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Aunt Jane's Nieces at Work
So the girl went from one shop to another, making liberal purchases and
seeking for every opening that would enable her to make a convert. And
her shrewd Irish wit made her quick to take advantage of any weakness
she discovered in the characters of the people she interviewed.
When noon came Uncle John hunted her up, which was not difficult, in
Elmwood, and together they went to the village "hotel" to get something
to eat. The mid-day dinner was not very inviting, but Patsy praised the
cooking to the landlord's wife, who waited upon the table, and Uncle
John bought one of the landlord's cigars after the meal and talked
politics with him while he smoked it.
Then Patsy went over to the general store, and there she met her first
rebuff. Thompson, the proprietor, was a sour-visaged man, tall and lanky
and evidently a dyspeptic. Having been beaten by Hopkins at the last
election, when he ran against him on the Republican ticket, Thompson had
no desire to see Forbes more successful than he had been himself. And
there were other reasons that made it necessary for him to support
Hopkins.
So he was both gruff and disagreeable when Patsy, after buying a lot of
ribbons of him, broached the subject of politics. He told her plainly
that her cousin hadn't a "ghost of a show," and that he was glad of it.
"The young fool had no business to monkey with politics," he added, "and
this will teach him to keep his fingers out of someone else's pie."
"It isn't Mr. Hopkins's pie," declared Patsy, stoutly. "It belongs to
whoever gets the votes."
"Well, that's Hopkins. He knows the game, and Forbes don't."
"Can't he learn?" asked the girl.
"No. He's an idiot. Always was a crank and an unsociable cuss when a
boy, and he's worse now he's grown up. Oh, I know Forbes, all right; and
I haven't got no use for him, neither."
Argument was useless in this case. The girl sighed, gathered up her
purchases, and went into the hardware store.
Immediately her spirits rose. Here was a man who knew Kenneth, believed
in him and was going to vote for him.
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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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