“Why, judge, I'm the daddy an' grandaddy o' that town. I built streets and sidewalks for it out o' my own pocket. I put up two churches for 'em. I built the water-works, the bank, an' God knows what all. Ole Bill Maddox can't turn a wheel against me.” The little judge was marvelling: here was a man who had refused all his life to run for office, who could have been congressman, senator, governor; and who had succumbed at last.
“Jim, what in blue hell do you want that office fer?”
“To make folks realize their duties as citizens,” said the Pope patiently; “to maintain streets and sidewalks and water-works and sewers an' become an independent community, instead o' layin' back on other folks!”
“How about all them churches you been buildin' all over them mountains—air they self-sustainin'?”
“Well, they do need a little help now and then.” The judge grunted.
Through the morning many cards were brought the Pope, but the doctors allowed no business. To amuse himself the Pope sent the judge into the sitting-room to listen to the million-dollar project of one sleek young man, and the judge reported:
“Nothin' doin'—he's got a bad eye.”
“Right,” said the Pope. At twelve o'clock the judge looked at his watch:
“Dinner-time.” And the Pope ordered his old mountain friend cabbage, bacon, and greens.
“Judge, I got to sleep now. I've got a car down below. After dinner you can take a ride or you can take a walk.”