"Well, tell us how you'd spend it," insisted Bassett. "What'd you buy first? Remember, election's only next Tuesday."
"Why, why," hesitated Williams, "I'd spend it gittin' out the vote. I'd git kerriages, and have signs painted to hang on the horses, readin'," and he lined the imaginary letters on the rough palm of his left hand with the gnarled forefinger of his right, "'Republican City Committee—Vote for Goddard.'"
The old squire, tickled with the sound of the last legend, broke in with:
"You've got the idee, Billy."
"Course," said Williams, expanding more and more, "I seen 'em that way when I was in Columbus onct, on 'lection day. Get about five good two-horse kerriages—"
But the captious Bassett, remembering that old Bill's son-in-law, Hi Wellman, kept the livery stable, interrupted him by saying:
"Oh, that wouldn't cost more'n twenty dollars, and, anyway, we can use our own buggies, same as we've always done."
Captain Bishop, who had been carefully combing
