“That sounds bully, that ought to fetch ’em.”
“It will, my boy, and when Dave Haley gets this postoffice away from you in the dark days coming, I ’ll publish that speech in a pamphlet, and you can peddle it at a quarter and make a good living for your children.”
“Don’t talk like that, Gaston, that isn’t funny at all. You don’t think the Radicals have got any chance?”
“Chance! Between you and me they ’ll win.”
Sam went back to the desk without another word, a great fear suddenly darkening the future. McLeod had gotten off the same joke on him the day before. It sounded ominous coming from both sides like that. He took up his party paper, “The Old Timer’s Gazette” and read over again the sure prophecies of victory and felt better.
Gaston accepted the invitation with feverish haste. He had it all ready to put in the office for the return mail to Independence. But he was ashamed to appear in such a hurry, so he held the letter over until the next day. He proudly showed the invitation to Mrs. Durham.
“What do you think of that, Auntie?”
“Immense. You will meet Miss Sallie sure. That letter is in her handwriting. She’s the Secretary of the Association and signed the Committee’s names.”
“You don’t say that’s the great and only one’s handwriting!”
“Couldn’t be mistaken. It has a delicate distinction about it. I’d know it anywhere.”