“You can never tell,” replied the congressman sagaciously. “A presidential appointment, the alluring word ‘consul,’ a foreign residence, all sound very enticing and important to a 181 young country man. The Dunne type likes to be the big frog in the puddle. This stripling you are all so afraid of hasn’t cut all his wisdom teeth yet. It’s worth a try. I’ll tackle him.”
The morning after this conversation, as David walked down to the Judge’s office he felt very lonely––a part of no plan. It was a mood that made him ripe for the purpose of the congressman whom he found awaiting him.
“I’ve been wanting to meet you for a long time, Mr. Dunne,” said the congressman obsequiously, after the Judge had introduced him. “We’ve heard a great deal about you down in Washington since your defeat of the Griggs Bill, and we are looking for great things from you. Of course, we have to keep our eye on what is going on back here.”
The Judge looked his surprise at this speech, and was still more mystified at receiving a knowing wink from David.
After some preliminary talk the congressman finally made known his errand, and tendered David the offer of a consulship in South America.
At this juncture the Judge was summoned to 182 the telephone in another room. When he returned the congressman had taken his departure.
“Behold,” grinned David, “the future consul of––I really can’t pronounce it. I am going to look it up now in your atlas.”
“Where is Gilbert?” asked the Judge.
“Gone to wire Hilliard before I can change my mind. You see, it’s a scheme to get me out of the road and I––well I happen to be willing to get out of the road just now. I am not in a fighting mood.”
“Consular service,” remarked the Judge oracularly, “is generally considered a sort of clearing house for undesirable politicians. The consuls to those little ports are, as a rule, very poor.”