"What's this to be?" asked Bennington, lifting his glass and stirring the ice.
"Immer und immer, as the German has it," Warrington replied.
"For ever and ever, then!"
And the two lightly touched glasses, with that peculiar gravity which always accompanies such occasions.
"When a man drinks your health in bad whisky, look out for him; but this whisky is very good, Dick." Bennington set down his glass and wiped his lips. "It is very good, indeed."
"Well, how are things up in Herculaneum?" asked Warrington. "You know, or ought to know, that I get up there only once a year."
"Things are not very well. There's the devil to pay in politics, and some day I may have a jolly long strike on my hands," grimly. "But I shall know exactly what to do. That man McQuade owns about all the town now. He controls congressmen, state senators and assemblymen, and the majority of the Common Council is his, body and soul. Only recently he gave the traction company a new right of way. Not a penny went into the city's purse. And you know these street-railways; they never pay their taxes. A franchise for ninety-nine years; think of it!"
"Why don't you men wake up and oust McQuade? I'll tell you right here, Jack, you have no one to blame but yourself. Scoundrels like McQuade are always in the minority; but they remain in power simply because men like you think politics a dirty business and something for an honest man to keep out of. Run for mayor yourself, if you want clean politics. Rouse up an independent party."
"Do you know what they call me up there?" Bennington laughed.
"I confess to ignorance."