“And what did you say in reply to my simple, straightforward letter? You said you wouldn’t trust me as far as you could throw a locomotive with one hand, or something like that. You said—” “Yes, I know I said that—and a lot of other things too. You don’t have to repeat what I said. I’ve got a copy of the letter in my desk. It wasn’t a very long letter, for that matter, and I can recall every word of it. Do you want to continue this discussion, Uncle Horace? If you’ll look around you will see that quite a little crowd is collecting. Don’t you think you’d better drop the matter right here and now?” “No, I don’t. I don’t care how big a crowd there is. The bigger the better, far as I’m concerned. If I don’t have a written and published acknowledgment from you that you deliberately misrepresented me, that you played me an underhanded trick simply for political purposes, I’ll—I’ll—” “Well, what?” “I’ll make it so blamed hot for you you’ll wish you’d never been born,” grated Mr. Gooch, shaking his bony finger in his nephew’s face. Observing this physical symptom of animosity, the Messrs. Sikes and Link hastily stepped forth from the doorway and advanced toward the car. “Keep your temper, Oliver,” called out the former warningly. “Hang on to it!” “Don’t forget yourself, boy,” cried Mr. Link. Mr. Gooch glanced at the two old men. “You stay away from here, you meddling old—” he started to shout. “Blow your police whistle, Silas,” urged Mr. Sikes. “Blow it! We’ll see if—” “Never mind, Uncle Joe,” interrupted Oliver, with an airy wave of his hand. “No need of a cop, is there, Uncle Horace?” “Not at present,” replied his uncle grimly. “Later on we may need one—but not just now.” “Then we can end the discussion in two seconds. I decline to apologize, I refuse to accept an apology from you, and I’ll see you in Jericho before I’ll retract a word I’ve said about the Bannester affair. The only thing I will say to you is that I hadn’t the faintest idea of running for office when I helped those poor old ladies out of their trouble. You can lump it if you—” “And what’s more,” broke in Mr. Sikes, heatedly, “this nomination was forced on Oliver against the wishes of his friends and family. When his poor old father sees in the newspapers that Oliver is headed for the halls of state, he’ll break his heart. No matter where Ollie is, he grabs up the newspaper every morning of his life to see what the news is from Rumley—” “Is _that_ so?” snarled Mr. Gooch. “Well, I’m not so sure of that, Mr. Swipes—I’m not so sure of it, and neither are a great many other people. There are people in this county—yes, right here in this town—that would like to know a lot more about what has become of my poor brother-in-law than they know at present.” “I am one of those people, Uncle Horace,” said Oliver quietly.