"Shuriff, thunder! What'd he wanter run fer shuriff fer? Thet's no office fer a Chickawgo man. They run fer jedge or general or senator or somethin' highfalutin'. I heerd it said onct thet there has been more Presidents of the United States come from Chickawgo than from airy other State in the West. What Jed'll be doin' 'fore long will be to come out fer President or Vice-President, you mark my words, boys." Thus spake Uncle Sammy Godfrey, the sage of Clay township. He had been a voter for sixty years and his opinion on things political was next to law. 'Gene Crawley soon heard the news. He had been awaiting the letter with almost as much impatience as had Justine. If such a creature as he could pray, it had been his prayer that Justine's husband might find constant employment in Chicago. The torture of knowing that she was another man's wife could be assuaged if he were not compelled to see the happiness they found in being constantly together. He could have shouted for joy when he heard that Jud was to live in Chicago and that she was to remain on the farm, near him, for a time, at least. "Well, Jed's gone, 'Gene," said Mrs. Hardesty, meaningly, as he leaned over the greasy counter that evening. "'Spose you don't keer much, do you?" "Don't give a damn, one way or t'other," responded he, darkly, puffing away at his pipe. Despite his apparent calmness, his teeth were almost biting the cane pipe-stem in two. "Has he got a job?" "He's goin' to draw picters fer a newspaper up there, an' they do say the pay's immense." "How much is he to git?" "He says in his letter he's to start out with $15 a week, an'll soon be gittin' twict as much." "You mean a _month_." "No; a week, 'Gene. Thet's what the letter said." "Aw, what you givin' us! Him to git $15 a week? Why, goldern it, I'm only gittin' $18 a month, an' I've allus been counted a better hand'n him. Who said that was in the letter?" Jealousy was getting the better of 'Gene. "Charlie Spangler heerd Justine Van read it right out loud, an' he's a powerful quick-witted boy. He gen'rally hears things right." "He's the cussedest little liar in Clay township," snarled 'Gene. "You know better'n that, 'Gene Crawley. You're jest mad 'cause Jed's doin' well, thet's what you air, and you know it," cried she. "Mad? What fer?" exclaimed he, trying to recover his temper for the first time in his life. "'Cause you're jealous an' 'cause he's got her, thet's what fer," she said, conscious that she was stirring his violent nature to the boiling point. But to her surprise--and to his own, for that matter--he gulped and laughed coarsely. "Well, he's welcome to her, ain't he?" he asked. "Who's got a better right?" "Thet ain't the way you talked a year ago," she said meaningly.