“Where was ye at, Lou?” Cyrus asked as she came to his side.
“I was speaking to Ira Korner,” replied Louisa calmly. “He’s just back from the wars, you know.”
“And ye couldn’t wait till ye had the war news, I suppose,” said Cyrus with a sneer. “Well, he’s a day after the fair. His cake’s all dough. Whit Parmly took the last chanst a Monday. I reckon most everybody’s come and it’s time to begin, ain’t it?”
“I suppose it is,” returned Louisa, her heart beating fast. “You can call them in, dad. Where is the paper?”
“I let Bud Haley hev it fer a minute. He said he wanted to swop numbers with some one. He’d better not be playing any fool tricks.”
“He couldn’t,” said Louisa. “Every one must know his own number after picking it out.”
“That’s so,” returned her father. “Well, go git it.”
Louisa obeyed, and in a few minutes returned with the well thumbed, greasy piece of paper with its long list of names. She took occasion to glance down the page and made sure that opposite twenty-seven Bud had clumsily scratched out his own name and had written Ira’s in its stead.
Everybody now crowded into the room which was filled to its utmost capacity. Around the doorway and on the outside the men stood shoulder to shoulder, their rough faces full of expectation. Every one of them was anxious, not so much to secure the prize, as to see that neither Jabez nor Pike won it. Bud had done some lobbying and it began to be known how matters stood between Louisa and Ira.
“Who’s to do the drawing?” asked Pike Smith in his stentorian voice.