The others sat and gazed solemnly at him, all meditatively listening. For a moment there was no sound but the munching of an ox close to him, as the beast pulled at the pile of fodder on which he reclined. As the great horns came threateningly near, he threw up his hand, and the ox drew off with a muttered low of surly dissatisfaction. “I can’t onderstan’ Teck, though,—I counted on him.” He returned to his grievance with a lapsing courage. “Waal, ye mought ez well not,” said an old codger, with a grin. “Hev you-uns got a darter, seventeen year old?” The young man stared at him in amazement. “Course I hain’t.” “Waal, that’s one o’ the special qualifications of a candidate,” continued the elderly wag. “A tall, high-steppin’ darter, with long curly hair; that’s what ye need, ter run agin Eli.” Nevins was silent for a moment, in painful consciousness of this lack. He was a good-natured fellow, and had thought his two small boys at home possessed of all the filial graces and values, and he had never expected to be summoned to covet a tall daughter of seventeen. He resorted to contradiction. “That thar gal o’ Eli Strobe’s ain’t seventeen,” he declared, “nor no higher’n my vest pocket. I know her. I useter see her constant.” “Waal, she’s been agein’ an’ growin’ sence then. Leastwise, she’s tall enough an’ old enough ter make Teck Jepson step around mighty spry. I ain’t seen better electioneerin’ fur forty year. I hed counted on the pleasure o’ hevin’ Eli goin’ roun’ hyar with his finger in his mouth, but I’m feared o’ that gal o’ his’n. Clem Sanders, too, war a-waitin’ roun’ the forge fust thing this mornin’, a-pinin’ fur nine o’clock, so ez the jedges would declar’ the polls open, an’ let him put in his vote fur Eli. His ticket ’peared ter burn his fingers till he got it inter the ballot-box.” “He in love with her, too?” asked the candidate, drearily. He had never anticipated these potent odds. What avail was it to parade the virtues of citizenship, to vaunt his capacity and his will to serve the people in the office to which he aspired,—with tricksy Cupid afield! Nevins rose presently, the straw still in his mouth, his hat pulled far over his brow, and sauntered down toward the forge. The great red and white ox instantly planted his cloven hoof where Nevins had sat, and took possession, as it were, of the pile of forage, trampling it down, that it might not afford further resting-place for loitering politicians.