“Do you think they’ll have it in full?” asked Vernon. He was all alert, and his eyes sparkled in a new interest.
“On the first page,” she replied, with conviction. “Have they your picture?”
“I don’t know,” Vernon replied. “They can get it, though,” he added, thoughtfully.
“They keep the portraits of all distinguished public men on hand,” Miss Greene said, with a certain reassurance in her tone.
“Oh, well, I hope they’ll not print it,” said Vernon, as if just then recalling what was expected of a distinguished public man under such circumstances.
“That’s one of the penalties of being in public life,” she answered with a curious smile.
“A penalty the ladies will be glad to pay when our reform is accomplished; isn’t that so?” said Vernon, seeking relief in a light bantering tone.
“I thought we were not going to talk politics,” she said, turning and looking at him. She adjusted her hat and held herself resolutely erect.
The sun was going down behind the prairies, the afternoon was almost gone; as they watched the sunset, Miss Greene broke the silence.