“Yes, yes! I shouldn't wonder. Did you ever notice how dead sure Tad and his kind are that Providence is workin' with 'em? Seems to me 'twould be more satisfactory if we could get a sight of the other partner's signature to the deed.”
“What's the matter with you?” demanded Asaph. “You ain't findin' fault with 'Lonzo, are you? Ain't he a good man?”
“Good! Sure thing he's good! Nobody can say he isn't and tell the truth.”
No one could truthfully speak ill of Alonzo Snow, that was a fact. He lived at the lower end of the village, was well to do, a leading cranberry grower, and very prominent in the church. A mild, easygoing person was Mr. Snow, with an almost too keen fear of doing the wrong thing and therefore prone to be guided by the opinion of others. He was distinctly not a politician.
“Then what ails you?” asked Asaph hotly.
“Why, nothin', maybe. Only I'm always suspicious when Tad pats Providence on the back. I generally figure that I can see through a doughnut, when there's a light behind the hole. Who is 'Lonzo's best friend in this town? Who does he chum with most of anybody?”
“Why, Darius Ellis, I guess. You know it.”
“Um—hum. And Darius is on the committee—why?”
“Well, I s'pose 'cause Heman Atkins thought he'd be a good feller to have there. But—”
“Yes, and 'Lonzo's pew in church is right under the Atkins memorial window. The light from it makes a kind of halo round his bald head every Sunday.”