“I hope you’re elected,” Jim went on, holding the hand; “but there’s no doubt of that.”
“They say not,” replied Jennie; “but father says I must go about and let the people see me. He believes in working just as if we didn’t have a big majority for the ticket.”
“A woman has an advantage of a man in such a contest,” said Jim; “she can work just as hard as he can, and at the same time profit by the fact that it’s supposed she can’t.”
“I need all the advantage I possess,” said Jennie, “and all the votes. Say a word for me when on your pastoral rounds.”
“All right,” said Jim, “what shall I say you’ll do for the schools?”
“Why,” said Jennie, rather perplexed, “I’ll be fair in my examinations of teachers, try to keep the unfit teachers out of the schools, visit schools as often as I can, and—why, what does any good superintendent do?”
“I never heard of a good county superintendent,” said Jim.
“Never heard of one—why, Jim Irwin!”
“I don’t believe there is any such thing,” persisted Jim, “and if you do no more than you say, you’ll be off the same piece as the rest. Your system won’t give us any better schools than we have—of the old sort—and we need a new kind.”
“Oh, Jim, Jim! Dreaming as of yore! Why can’t you be practical! What do you mean by a new kind of rural school?”