"H-how"d you like it?" said Jethro again.
"Well," said Ephraim, "I hain"t got any objections."
Jethro started out of the shop, but paused again at the door.
"W-won"t say nothin" about it, will you, Eph?" he inquired.
"Not till I git it," answered Ephraim. The sorrows of three years were suddenly lifted from his shoulders, and for an instant Ephraim wanted to dance until he remembered the rheumatism and the Wilderness leg.
Suddenly a thought struck him, and he hobbled to the door and called out after Jethro"s retreating figure. Jethro returned.
"Well?" he said, "well?"
"What"s the pay?" said Ephraim, in a whisper.
Jethro named the sum instantly, also in a whisper.
"You don"t tell me!" said Ephraim, and sank stupefied into the chair in front of the shop, where lately he had spent so much of his time.
Jethro chuckled twice on his way home: he chuckled twice again to Cynthia"s delight at supper, and after supper he sent Millicent Skinner to find Jake Wheeler. Jake as usual, was kicking his heels in front of the store, talking to Rias and others about the coming Fourth of July celebration at Brampton. Brampton, as we know, was famous for its Fourth of July celebrations. Not neglecting to let it be known that Jethro had sent for him, Jake hurried off through the summer twilight to the tannery house, bowed ceremoniously to Cynthia under the b.u.t.ternut tree, and discovered Jethro behind the shed. It was usually Jethro"s custom to allow the other man to begin the conversation, no matter how trivial the subject--a method which had commended itself to Mr. Bixby and other minor politicians who copied him. And usually the other man played directly into Jethro"s hands. Jake Wheeler always did, and now, to cover the awkwardness of the silence, he began on the Brampton celebration.
"They tell me Heth Sutton"s a-goin" to make the address--seems prouder than ever sence he went to Congress. I guess you"ll tell him what to say when the time comes, Jethro."
"Er--goin" to Clovelly after wool this week, Jake?"
"I kin go to-morrow," said Jake, scenting an affair.
"Er--goin" to Clovelly after wool this week, Jake?"
Jake reflected. He saw it was expedient that this errand should not smell of haste.
"I was goin" to see Cutter on Friday," he answered.
"Er--if you should happen to meet Heth--"
"Yes," interrupted Jake.
"If by chance you should happen to meet Heth, or Bije" (Jethro knew that Jake never went to Clovelly without a conference with one or the other of these personages, if only to be able to talk about it afterward at the store), "er--what would you say to "em?"
"Why," said Jake, scratching his head for the answer, "I"d tell him you was at Coniston."
"Think we"ll have rain, Jake?" inquired Jethro, blandly.
Jake wended his way back to the store, filled with renewed admiration for the great man. Jethro had given him no instructions whatever, could deny before a jury if need be that he had sent him (Jake) to Clovelly to tell Heth Sutton to come to Coniston for instructions on the occasion of his Brampton speech. And Jake was filled with a mysterious importance when he took his seat once more in the conclave.
Jake Wheeler, although in many respects a fool, was one of the most efficient pack of political hounds that the state has ever known. By six o"clock on Friday morning he was descending a brook valley on the Clovelly side of the mountain, and by seven was driving between the forest and river meadows of the Rajah"s domain, and had come in sight of the big white house with its somewhat pretentious bay-windows and Gothic doorway; it might be dubbed the palace of these parts. The wide river flowed below it, and the pastures so wondrously green in the morning sun were dotted with fat cattle and sheep. Jake was content to borrow a cut of tobacco from the superintendent and wonder aimlessly around the farm until Mr. Sutton"s family prayers and breakfast were accomplished. We shall not concern ourselves with the message or the somewhat lengthy manner in which it was delivered. Jake had merely dropped in by accident, but the Rajah listened coldly while he picked his teeth, said he didn"t know whether he was going to Brampton or not--hadn"t decided; didn"t know whether he could get to Coniston or not--his affairs were mult.i.tudinous now. In short, he set Jake to thinking deeply as his horse walked up the western heights of Coniston on the return journey. He had, let it be repeated, a sure instinct once his nose was fairly on the scent, and he was convinced that a war of great magnitude was in the air, and he; Jake Wheeler, was probably the first in all the elate to discover it! His blood leaped at the thought.
The hill-Rajah"s defiance, boiled down, could only mean one thing,--that somebody with sufficient power and money was about to lock horns with Jethro Ba.s.s. Not for a moment did Jake believe that, for all his pomp and circ.u.mstance, the Honorable Heth Sutton was a big enough man to do this. Jake paid to the Honorable Heth all the outward respect that his high position demanded, but he knew the man through and through. He thought of the Honorable Heth"s reform speech in Congress, and laughed loudly in the echoing woods. No, Mr. Sutton was not the man to lead a fight. But to whom had he promised his allegiance? This question puzzled Mr. Wheeler all the way home, and may it be said finally for many days thereafter. He slid into Coniston in the dusk, big with impending events, which he could not fathom. As to giving Jethro the careless answer of the hill-Rajah, that was another matter.
The Fourth of July came at last, nor was any contradiction made in the Brampton papers that the speech of the Honorable Heth Sutton had been cancelled. Instead, advertis.e.m.e.nts appeared in the "Brampton Clarion" announcing the fact in large letters. When Cynthia read this advertis.e.m.e.nt to Jethro, he chuckled again. They were under the b.u.t.ternut tree, for the evenings were long now.
"Will you take me to Brampton, Uncle Jethro?" said she, letting fall the paper on her lap.
"W-who"s to get in the hay?" said Jethro.
"Hay on the Fourth of July!" exclaimed Cynthia, "why, that"s--sacrilege!
You"d much better come and hear Mr. Sutton"s speech--it will do you good."
Cynthia could see that Jethro was intensely amused, for his eyes had a way of snapping on such occasions when he was alone with her. She was puzzled and slightly offended, because, to tell the truth, Jethro had spoiled her.
"Very well, then," she said, "I"ll go with the Painter-man."
Jethro came and stood over her, his expression the least bit wistful.
"Er--Cynthy," he said presently, "hain"t fond of that Painter-man, be you?"
"Why, yes," said Cynthia, "aren"t you?"
"He"s fond of you," said Jethro, "sh-shouldn"t be surprised if he was in love with you."
Cynthia looked up at him, the corners of her mouth twitching, and then she laughed. The Rev. Mr. Satterlee, writing his Sunday sermon in his study, heard her and laid down his pen to listen.
"Uncle Jethro," said Cynthia, "sometimes I forget that you"re a great, wise man, and I think that you are just a silly old goose."
Jethro wiped his face with his blue cotton handkerchief.
"Then you hain"t a-goin" to marry the Painter-man?" he said.
"I"m not going to marry anybody," cried Cynthia, contritely; "I"m going to live with you and take care of you all my life."
On the morning of the Fourth, Cynthia drove to Brampton with the Painter-man, and when he perceived that she was dreaming, he ceased to worry her with his talk. He liked her dreaming, and stole many glances at her face of which she knew nothing at all. Through the cool and fragrant woods, past the mill-pond stained blue and white by the sky, and scented clover fields and wayside flowers nodding in the morning air--Cynthia saw these things in the memory of another journey to Brampton. On that Fourth her father had been with her, and Jethro and Ephraim and Moses and Amanda Hatch and the children. And how well she recalled, too, standing amidst the curious crowd before the great house which Mr. Worthington had just built.
There are weeks and months, perhaps, when we do not think of people, when our lives are full and vigorous, and then perchance a memory will bring them vividly before us--so vividly that we yearn for them. There rose before Cynthia now the vision of a boy as he stood on the Gothic porch of the house, and how he had come down to the wondering country people with his smile and his merry greeting, and how he had cajoled her into lingering in front of the meeting-house. Had he forgotten her? With just a suspicion of a twinge, Cynthia remembered that Janet Duncan she had seen at the capital, whom she had been told was the heiress of the state. When he had graduated from Harvard, Bob would, of course, marry her. That was in the nature of things.
To some the great event of that day in Brampton was to be the speech of the Honorable Heth Sutton in the meeting-house at eleven; others (and this party was quite as numerous) had looked forward to the base-ball game between Brampton and Harwich in the afternoon. The painter would have preferred to walk up meeting-house hill with Cynthia, and from the cool heights look down upon the amphitheatre in which the town was built. But Cynthia was interested in history, and they went to the meeting-house accordingly, where she listened for an hour and a half to the patriotic eloquence of the representative. The painter was glad to see and hear so great a man in the hour of his glory, though so much as a fragment of the oration does not now remain in his memory. In size, in figure, in expression, in the sonorous tones of his voice, Mr. Sutton was everything that a congressman should be. "The people," said Isaac D.
Worthington in presenting him, "should indeed be proud of such an able and high-minded representative." We shall have cause to recall that word high-minded.
Many persons greeted Cynthia outside the meetinghouse, for the girl seemed genuinely loved by all who knew her--too much loved, her companion thought, by certain spick-and-span young men of Brampton. But they ate the lunch Cynthia had brought, far from the crowd, under the trees by Coniston Water. It was she who proposed going to the base-ball game, and the painter stifled a sigh and acquiesced. Their way brought them down Brampton Street, past a house with great iron dogs on the lawn, so imposing and cityfied that he hung back and asked who lived there.
"Mr. Worthington," answered Cynthia, making to move on impatiently.
Her escort did not think much of the house, but it interested him as the type which Mr. Worthington had built. On that same Gothic porch, sublimely unconscious of the covert stares and subdued comments of the pa.s.sers-by, the first citizen himself and the Honorable Heth Sutton might be seen. Mr. Worthington, whose hawklike look had become more p.r.o.nounced, sat upright, while the Honorable Heth, his legs crossed, filled every nook and cranny of an arm-chair, and an occasional fragrant whiff from his cigar floated out to those on the tar sidewalk. Although the pedestrians were but twenty feet away, what Mr. Worthington said never reached them; but the Honorable Heth on public days carried his voice of the Forum around with him.
"Come on," said Cynthia, in one of those startling little tempers she was subject to; "don"t stand there like an idiot."
Then the voice of Mr. Sutton boomed toward them.
"As I understand, Worthington," they heard him say, "you want me to appoint young Wheelock for the Brampton post-office." He stuck his thumb into his vest pocket and recrossed his legs "I guess it can be arranged."