"Half a dozen!" laughed Warrington.
"I've put you in the City Hall, Dick," said Osborne. "And don't forget me when you're there."
"Will there be a story for me?" Jordan asked.
"You'll have a page, Ben."
"That's enough. Well, come on, Bill; we'll show the new mayor that we can order like gentlemen."
"I remember—" But Osborne never completed his reminiscence. Jordan was already propelling him toward the door.
Once the door had closed upon them, Warrington capered around the room like a school-boy. The publication of this confederacy between Morrissy and McQuade would swing the doubting element over to his side and split the ranks of the labor party.
Patty, Patty Bennington! He must see her. It was impossible to wait another day. When was it he had seen her last? Patty, dark-eyed, elfish, winsome, merry! Oh, yes, he must see her at once, this very afternoon. He could no longer repress the tide of his love, which surged at the flood-gates of his heart with mighty pressure. Patty! Patty!
"Patty is not feeling well," said Mrs. Bennington, as she welcomed Warrington at the door, an hour later. "I will call her. I am sure she will be glad to see you."
Warrington went into the music-room, placed his hat on the piano, and idled about impatiently. That morning he had not possessed the courage; now he was willing to face lions and tigers, anything rather than permit another day to pass without telling Patty that he loved her. When she finally appeared she was pale, her eyes were red, but her head was erect and her lips firm.