"But there was no real harm done?" interrupted the major.
"No harm done! To take two innocent girls into that office and accuse
them of--I don't know what! Why, Major, it was simply outrageous," and
Mr. Ford paced the floor impatiently.
"It was a lucky thing that my young man, Ralph Willoby, happened along,
although it seemed unlucky enough for him. But I believe he is not
injured beyond a cut lip and bruised eye. The old squire seemed to have
entirely lost control of himself. This comes from keeping incompetent
men in office--just through sentiment."
"Exactly. They can do more harm than one would imagine. Think how he
talked me into the idea that this poor Travers family should pay my
daughter's doctor bill! And I told him to go ahead and collect it!"
Each time that this thought came to Mr. Ford it seemed to him more
repugnant. First, that he should have blamed Tavia without investigating
the matter himself; next that he should have allowed a man like Squire
Sanders to "humbug" him.
"Well," said the major, "we now have it in our power to put the right
man in the office of Justice of the Peace. You know John Travers was up
for it last year."
"I do, but--he is not of our party."
"Yet you admit he is the right man?"
"I know of no one better fitted for the office.
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