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Updated: June 14, 2025
"I think it was Rosie or Lucy, or something . Anyhow, it wasn't Eliza, and that I'll swear to. But the girl laughed at me and made such silly smiles at 'Rast that he told me to shut up, 'cause he had a use for her in politics." "Well, well!" repeated the visitor. "Just see how stories get twisted. I heard you gave the girl a letter to your cousin Martha." "Well, I did.
Cartwill stood alone and victorious, her single opponent having gone down on the word "sassafras." Anderson Crow had "gone down" early in the match by spelling "kerosene" "kerry-seen." Ed Higgins followed with "ceriseen," and 'Rast Little explosively had it "coal-oil."
"If you don't close with me, 'Rast, by the jumping Jupiter, I'll make it four thousand," cried the dentist, with exasperation. "Say twenty-five hundred, Doc." "Right on the nail. Give me your check here this minute." "And you'll enter the names in the books?" "Before you leave the office. Have you got the list?" "Yes; in my pocket," said Mr. Hopkins.
'Rast is one of us he's one of the people and it's policy for me to support him instead of the icicle up at Elmhurst, who don't need the job and don't care whether he gets it or not." "Is that true?" "I think so. And there's another thing. Young Forbes is dead against advertising, and advertising is the life of a newspaper.
Ohne Hast, ohne Rast, might have been his motto. He had much belief in the future of English land, and was not, I think, at all exempt from the great English landlord's foible of adding field to field. In the long period of agricultural depression it was easy for a rich man to do so.
"I'll have to admit it. The blood really belonged to 'Rast Little. Boys, the seegars are on me." "No, they're on me," exclaimed Tom Reddon, producing a box of Perfectos. "But, Miss Banks, you are wanted in Chicago," insisted Anderson. Reddon interrupted him. "Right you are, my dear Sherlock, and I'm going to take her there as soon as I can. It's what I came East for."
Miss Banks noticed as they passed the confused twain at the gate that Anderson carried his dark lantern. "Any trace of the heiress, Mr. Crow?" she asked merrily. "Doggone it," muttered Anderson, "she'll give the whole snap away!" "What's that?" asked 'Rast. "Nothin' much," said Anderson, repairing the damage. "Ed's got your time beat to-night, 'Rast, that's all!"
"That's what 'Rast says. But some day they'll put him out, neck and crop, if he ain't careful." "Is the girl Eliza much use to him?" "I can't say. He drove her over to Elmhurst that morning, and he drives over two or three evenings a week to meet her on the sly and get her report. That may be politics, but it ain't very respectable, to my notion." "Well, the campaign is nearly over, Mrs. Hopkins."
Wherein had she failed of duty? her hands were clean: she was going to meet her just reward. It was different with Holmes, of course, with his self-existent soul. It was life he accepted to-night, he thought, a life of growth, labor, achievement, eternal. "Ohne Hast, aber ohne Rast," favorite words with him. "Ohne Hast."
"You wouldn't catch Hopkins giving anything away," remarked one farmer to another. "'Rast is too close-fisted." "Why, as fer that," was the reply, "the thing is done to catch votes. You know that as well as I do." "S'pose it is," said the first speaker. "I'd ruther my vote was caught by a cup of hot coffee on a cold day, than by nothin' at all.
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