The farmer agreed.
“Well, now, I've come here to inform you that Barber got drunk this evening, and has been telling down there at the hotel that he had bought your vote.”
“Then don't you vote for his candidate,” said the wife to her husband. “If you do, everybody will believe the story.”
“And he voted for our delegate,” said Bulger, as he turned to the hand-made gentleman. “That's the kind of a fight I've had on my hands, but now the worst is over.”
“Not yet,” said McCarthy. “There's the shame of such a victory, and that will fall upon me. I don't like it.”
“Oh, you're one o' them high-moral cusses!” said Mr. Bulger, with a look of contempt.
Then said the hand-made gentleman: “My morals are just high enough to believe in fair play.”
“Well, you don't have to answer for my sins,” Mr. Bulger retorted.
“I'm not sure of that.”
“You're in the game of politics, young man,”