“You see, Congressman Wales didn’t vote for the unaltered schedule. And so everything’s all right, isn’t it?” she went on lightly.
Ames’s face darkened. “No vote has been taken,” he said, a dull anger rising within him.
“Oh, you are mistaken,” replied the girl. “The bill was voted out of committee an hour ago. That’s what I was writing up. Here’s the wire, showing the alterations made. Mr. Wales voted for them.”
Ames read the message, and handed it back. Beyond the clouding of his features he gave no indication of his feelings.
“So, you see,” continued the girl, “that incident is closed––for all time, isn’t it?”
He did not reply for some moments. Then:
“Rather odd, isn’t it?” he commented, turning quite away from that subject, and glancing about, “that one with the high ideals you profess should be doing newspaper work.”
“Just the contrary,” she quickly returned. “There is nothing so practical as the ideal, for the ideal is the only reality.”
“Well, just what, may I ask, are you trying to do here?” he continued.
“Run a newspaper on a basis of practical Christianity,” she answered, her eyes dancing. “Just as all business will have to be conducted some day.”