“We-ell,” said Gergue, “matter of fact, I’m thinking you may be right. Thing is, he’s laying a foundation, like.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean he’s laying the tracks. He’s doing a lot of talk that won’t be believed much now; but he might bring on something later along that would make folks say: ‘Well, maybe that other was true, too.’”
“What can he bring?” Wint challenged.
“Has he got anything on you?”
“Every one knows all there is to know about me, I suppose.”
Gergue scratched his head. “We-ell, I dunno,” he said. “Anyway, that’s what I was kind of thinking.”
Wint met V. R. Kite one day, and the little man spoke to him so affably that Wint asked: “Well, how are things, Mr. Kite?”
“Excellent. First class, young man.”
“I suppose you’ll vote for me for Mayor?” Wint asked, grinning good-naturedly; and Kite chuckled and said he guessed not.