"I said hurry up—I'm sleepy."
"You just bet I will," he answered eagerly.
Not long after this domestic readjustment Jim was smoking, his wife reading and his mother-in-law sewing in the dining room after supper when the doorbell rang from the vestibule below. Georgia pressed the opener and admitted Ed Miles, the boss of the ward, "the big fellow." She wasn't a bit glad to see him. She thought that to keep Jim away from politics and politicians was the only way to keep him away from drinking.
The big fellow made a formal call. He sat on the edge of his chair, his gray derby hat pushed under it, and constantly addressed Georgia as ma'am. Although she mistrusted him every moment of his visit, she felt the power of him, the brusque charm of his vitality, the humor of his laugh.
When he rose to go he said good-bye politely to the women and then to Jim, who could tell by the pressure of the big fellow's hand that he wanted a word alone with him.
"I'll see you to the door, Ed," said Jim, and they walked out together.
Georgia noticed thankfully that her husband did not take his hat and that he was wearing slippers.
"I want you to do me a little favor, Jim. You know we have our ward club election the first Monday of the new year.
"Yes."
"Come around."