“Half?”
“Yes, half—we split it up, though they got the odd man.”
“You on?”
“Me? You bet I’m on, an’ I’ll be there, don’t you forget that.”
“You didn’t want the treasurership?”
“Well, yes, I might ’ave wanted it, some—it ’uld be a good thing; come in mighty handy just now.” And Rankin expressively rattled the keys in his empty pocket. “But I thought it ’uld look like treason to you, an’ it would; though it wasn’t no sacrifice, you havin’ promised me the post-office. I knew I ’as sure o’ that. When does Bartlett’s term end?”
“In December,” Garwood replied.
“Well, I can hold out till then, if the neighbors keeps on bringin’ things in. You couldn’t hurry it up, could you?”
“No, hardly,” said Garwood. “But, tell me, what does Pusey expect to get out of this?”
“What does Pusey expect to get out of this? Why, not a thing—but the post-office, himself.”