Aunt Jane's Nieces at Millville
"
"I kin prove a alybi," answered the little man, calming down somewhat.
"I kin prove my ol' woman had me locked up in the chicken-coop thet
night 'cause I wouldn't split a lot o' cordwood thet were full o'
knots." He cast a half fearful glance over his shoulder toward the
interior of the cottage. "Next day I split 'em," he added, mildly.
"Perhaps," said Louise, again, "someone who knew Captain Wegg in the
days before he came here followed him to his retreat and robbed and
murdered him."
"Now ye've hit the nail on the head!" cried the agent, slapping his fat
thigh energetically. "Thet's what I allus claimed, even when Bob West
jest shook his head an' smiled sort o' superior like."
"Who is Bob West?" asked Louise, with interest.
"He's our implement man, an' hardware dealer. Bob were the on'y one o'
the Millville folks thet could git along with Cap'n Wegg, an' even he
didn't manage to be any special friend. Bob's rich, ye know. Rich as
blazes. Folks do say he's wuth ten thousan' dollars; but it don't set
Bob up any. He jest minds his business an' goes on sellin' plows an'
harvesters to the farmers an' takin' notes fer 'em."
"And you say he knew Captain Wegg well?" inquired Patsy.
"Better 'n' most folks 'round here did. Once er twicet a year the Cap'n
'd go to Bob's office an' set around an' smoke his pipe. Sometimes Bob
would go to the farm an' spend an' ev'nin'; but not often. Ol' Will
Thompson might be said to be the on'y friend the Cap'n really
hankered fer."
"I'd like to meet Mr. West," said Louise, casting a shrewd look at her
cousins. For here was another clue unearthed.
"He's in his store now." remarked McNutt, "Last buildin' on the left. Ye
can't miss it."
"Thank you. Good morning, sir."
"Can't use any buttermilk er Dutch cheese?"
"No, thank you."
McNutt stared after them disconsolately. These girls represented so much
money that ought to be in his pockets, and they were, moreover,
"innercent as turtle doves"; but he could think of no way to pluck their
golden quills or even to arrest their flight.
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There was once an honest journeyman tailor, by name Labakan, who learned his trade with an excellent master in Alexandria. It could not be said that Labakan was unhandy with the needle; on the contrary, he could make excellent work: moreover, one would have done him injustice to have called him lazy. Nevertheless, his companions knew not what to make of him, for he would often sew for hours together so rapidly that the needle would glow in his hand, and the thread smoke, and that none could equal him.
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