“Jacob won’t,� said the doctor shortly, a dry smile crinkling the wrinkles around his kindly, shrewd old eyes.
“Nor would you, in Jacob’s place,� countered the colonel, tapping the floor with his stick.
A negro appeared promptly at the door.
“Two juleps, Kingdom,� he ordered.
Dr. Cheyney ceased his promenade and sat down. “This State’s got to be cleaned up, David,� he said maliciously; “we’ve got too much machine. I’m all for Trench.�
“I’m not sure I know what ails us,� objected the colonel humorously; “we’re either bewitched or hypnotized. In a fortnight we’ve set up Caleb Trench, and I reckon he’s more talked of than the volcano in the West Indies.�
“He will be later,� said the doctor; “there’s a man for you!�
“They say he began by getting hold of the backwoodsmen; they go down to his shop and discuss politics once a week; he organized them into a club and made them take a pledge to vote for Yarnall.�
“All rot,� said William Cheyney fiercely; “do you think the man’s a damned rogue? He’s talked straight politics to ’em, and he’s showed up some of the machine methods. By the way, David, he’s set his face against Jacob Eaton’s get-rich-quick games. I don’t believe in ’em myself; when that young bounder, Macdougall, came at me about them the other day in the bank, I told him I kept all my money tied up in a stocking. I reckon he thinks I do,� twinkled the doctor, “because I’ve nothing in their bank. David, I hope you’re not favoring Jacob’s schemes too heavily?�
Colonel Royall looked perplexed. Kingdom-Come had just brought out a tray with two tinkling glasses of iced mint julep, and he watched the white-headed negro set them out deftly on the little portable basket tea-table of Diana’s.