John, a little
embarrassed, thought of his Aunt Ann. The habit of chewing was strange to
the boy's home experience. Certainly, Billy chewed, and others in the
town, nor was it at that time uncommon at the North. He confided his
difficulty to the groom, his boxing-master, who having in his room the
needed utensil placed it beside the hall-fire, to Mr. Grey's
satisfaction--a square tray of wood filled with sawdust.
"Not ornamental, but useful, John, in fact essential," said Mr. Grey, as
John excused himself with the statement that he had to go to school. When
he returned through the woods, about noon, to his relief he saw far down
the avenue Mr. Grey and the gold-headed, tasselled cane he carried.
A little later Mr. Grey in the sun of a cool day early in October was
walking along the village street in keen search of news of politics. He
talked first to Pole, the butcher, who hearing that he was a cousin of
Mrs. Penhallow assured him that the town would go solid for Buchanan.
Then he met Billy, who was going a-fishing, having refused a wood-cutting
job the rector offered.
"A nice fishing-rod that," said Grey.
Billy who was bird-witted and short of memory replied, "Mrs. Penhallow
she gave me a dollar to pay pole-tax if I vote for--I guess it was
Buchanan.
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