“Nominations, sir!” repeated the woman; “what nominations?”
“Why, the Presidential, of course!”
“The Presidential,” repeated the woman blankly.
“Yes,” said Kearns, gently; “the Presidential nominations.”
The woman made no reply; she stood staring blankly at the speaker.
The younger woman all this time had been eyeing the wayfarers with curiosity. Into her brown eyes there now came a look of suspicion and mistrust.
“Mother,” she whispered, plucking the elder woman by the sleeve, “we’d better be going.” And she caught up one end of the basket.
The situation was certainly embarrassing. Kearns made a hasty endeavor to turn the subject.
“The village seems a good way off and we are tired,” he said. “Do you think, if we wait here, we might get a horse and carriage to take us to the village?”
The woman glanced sharply at him and gathered up her end of the basket. She and her daughter started on their way. As she passed Kearns, she turned her head.