Chapter II - Page 2

business," replied the flattered landlord. "There is not her equal in all the country round."

"I can believe you, Mr. Adams. Already this delicious beverage has acted like a charmed potion. My headache has left me as if by magic."

He set his cup down; moved his chair a little way from the table at which he was sitting, and threw a pleasant look upon the landlord.

"How long have you been in this town, Mr. Adams?" The question seemed indifferently asked; but the landlord's ear did not fail to perceive in the tone in which it was given, a foreshadowing of much beyond.

"I was born here," he replied.

"Ah! Then you know all the people, I imagine?"

"I know all their faces, at least."

"And their histories and characters?"

"Perhaps."

Something in this "perhaps," and the tone in which it was uttered, seemed not to strike the questioner agreeably. He bent his brows a little, and looked more narrowly at the landlord.

"I did not see much of your town as I came in this evening. How large is it?"

"Middling good size, sir, for an inland town," was the not very satisfactory answer.

"What is the population?"

"Well, I don't know--can't just say to a certainty."

"Two thousand?"

"Laws! no sir! Not over one, if that."

"About a thousand, then?"

"Maybe a thousand, and maybe not more than six or seven hundred."

"Call it seven hundred, then," said the traveler, evidently a little amused.

"And that will, in my view, be calling it enough."

There was a pause. The traveler seemed in doubt as to whether he should go on with his queries.

"Not much trade here, I presume?" He asked, at length.

"Not much to boast of," said Adams.

Another pause.

"Any well-to-do people? Gentlemen who live on their means?"

"Yes; there's Aaron Thompson. He's rich, I guess. But you can't measure a snake 'till he's dead, as they say."

"True," said the traveler, seeming to fall into the landlord's mood. "Executors often change the public estimate of a man as to this world's goods. So, Aaron Thompson is one of your rich men?"

"Yes, and there's Abel Reeder--a close-fisted old dog, but wealthy as a Jew, and no mistake. Then there is Captain Allen."

A flash of interest went over the stranger's face, which was turned at once from the light.

"Captain Allen! And what of him?" The voice was pitched to a lower tone; but there was no appearance of special curiosity.

"A great deal of him." The landlord put on a