WHEN Chase came back from the table after telling Kite that they would expect him at the appointed time, Wint asked:
“Did he say what he wanted?”
Mrs. Chase exclaimed: “I don’t think you ought to have let him come, Winthrop. I don’t want that man in my house. He—”
Chase answered Wint. “No. Just said he wanted to see us.” He was troubled; and he showed it. “What do you think he wants, Wint? Something about Lutcher?”
Wint shook his head. “I think he’s going to hit at me. Somehow. There’s been a rumor around town all day. They say he has something.”
Chase asked quickly: “Has he? Has he got anything on you, Wint?”
“Not that I know of. There’s nothing he could get. Nothing to get.” He looked at his father in a quick, appealing way. “Dad, I wish you’d just remember that, whatever happens. You know the worst there is to know about me. Anything else is just flat lie.”
His father nodded abstractedly. “Of course. But Kite is confoundedly clever. Now I wonder what he’s—”
“I always told you, Wint, that you hadn’t any business in politics,” Mrs. Chase exclaimed. “I don’t think it’s decent, the way men talk about each other. Why, Mrs. Hullis told me that Jack Routt is going around saying the most terrible things about you. That you—”
“I know, mother. That’s Jack’s idea of a campaign. We’ll show him his mistake next Tuesday.”