"Well, thet's how it started, ye see. We're so agonizin' poor, Nell thought we orter git some o' the money while it's goin'."
The girl was much amused. Such frankness was both unusual and refreshing.
"Have you a vote to sell?" she asked.
He did not answer at once, but sat slowly twirling his hat.
"That's jet' what Nell thought ye'd ask," he said, finally, "an' she knew if ye did it was all up with our plan. Guess I'll be goin', miss."
He rose slowly from his seat, but the girl did not intend to lose any of the fun this queer individual might yet furnish.
"Sit down, Mr. Rogers," she said, "and tell me why you can't answer my questions?"
"I guess I'll hev to speak out an' tell all," said he, his voice trembling a little, "although I thought fer a minnit I could see my way without. I can't sell my vote, miss, 'cause I've been plannin' t'vote fer Mr. Forbes anyhow. But we wanted some uv th' money that's being wasted, an' we wanted it mighty bad."
"Why?"
"Thet's the hard part uv it, miss; but I'm goin' to tell you. Did ye ever hear o' Lucy?"