CHAPTER XI
Sol Wants a Good Wife––Bad
Phil was busy in the forge one morning, all alone. Sol Hanson, for some unknown reason, had failed to put in an appearance, and his assistant was not a little troubled over his absence. Before starting out to make inquiries, however, he decided to work away until noon, for it was the day after the Provincial Election, and the results were expected any minute and were anxiously awaited.
He felt quite confident within himself that John Royce Pederstone would be elected, for the candidate had received a splendid reception at all his meetings throughout the Valley, with the solitary exception of the hometown of his opponent. Furthermore, rumour had it that Pederstone’s party was sweeping the country, so, if there was anything at all in indications, Royce Pederstone’s election was a foregone conclusion.
Phil had noticed that the nearer the election day had drawn, the more serious, nervous and unsettled Sol had seemed to grow, as if he dreaded the possibility of his old master’s defeat and was taking it to himself as a personal matter.
At noon time, Phil went out, took a hurried lunch, then strolled down to the office of the Advertiser, where a crowd was gathered reading the results from the various constituencies as they were posted up on the notice-board outside.
Just as he got there, Ben Todd came rushing out of 141 the office, his eyes jumping, his little hunched body quivering with excitement, and his long arms swinging, apelike and energetic. He mounted a chair. He could not settle himself at the start, so all he did was to wave a paper in the air and shout gleefully:––
“He’s in, boys! He’s in! Vernock is on the map at last. Hip-hip-hurrah, for John Royce Pederstone, M.L.A.!”