“Why, yes,” said Marley. “Don’t you remember?”
The question in the right eye had given way to a surprise that was growing in Carman’s mind, and spreading contagiously to a surprise, deeper and more acute, in Marley’s mind. The eye had something reproachful in its steady stare. Marley leaned over impulsively.
“Why, surely you haven’t forgotten—that day out at the fair-grounds, when Mr. Powell introduced me to you? I understood, I always understood that I was to have the place. I never mentioned it to you afterward, I didn’t like to bother you, you know. I waited along, feeling that everything was all right. But when election was over—and afterward, when you took your office, and I didn’t hear anything—I thought I’d come around and see you.”
Despite the sinister left eye, Marley leaned close to Carman and waited. Carman was long in bringing himself to speak. Even then he did not seem to be sure of the situation he was dealing with.
“You say you understood you was to have a job under me as chief clerk?”
“Why, yes,” replied Marley.
“Who’d you understand it from, me or Wade Powell?”
“Well—” Marley hesitated, “I thought I understood it from you; I certainly understood it from Mr. Powell.”
“You say you got the idea from something I said out at the fair-grounds?”
“Yes, sir, at the fair-grounds.”