Page:A Colonial Wooing.djvu/105

 conversations. An unusual amount of bravery had found a lodgement in his breast, and, believing his investment was, if not in doubt, in a bewildering entanglement of claims that his partner had woven about it, he had actually demanded in plain terms why it was that he, William Blake, was paying for everything and yet nothing appeared to be his. It was the most important mental problem he had ever formulated, and his own words staggered him as he pronounced them, one at a time, as if repeating the speech of another. "Thy words, Neighbor Watson, are all fair sounding, but always wind up with the suggestion that I put my hand in my pocket, and never we put our hands in." William Blake that day made the discovery, the only one he ever made, that he was a fool, and could not remedy the trouble.

Matthew Watson was astonished, and then, feeling sure of his position, acted the part of an indignant man. Of course, he could withdraw if dissatisfied, but hardly expect to do so without a loss. He might go to