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have to bear down harder than that, Grampa Peters said. She ain’t puttin’ herself into it yet. She’ll have to make up her mind to have that baby.
    A cry of pain lay suddenly on the quiet street.
    â€”That’s the first real loud one I’ve heard her give, Grampa Peters said. That was a good loud one.
    His flesh stirred a little as if pleasantly goaded by this fierce contact with life. He fumbled around in a coat pocket and drew out a newspaper.
    â€”Son, can you read?
    â€”Yes, sir, Johnny said.
    â€”I heard you could, Grampa Peters said. They say you read as good as a grown person. Well, I want you to read me somethin’ here. I fergot my specs.
    Grampa Peters spread out a copy of a newspaper. At the top it said
    THE INDIANA COURIER
    â€”Read that there righthand colyum for me, Grampa Peters said.
    Johnny read outloud how the Whig Nominating Convention meeting on June 7 had nominated General Zachary Taylor for the Presidency. While he was reading, T. D. and Mr. Doniphant came out of the house.
    â€”How’s she comin’? Grampa Peters asked.
    â€”She’s pretty little and of course it’s her first one, T. D. saidabsently. But she’s young and strong, and I take a hopeful view of the situation. After all, having a baby is the most natural thing in the world.
    â€”I hope it comes soon, young Mr. Doniphant said.
    â€”I think it’ll be a while, T. D. said. My wife’s going to stay with her. You look fagged out, young feller. You better relax awhile.
    â€”Git us that there banjo of yours, the thin man said, and play us some music.
    â€”I reckon it might take my mind off of it, the young man said, and he went back of the house.
    â€”What about it, T. D.? Grampa Peters said, when Mr. Doniphant was gone.
    â€”It’s a hard case, T. D. said. She hasn’t really got anywhere with it yet, and she’s very narrow. There isn’t anything to do but wait. However, as I said before—
    His voice trailed off.
    â€”What you got there, John?
    â€”Newspaper.
    â€”The boy was just readin’ it to us, the thin man said. He’s a bright boy.
    â€”How’d you learn to read, son? Grampa Peters said.
    â€”I learned at school.
    â€”John learned at this here school in Danwebster, T. D. said. He can read anything. What’s in the news these days? I haven’t seen a paper for mighty near a month.
    â€”I see where your danged Whigs nominated old Blood and Thunder, Grampa Peters said.
    â€”Yes, so I hear, T. D. said. Well, I guess he’d make a good President.
    â€”Maybe that’s what we need, a military man, the thin man said. The country’s so all tore up. Winnin’ the war pretty near wrecked us.
    â€”Pretty near wrecked us! Grampa Peters snorted. What are you talkin’ about, boy? Some folks don’t reason things out. Who made this glorious victory possible and added all this here new land to the Republic? The Democratic Administration—that’s who.
    â€”Couldn’t have done it, hadn’t of been fer ole Zach Taylor whippin’ the damn greasers, the thin man said.
    â€”What’s Taylor’s stand on the slavery question? T. D. said.
    â€”Probly, he ain’t got no stand, Grampa Peters said. Call it a straddle rather.
    Johnny read some more from the paper. It appeared that General Taylor had avoided the slavery question. There was a good deal in the paper about the old veteran of many a hardfought campaign who had personally inspired his stalwart troops on the windy plains of Buena Vista.
    Johnny was glad that General Zachary Taylor was going to be the Whig candidate for President because he was the Greatest Living American.
    Zachary Taylor was a rugged, whitehaired old man standing in the middle of a wall engraving. Stiff ranks of soldiers dressed in blue advanced across a plain through volleys of bounding cannonballs. In the background of the picture a darkskinned horde, color of the