Slippery Elm Benton strode up and down the apartment, tossing his arms like a Dutch windmill.
Agnes Huntington cowered before the wrath of her lover.
“What would you have?” she cried.
“What would I have!” repeated Slippery Elm Benton, with a sneer, which all but withered the weeping girl; “what would I have! I would have all—all! My vote and influence were worth the entire phosphate bed, and you basely accepted a paltry moiety! Go from my side, false woman; you who would put so low an estimate upon me! The Witch of Waco was right. I leave you. I leave you as one unfit to be the wife of a Congressman!”
And Slippery Elm Benton, while Agnes Huntington swooned on the rug, rushed into the night and the snow.
HENRY SPENY'S BENEVOLENCE
SUMMER was here and the day was warm. Henry Speny had been walking, and now stood at-the corner of Tenth Avenue and Twenty-eighth street, mopping his brow. Henry Speny was a Conservative; and, although Mrs. Speny had that morning gone almost to the frontiers of a fist fight to make him change his underwear for the lighter and more gauzy apparel proper to jocund August, Henry Speny refused. He was now paying the piper, and thinking how much more Mrs. Speny knew than he did, when the Tramp came up.
“Podner!” said the Tramp in a low, guttural whine, intended to escape the ear of the police and touch Henry Speny's heart at one and the same time; “podner! couldn't you assist a pore man a little?”