“And one of the few things the papers say of me that are true!” sighed Garwood.
“I’m not afraid of that,” said Emily loyally; “isn’t there just a little truth in the story about your setting the prairies on fire?”
Garwood laughed, the superior laugh of a man alone with women. He liked this political conversation which he could so easily dominate, quite as much as he liked Emily’s frank acquiescence before Miss Emerson in her position as his affianced bride. It gave him such a sweet assurance of security in one relation at least.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said; “a candidate never does know any more about his own campaign than a bridegroom does about the preparations for his own wedding. To him it all seems to be going one way; he sees nothing but friendly faces and hears nothing but friendly cheers, and he goes to bed the night before election almost hoping that his opponent may get a few votes just to console him, though he doesn’t see where the votes are to come from. The morning after he wakes up to wonder where his own votes all went to. It’s always a shock of surprise to the defeated man.” He paused to enjoy the effect of his little speech upon the girls, and then resumed: “If you want to know how my campaign is really coming on you’ll have to ask Jim Rankin.”
“Who is this Mistah Rankin?” asked Dade.
“Oh,” said Emily, turning toward her companion with a superiority of her own, “you remember—I told you about him the other day. You really should see him, he’s the funniest man and the most interesting. He is managing the campaign for Jerome. He just worships Jerome; I believe he’d die for you, don’t you, Jerome?”
“I’ve heard him say he’d go through—ah—hell and high water for me,” said Garwood with the keen enjoyment that comes from vicarious profanity quoted in a presence where, stripped of its quotation marks, it would be inadmissible.
The two girls exclaimed, though they enjoyed the risk of it, and sat while Garwood celebrated Rankin’s virtues as a friend and as a politician. When he found room for more quotable profanity Emily laid her palm lightly over his mouth, and at this demonstration of affection Dade rose and said significantly:
“Well, I think it high time I was going and leaving you alone.”
There was a little show of protest, but she went, Garwood standing in the middle of the room wondering if the proprieties demanded that he accompany Emily as she escorted Dade to the door; but he withdrew into the security of that dignity which stood him in such good stead in all social crises, and bowed as if the retiring girl were an audience or a jury. The two girls lingered in the hall longer than Garwood thought necessary, though he lost his objection in the satisfaction of the conviction that they were discussing him.