They had finished supper; and they got up and went into the other room. Mrs. Chase—she was doing her own work since Hetty had left her—began to clear away the dishes. In the sitting room, Wint said: “I’ve been counting on you, dad.”
Chase said: “I’ll do what I can—quietly. But I can not come out in the open and side with Amos. If he’d turn against you....”
Wint laughed. “I might kick up a row with him.”
“You’ll never regret breaking with Caretall. He’s a crooked politician of the worst type, without honor. A traitor to his own friends. He’ll be a traitor to you when it pleases him.”
His son said quickly: “Don’t. Please don’t talk against him to me. Let’s just not talk about him. After all, he’s been square to me.”
Chase flung up his hand. “All right. But how about Routt? Are you going to sit still and take the mud he’s throwing?”
“Jack will be too busy to throw mud, pretty soon,” Wint promised cheerfully. “Mud is trimmings. I’ll bring him down to brass tacks.”
“You ought to shut his lying—”
“Come, dad, don’t take it so seriously.”
“Well, then, you take it more seriously.”