"That snarling little black devil that's always under foot at the
Rangers'? Gad! I'd like to give it a treatment!"
"It got its ear hurt somehow, and Mrs. Crapps pretended to cure it. Mrs. Ranger was all but in tears over it, she was so grateful. Anna was entirely disgusted. She told Mrs. Crapps that she hadn't known before that she was in the hands of a veterinary."
Dr. Wilson smoked in silence for a moment. The fire of soft coal purred in the grate, the smoke from his pipe ascended in the warm air. The thin sunshine of the winter afternoon filtered in through the windows, and made bright patches on the rugs.
"By the way," Wilson asked lazily, "how is the campaign going? I haven't heard anything interesting about it for some time."
"Oh, things are moving on. The man I sent up to canvass the western part of the state—one of your sterilized milk-of-the-word babies, you know,—got smashed up in the accident; but he'll be back in a few days. Cousin Anna has brought her pensioners into line beautifully. There's no doubt that we'll carry the convention."
"What happens after that?"
"The election has to be ratified by a majority of bishops; but of course they'll hardly dare to go against the convention, even if they want to."
"It would make things much more interesting if they'd do it, and get up a scandal," commented the doctor. "You'll get bored to death with the whole thing if something exciting doesn't turn up."
"I had half a mind to get up a scandal myself with Mr. Strathmore," Elsie said with a laugh; "but I confess I should be afraid of that she-dragon of a wife of his."
"It's devilish interesting to know that you are afraid of anybody."