Cicely moved slightly as if she were awaking; her eyes were fixed on Father Morley’s retreating figure; she had not heard Rodney’s diatribe against piosity.
“He is good,” she murmured. “I feel as though the statue of St. Joseph in the church had been talking to me! He’s like that, like something that looks like a man, but is ’way beyond one. And he’s kind, like St. Joseph; he must have been kind! And he’s ready to do anything for you, but he never could be common human! I wish——” Cis checked herself. “Oh, Rod,” she said, turning to him with a flooding blush upon her face and clutching his sleeve as if she feared to lose him, “Oh, Rory, dear, you are hungry; you said you were! Let’s get a supper for you; I’m not hungrier than a box-of-crackers supper!”
“Crackers nothing!” growled Rodney, but he tucked Cis’s hand into his arm. “That restaurant is right around the corner. The old chap has half spoiled my appetite! Come along, though, Holly, and hang on to me; I’ll feed you well!”
CHAPTER X
PUBLIC FRANCHISE AND PRIVATE THRALDOM
THERE was a matter of state and interstate, if not of national importance afoot, a lively correspondence in its regard flying between the Lucas and Henderson offices in Chicago, Washington and Beaconhite. A franchise was in question which must pass, not only the legislatures of three states, but at last be established or annulled by the passage of a Congressional Act which would react upon the state legislatures’ decisions on the franchise, making it effective or practically without value. Energetic and clever lobbying to insure this franchise was vehemently carrying on in the capitals of the three states concerned, and at Washington as well. Millions were at stake upon the issue; immense sums being spent for the passage of the bill; greater sums waiting those lucky stockholders who should profit by the enterprise when it was in working order, notably those who “got in on the ground floor,” who took up as much of the stock as was put out on the market for sale, at a price beyond which shares would rapidly soar once the inevitably profitable scheme was proved successful. There would not be much, or comparatively little of the stock offered upon the market; the corporation behind the enterprise was made up of solid men who could afford to wait for their future big percentage, secure to them if the thing went through. They did not purpose to let the general public share the chippings from the shell of their golden egg, except in numbers enough to forestall enmity to it on the ground of its being a private profit, maintained through public tolerance, via the Congress and legislatures. Correspondence in regard to this important matter passed in great bulk through Cicely’s hands; she was interested in it to the highest point. The newspapers were full of allusions to the franchise, opposing it, supporting it, according to their bias for or against the political party favoring the measure. It amazed inexperienced Cis to find that this was the basis of newspaper influence, never the abstract benefit or harm to the public at large, which seemed to her mind the only ground upon which to favor or oppose the franchise.
Rodney laughed at her, and called her “Donna Quixote,” a name that Cicely liked because it was linked with tender mockery in Rodney’s eyes; she had never read “Don Quixote.”
The correspondence in regard to the franchise which assailed Cicely’s desk in Mr. Wilmer Lucas’ office was couched in the code that had at first been such a stumbling block to her, but which she now read and wrote with complete fluency. It was excitingly pleasant to get inside information upon a subject that was occupying so much public attention.
“I feel as biggity as Brer Rabbit to be so deep in the know!” she told Rodney. Therefore on the Monday morning after her Sunday spent at Pioneer Falls, Cicely started out for Lucas and Henderson’s office with her mind joyously attuned to anticipation, the anticipation of an interesting day superimposed upon the delicious certainty that Rodney loved her as well as she loved him, better perhaps, and that it was a matter of a few hours before she could be his promised wife.
Perhaps she should have been that now, had they not met Father Morley the previous evening. The priest had intruded upon the perfect oneness of her comradeship with Rodney; he irritated Rod, and, though Father Morley impressed her as a saint, and attracted Cis herself powerfully, yet Rod said that priests “were good things to keep away from,” and if he felt so, then one could not expect him to find Father Morley’s inopportune intrusion upon them agreeable.
But how beautiful had been Rodney’s manner to her, Cis thought, as, in the knowing little hotel to which he had taken her, he had ordered and pressed upon her delicious food for which she had slight appetite, yet of which she ate, coaxed into eating by the wondrous delicacies and Rodney’s ministrations to her.