The town of Palermo was accustomed to seeing the Squire at the head of all assemblages. For years he had been the natural selection of the voters at town meetings, after that hot caucus years before when he had defeated Judge Willard, who had been moderator so long that the office had almost become titular with him. It was a bold man who would get up now and suggest that some one else preside. The men stole embarrassed looks at each other, waiting for some one to take the plunge.
“We’re wasting time, fellow-townsmen,” said the Squire briskly.
“We was jest gittin’ ready to choose a moderator when you came in,” growled Doughty.
“Will you kindly make the nomination, Mr. Doughty?” directed the lawyer, keenly eyeing the man.
Doughty, nervous under the general regard that was now fixed on him, gruntingly worked his legs from under a desk and stood up. He could not nominate himself, and he wouldn’t name a Dunham district man, for he was angry at the cowardice of the assemblage that had failed to obey his hint.
“I think it is the general sense of the meetin’,” he mumbled, “that Squire Phineas Look serve as moderator, he knowin’ how—how——”
“I will accept the honour with thanks,” broke in the lawyer, rising. And as he stood there looking into their sullen faces he reflected, “You’re a cheeky old pirate, Phin, but it’s the only way to keep ’em from putting the little one on the rack.”
“Neighbours,” he began, “I’m going to start in by telling you a bit of a story. Once when I was a small boy my father had a flock of turkeys, and the only thing I owned in the Lord’s world then was a little rabbit about half grown. That was the time we lived over on the Ridge road; you remember, some of you older ones, the farm that father took up?” Several nodded. His tone was the social chat of an old friend. The initial stiffness that had oppressed the farmers and their women had begun to wear off.
“Well, s’r, folks, that rabbit was about as cunning a little critter as you ever saw. Gracious, wasn’t I proud of him, though! He used to hop around the yard and nibble clover, and I liked to watch him. You know how a rabbit’s nose will flicker when he eats? Like a lawyer’s tongue in a horse case!” His listeners greeted this thrust at the profession with much hilarity. The Squire beamed an encouraging smile at the little teacher, and then for the first time since their nod of greeting he looked straight and long into the face of Sylvena Willard. Her brown eyes brimmed with appreciation.
“Well, the little rabbit hopped about the yard where the big turkeys brustled and hustled and pecked and scratched. Rabbit was busy getting its living and didn’t mind the turkeys. And the turkeys didn’t pay much attention to the rabbit. But one day something peculiar happened. One of those hen turkeys made what you might call a mispeck at a grasshopper, happened to get hold of that little rabbit’s ear by accident, and that turkey was so surprised that she h’isted it right up and held on.