"Come, come, squire," interrupted an elderly man.
"Yer've stud no chance of election from the fust, so what 's
the use of stickling?"

"I wash my hands of ye," roared the squire. "Have
whom ye want for what ye want. I've done with serving a
lot of ingrates. Ye can come to me in the future on your
knees, but ye'll not get me to--"

"That's just what we wants," broke in Joe. "If you 'd
always been so open to public opinion, we'd have had no
cause for complaint against you. And now, squire, since
a united land is what we wants, while your daughter gets
the tea and a pen to sign the Association, do the thing up
handsome by singing us the liberty song."

"Burn me if I will," cried the owner of Greenwood, like
many another yielding big points without much to-do, but
obstinate over the small ones.

"Is that tar about melted?" inquired Bagby.

"Jest the right consistency, Joe," responded one of the
pole-holders.

"Better sing it, squire," advised Bagby. "We know you 're
not much at a song, but the sentiments is what we like."

Once again the beset man looked to right and left, rage and