Fanny looked injured. “Why, there isn’t anything for you to do here.”
“Well, there will be soon,” Guy replied.
“Then Uncle Doug can send for you—or Mr. Farley.” Fanny seized Guy by the shoulders and pushed him out of the room. “Won’t you, Mr. Farley?” she cried, from the hall.
“All right,” Farley replied, smiling.
“I think I’ll go up and take a nap,” said Wallace. “This New York pace is a little too much for me.”
As Helen busied herself about the room the telephone rang. Farley answered. “Hello!” he cried. “Who is it? Citizens’ Club? All right. I’ll wait. Oh, hello, Gilchrist! Yes, this is Mr. Briggs’s house. We’ve sent the reply by messenger. He says the libel isn’t worth replying to. I might have told you that.” He listened for a few moments. Then he turned to Briggs. “Great excitement over that matter down at the club. They want me to come down.”
“Go along, then.”
“All right. I’ll be down in fifteen minutes,” said Farley, into the telephone. As he hung up the receiver he remarked: “I’ll make short work of them. Good-night, Mrs. Briggs,” he called from the hall. “I’ll see you soon again, though. Perhaps I’ll bring you news of your husband’s election.”