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Updated: June 13, 2025
As political "boss" of the town he had often found himself opposed to many of his neighbors' wishes. Neither sharp tongue nor sharp look disturbed him apparently, at least. Besides, Mr. Moore loved a fight "for the fight's sake," as the expression is. He had backed Lem Parraday in applying for a liquor license, to benefit his own pocket. It had to be a good reason indeed, to change Mr.
But there are more than Marm Parraday suffering through Lem's selling whiskey. But about my boys," added the engineer. "They tell me if the stuff wasn't so handy they would finish the job without going on these sprees. And I believe they would." "Well! I'll think about it," Janice rejoined, preparing to start her car.
The great, rambling house had been freshened with a coat of bright paint; the steps and porch and porch railings were mended; the sod was green; the flower gardens gay; the gravel of the walks and driveway freshly raked; while the round boulders flanking the paths were brilliant with whitewash. "Why!" said Janice honestly, "the old place never looked so nice before, Mrs. Parraday.
This is the end!" Another stroke of thunder rocked the house. Marm Parraday fell on her knees in the sawdust and raised her clasped hands wildly. The act loosened her stringy gray hair and it fell down upon her shoulders. A wilder looking creature Janice Day had never imagined. "Almighty Father!" burst from the quivering lips of the poor woman. "Almighty Father, help us!"
"That's when I go to bed myself. I couldn't do so in peace if I knew folks was burning them electric lights to all hours. 'Tain't safe in a thunder storm. "Why, when we first got 'em, Jed Parraday from Wachuset come to town to do his buyin' and stayed all night with us. He'd never seed a 'lectric bulb before, and he didn't know how to blow it out. And he couldn't sleep in a room with a light.
Moore's attitude on the liquor selling question. The hotel barroom held great attractions for many of Cross Moore's supporters, although Mr. Moore himself seldom stepped into that part of the hotel. The politician did not trust Lem Parraday to represent him, for Lem was "no wiser than the law allows," to quote his neighbors.
Lem Parraday ought to be tarred and feathered for ever taking out that license! And how about the councilmen who voted to let him have it?" As she wheeled into High Street once more a tall, well groomed young man, with rosy cheeks and the bluest of blue eyes, hailed her from the sidewalk. "Oh, Janice Day!" he cried. "How's the going?" "Mr. Bowman!
I don't suppose there's a man there that don't own his own house. There's Mel Parraday, who owns the ho-tel; and Lem Pinney that owns stock in this very steamboat comp'ny; and Walkworthy Dexter Walky's done expressin' and stage-drivin' since before my 'Rill come here to Poketown to teach." "But but they look so ragged and unshaven," gasped Janice.
"He started right back for the woods with a two-gallon demi-john." "And I thought they had no money up there," Janice reflected. "Can it be that Lem Parraday or his barkeeper would trust them for drink?" Marty was nursing a lump on his jaw and a cut lip.
Parraday, as Janice flushed and the schoolmaster took a threatening step toward the bar. "Oh, all right, Boss," giggled the barkeeper. "What's yours, Mister?" he asked Nelson Haley. A remarkable clap of thunder drowned Nelson's reply. Perhaps it was as well. And as the heavy roll of the report died away, they heard a series of shrieks somewhere in the upper part of the house.
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