“Who is that?” asked Mr. Ele.
“Abel Newt,” replied General Belch.
Mr. Ele seemed somewhat surprised.
“Oh—yes—ah—indeed. I did not know he was in political life,” said he.
“He isn’t,” returned General Belch.
Mr. Ele looked for further instructions.
“Every body must begin,” said Belch. “Look here. If we don’t get this grant from Congress, what on earth is the use of having worked so long in this devilish old harness of politics? Haven’t we been to primary meetings, and conventions, and elections, and all the other tomfoolery, speechifying and plotting and setting things right, and being bled, by Jupiter!—bled to the tune of more hundreds than I mean to lose; and now, just as we are where a bold push will save every thing, and make it worth while to have worked in the nasty mill so long, we must have our wits about us. Do you know Abel Newt?”
“No.”
“I do. He is a gentleman without the slightest squeamishness. He is perfectly able to see things from particular points of view. He has great knowledge of the world, and he is a friend of the people, Sir. His politics are of the right kind,” said General Belch, in a tone which seemed to be setting the tune for any future remarks Mr. Ele might have to make about Mr. Newt—at public meetings, for instance, or elsewhere.
“I am glad to hear he is a friend of the people,” returned Mr. Ele.