'The law stirs itself ter sot a time when a man air old enough ter vote an' meddle with politics ginerally. 'Pears like ter me it ought ter sot a time when he hev got ter quit.'
'Waal, Obediah!' exclaimed the soft-voiced woman, the red parings hanging in concentric circles from her motionless knife. 'That ain't religion. Ye talk like a man would hev ter be ez sensible an' solid fur politics ez fur workin' on the road. They don't summons the old men fur sech jobs ez that. They mought ez well enjye the evenin' o' thar days with this foolishness o' politics ez enny other.'
'Shucks!' said Obediah, who had the courage of his convictions. 'These hyar old folks hev hed ter live in the same house an' ride in the same wagin thirty-five year, jes' 'kase, when we war married, they agreed ter put what they hed tergether; an' they hev been a-fightin' over thar dead an' gone politics ev'ry minit o' the time sence. Thar may be some good Dimmycrats, an' thar may be some good Republikins, but they make a powerful oneasy team, yoked tergether. An' when it grows on 'em so, the law oughter step in, an' count 'em over age, an' shet 'em up. 'Specially ez dad hev voted fur Andy Jackson fur Presidint outer respec' fur his mem'ry, ev'y 'lection sence the tormentin' old crittur died.'
But he said all this below his breath, and presently fell silent, for his wife's face had clouded, and her soft drawling voice had an intimation of a depression of spirit.
'The kentry hev kem ter its ruin,' exclaimed the paralytic, 'when men—brazen-faced buzzards—kin go an' git 'lected ter office 'thout no party ter boost 'em! Look a-hyar,'—he turned to his grandson,—'ye air always a-prophesyin'. Prophesy some now. Air 'Cajah Green a-goin' ter be 'lected?'
He thumped the floor with his stick, and fixed his imperative eye upon Hiram Kelsey's face.
'Naw, gran'dad. He won't be 'lected,' said the prophet.
The old man's face was scarlet because of this contradiction of his own dismal vaticinations.
''Cajah Green will be 'lected,' he cried. 'The kentry's ruined. Folks dunno whether they air Republikins or Dimmycrats! Lor' Almighty, ter think o' that! The kentry's ruined! An' yer prophesyin' don't tech it. They hed false prophets in the old days, an' the tribe holds out yit.'
He struck the floor venomously with his stick. Its defective aim once or twice brought it upon a rough black bundle that lay rolled up in front of the fire like a great dog. A slow head was lifted inquiringly, with an offended mien, from the rolls of fat and far. Twinkling small eyes glared out. When another blow descended, with a wild disregard of results, there was a whimper, a long, low growl, a flash of white teeth, and with claw and fang the pet cub caught at the stick. The old man dropped it in a panic.