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Aunt Jane's Nieces at Work
"Well, well, let's think it over, Ken, and see what can be done. Perhaps
that rascally Hopkins was right when he advised you to find some other
way to serve the community."
"I can't do better than to make it clean--to do away with these
disreputable signs," said the boy, stubbornly.
"You made a fine speech," declared Mr. Watson, gravely puffing his pipe.
"I am very proud of you, my lad."
Kenneth flushed red. He was by nature shy and retiring to a degree. Only
his pent-up enthusiasm had carried him through the ordeal, and now that
it was over he was chagrined to think that the speech had been so
ineffective. He was modest enough to believe that another speaker might
have done better.
CHAPTER IV
KENNETH TAKES A BOLD STEP
"This man Hopkins gets on my nerves," said Mr. Watson, a week or two
after the eventful meeting in the school-house. He was at the breakfast
table opposite Kenneth, and held up a big, glaring post-card which was
in his mail.
"What is it now?" asked the boy, rousing himself from a fit of
abstraction.
"An announcement offering himself for renomination at the primaries.
It's like a circus advertisement. Isn't it a shame to think that modern
politics has descended to such a level in our free and enlightened
republic?"
Kenneth nodded, stirring his coffee thoughtfully. He had lost his spirit
and enthusiasm since the meeting, and was fast relapsing into his old
state of apathy and boredom. It grieved Mr. Watson to note this.
"Hopkins isn't fit to be the Representative for this district," observed
the old gentleman, with sudden energy.
The boy looked at him.
"Who is Hopkins?" he asked.
"His mother once kept a stationery shop in town, and he was stable boy
at the hotel. But he was shrewd and prospered, and when he grew up
became a county-clerk or tax-collector; then an assessor, and finally he
ran last term for State Representative from this district and was
elected by a mighty small majority."
"Why small?" asked Kenneth.
"Because he's a Democrat, and the district is strongly Republican.
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There was once an honest journeyman tailor, by name Labakan, who learned his trade with an excellent master in Alexandria. It could not be said that Labakan was unhandy with the needle; on the contrary, he could make excellent work: moreover, one would have done him injustice to have called him lazy. Nevertheless, his companions knew not what to make of him, for he would often sew for hours together so rapidly that the needle would glow in his hand, and the thread smoke, and that none could equal him.
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