man would understand. “What I mean is,” he hurried to correct himself, “what I mean is that we haven’t got a ghost of a chance23 of saving it, so we might as well be done with the whole thing.” But it was too late. Grandfather had already risen to his feet, his hand turning white as he clenched the handle of his cane. His face was a fiery red against his snow-white hair, and the vein on his right forehead popped from the surface like a big purple knot. 23 For a moment he was so angry his words wouldn’t come out straight. “You, why, you—you’re a traitor to the Rorths! The village is the soul, the heart, the life of this family, and you throw it away in a few idle words. Why, why this boy here,” he pointed to Ronnie, “has a greater appreciation for what the village means. Far greater. I can’t understand it. I just can’t understand it.” He sank back down into his chair, breathing rapidly. For a minute there wasn’t a sound in the room. Ronnie could hear a cricket chirping mournfully in the cellar. Then his father looked up from his plate. “I’m sorry,” he said to Grandfather. “I really didn’t mean it the way it sounded.” Grandfather grunted, but said nothing. After supper Ronnie and Phil helped Mrs. Butler with the dishes. “Folks down in town are mighty sad knowing the old deserted village isn’t to be spared,” she said as she wrapped up some of the table scraps to take home to her cats. “Mighty sad. It’s surprising how many folks there have a fond spot in their hearts for the place. Fact is, there’s talk going around to do something about saving it—if there’s a way to get it done.” Ronnie pricked up his ears at this. “Gosh, do you think they can?” “Well, I’ll tell you, boy, sometimes public opinion is powerful strong magic when it comes to something like this.24 The government doesn’t like to rouse up public sentiments if they can help it.” 24 There was a lot to what Mrs. Butler had said, and Ronnie stored the information away for later use. Maybe a combination of raising money for the dam and getting the townspeople interested might just turn the trick. Now, more than ever, he was anxious to get started on his venture. Mrs. Butler had her scraps wrapped, and turned now to putting away the dishes Phil had dried. “You know,” she said, “either I’m getting daffy in my old age, or something mighty
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