readin', as old Uncle Horace Greeley used to say. I guess you carry the
whitewash brush along with you in your pilgrimages. You certainly did
give Bill Ragsdale a clean bill o' health. That must have tickled the
folks in Tecumseh County. Know Ragsdale? I've set with Bill in the lower
house three sessions, and I come pretty near knowin' him. I don't say
that Bill is crooked; but I suspect that if Bill's moral nature could
be dug out and exposed to view it would be spiral like a bedspring; just
about. It's an awful load on the Republican Party in this state, having
to carry Bill Ragsdale. O Lord!"

He pursed his fat lips, and his eyes took on a far-away expression, as
though some profound utterance had diverted his thoughts to remote
realms of reverie. "So you're goin' to write Mort up; well, my God!"

The exact relevance of this was not apparent. Harwood had assumed on
general principles that the Honorable Isaac Pettit, of the "Fraser
County Democrat," was an humble and obedient servant of the Honorable
Morton Bassett, and would cringe at the mention of his name. To be sure,
Mr. Pettit had said nothing to disturb this belief; but neither had the
editor manifested that meek submission for which the reporter had been
prepared. The editor's Gargantuan girth trembled again. The spectacle he
presented as he shook thus with inexplicable mirth was so funny that
Harwood grinned; whereupon Pettit rubbed one of his great hands across
his three-days' growth of beard, evoking a harsh rasping sound in which
he seemed to find relief and satisfaction.

"You don't know Mort? Well, he's all right; he will he mighty nice to
you. Mort's one of the best fellows on earth; you won't find anybody out
here in Fraser County to say anything against Mort Bassett. No, sir; by
God!"