Charles Tolliver smiled. “We’ve won already. The case was settled yesterday. The Mill owes the state some five hundred thousand with fines.”
Julia Shane again pounded the floor in delight. “A fine Christmas present!” she chuckled. “A fine Christmas present!” And then she did an unaccountable thing. With her thin ringed hand she slapped her nephew on the back.
“You know they came to me,” she said, “to get my influence. I told them to go to the Devil!... I suppose they tried to bribe you.”
The nephew frowned and the gentleness went out of his face. The fine mouth grew stern. “They tried ... carefully though, so carefully they couldn’t be caught at it.”
“It will make you trouble. Judge Weissman is a bad enemy. He’s powerful.”
“I know that. I’ve got to fight him. The farmers are with me.”
“But the Town is not, and it’s the Town which counts nowadays. The day of the farmer is past.”
“No, the Town is not.”
The face of Charles Tolliver grew serious and the blue eyes grave and worried. Julia Shane saw that he was watching his tall daughter who sat now at the piano, preparing to play.
“If you need money at the next election,” she said, “Come to me. I can help you.”