“I have been here only three years,� he replied, “but I do not feel myself altogether a stranger—to backwoodsmen,� he added ironically.
She glanced up quickly, recalling the talk between her father and Jacob Eaton. “Is it you who are organizing them?� she asked lightly.
Her question took him by surprise, and he showed it; it seemed like an echo of old Judge Hollis. “I’m no organizer, Miss Royall,� he replied simply, stooping to caress the dog, who had come to lay his rough head against his knee.
She smiled; something in his manner, an indefinable distinction and fineness, began to make her feel at ease with him. “Is that mere modesty?� she asked. “I wish you would tell me—I love politics and,� she laughed gently, “I’m profoundly ignorant.�
His rare smile lighted the repose of his strong face again. “I am not a desirable teacher for you, Miss Royall,� he replied; “I’m that abnormal thing, that black sheep in the neighborhood, a Republican.�
She leaned over and set her empty cup on the table. “I am immensely interested,� she said. “A Republican is almost as curious as the famed ‘Jabberwock.’ It isn’t possible that you are making Republicans up in the timberlands?�
“Some one must have told you so,� he retorted quietly, a flicker of humor in his grave eyes; “they look upon me here as they would on a fox in a chicken-yard.�
She colored; she did not want to speak of her father or her cousin. “You see what a busy thing rumor is,� she said.
“You divine how harmless I am,� he went on, stooping again to throw another stick into the blaze; “a single Republican in a wilderness of Democrats. I’m no better than one old woodchuck in a cornfield.�
“A little leaven will leaven the whole lump,� she laughed.