y trick I had played him, as soon his
equanimity was restored, and we laboured cheerfully but unavailingly
to promote a conversation.

"Do you really like farming--take a pleasure in it?" I inquired.

"When I'm knocking a decent amount of money out of it I do. There's
not much fun in anything when it doesn't pay."

"Quite true."

"There might be a frost to-night, but they're nothing here--always
disappear as soon as the sun is up. Great Scott! aren't these roads?
The council want stuffing in the Noonoon. It would be an all right
place only for the roads."

This brought us to Clay's gate, and no further conversational effort
was necessary. I lingered outside till Eweword had disposed of the
pony and trap, and by that time Ernest and Dawn, bearing evidence of
quick walking, appeared, and we went into grandma and Uncle Jake in a
body.

"The women are going to form a committee to work for Mr Walker if he's
selected," announced Dawn, "and I want to join it, grandma. I am not
old enough to vote, but I'd like to work for Mr Walker. He looks worth
a vote. He's nice and thin, and speaks beautifully without shouting
and roaring,--not like these old beer-swipers who buy their votes with
drink."

"He is a decent-looking fellow," said Eweword.

"Oh, well, he'll go in then; that's all the women will care about,"
said Uncle Jake in one of his half-audible sneers.

"Well," contended Dawn, "men always sneer at women for doing in a
small degree what men do fifty times worse. If a pretty barmaid comes
to town all the men are after her like bees, and if a pretty woman
stood for parliament the men would go off their heads about her, and
yet they get their hair off terribly if a woman happens to prefer a
nice gentlemanly man to a big, old, fat beer-barrel, with his teeth
black from tobacco and his neck gouging over his collar from eating
too much. Can I join the committee, grandma?"

"If it's proper, and he's my man, you can, an' work instead of me, but
I must hear them both first."

"If Walker could get you to make a speech for him, we'd all vote for
him in a body," laughed Eweword; but Dawn replied--

"Oh, you, I suppose you say that to every girl."

Eweword sizzled in his blushes, while Ernest's face slightly cleared
at this rebuff dealt out to another.

Grandma brought in the coffee and grumbled to Dawn about Carry's
absence.

"That Larry Witcom ain't no monk, and while a girl is in my house I
feel I ought to look af