"I can see," said Janice more quietly, "that Polktown has changed and developed whether I have or not. We certainly have learned——"
"To do something," finished Nelson with emphasis. "That's it exactly. The teachings instilled into his daughter's mind by that really wonderful man, Mr. Broxton Day, to the end that she is always eager to begin the battle while other folk are merely talking about it, has served to put Polktown on the map."
Janice squeezed his arm, dimpling and smiling. "Dear daddy!" she mused. "If he only could get away from business affairs and come out of distracted Mexico to spend his time here in peace and quiet."
"'Peace and quiet!'" repeated the schoolmaster. "Ask Walky Dexter what he thinks of that. If your father sustains the reputation his daughter has given him, Polktown would be prodded into an even more strenuous existence than that of our recent successful campaign for no license. Walky believes, Janice, you have all the characteristics of a capsicum plaster."
"Now, Nelson!"
"Fact! You ask him. You're the greatest counter-irritant that was ever applied to any dead-and-alive settlement.... 'Lo, Walky!"
The village expressman, as well known as the town pump and quite as important, drew the bony and sleepy Josephus to an abrupt stop beside the smiling pair of young people. Walky's broad, wind-blown countenance was a-grin and his eyes twinkled as he broke into speech:
"Jefers-pelters! d'you know what I caught myself a-doin' when I seen you two folks goin' down hill ahead of me?"
"I couldn't guess, Walky. What?" asked Janice.
"Whistlin' that there 'Bridle March' they play on the church organ when there's a weddin'—haw! haw! haw!"