"Let me see it quick!" snapped Tavia.
"Didn't your father run against him last year for the office of Town
Squire?"
"Certainly," said Tavia, briefly.
"And the only reason he did not get the office was because the squire was so old the men thought it best not to disturb him just then."
"Right, again," answered Tavia.
"Election time is now almost here. Your father would be up for the office again. Don't you see by bringing trouble to you and your folks your father would become unpopular?"
"And get left!"
"Yes; be defeated."
"But he will not!" and Tavia's brown eyes danced significantly. "The squire is down and out. And worse yet he has to run for his money. Now my own dear dad will have a chance. Oh, Doro, I love politics better than eating. I hope some day soon, while Tavia Travers is still in circulation, the women will vote in Dalton same as they do in Rochester—they don't just exactly vote in Rochester, but a lot of them talk about it."
"Now you must not mention my suspicions," cautioned Dorothy, "for I must speak to father first. It does not seem fair that the Fords should be blamed for making statements about you that, perhaps, the squire put into their heads."