The girl had turned away as she nonchalantly asked the last question, and so Charles could not see the charmingly demure smile that her face assumed, nor the curve of the lips, and perhaps it was fortunate for him that he did not. Yet all Miss Meredith said was,—
“Not that I cared to know, but I knew Tibbie would be curious.”
XVI
A VARIETY OF CONTRACTS
The spring thaw set in in earnest the day after the squire’s return to Greenwood, and housed the family for several days. No sooner, however, did the roads become something better than troughs of mud than the would-be Assemblyman set actively to work for his canvass of the county, daily riding forth to make personal calls on the free and enlightened electors, in accordance with the still universal British custom of personal solicitation. What he saw and heard did not tend to improve his temper, for the news that the Parliament was about to vote an extension to the whole country of the punitive measures hitherto directed against Massachusetts had lighted a flame from one end of the land to the other. The last election had been with difficulty carried by the squire, and now the prospect was far more gloomy.
When a realising sense of the conditions had duly dawned on the not over-quick mind of the master of Greenwood, he put pride in his pocket and himself astride of Joggles, and rode of an afternoon to Boxley, as the Hennions’ place was named. Without allusion to their last interview, he announced to the senior of the house that he wished to talk over the election.
“He, he, he!” snickered Hennion. “Kinder gettin’ anxious, heigh? I calkerlated yer ’d find things sorter pukish.”
“Tush!” retorted Meredith, making a good pretence of confidence. “’T is mostly wind one hears, and ’t will be another matter at the poll. I rid over to say that tho’ we may not agree in private matters, ’t is the business of the gentry to make head together against this madness.”
“I see,” snarled Hennion. “My boy ain’t good enuf fer yer gal, but my votes is a different story, heigh?”
“Votes for votes is my rule,” rejoined the squire. “The old arrangement, say I. My tenants vote for ye, and yours for me.”
“Waal, this year theer ’s ter be a differ,” chuckled Hennion. “I’ve agreed ter give my doubles ter Joe, an’ he’s ter give hisn ter me.”