He has no
more morals than a tom-cat. I'll come, but it's waste of good doctoring."
Here he turned his rising temper on Tom. "You and my boy have been having
a fight. You licked him and saved me the trouble. I heard from Mr.
Rivers what Tom said."
"It was no one's business but Tom's and mine," returned John much amused
to know that the peaceful rector must have watched the fight and
overheard what caused it. Tom scowled, and the peacemaking old doctor got
up, adding, "Be more gentle with Tom next time."
Tom knew better than to reply and went back to pill-making furious and
humiliated.
"Good-bye, John," said the Doctor. "I'll see the Squire after I have
doctored that whisky sponge." Then John rode home on Dixy.
CHAPTER VII
Before the period of which I write, the county and town had unfailingly
voted the Democratic ticket. But for half a decade the unrest of the
cities reflected in the journals had been disturbing the minds of country
communities in the Middle States. In the rural districts of Pennsylvania
there had been very little actively hostile sentiment about slavery, but
the never ending disputes over Kansas had at last begun to weaken party
ties, and more and more to direct opinion on to the originating cause of
trouble.
The small voting population of Westways had begun to suspect of late that
James Penhallow's unwillingness to discuss politics meant some change in
his fidelity to the party of which Buchanan was the candidate.
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