“Come on,” he said, “let’s get the evening papers, and then go and have a little drink.”
They strolled toward the news stand, and Garwood’s eye ran down the pages as he waited for his change.
“Why, I carried Bromley’s home county! I thought I’d lose that anyway.”
“Oh, the story helped out over there,” said Warfield. “Bromley got the Sunday-school vote, and that drove the rest to you.”
“My! Wasn’t it a landslide though!” said Garwood. “Keep the change,” he called to the young man behind the news stand. “Well, I was glad the party won even when I thought I had lost,” he went on. “Look here!” Garwood was reading, as he walked, the paper he had opened wide. “Logan County gives me a majority of eighteen hundred; what do you think of that?”
They were at the bar by this time.
“What will it be?” said Garwood, still devouring his papers.
“Oh, a little bourbon,” said Warfield.
“Nonsense!” said Garwood, crumpling the papers under his arm. “I want to drink Jim Rankin’s health, bless his old heart! He gets the post-office, he does! Give us a bottle of champagne!”
“You haven’t had your dinner yet, have you?” Warfield asked.