ollowed Jake and Sam, Jethro apparently
oblivious of their presence. A modest silence was maintained from the
stoop, broken at length by Lem Hallowell, who (men said) was an exact
reproduction of Jock, the meeting-house builder. Lem alone was not
abashed in the presence of greatness.

"How be you, Jethro?" he said heartily. "Air the Legislatur' behavin'
themselves?"

"B-bout as common," said Jethro.

Surely nothing very profound in this remark, but received as though it
were Solomon's.

Be prepared for a change in Jethro, after the galloping years. He is
now fifty-seven, but he might be any age. He is still smooth-shaven, his
skin is clear, and his eye is bright, for he lives largely on bread and
milk, and eschews stimulants. But the lines in his face have deepened
and his big features seem to have grown bigger.

"Who be you thinkin' of for next governor, Jethro?" queries Rias
Richardson, timidly.

"They say Alvy Hopkins of Gosport is willin' to pay for it," said
Chester Perkins, sarcastically. Chester; we fear, is a born agitator,
fated to remain always in opposition. He is still a Democrat, and
Jethro, as is well known, has extended the mortgage so as to include
Chester's farm.

"Wouldn't give a Red Brook Seedling for Alvy," ejaculated the nasal Mr.
Price.

"D-don't like Red Brook Seedlings, Sam? D-don't like 'em?" said Jethro.
He had parted his blue coat tails and seated himself on the stoop, his
long legs hanging over it.

"Never seed a man who had a good word to say for 'em," said Mr. Price,
with less conviction.

"Done well on mine," said Jethro, "d-done well. I was satisfied with my
Red Brook Seedlings."

Mr. Price's sallow face looked as if he would have contradicted another
man.

"How was that, Jethro?" piped up Jake Wheeler, voicing the general
desire.

Jethro looked off into the blue space beyond the mountain line.

"G-got mine when they first come round--seed cost me considerable.
Raised more than a hundred bushels L-Listy put some of 'em on the
table--t-then gave some to my old hoss Tom. Tom said: 'Hain't I always
been a good beast, Jethro? Hain't I carried you faithful, summer
and winter, for a good many years? And now you give me Red Brook
Seedlings?'"

Here everybody laughed, and stopped abruptly, for Jethro still looked
contemplative.

"Give some of 'em to the hogs. W-wouldn't touch 'em. H-had over a
hundred bushels on hand--n-new variety. W-what's that feller's name down
to Aye