"Women!" said the Major, in the dry, contemptuous tone in which he might have uttered the word, "Pshaw!"
"I don't mean just 'women,'" replied Baxter, "I mean my wife."
"Oh!" said the Major, "you mean your wife would be opposed to the whole thing?"
"She wouldn't hear of it, sir, she simply wouldn't hear a word of it."
For a long pause the Major made no answer; then rising from his chair he began pacing with his military stride up and down the floor of the little room. At the end of five minutes he turned upon Baxter with an exclamation of triumph, and threw himself again into the armchair beside the desk.
"I have it, Bob!" he said, slapping his knee until the dust flew out of his striped trousers, "I knew I'd get it in the end and here it is. The very thing, on my word, sir, I've discovered the very thing."
"Then I'm out of it," said Baxter, "an' I'm mighty glad of that."
"Oh, no, you aren't out of it—not just yet," said the Major, "we're to start you in, Bob, you're to start in as a candidate; and then a week before the nomination, something will crop up to make you fall out of the race, and you'll turn over all your votes to Smith. It would be too late, then, for him to back out—he'd simply have to keep in to save the day."
In spite of the roar of delight with which the Major ended his speech, Baxter sat unconvinced and unmoved, shaking his great head in a voiceless protest against the plot.
"It's the only way, I tell you," urged the Major, half pleased, half angry. "After Smith you're by long odds the most popular man in Tappahannock, and if it isn't one of you, it's Jasper Trend and his everlasting barrooms."