He stopped, and looked around him. The committee-men, not expecting him to leave off in his address so soon, were not prepared for its end, and so had to bestir themselves and simulate a proper appreciation of the effect of his announcement. McFarlane murmured some sort of approval, and his words were repeated around the circle. Judge Bromley leaned back in his chair, with his elbow on his desk.
“I shall take the stump,” he repeated, showing his love for the phrase, which he had been accustomed to see in newspapers all his days when the doings of eminent politicians were chronicled, “and have determined to open my campaign in Mr.—ah—Garwood’s own county, in his own town, Grand Prairie. I believe you are the committee-man for Polk County, Mr. Funk, are you not?” He turned to a lank man leaning his long body forward, his sharp elbows on his knees, who now looked up languidly.
“Me? I reckon I am,” he said.
“Very well,” the judge continued, “can we arrange for a meeting in your county?”
“Reckon we can,” replied Funk, “if we can raise the price.”
The judge scowled.
“We shall, of course, provide for that,” he said. At the words Funk straightened up, and a revival of interest was apparent in the other members of the group.
“What would you suggest—an open-air meeting?”
“Don’t know as I would,” said Funk. “Open-air meetin’s is dangerous—mightn’t be enough turn out to fill all outdoors. Course, we might have a torch-light percession, to draw a crowd—if we had the torches and a band.”
“That can be arranged,” said the judge.