William Wetherell was a little taken aback at this ingenuous statement of the gentleman from Gosport. He looked out of the window through the foliage of the park, and his eye was caught by the monument there in front of the State House, and he thought of the inscription on the base of it, "The People's Government." The Honorable Alva had not mentioned the people--undoubtedly. "Yes, Mr. Wetherell, twenty thousand dollars." He sighed. "Time was when a man could be governor for ten. Those were the good old days--eh, Jethro?" "A-Alvy, 'Uncle Tom's Cabin's' comin' to town tomorrow--to-morrow." "You don't tell me," said the Honorable Alva, acquiescing cheerfully in the change of subject. "We'll go. Pleased to have you, too, Mr. Wetherell." "Alvy," said Jethro, again, "'Uncle Tom's Cabin' comes to town to-morrow." Mr. Hopkins stopped fanning himself, and glanced at Jethro questioningly. "A-Alvy, that give you an idea?" said Jethro, mildly. Mr. Wetherell looked blank: it gave him no idea whatsoever, except of little Eva and the bloodhounds. For a few moments the Honorable Alva appeared to be groping, too, and then his face began to crease into a smile of comprehension. "By Godfrey, Jethro, but you are smart." he exclaimed, with involuntary tribute; "you mean buy up the theatre?" "C-callate you'll find it's bought up." "You mean pay for it?" said Mr. Hopkins. "You've guessed it, Alvy, you've guessed it." Mr. Hopkins gazed at him in admiration, leaned out of the perpendicular, and promptly drew from his trousers' pocket a roll of stupendous proportions. Wetting his thumb, he began to push aside the top bills. "How much is it?" he demanded. But Jethro put up his hand. "No hurry, Alvy--n-no hurry. H-Honorable Alvy Hopkins of Gosport--p-patron of the theatre. Hain't the first time you've b'en a patron, Alvy." "Jethro," said Mr. Hopkins, solemnly, putting up his money, "I'm much obliged to you. I'm free to say I'd never have thought of it. If you ain't the all-firedest smartest man in America to-day,--I don't except any, even General Grant,--then I ain't the next governor of this state." Whereupon he lapsed into an even more expressive silence, his face still glowing. "Er--Alvy," said Jethro presently, "what's the name of your gal?" "Well," said Mr. Hopkins, "I guess you've got me. We did christen her Lily, but she didn't turn out exactly Lily. She ain't the type," said Mr. Hopkins, slowly, not without a note of regret, and lapsed into silence. "W-what did you say her name was, Alvy?" "I guess her name's Cassandra," said the Honorable Alva. "C-Cassandry?" "Well, you see," he explained a trifle apologetically, "she's kind of taken some matters in her own hands, my gal. Didn't like Lily, and it didn't seem to fit her anyway, so she called herself Cassandra. Read it in a book. It means, 'inspirer of love,' or some such poetry, but I don't deny that it goes with her better than Lily would."