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"That's a plum for Billy," he shouted. "Who'd have thought that Billy but, confound it, it's been in him all the time. It's a boost for Elmville. It'll send real estate up. It's an honour to our state. It's a compliment to the South. We've all been blind about Billy. When does he leave? We must have a reception. Great Gatlings! that job's eight thousand a year!
Elmville opened its mouth, and squirmed. The chieftain with the kindly, fateful face was holding out his hand, smiling. Ex-war-Governor Pemberton extended his own across the chasm. But what was this the General was saying? "Mr.
His heart warmed now to Elmville and the friends who had refused to set him upon a pedestal.
"We congratulate Governor Pemberton upon the mark of appreciation conferred upon his son" "Elmville rejoices with our honoured citizen, Governor Pemberton, at his son's success" "Put her there, Billy!" "Judge Billy Pemberton, sir; son of our State's war hero and the people's pride!" these were the phrases, printed and oral, conjured up by Billy's prophetic fancy.
What ever he should accomplish would have to be sacrificed upon the altar of this magnificent but fatal parental precedence. The peculiarity and the saddest thing about Billy's ambition was that the only world he thirsted to conquer was Elmville. His nature was diffident and unassuming. National or State honours might have oppressed him.
"Don't worry, father," he said, cheerfully. "I'm not going to accept. Elmville is good enough for me. I'll write to-night and decline it." At the next interchange of devoirs between the Governor and General Deffenbaugh on Lee Avenue, His Excellency, with a comfortable air of self-satisfaction, spoke of the appointment that had been tendered to Billy. The General whistled.
Billy could not subdue a certain exultation at this token of the success of his long and arduous labours, but, at the same time, a whimsical smile lingered around his mouth, for he foresaw in which column Elmville would place the credit.
Yet, he remained to Elmville as only "Billy" Pemberton, the son of our distinguished and honoured fellow-townsman, "ex-Governor Pemberton."
There's been a car-load of lead-pencils worn to stubs figuring on those appointments. Think of it! Our little, wood-sawing, mealy-mouthed Billy! Angel unawares doesn't begin to express it. Elmville is disgraced forever until she lines up in a hurry for ratification and apology." The venerable Moloch smiled fatuously.
All the while uneventful peace pervaded Elmville. The Governor continued to make his triumphal parades to the post-office with the General as chief marshal, for the slight squall that had rippled their friendship had, to all indications, been forgotten by both. But one day Elmville woke to sudden excitement.
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