"I sartinly was. Pretty good sign, I shouldn't wonder.
Looks as if friend Tad had found the tide settin' too strong against him
and had whistled for a tug. All right; the more scared the other side
get, the better for us."

"But what in the world made Heman come over and have supper? He never
so much as stepped foot in the house afore, did he? That's the biggest
conundrum of all."

"Well, I guess I've got the answer. Strikes me that Heman's sociableness
is the best sign yet. Heman's a slick article, and when he sees there's
danger of losin' the frostin' on the cake he takes care to scrape the
burnt part off the bottom. I may be school committeeman after town
meetin'. He'll move all creation to stop me, of course--in his quiet,
round-the-corner way--but, if I do win out, he wants to be in a position
to take me one side and tell me that he's glad of it; he felt all along
I was the right feller for the job, and if there's anything he can do to
make things easier for me just call on him. That's the way I size it up,
anyhow."

"Cy, I never see anybody like you. You're dead set against Heman, and
have been right along. And he's never done anything to you, fur's I see.
He's given a lot to the town, and he's always been the most looked-up-to
man we've got. Joe Dimick and two or three more chronic growls have been
the only ones to sling out hints against him, till you come. Course
I'm working for you, tooth and nail, and I will say that you seem to be
gettin' the votes some way or other. But if Heman SHOULD step right out
and say: 'Feller citizens, I'm behind Tad Simpson in this fight, and as
a favor to me and 'cause I think it's right and best, I want 'Lonzo Snow
elected'--well, _I_ don't believe you'd have more'n one jack and a ten
spot to count for game."

"Probably not, Ase; I presume likely not. But you take a day off some
time and see if you can remember that Heman EVER stepped right out and
said things. Blame it! that's just it. As for WHY he riles me up and
makes me stubborn as a balky mule, I don't know exactly. All I'm sure
is that he does. Maybe it's 'cause I don't like the way he wears his
whiskers. Maybe it's because he's so top-lofty and condescendin'. A
feller can whistle to me and say: 'Come on, Bill,' and I'll trot at his
heels all day. But when he pats me on the head and says: 'There there!
nice doggie. Go under the bed and lay down,' my back bristles up and I
commence to growl right off. There's consider'b