“Joe! What Joe?”
“Joe Bagby.”
“What!” roared the squire. “Art mad, man? That good-for-nothing scamp run for Assembly?”
“Joe ain’t no fool,” asserted Hennion. “An’ tho’ his edication and grammer ain’t up ter yers an’ mine, squire, he thinks so like the way folks ere jest naow a-thinkin’ thet it looks ter me as if he wud be put in.”
“The country is going to the devil!” groaned Mr. Meredith. “And ye’ll throw your doubles for that worthless—”
“I allus throw my doubles fer the man as kin throw the most doubles fer me,” remarked Hennion. “An’ I ain’t by no means sartin haow many doubles yer kin split this year.”
“Pox me, the usual number!”
“Do yer leaseholds all pay theer rents?”
“Some have dropped behind, but as soon as there ’s law in the land again they’ll come to the rightabout.”
“Exactly,” sniggered Hennion. “As soon as theer ’s law. But when ’s thet ’ere goin’ ter be? Mark me, the tenants who dare refuse ter pay theer rent, dare vote agin theer landlord. An’ as Joe Bagby says he’ll do his durndest ter keep the courts closed, I guess the delinquents will think he’s theer candidate. Every man as owes yer money, squire, will vote agin yer, come election day.”