Not until the next morning was it known that Potts had left us forever.  This came from “Big Joe” Kestril.  The two had met at the depot and drunk fraternally from the bottle of Potts, discussing the thing frankly, meanwhile.

“They’ve hounded me out of town,” said the Colonel.

“How?” said Big Joe.

“They sent for Mrs. Potts to come here—­it’s infamous, sir!”

It appeared that Potts had said further:  “I can’t understand the men of this town at all.  It looks as if I have been trifled with, much as I dislike to think so.  One minute they crowd letters on to me, praising me up to the skies, and print pieces in the paper saying that nothing is too good for me and my departure is a public loss, and why won’t I remain and be a credit to the town and a lot more like that, good and strong.  Then when I do consent to remain, why, what do they do?  Do they grasp my hand and say, ’Ah, good old Potts—­stanch Potts, loyal Potts—­good for you—­you won’t desert the town!’ Do they talk that way?  No, they do not.  Instead of talking like a body would think they’d talk after all those letters and things, why, they turn and fling abuse at me—­and now—­now they’ve gone and done this hellish thing!  I won’t say a word against any man, but in my opinion they’re a passel of knaves and lunatics.  Look at me, Joe.  Yesterday I was a made man; to-day I’m all ruined up!  I merely state facts and let you draw your own conclusions.”

The conclusions which Big Joe drew, such as they were, he was unable to communicate intelligibly until the morrow, for the train was late and they drank of the liquor until the Colonel had time to lament his improvidence in bringing away so little of it.  And by the time Big Joe’s report was abroad, both the Banner and the Argus were out.  The item in the latter concerning Mrs. Potts had been only a little altered.

“Mrs. J. Rodney Potts, wife of Colonel J. Rodney Potts, until yesterday a resident of this town, will arrive here next Thursday from Boston, Massachusetts, to make her home among us.  She is an estimable and cultured lady, and we bespeak for her a warm welcome to this garden-spot of the mid-West.”

Across the top of the Banner’s first page was its campaign slogan as usual:—­

“POTTS FOREVER!  POTTS THE COMING MAN!”

Across the top of the Argus in similar type ran the pregnant line:—­

“POTTS FOREVER, BUT MAYNE FOR COUNTY JUDGE.  THE TROUBLE WITH THE COMING MAN IS THAT HE’S GONE!”

CHAPTER X

A LADY OF POWERS