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"Why, Walky Dexter! nobody would really believe such talk about Mr. Drugg," Janice declared. "Ye wouldn't think so, would ye? We've all knowed Hopewell Drugg for years an' years, and he's allus seemed the mildest-mannered pirate that ever cut off a yard of turkey-red. But now Jefers-pelters! ye oughter hear 'em!
"But, of course, we 'female women, as Walky calls us, can't vote." "There are enough men to put it down," said Bowman, quickly. "And it can come to a vote in Town Meeting next September, if it's worked up right." "Oh, Frank! Can we do that?" "Now you've said it!" crowed the engineer. "That's what I meant when I wondered if you had begun your campaign."
"Joe's a good sport; he ain't squealin' none," pursued Dexter; "but there is the fiddle a-hangin' behint th' bar an' Joe's beginnin' ter look mighty sour when ye mention it to him." "Why, Mr. Dexter!" 'Rill said, in surprise, "hasn't he turned it over to the man he said he bought it for?" "Wal not so's ye'd notice it," Walky replied, grinning fatuously.
"You be gittin' to be a smart young chap, Marty," proclaimed Walky, coming slowly up the steps with a package for Mrs. Day and his book to be signed. The odor of spirits was wafted before him. Walky's face was as round and red as an August full moon. "How-do, Janice," he said. "What d'yeou think of them fule committeemen startin' this yarn abeout Nelson Haley?"
A storekeeper gave her enough enameled oilcloth to cover neatly the long table. Hopewell Drugg furnished bracket lamps, and gave her the benefit of the wholesale discount on a hanging lamp and reflector to light the reading-table. Walky Dexter did what carting was needed.
He sang, he put his feet on the table he clamoured to "go walky." The conversation was something like this "Look here about that Sand-fairy Look out! he'll have the milk over." Milk removed to a safe distance. "Yes about that Fairy No, Lamb dear, give Panther the narky poon." Then Cyril tried. "Nothing we've had yet has turned out He nearly had the mustard that time!"
"Jefers-pelters!" ejaculated Walky, "Here's a purty mess." "Who gave it to you?" again demanded Mr. Massey. "Why, it would be hard to say offhand," the storekeeper had sufficient wit to reply. "Oh, but Hopewell!" implored the druggist. "Don't ye see what I am after? Stir yourself, man!
"Ain't willin' ter give the young feller a chance't at all, heh?" said Mr. Day, puffing hard at his pipe. "Wall! we'll see abeout that." "We'd never have a better teacher, I tell 'em," Walky flung back over his shoulder. "But Mr. Haley's drawin' a good salary and there's them that think it oughter go ter somebody that belongs here in Polktown, not to an outsider like him."
"I hope you do not expect to find that I spent that ten dollar gold piece at the Inn bar," said Nelson, bitterly. "Well! I'll find out how it got into Joe's hands," growled Massey. "If Joe tells you," chuckled Walky. "An' do stop for yer hat, Massey. You'll ketch yer death o' dampness." The druggist had opened a fruitful subject for speculation.
"Hi tunket! Listen to that ditty, will ye?" "'I wish't I was a rock A-settin' on a hill, A-doin' nothin' all day long But jest a-settin' still," roared Walky, who was letting the patient Josephus take his own gait up Hillside Avenue. "For the Good Land o' Goshen!" cried Aunt 'Mira. "What's the matter o' that feller? Has he taken leave of his senses, a-makin' of the night higeous in that-a-way?
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