Those whom he passed on his way out made no attempt to stop him, did not urge him to remain. That convention seemed to be doing very well without calling upon Colonel Symonds Dodd for help or suggestions.
XXX
A GIRL'S IMPULSE
Herald unofficial, avant courier, Mr. Daniel Breed squeezed himself through the pack of people while they were still cheering the name of the Honorable Archer Converse.
“Giving candy to youngsters and good news to grown folks never made anybody specially unpopular,” Mr. Breed assured himself with politician's sagacity.
Therefore, he jog-trotted down to the Converse law-offices and shot himself into the presence of the estimable gentleman who had remained aloof from the distracting business of a convention.
“He's done it,” proclaimed Mr. Breed, making his sentences short and his message to the point because he was out of breath.
“Who has done what?” demanded Mr. Converse, with equal crispness.
“Farr. You're nominated for governor. Acclamation! He's a wiz with his tongue.” Mr. Breed pursed his little mouth and “sipped” with gusto. “Some talker! Don't ever tell me that good talk doesn't win when the right man makes it at the right time.”