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Updated: June 26, 2025
A glance over the audience sufficed to ascertain that that portion of the population whose dinner pails we longed to fill was evidently not present in large numbers. But the farmers had driven in from the hills, while the merchants and storekeepers of Elkington had turned out loyally.
"Well, I too am only a spectator here," he laughed. "I'm neither fish, flesh nor fowl, nor good red herring." "You were going into the law, weren't you?" I asked. "I remember you said something about it that day we met at Beverly Farms." "Yes, I managed it, after all. Then I went back home to Elkington to try to make a living."
"What do you think?" he demanded, a shrewd, humorous look in his blue eyes. "Well, I think we'll carry the state. I haven't had Grunewald's experience in estimating." Ezra Hutchins smiled appreciatively. "What does Watling think?" "He doesn't seem to be worrying much." "Ever been in Elkington before?" I said I hadn't. "Well, a drive will do you good."
Then he strode to the door and called out to the group of men who were always lounging in the hall. "Tell Alf Young I want to see him, Fred." I waited, by no means free from uneasiness and anxiety, from a certain lack of self-respect that was unfamiliar. Mr. Young, the Colonel explained, was a legal light in Galesburg, near Elkington, the Railroad lawyer there. And when at last Mr.
"The gentleman from from Elkington, Mr. Krebs." There was a craning of necks, a staring, a tittering. I burned with vicarious shame as Krebs stood there awkwardly, his hand still holding the desk. There were cries of "louder" when he began; some picked up their newspapers, while others started conversations. The Speaker rapped with his gavel, and I failed to hear the opening words.
A self-sufficient, doughty young man, with the round head that withstands many blows, taking by nature to competition and buccaneering in general. I did not love him half so much as I did Matthew if such intermittent emotions as mine may be called love. It was a standing joke of mine which Maude strongly resented that Moreton resembled Cousin George of Elkington.
Nevertheless, like slow acid, they must be eating into the public consciousness. It was an outrage this freedom of the press. With renewed exasperation I thought of Krebs, of his disturbing and almost uncanny faculty of following me up. Why couldn't he have remained in Elkington?
Maude had a more lasting capacity for pleasure than I, a keener enjoyment of new experiences, and as she lay beside me in the steamer-chair where I had carefully tucked her she would exclaim: "I simply can't believe it, Hugh! It seems so unreal. I'm sure I shall wake up and find myself back in Elkington." "Don't speak so loud, my dear," I cautioned her.
Could I rise now to the ideal that had once been mine, thrust henceforth evil out of my life? Love forever, live always in this sanctuary she had made for me? Would the time come when I should feel a sense of bondage?... The wedding was set for the end of September. I continued to go every week to Elkington, and in August, Maude and I spent a fortnight at the sea.
He was alone, apparently waiting for someone, leaning against a steam radiator in one of his awkward, angular poses, looking out of the court-house window. "How are you?" I said blithely. "So you've left Elkington for a wider field." I wondered whether my alert cousin-in-law, George Hutchins, had made it too hot for him.
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