'Somebody 's leaked,' he says, 'an' they've heard of that morgidge, an' I'm in a putty scrape,' he says.
"'H'm'm,' I says, 'what makes ye think so ?' "'Can't be nothin' else,' he says; 'I've dealt with them people fer years an' never ast fer nothin' but what I got it, an' now to have 'em round up on me like this, it can't be nothin' but what they've got wind o' that chattel morgidge,' he says.
"'H'm'm,' I says.

'Any o' their people ben up here lately ?' I says.
"'That's jest it,' he says.

'One o' their travellin' men was up here last week, an' he come in in the afternoon as chipper as you please, wantin' to sell me a bill o' goods, an' I put him off, sayin' that I had a putty big stock, an' so on, an' he said he'd see me agin in the mornin'-- you know that sort of talk,' he says.
"'Wa'al,' I says, 'did he come in ?' "'No,' says Purse, 'he didn't.

I never set eyes on him agin, an' more'n that,' he says, 'he took the first train in the mornin', an' now,' he says, 'I expect I'll have ev'ry last man I owe anythin' to buzzin' 'round my ears.' "'Wa'al,' I says, 'I guess I see about how the land lays, an' I reckon you ain't fur out about the morgidge bein' at the bottom on't, an' the' ain't no way it c'd 'a' leaked out 'ceptin' through that dum'd chuckle-head of a Timson.

But this is the way it looks to me--you hain't heard nothin' in the village, have ye ?' I says.
"'No,' he says.