“By George, so he could! I hadn’t thought of it,” said Todd, letting his heavy fist fall on the table with a force that made every article on it dance. “Mr. Trench, I want you to put that before the people up to Cresset’s Corners. There’s going to be a town meeting there on Friday night. If you’ll let me, I’ll post it in the post-office that you’ll speak on the Republican ticket. You can just drop this in as you go along.” Caleb thought hard, drawing a line on the table with his paper-cutter. “I’m perfectly willing to speak for the Republican ticket,” he said, amused, “but this is not germane to that subject. If they ask questions I’ll answer them, but I wouldn’t start out to attack Mr. Eaton personally without grounds. I’ve said all I want to say here and now; of course I’ll say it over again in public, but I can’t throw Mr. Eaton’s method into the Republican ticket.” “I’ll ask all the questions,” said Todd. “What I want is, to get the facts out. Everybody’s for Eaton because everybody’s scairt, an’ really Yarnall’s the best man we’ve got.” “Then vote for Yarnall,” Trench advised coolly. “He ain’t Republican, an’ you want the Republican ticket,” protested Todd, a little bewildered. “We can’t elect it,” said Caleb; “even with the Democratic Party split, we can’t get votes enough. If you’re a Democrat vote for Yarnall.” Todd folded his tobacco pouch and thrust it into his trousers’ pocket, with burrowing thoughtfulness, then he pulled the crease out of his waistcoat. “How many have you said that to?” he asked. Trench smiled. “To every man who has asked me,” he replied, “the Republican ticket first and Yarnall next.” Todd rose and picked up his broad hat. “I reckon we’ll have Yarnall after all,” he drawled, “but you’ll speak Friday, Trench?” Trench nodded. Just then some one came into the shop with the frou-frou of ruffled skirts. Caleb went out, followed by Shot first and Todd last. Shot greeted the newcomer with uplifted paw. Miss Kitty Broughton bowed and shook hands with the dog, laughing; she was very pretty, and in a flowered muslin, with a broad-brimmed saucy straw, she looked the incarnation of spring. No one would have imagined that she was a granddaughter of old Judge Hollis and a grandniece of Miss Sarah. She went up to the counter and pushed a square white envelope across to Caleb. Meanwhile, Aaron Todd had gone out to his wagon and was climbing into it. Trench took the envelope, smiling back into Miss Kitty’s laughing blue eyes, and opened it. “So you’re ‘out,’ are you, Miss Broughton?” he asked, “or is this only the first alarm?” “It’s my first really and truly ball,” said Kitty, “and Aunt Sarah’s going to lead the Virginia Reel!” She clapped her hands delightedly. “You’ll come, Mr. Trench?” “I haven’t been to a ball in six years,” replied Caleb, smiling, “I wouldn’t know a soul. You’re good to me, Miss Broughton, and I’ll send a bouquet.” “You’ll come!” said Kitty.