looking stranger would settle in Elmsdale!  Over a thousand dollars’ worth in one bill—­not bad, that, for a little rural New York town.  Moreover, the stranger had evinced a taste in his selection of furniture and carpets scarcely to be expected from his slightly overdressed appearance and his loud, dominating talk.  His choice had been always swift and certain, wholly unaffected by prices.  Obviously, a self-made man, with a long purse, this.

The big man threw up his hands in mock surrender.  “Time—­King’s X—­’nuff!” he bellowed, a pervading and infectious smile spreading over his broad, jovial, smooth-shaven face.  “Police!  Nine—­eleven—­twelve hundred, sixty-eight.  I’ll pay you a hundred to bind the—­No, I’ll just pay you now and have done with it.  Don’t want the stuff delivered till some time next week, though.  Wife’ll run up to-morrow or next day to take her choice of the two houses I’ve been looking at.  Then, paper-hanging, mantels, plumbing and all that—­Make it even twelve-fifty?” he demanded, pen poised in a plump, white hand, eying the dealer with shrewd expectancy.

“Certainly, certainly,” Mendenhall murmured, rubbing his hands with a thought of future custom.

Scratch-tch-ch!  The check was made out with a flourish.  “Here you are.  I’ll come round when I’m ready and tell you where to send the stuff.  By the way, where do you bank?  Want to send in checks for collection.”

“At the Farmers’ and Citizens’, mostly.  The First National is right around the corner, first turn to your left.  Thank you very much, Mr.”—­he glanced at the check—­Britt—­Mr. N.C.  Britt.  I hope for the pleasure of your better acquaintance, Mr. Britt.”

“Oh, you will!” laughed Britt.  “Nice little town, here.  If I like it as well a year from now as I do to-day I’ll stick.  Time for an old fellow like me to settle down.  I’ve worked hard all my life.  But I’ve got enough.  What’s the good of more?  No dying in the harness for mine.  I want to retire, as they call it, and let the young bucks do the work.”

“Oh, you’re not an old man,” protested Mendenhall with reason.  “Your amazing vitality—­your energetic——­” Britt pulled at his luxuriant white hair.

“Oh, good enough for an old has-been!” He laughed with pardonable vanity.  “Pretty hearty yet, owing to having lived a clean and wholesome life, thank God; but aging, sir—­aging.  ’The evil days draw nigh!’” He shook his head with a sober air, which at once gave way to the satisfied smile habitual on his round, contented face.  Briskly, he consulted a heavy gold repeater, replacing it with the quick movement of one to whom seconds are valuable.  “Well, well!  Twelve-thirty!  Been here all morning, picking and choosing!  Take luncheon with me?  No?  All right—­see you later!” He swung out through the door.