“Well,” he said, “folks has an idea the railrud runs this State to suit themselves. I guess they hain't far wrong. I've be'n to the Legislature and seen some signs of it. Why, Hilary Vane himself has charge of the most considerable part of the politics. Who be you?” Mr. Jenney demanded suddenly.
“I'm Victoria Flint,” said Victoria.
“Godfrey!” exclaimed Mr. Jenney, “you don't say so! I might have known it—seen you on the rud more than once. But I don't know all you rich folks apart. Wouldn't have spoke so frank if I'd knowed who you was.”
“I'm glad you did, Mr. Jenney,” she answered. “I wanted to know what people think.”
“Well, it's almighty complicated,” said Mr. Jenney, shaking his head. “I don't know by rights what to think. As long as I've said what I have, I'll say this: that the politicians is all for the railrud, and I hain't got a mite of use for the politicians. I'll vote for a feller like Austen Vane every time, if he'll run, and I know other folks that will.”
After Mr. Jenney had left her, Victoria stood motionless, gazing off into the haze, until she was startled by the voice of Hastings Weare beside her.
“Say, Victoria, who is that man?” he asked.
“What man?”
Hastings nodded towards Austen, who, with a cake basket in his hand, stood chatting with a group of country people on the edge of the porch.
“Oh, that man!” said Victoria. “His name's Austen Vane, and he's a lawyer in Ripton.”