“Dad say it be powerful aggervatin’ ter run fur office,” resumed Marcella. “He say he don’t mind sarvin’ the people,—that’s mighty easy, fur the law be laid down plain, an’ he sets a heap o’ store by the law; but it’s a powerful differ ter please this man an’ not git that one set catawampus, an’ mos’ of ’em air goin’ ter be middlin’ mad, no matter what he does or don’t do. An’ he say sometimes he feels, whenst he be axin’ ’em ter vote fur him, like flyin’ roun’ an’ kickin’ ’em all right an’ lef’, an’ goin’ home fur good.” “Waal, I ain’t never seen no candidate fur office do sech ez that yit, an’ I’d be powerful glad ef I war ’lowed ter live till I did see it,” he retorted, the sensibilities of the suffrage with which he was endowed becoming roused at the suggestion. She looked at him a trifle deprecatingly; then, with that daring impulse which often furnishes a false step with stumbling sequelæ, she pursued the subject: “Granny ’lows it fairly sets her teeth on aidge ter hear me a-honin’ an’ a-moanin’ ’bout the ’lection, an’ dad’s chances, an’ voters, an’ the office, an’ sech. An’ she say ’tain’t nowise perlite an’ sensible for wimmin-folks ter spen’ thar time in sech ez they ain’t got no business in. I can’t holp dad nor hender. But I jes’ feel like ez ef I could take a rifle an’ stan’ at the polls, an’ shoot down them ez don’t vote fur dad!” Her eyes flashed, albeit she looked half laughing at him. “T’other night thar war a man at our house ez don’t b’long somehows ter dad’s party.” “Which party?” demanded Jepson, smiling. “Dunno. Dad’s. An’ this man, he said: ‘I be powerful sorry I can’t vote fur ye, Eli, kase ye air on the t’other side.’ An’ dad he say, ez slow an’ onconsarned, ‘Don’t vote fur me, ef ye’d ruther not. It ain’t goin’ ter kill me ter git beat.’ An’ I jes’ spoke up, an’ I say, ‘Naw, it air goin’ ter _kill me_!’” “Ye look toler’ble live yit,” commented Teck Jepson. “Granny ’lowed she war so ’shamed o’ me, she could hev made soup out’n me, or minch meat, ez onconsarned ez ef I’d been a Shanghai.” “What did Eli say?” “Oh, nuthin’. Dad ’lows ez everything I do air right an’ jes’ so—me an’ Is’bel, don’t he, Is’bel?” “Laws-a-massy, yes,” Isabel affirmed, without hesitation.