At daylight they took their places on the bank’s steps, and at ten o’clock when the bank opened, the doors were besieged by a mob of members painfully anxious to draw before it might be too late.
Next morning there was a disturbance at the breakfast table. The morning paper had in blazing head lines an account of one James “Mileage,” who was a member of the Legislature from an adjoining county thirty-seven miles distant. He had sworn to a mileage record of one hundred and seven dollars.
“That’s an unfortunate mistake, sir,” said Perkins.
“Ten’ ter yer own business?” answered James.
“I call it er purty sharp trick,” grinned his partner.
“I call it stealin’,” sneered an honourable member, evidently envious.
And James “Mileage” was his name for all time, but “Mileage” shot a malicious look at the member who had called him a thief.
The next morning the paper of the Opposition had another biographical sketch on the front page.
“I see your name in the paper this morning, Mr. Scoggins?” remarked Mrs. Duke, looking pleasantly at the member who had spoken so rudely to James “Mileage” the day before.
“Well I reckon I’ll make my mark down here before it’s over,” chuckled Scoggins with pride. “What do they say about me, M’am?”