``It seems to me the Davy Hull sort of politics is--is
about played out. Don't you think so?''
Jane felt that her remark was a piece of wild audacity. But she
was desperate. To her amazement her father did not flare up but
kept silent, wearing the look she knew meant profound reflection.
After a moment he said:
``Davy's a knowing boy. He showed that the other day when he
jumped in and made himself a popular hero. He'd never 'a' been
able to come anywheres near election but for that. Dorn'd 'a'
won by a vote so big that Dick Kelly wouldn't 'a' dared even try
to count him out. . . . Dorn's a better man than Davy. But
Dorn's got a foolish streak in him. He believes the foolishness
he talks, instead of simply talking it to gain his end. I've
been looking him over and thinking him over. He won't do,
Jinny.''
Was her father discussing the matter abstractly, impersonally, as
he seemed? Or, had he with that uncanny shrewdness of his
somehow penetrated to her secret--or to a suspicion of it? Jane
was so agitated that she sat silent and rigid, trying to look
unconcerned.
``I had a strong notion to try to do something for him,''
continued the old man. ``But it'd be no use. He'd not rise to a
chance that was offered him. He's set on going his own way.''
Jane trembled--dared. ``I believe _I_ could do something with
him,'' said she--and she was pleased with the coolness of her
voice, the complete absence of agitation or of false note.
Pages:
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297