He relighted his pipe.

“What did you say, Aaron?” eagerly asked his wife.  “Repeat it over.”

He smoked awhile.

“Louada Murilla,” he said, “when I walked onto that platform my heart was goin’ like a donkey-engine workin’ a winch, there was a sixty-mile gale blowin’ past my ears, and a fog-bank was front of my eyes.  And when the sun came out ag’in and it cleared off, the moderator was standin’ there shaking my hand and tellin’ me what a speech it was.  It was a speech that had to be made.  They had to be bluffed.  But as to knowin’ a word of what I said, why, I might jest as well try to tell you what the mermaid said when the feller brought her stockin’s for her birthday present.

“The only thing that I can remember about that speech,” he resumed, after a pause, and she gazed on him hopefully, “is that your brother Gideon busted into the town house and tried to break up my speech by tellin’ ’em I was a lunatic.  I ordered the constables to put him out.”

“Did they?” she asked, with solicitude.

“No,” he replied, rubbing his nose, reflectively. “’Fore the constables got to him, the boys took holt and throwed him out of the window.  I reckon he’s come to a realizin’ sense by this time that the town don’t want him for selectman.”

He rapped out the ashes and put the pipe on the hearth of the Franklin.

“I’m fair about an enemy, Louada Murilla, and I kind of hate to rub it into Gideon.  But now that I’m on this bluff about what happened to-day, I’ve got to work it to a finish.  I’m goin’ to sue Gid for obstructin’ the ro’d and smashin’ Nute’s wagon, and then jumpin’ out and leavin’ me to be run away with.  The idea is, there are some fine touches needed in lyin’ out of that part of the scrape, and, as the first selectman of Smyrna, I can’t afford to take chances and depend on myself, and be showed up.  I don’t hold any A.B. certificate when it comes to lyin’.  So for them fancy touches, I reckon I’ll have to break my usual rule and hire a lawyer.”

He rose and yawned.

“Is the cat put out, Louada?”

And when she had replied in the affirmative, he said: 

“Seein’ it has been quite a busy day, let’s go to bed.”

IX

Mrs. Hiram Look, lately “Widder Snell,” appearing as plump, radiant, and roseate as a bride in her honeymoon should appear—­her color assisted by the caloric of a cook-stove in June—­put her head out of the buttery window and informed the inquiring Cap’n Aaron Sproul that Hiram was out behind the barn.

“Married life seems still to be agreein’ with all concerned,” suggested Cap’n Sproul, quizzically.  “Even that flour on your nose is becomin’.”

“Go ’long, you old rat!” tittered Mrs. Look.  “Better save all your compliments for your own wife!”

“Oh, I tell her sweeter things than that,” replied the Cap’n, serenely.  With a grin under his beard, he went on toward the barn.