of passengers?  Eh?  Any news down the valley?”

“Done middlin’ well.  Hain’t much news, ‘ceptin’ that young Widder Conroy down to Tupper Falls died of somethin’ the matter with her stummick and folks is wonderin’ what’ll become of her baby.”

“Baby?  What kind of a baby did she calc’late to have?”

“A he one—­nigh onto two year old.  Neighbors is lookin’ after him.”

“Got relatives?”

“Not that anybody knows of.”

“Um!...  Wasn’t passin’ Jed Lewis’s house, was you?”

“Didn’t figger to.”

“Wasn’t passin’ Jed Lewis’s, was you?” Scattergood repeated, insistently.

“I could.”

“Um!...  If you was to, and if you seen Jed, what was you figgerin’ on sayin’ to him?”

Pliny scratched his head and pondered.

“Calculate I’d mention the heat some, and maybe I might say suthin’ about national politics.”

“Wouldn’t mention me, would you, Pliny?  Don’t figger my name might come up?”

“It might.”

“If it did, what ‘u’d you say, eh?  Hain’t no reason for mentionin’ that I might want to talk to him, is there?  Hain’t said so, have I?”

“You hain’t,” said Pliny, at last enlightened as to Scattergood’s desire in the matter.

“G’-by, Pliny.”

“G’-by, Scattergood.”

An hour later Jed Lewis sauntered past the store and stopped.  “Pliny Pickett says you want to see me, Scattergood.”

“Said that, did he?  Told you I said I wanted to see you?”

“Wa-al, maybe not exactly.  Not in so many words.  But he kind of hinted around and pecked around till I figgered that was what the ol’ coot was gittin’ at.”

“Um!...  Didn’t tell him nothin’ of the kind, but as long’s you’re here you might as well set.  Hain’t seen much of you lately.  How’s the hayin’?”

“Too much rain.  Got her cocked twice and had to spread her ag’in to dry.”