“But I thought you said when the House and the Senate did not agree, the General Court met next day and elected a senator?” asked Ronald again; “and in that case Mr. Harrington is not really beaten yet.”
“Well, theoretically he’s not,” said Sam, “because of course Jobbins is not actually senator until he has been elected by the General Court, but the majority for him in the House was so surprisingly large, and the majority for John so small in the Senate, and the House is so much larger than the Senate, that the vote to-morrow is a dead sure thing, and Jobbins is just as much senator as if he were sitting in Washington.”
“I suppose you will expect me to have Mr. Jobbins to dinner, now. I think the whole business is perfectly mean!”
“Don’t blame me, my dear,” said Sam calmly. “I did not create the Massachusetts Legislature, and I did not found the State House, nor discover America, nor any of these things. And after all, Jobbins is a very respectable man and belongs to our own party, while Harrington does not. When I set up creating I’ll make a note of one or two points, and I’ll see that John is properly attended to.”
“You need not be silly, Sam,” said Mrs. Wyndham. “What has become of those girls?”
“They went out of the room some time ago,” said Ronald, who had been listening with much amusement to the description of the election. He was never quite sure whether people could be serious when they talked such peculiar language, and he observed with surprise that Mr. and Mrs. Wyndham talked to each other in phrases very different from those they used in addressing himself.
Sybil had led Joe away to her room. She did not guess the cause of Joe’s faintness, but supposed it to be a momentary indisposition, amenable to the effects of eau-de-cologne. She made her lie upon the great cretonne sofa, moistening her forehead, and giving her a bottle of salts to smell.
But Joe, who had never been ill in her life, recovered her strength in a few minutes, and regaining her feet began to walk about the room.
“What do you think it was, Joe, dear?” asked Sybil, watching her.
“Oh, it was nothing. Perhaps the room was hot, and I was tired.”