"I never see such work, for my part," Sarah wailed out to herself.
"Mother, you come in here a minute," Cephas called out of the
bedroom. He had gone to bed soon after supper.
"Anythin' new about Barney?" he asked, when his wife stood beside
him.
"Barney ain't no more notion of comin' back than he had before, in
spite of all the talk. I never see such work," replied Sarah, in a
voice strained high with tears.
"I call it pretty doin's," assented Cephas. His pale face, with its
venerable beard, was closely set about with his white nightcap. He
lay staring straight before him with a solemnly reflective air.
"I wish you hadn't brought up 'lection that time, father," ventured
Sarah, with a piteous sniff.
"If the Democratic party had only lived different, an' hadn't eat so
much meat, there wouldn't have been any trouble," returned Cephas,
magisterially. "If you go far enough, you'll always get back to that.
A man is what he puts into his mouth. Meat victuals is at the bottom
of democracy. If there wa'n't any meat eat there wouldn't be any
Democratic party, an' there wouldn't be any wranglin' in the state.
There'd be one party, jest as there'd ought to be."
"I wish you hadn't brought it up, father," Sarah lamented again;
"it's most killin' me."
"If we hadn't both of us been eatin' so much animal food there
wouldn't have been any trouble," repeated Cephas.
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