"Eh? Why did he git the nomination? 'Cause he bought up the newspapers—the country weeklies—and set them to yellin' 'graft.' He made 'em say I went into office poor, and in two years made a fortune."
"Did you?" asked the girl.
He shuffled in his seat.
"I ain't used to talkin' politics with a girl," he admitted; "but seein' as you're the editor of this paper—a daily, by Jupe!—you've probably got a head on you and understand that a man don't get into office for his health. There's a lot of bother in servin' your country, and a man oughter be well paid for it. I did jest like the others do—like Kleppish is doin' right now—but the reg'lar voters don't understand politics, and when the howl went up about graft, backed by Kleppish's bought-up newspapers, they turned me down cold. I've been eight years watchin' for a chance to get in again, an' now I've got it."
"This is very interesting, I'm sure," remarked Patsy; "but our paper doesn't go much into local politics, Mr. Boglin, and I'm very busy to-day."
"Honer'ble Ojoy Boglin," he said, correcting her; but he did not take the hint to leave.
Patsy picked up her pencil as if to resume her work, while he eyed her with a countenance baffled and uncertain. Presently he asked:
"Has Kleppish got this paper too?"
"No," she coldly replied.
"I thought I'd likely head him off, you being so new. See here,
Editor—"