Mrs. Sampson regarded her companion closely as she slowly pronounced these words. They roused him like an electric shock.
"Through Feltonville?"
She nodded, compressing her lips, but saying nothing.
"Phew! This is a tough nut to crack. But are you sure that is to be tried?"
"Yes; there is a scheme for a few monopolists to buy up mill privileges and run factories at Feltonville; and they mean to make the road serve them, instead of its being put where the public need it."
"So that's what Lincoln's been raking up in Boston," Greenfield said to himself. "I knew he was up to some deviltry. Wants to sell off those meadows he's been gathering in on mortgages."
"Of course you'll want to help your town," Mrs. Sampson said, regretfully. "The men that voted for you'll expect you to do it; but it's helping on a sly scheme at the expense of the state. I'm sorry you've got to be on that side."
"Got to be on that side?" he retorted, starting up. "Who says I've got to be on that side? we'll see about that before we get through. The men that voted for me expect me to do what is right, and I don't think they'll be disappointed just yet."
And all things considered, Mrs. Amanda Welsh Sampson thought she had done a good evening's work.