“Am I to understand then that you will renominate Williams? Let me say now that there is strong opposition to him in the Council and he may fail of confirmation. Will you send Venton's name in then?”
“I think I should send Mr. Williams' name in again.”
“But, suppose he is turned down the second time?” asked Mr. Evans.
“I think I should continue sending in his name until good and sufficient reasons were given for his rejection. This is not a voting contest between two nominees. I am convinced Mr. Williams is the best man for the place. Such being my opinion, to withdraw his name, would be a self-stultification, and, to speak plainly,”—and his jaw was firmly set,—“an acknowledgment that the Council is a stronger arm of the government than the Chief Executive.”
Mr. Evans was evidently indignant. “Well, Mr. Venton is backed by men who contribute heartily for campaign expenses. If you can get along without their aid this fall have your man Williams,” and Mr. Evans strode from the room with a curt “Good-morning.”
The private secretary laid some papers on the governor's desk. The first one that he examined conferred certain valuable privileges, in perpetuity, upon a corporation without requiring any compensation for the franchise. The property thus alienated from public use had been paid for by the people's money. In response to a vigorous push on an electric button, the private secretary appeared.
“Send for Senator Downing. I must see him immediately.”
His Excellency thought, “How can the people's so-called representatives give away the property of the people so indiscriminately? It would not do to mention it, without proof, but I am convinced that all such public robberies are for private gain. Ah, good-morning, Senator.”
Senator Downing was a short, heavily-built man, with dark hair, black eyes, and a jaw and chin indicative of bull-dog pertinacity.
“In your bill, Senate 513, I notice that the railroad Company is not called upon to pay for the great privilege conferred.”