CHAPTER XXVIII

THE GOVERNOR

They were to elect a new one in Iowa, and there were rumors afloat that Richard Markham would be the man chosen by his party.  There had been similar rumors once before, but Mrs. Markham had regarded them as mythical, never dreaming that such an honor could be in store for her boy.  Now, however, matters began to look a little serious.  Crowds of men came frequently to the farmhouse and were closeted with Richard.  Tim Jones rode up and down the country, electioneering for “Dick.”  Hal Clifford, in Camden, contributed his influence, though he belonged to the other party.  Others, too, of Harry’s way of thinking, cast aside political differences and “went in,” as they said, for the best man—­one whom they knew to be honest and upright, like Judge Markham.  Each in their own way—­James and John, and Andy and Melinda—­worked for Richard, who was frequently absent from home for several days, sometimes taking the stump himself, but oftener remaining quiet while others presented his cause.  Search as they might, his opponents could find nothing against him, except that sad affair with his wife, who, one paper said, “had been put out of the way when she became troublesome,” hinting at every possible atrocity on the husband’s part, and dilating most pathetically upon the injured, innocent, and beautiful young wife.  Then with a face as pale as ashes, Richard made his “great speech” in Camden court-house, asking that the whole matter be dropped at once, and saying that he would far rather live a life of obloquy than have the name, more dear to him than the names of our loved dead, bandied about from lip to lip and made the subject for newspaper paragraphs.  They knew Richard in Camden, and they knew Ethelyn, too, liking both so well, that the result of that speech was to increase Richard’s popularity tenfold, and to carry in his favor the entire town.

The day of election was a most exciting one, especially in Olney, where Richard had lived from boyhood.  It was something for a little town like this to furnish the governor, the Olneyites thought, and though, for party’s sake, there were some opponents, the majority went for Richard, and Tim Jones showed his zeal by drinking with so many that at night he stopped at the farmhouse, insisting that he had reached home, and should stay there, “for all of Melind,” and hurrahing so loud for “Richud—­Mark-um—­Square,” that he woke up the little blue-eyed boy which for six weeks had been the pride and pet and darling of the household.

Andy’s tactics were different.  He had voted in the morning, and prayed the rest of the day, that if it were right, “old Dick might lick the whole of ’em,” adding the petition that “he need not be stuck up if he was governor,” and that Ethie might come back to share his greatness.  Others than Andy were thinking of Ethelyn that day, for not the faintest echo of a huzza reached Richard’s