He now says that if he lives to vote for McKinley it will be the happiest moment of his life. I hope Jobe will live.
As soon as he got that letter he started out agin to try to borrow enough money to pay off Mr. Richer’s mortgage before foreclosin day. He found one banker at Canal Dover who said he would let him have $1,800 at seven per cent. interest, jist to commodate Jobe. Jobe is a goin to take it, which, with what he is to git as his dead aunt’s heir, will make the money Congressman Richer is wantin so bad, and a little besides.
Jobe went to town yisterday to try to stop the foreclosin bizness until our legicy money comes and we can git the other from the bank at Canal Dover.
“He would call him ‘Billy,’ in honor of the next president.”
They told him down to the court-house that they would try to “stave it off.”
Jobe said that when the report got out that he was about to git a legicy everybody wanted to shake hands with him and be friendly like.
Even them canderdate fellers, what acted kind a cold durin our foreclosin trial, come around smilin, Jobe said, and shook hands, and said that “they knode it would come around all right,” that “a man never loses anything by votin the strait ticket.” They told Jobe to “cheer up and git ready for the next election,” and all sich stuff. Jobe he come home declarin that the Republican party was the “grand old party” of the universe, he was so puffed up like.
Last night I actually heerd him whistlin one of them campaign tunes, while he was a feedin of the calf. When the calf got all the milk out of the bucket and looked up at Jobe lovin like, Jobe patted him on the head and told him he was a nice feller and looked so knowin, like McKinley, that he would call him “Billy,” in honor of the next president.
Jobe then started to the house a whistlin agin, when William came at him stiff-legged, and struck Jobe on them election patches I put on his pants, and knocked Jobe down on his hands and knees, and before Jobe could git up, William hit him agin, knockin him clear down. Jobe turned over on his back and begin to strike at McKinley with the bucket, sayin, “You dum rascal,” or somethin like that. He then clamered to his feet and took arter the calf, kickin as hard as he could kick. The second kick he missed the calf and fell. Then I hollered at him.