"I'm a citizen of Marion and a native of this state, body and soul for all
the good that can come to us, by our own efforts or through the aid of
outsiders," declared Morrison, spacking his palm upon the arm of his
chair.
"Well, I guess we don't need any better promise than that, for a starter,
at any rate. Of course, we knew it--but there's nothing like having a
right-out word of mouth." Despeaux rose and pulled out his watch. "We'd
better move on toward the eats, boys!"
"Just a moment, however, Despeaux! My father was a Morrison and my mother
a Mac Dougal. I can't help what's in me!"
"What is it that's in you?" inquired Despeaux, pausing in the act of
putting back his watch.
"Scotch cautiousness!"
"You don't suspect that a man like the big Silas Daunt, of Daunt and
Cropley--"
"I don't suspect. I haven't got as far as that! But I want to know exactly
what he means by coming into this state. I have a man out getting me some
facts about what kind of a devil's mess is being stirred up all of a
sudden to-day in politics. Suppose you get under Daunt's hide and find out
whether he wants to _do_ us or do _for_ us, on the water-power matter."
An observant bystander would have perceived a queer sort of crispness in
Morrison's manner from the outset of the interview; the same perspicacity
would have detected something hard under the smooth surface of Despeaux's
early politeness.
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