B. B. laughed and said: “I expect a good many Hardiston men are cussing you to-day because they can’t get beer.”
“I suppose so. I’ve a notion to cuss myself.” He added, a moment later: “You know, B. B., it’s surprising to me how little fuss has been made over that.”
“You mean—the—enforcing the law?”
“Yes. I looked for a row.”
“Oh, you’ll find most people are on your side. You know, most people are for the decent thing, in the long run. That’s what makes the world go around.”
“Think so?”
“Yes, indeed. If that weren’t so, where would be the virtue in democracy?”
“Well,” Wint said good-naturedly, “I’ve always had an idea that a democracy was a poor way to run things, anyway. About all you can say for it is that a man has a right to make a fool of himself.”
“Well, that’s about all you can say against slavery, isn’t it?”
Wint considered. “I don’t get you.”