“Maude,” said her mother sharply, “if you were not of age I should send you to bed.”
“I'm going. Alice, while Quincy runs up to the house to say that you are not coming home, you come to my room. I've some pretty things to show you.”
As Quincy walked up Walnut Street, he saw a bright light in Dr. Culver's window. He rang the bell, and the doctor himself came to the door.
“Is that you, Quincy? Come in.”
“Paul, how are you?”
“Fine as silk. Business is good, but I'm doing my best to keep the undertakers out of a job. Have you read the evening papers?”
“I seldom do. I prefer to wait until morning.”
“The papers are rapping you hard for signing that picketing bill, but the labour men are delighted. You'll run ahead of your ticket sure next fall.”
“I'm not going to run. One year is enough.”
“Will Evans get the nomination? I won't vote for him. How are your wife's eyes?”