The Essential Winston Churchill Collection. Winston Churchill
"G-guess that's about it."
Without a word the judge went over to his table, and for a while the silence was broken only by the scratching of his pen.
"Er--interested in roads,--Will,--interested in roads?"
The judge stopped writing to listen, since it was now the turn of the other victim.
"Not particularly," answered Mr. Wetherell, whose throat was dry.
"C-come over for the drive--c-come over for the drive?"
"Yes," replied the storekeeper, rather faintly.
"H-how's Cynthy?" said Jethro.
The storekeeper was too astonished to answer. At that moment there was a heavy step in the doorway, and Lem Hallowell entered the room. He took one long look at Jethro and bent over and slapped his hand on his knee, and burst out laughing.
"So here you be!" he cried. "By Godfrey! ef you don't beat all outdoors, Jethro. Wal, I got ahead of ye for once, but you can't say I didn't warn ye. Come purty nigh bustin' the stage on that road today, and now I'm a-goin' to hev an agent app'inted."
"W-who's the agent?" said Jethro.
"We'll git one. Might app'int Will, there, only he don't seem to want to get mixed up in it."
"There's the agent," cried the judge, holding out the appointment to Jethro.
"Wh-what?" ejaculated Lem.
Jethro took the appointment, and put it in his cowhide wallet.
"Be you the agent?" demanded the amazed stage driver.
"C-callate to be," said Jethro, and without a smile or another word to any one he walked out into the night, and after various exclamations of astonishment and admiration, the stage driver followed.
No one, indeed, could have enjoyed this unexpected coup of Jethro's more than Lem himself, and many times on their drive homeward he burst into loud and unexpected fits of laughter at the sublime conception of the Chairman of the Selectmen being himself appointed road agent.
"Will," said he, "don't you tell this to a soul. We'll have some fun out of some of the boys to-morrow."
The storekeeper promised, but he had an unpleasant presentiment that he himself might be one of the boys in question.
"How do you suppose Jethro Bass knew you were going to indict the town?" he asked of the stage driver.
Lem burst into fresh peals of laughter; but this was something which he did not attempt to answer.
CHAPTER X
It so happened that there was a certain spinster whom Sam Price had been trying to make up his mind to marry for ten years or more, and it was that gentleman's habit to spend at least one day in the month in Harwich for the purpose of paying his respects. In spite of the fact that his horse had been "stun lame" the night before, Mr. Price was able to start for Harwich, via Brampton, very early the next morning. He was driving along through Northcutt's woods with one leg hanging over the wheel, humming through his nose what we may suppose to have been a love-ditty, and letting his imagination run riot about the lady in question, when he nearly fell out of his wagon. The cause of this was the sight of fat Tom coming around a corner, with Jethro Bass behind him. Lem Hallowell and the storekeeper had kept their secret so well that Sam, if he was thinking about Jethro at all, believed him at that moment to be seated in the Throne Room at the Pelican House, in the capital.
Mr. Price, however, was one of an adaptable nature, and by the time he had pulled up beside Jethro he had recovered sufficiently to make a few remarks on farming subjects, and finally to express a polite surprise at Jethro's return.
"But you come a little mite late, hain't you, Jethro?" he asked finally, with all of the indifference he could assume.
"H-how's that, Sam--how's that?"
"It's too bad,--I swan it is,--but Lem Hallowell rode over to Harwich last night and indicted the town for that piece of road by the Four Corners. Took Will Wetherell along with him."
"D-don't say so!" said Jethro.
"I callate he done it," responded Sam, pulling a long face. "The court'll hev to send an agent to do the job, and I guess you'll hev to foot the bill, Jethro."
"C-court'll hev to app'int an agent?"
"I callate."
"Er--you a candidate--Sam--you a candidate?"
"Don't know but what I be," answered the usually wary Mr. Price.
"G-goin' to Harwich--hain't you?"
"Mebbe I be, and mebbe I hain't," said Sam, not able to repress a self-conscious snicker.
"M-might as well be you as anybody, Sam," said Jethro, as he drove on.
It was not strange that the idea, thus planted, should grow in Mr. Price's favor as he proceeded. He had been surprised at Jethro's complaisance, and he wondered whether, after all, he had done well to help Chester stir people up at this time. When he reached Harwich, instead of presenting himself promptly at the spinster's house, he went first to the office of Judge Parkinson, as became a prudent man of affairs.
Perhaps there is no need to go into the details of Mr. Price's discomfiture on the occasion of this interview. The judge was by nature of a sour disposition, but he haw-hawed so loudly as he explained to Mr. Price the identity of the road agent that the judge of probate in the next office thought his colleague had gone mad. Afterward Mr. Price stood for some time in the entry, where no one could see him, scratching his head and repeating his favorite exclamation, "I want to know!" It has been ascertained that he omitted to pay his respects to the spinster on that day.
Cyamon Johnson carried the story back to Coniston, where it had the effect of eliminating Mr. Price from local politics for some time to come.
That same morning Chester Perkins was seen by many driving wildly about from farm to farm, supposedly haranguing his supporters to make a final stand against the tyrant, but by noon it was observed by those naturalists who were watching him that his activity had ceased. Chester arrived at dinner time at Joe Northcutt's, whose land bordered on the piece of road which had caused so much trouble, and Joe and half a dozen others had been at work there all morning under the road agent whom Judge Parkinson had appointed. Now Mrs. Northcutt was Chester's sister, a woman who in addition to other qualities possessed the only sense of humor in the family. She ushered the unsuspecting Chester into the kitchen, and there, seated beside Joe and sipping a saucer of very hot coffee, was Jethro Bass himself. Chester halted in the doorway, his face brick-red, words utterly failing him, while Joe sat horror-stricken, holding aloft on his fork a smoking potato. Jethro continued to sip his coffee.
"B-busy times, Chester," he said, "b-busy times."
Chester choked. Where were the burning words of denunciation which came so easily to his tongue on other occasions? It is difficult to denounce a man who insists upon drinking coffee.
"Set right down, Chester," said Mrs. Northcutt, behind him.
Chester sat down, and to this day he cannot account for that action. Once seated, habit asserted itself; and he attacked the boiled dinner with a ferocity which should have been exercised against Jethro.
"I suppose the stores down to the