“Guessed it?” he stammered. “I should say not. I don’t see how you ever thought of it. It’s––why, I’m paralyzed!”
“You could be a little more enthusiastic without hurting yourself any,” she said suspiciously.
“I was thinking. I used to fancy I was pretty good at making plans myself, but this beats me. The way those dates all dovetail like the tiles on a roof. I never heard of anything like it. Only––well, if you will be so quick at reading my mind, I was wondering if we ought to leave town before the Council meets.”
“That’s mighty unselfish of you, Theodore, but you said only a couple of days ago you’d done all you could. And the Exhibitors’ll still be working––”
“I don’t believe they’ll work any too hard. It’s taken too long to get under way. If the amendment passes, you see they’ll only have the advantage of six weeks of fair competition. I mean, Henry’d lose only six weeks of his unfair competition. And then we’ve got to see about getting new quarters for the League, when our Masonic Hall lease runs out, and––”
“But our advertising’ll be running just the same, and the League’ll still have its public meetings, and all. And everywhere I go I hear the same thing; the people really want this passed. And anybody can find us a new hall. I’ll appoint somebody. No, you’re just as unselfish as you can be, but we’ll be back in time. Truly, Theodore, didn’t you guess?”
Much of the jauntiness had gone out of Mr. Mix, but he consoled himself with the certainty that in another two months, he would be in a position to become masterful. The week in Chicago would bore him excessively, but after all, it was only a small part of a lifetime. He reflected that to any prisoner, the last few days before release, and freedom, are probably the hardest.
“How could I, my dear?”