“Of course you will win,” said Agnes confidently, overhearing this last phrase; and with that most prized of all encouragement, the faith in his prowess of the one woman, Bobby, for that night at least, felt quite contemptuous of the grilling fight to come.
His second issue of the Bulletin contained on the front page a three-column picture of Sam Stone, with the same caption, together with a full-page article, written by Dillingham from data secured by himself and the others who were put upon the “story.” This set forth the main iniquities of Sam Stone and his crew of municipal grafters. In the third day’s issue the picture was reduced to two columns, occupying the left-hand upper corner of the front page, where Bobby ordered it to remain permanently as the slogan of the Bulletin; and now Dillingham began his long series of articles, taking up point by point the ramifications of Stone’s machine, and coming closer and closer daily to people who would much rather have been left entirely out of the picture.
It was upon this third day that Bobby, becoming apprehensive merely because nothing had happened, received a visit from Frank Sharpe. Mr. Sharpe was as nattily dressed as ever, and presented himself as pleasantly as a summer breeze across fields of clover.
“I came in to see you about merging the Brightlight Electric Company with the Consolidated, Mr. Burnit,” said Mr. Sharpe in a chatty tone, laying his hat, cane and gloves upon Bobby’s desk and seating himself comfortably.
From his face there was no doubt in Mr. Sharpe’s mind that this was a mere matter of an interview with a satisfactory termination, for Mr. Sharpe had done business with Bobby before; but something had happened to Bobby in the meantime.
“When I get ready for a merger of the Brightlight with the Consolidated I’ll tell you about it; and also I’ll tell you the terms,” Bobby advised him with a snap, and for the first time Mr. Sharpe noted what a good jaw Bobby had.
“I should think,” hesitated Sharpe, “that in the present condition of the Brightlight almost any terms would be attractive to you. You have no private consumers now, and your contract for city lighting, which you can not evade except by bankruptcy, is losing you money.”
“If that were news to me it would be quite startling,” responded Bobby, “but you see, Mr. Sharpe, I am quite well acquainted with the facts myself. Also, I have a strong suspicion that you tampered with my plant; that your hired agents cut my wires, ruined my dynamos and destroyed the efficiency of my service generally.”
“You will find it very difficult to prove that, Mr. Burnit,” said Sharpe, with a sternness which could not quite conceal a lurking smile.
“I’m beginning to like difficulty,” retorted Bobby. “I do not mind telling you that I was never angry before in my life, and I’m surprised to find myself enjoying the sensation.”