"
"I move," said the Scotch surgeon, in a voice that showed how
deeply he had been affected, "that the whole matter be laid on the
table for a week, until we know for certain whether poor Mrs.
Grogan is killed or not. I can hardly credit it. It is very
seldom that a horse kicks a woman."
Nobody having seconded this motion, the chair did not put it. The
fact was that every man was afraid to move. The majority of the
trustees, who favored McGaw, were in the dark as to what effect
Tom's death would have upon the bids. The law might require
readvertising and hence a new competition, and perhaps somebody
much worse for them than Tom might turn up and take the
work--somebody living outside of the village. Then none of them
would get a finger in the pie. Worse than all, the cutting of it
might have to be referred to the corporation counsel, Judge
Bowker. What his opinion would be was past finding out. He was
beyond the reach of "pulls," and followed the law to the letter.
The minority--a minority of two, the president and the veterinary
surgeon--began to distrust the spirit of McGaw's adherents. It
looked to the president as if a "deal" were in the air.
The Scotchman, practical, sober-minded, sensible man as he was,
had old- fashioned ideas of honesty and fair play.
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