“How d’ye stand on the proposition to have the town build a sidewalk up the hill apast the Congregational church, Deacon?”

The deacon pounded on the porch with his nearly finished leg, and grew red in the face.  “All the doin’s of ol’ man Hooper.  Connivin’ and squillickin’ around for his own ends.  Lemme tell you, Scattergood, no town meetin’ of Coldriver’ll ever vote sich a steal only over my dead body.  Jest you tell that far and wide.”

Business had been almost at a standstill for Scattergood.  The only sales he made were of small articles his competitors had forgotten or neglected to stock.  He had not taken in enough money for a month to pay for the wear and tear on his fixtures.  Coldriver was coming to set him down as a failure and a black disappointment; but it marveled that he took no action whatever and showed no signs of worry.  His eyes were as blue and his manner as humorous as it had ever been.  Most of his conversation seemed to be on the subject of the sidewalk past the Congregational church, and it was carried on in low tones, and never to more than one individual at a time.  If those individuals had compared notes they would have been astonished.  Scattergood’s attitude on the matter was widely different, depending on whether he talked with Baptist or Congregationalist.  One might almost say that both sides were coming to him for advice on how to conduct its campaign to carry the town meeting—­and one would have been right.

The matter had developed into the hottest political issue Coldriver had ever seen.  No presidential election had come near to rivaling it, and the local-option issue had stirred up fewer heartburnings and given rise to less bellowing and to fewer hard words.  The town meeting was less than a month away.

But even in the heat of the campaign Scattergood found time to drive out to Xenophon Banks’s.  The road to Banks’s was fairly well traveled these days, for there was hardly a day that did not see either Selina Pettybone or Parson Hooper driving out to the little house, and, strangely enough, the days on which both were present appeared to be in the majority.  Scattergood dropped out now and then with pockets full of stick candy, which he never delivered himself, but which he always handed to the minister or to Selina to be given anonymously after he was gone.  He seemed as much interested in watching Selina and Jason as he was in talking with Xenophon, and he might have been perceived frequently to nod his head with satisfaction—­especially on the day when he heard Jason call Selina by her first name, and on the other day when he saw the young minister retaining Selina’s hand longer than he should have done in saying good afternoon.  That day Jason drove back to town with Scattergood.

“Likely-lookin’ girl—­Seliny,” observed Scattergood.

“Beautiful,” said the parson, and Scattergood grinned.

“Um!...  Single ministers is a menace.  Yes, sir, churches has busted up on account of their ministers not bein’ married.”