Young Mrs. Sage came in at the end with the following question:
“What are you going to name it, Mr. Baxter?”
“Eh? It? It ain’t an it, Mrs. Sage. It’s a masculine gender. We’re going to call him Oliver October. Sh! Isn’t that somebody on the porch, Joe? Doc Robinson, like as not. Go to the door, will you?”
“It’s the wind,” said Mr. Sikes. Nevertheless he went over and looked out of the window.
Another silence, broken at last by Mr. Baxter.
“He’s got the finest head you ever saw,” said he, with a beatific expression on his face. “Got a head like a statesman.”
“Oh, that is good news,” said the Reverend Sage, jovially. “We’re sadly in need of statesmen these days, Brother Baxter.”
“Statesmen, your granny,” exploded Mr. Gooch, now thoroughly out of patience. “That’s the trouble with this country. It’s being run entirely by statesmen. That’s what I’ve been saying since March ’89. What we need is a good, sound business man in the White House. President Harrison is a fine lawyer, but if ever we needed a good Democrat back in the presidential chair it’s now. Get rid of the statesmen. That’s my motto. They’ve been—”
Mrs. Gooch touched his arm and whispered in his ear: “You mean politicians, Horace—politicians, not statesmen.”
Mr. Gooch was flabbergasted. “Consarn it, I’m always getting those two words mixed,” he snarled. “But anyhow, this country made the blamedest fool mistake on earth when it turned Grover Cleveland out and put these blood-sucking Republicans back in power.”