He was addressing himself now to Andy Longwood, whose expression had changed from pity and embarrassed anxiety to keen and alert interest. The young fellow’s face was flushed; he had drawn himself into a tense listening position as he sat on the step; as he turned his head eagerly upward, his light, curling hair fell down longer still upon his broad shoulders beneath the wide brim of his hat, set far back. He had the greater interest in what was to come because he began to realize that Eli Strobe was perfectly sane except in regard to the circumstances surrounding the disaster,—his delusion concerning Teck Jepson’s death and the manner of it. He simply was the victim of what is known as a “fixed idea.” On other topics his mind seemed even more alert and lucid than formerly, possibly because of that freshened interest in life characteristic of the invalid returning to the world after an interval of seclusion. He was more talkative than was his wont, and in relaxing his reserve he had lost that very glutinous quality, his policy, which usually serves to hold together what men really think, and prevent it from melting into speech, which is often the reverse of what men think. “An’ I didn’t know what in the name o’ Aberham ter do!” continued Eli Strobe, with uncharacteristic communicativeness. “Me runnin’ fur election, an’ this hyar man a-courtin’ round Marcelly. An’ he hed hearn mam accidentally ’low ez Marcelly despised him, so I hed ter be powerful keerful, kase I didn’t want him ter vote agin me fur constable. That war the main pint. Young folks kin git married or stay single, whichever seems the foolishest ter ’em; that’s what they always do,—the foolishest. But ye can’t git ’lected ter office by jes’ wantin’ ter. Ef ye ain’t ’lected constable, _ye can’t be constable_. But ef ye can’t git one gal, ye air mighty apt ter git another; they ain’t all o’ one mind. An’ I didn’t want the young folks’s foolishness ’bout fallin’ in love ter oust me out’n my office. Kase Teck Jepson air mighty robustious, an’ ef he hed tuk a nation ter work agin me in the election he’d hev done it with a will. So when he’d say suthin’ ’bout Marcelly, I’d say, ‘Thar’s plenty o’ time fur me ter choose a son-in-law, Teck, an’ I mus’ say candidates fur that office abound in this kentry.’” He stopped to laugh, then went on gravely: “‘The outlook fur sons-in-law is promisin’. I ain’t liable ter be destitute; but I be goin’ ter take my time ’bout gittin’ a son-in-law.’ So Teck jes’ didn’t know whether I favored him or no, but warn’t made mad; though I knowed all the time ez Marcelly war a-goin’ ter marry Clem Sanders,—ain’t ye, Marcelly?”