"But a farmer worth his forty thousand dollars wouldn't sell his vote!"
"Sell my vote! See here, Miller, let's go into this room. There: I can speak to you by ourselves, now. Do you mean to insinuate I'd sell my vote—me, a farmer who can buy the best farm in this 'ere county? No, sir, you've got the wrong man."
"Why, Mr. Johnson, of course you wouldn't."
"No, I jest wouldn't. But you see this is a good workin' day, and me and my two boys dropped everything to come down to vote. Daley offered to pay for my team if we'd go for him. I don't like him half so well as I do Hamblin; but—er—it kinder seems as if you'd oughter stand the price of our three days' work and team-hire if we vote your ticket."
"What do you call it worth? Are the boys here?"
"Yes, they'll be here in a few minutes; and if you'll give me five dollars—that is, two for the team and a dollar apiece for our three days' work—we'll vote for Hamblin."
"It's a pretty good price, but I suppose I will have to do it."
"But 'tain't sellin' our votes. I'd scorn doing such a mean trick as that. It's only gettin' pay for lost time."
"Exactly so, Mr. Johnson; I wouldn't dare offer to buy your votes for fear of offending you. There are your boys—call them."