The hill-Rajah's defiance, boiled down, could only mean one thing,—that somebody with sufficient power and money was about to lock horns with Jethro Bass. Not for a moment did Jake believe that, for all his pomp and circumstance, the Honorable Heth Sutton was a big enough man to do this. Jake paid to the Honorable Heth all the outward respect that his high position demanded, but he knew the man through and through. He thought of the Honorable Heth's reform speech in Congress, and laughed loudly in the echoing woods. No, Mr. Sutton was not the man to lead a fight. But to whom had he promised his allegiance? This question puzzled Mr. Wheeler all the way home, and may it be said finally for many days thereafter. He slid into Coniston in the dusk, big with impending events, which he could not fathom. As to giving Jethro the careless answer of the hill-Rajah, that was another matter.
The Fourth of July came at last, nor was any contradiction made in the Brampton papers that the speech of the Honorable Heth Sutton had been cancelled. Instead, advertisements appeared in the 'Brampton Clarion' announcing the fact in large letters. When Cynthia read this advertisement to Jethro, he chuckled again. They were under the butternut tree, for the evenings were long now.
“Will you take me to Brampton, Uncle Jethro?” said she, letting fall the paper on her lap.
“W-who's to get in the hay?” said Jethro.
“Hay on the Fourth of July!” exclaimed Cynthia, “why, that's—sacrilege! You'd much better come and hear Mr. Sutton's speech—it will do you good.”
Cynthia could see that Jethro was intensely amused, for his eyes had a way of snapping on such occasions when he was alone with her. She was puzzled and slightly offended, because, to tell the truth, Jethro had spoiled her.
“Very well, then,” she said, “I'll go with the Painter-man.”
Jethro came and stood over her, his expression the least bit wistful.
“Er—Cynthy,” he said presently, “hain't fond of that Painter-man, be you?”
“Why, yes,” said Cynthia, “aren't you?”