"'Tisn't his going that's such a scandal," she discriminated. "All the men run there. It's the way he goes. This is the ninth time I've known him to wait till Joe Hilliard had left the house."
"Looks as if he didn't dote on Joe's society," chuckled Bowers. "I can't say that I do myself."
"It's a scandal," repeated Mrs. Bowers, firmly. Her husband remaining indifferent, she assumed her wifely prerogative to pass rigorous judgment upon his conscience. "And it's your plain duty, Seneca Bowers, to speak to him."
The old man flung off his newspaper with a snort.
"What call have I to set up as a censor of public morals?" he demanded testily. "I'm not Shelby's guardian. He's of age. He's cut his eye teeth. Talk sense, Eliza."
Mrs. Bowers essayed a flank attack.
"You're the Tuscarora boss, aren't you?"
"Yes, I'm county leader."
"What you say goes?"
"I suppose so."