“They held their conventions there last week to nominate county officers, and what do you think? They’ve nominated you for something, for—for what do you suppose?”
“Nominated me? Who’s nominated me?”
“Oh, one party or the other began it, and the other indorsed you, for—oh, it’s—”
“For what, Frances?” he asked, laughter in his eyes at her unaccountable way of holding back on the secret.
“Why, for sheriff!” said she, with magnificent scorn.
Macdonald leaned back in his chair and laughed, the first audible sound of merriment that she ever had heard come from those stern lips. She looked at him with reproach.
“It should have been governor, the very least they could have done, decently!” She was full of feeling on the subject of what she believed to be his undervaluation.
Macdonald took her hand, the laughter dying out of his sober face.
“That’s all in the different ways of looking at a man, palomita,” he said to her.